But extracting himself without causing a media frenzy and making her mad was a problem; and one that would require the utmost of tact and press relations. Relieved to be returning to his house in Bel Air after the emotional press conference, he and Bain moved into the family room.
"Martin, I'd like your feedback on something," Preston said, purposely using Bain's first name.
Bain shrugged, "Sure." Then he sank onto the butter-colored sofa.
Preston loosened his tie and walked behind the bar. Although he'd been riding Bain's ass for the last day or so, he needed his aide's advice, so it was time to make amends. Preston glanced at the clock and put the scotch bottle he'd grabbed back on the shelf and, instead, opened the refrigerator and pulled out a soda. Holding the can up in the air he motioned to see if Bain wanted one too.
Bain shook his head, so Preston popped the top and took a long swig. "I think Pilar is becoming a little too…"
"Involved?" Bain supplied.
Preston felt himself smile. "Actually, I was going to say clingy, but involved is probably a better choice."
"So what do you want to do?"
"I'm not sure. It's not going to be easy, and I know Pilar won't take any kind of break-up well."
Bain shrugged. "I can tell the staff to start screening calls from her, and I can minimize the events you'll both be attending. Of course, you realize that you're going to have to stop screwing her."
"Well, that, my friend, is going to be the real loss."
"I'm sure there are many other talented women just dying to date you."
Preston moved from behind the bar and sat in a wing-backed chair across from Bain. "Ha! I don't need or want another woman in my life right now. My real concern is how a split from Pilar would play in the media."
Waving his hand dismissively, Bain said, "Don't worry about it. Our PR team can put a positive spin on it."
Preston considered the ramifications of his thoughts. "Let's not do anything yet, but be prepared when I say it's time to do it."
"Fine. Just give me the word."
"There's another thing I wanted to discuss with you."
Bain looked at him expectantly.
"I can't sit around and not go looking for Tiffany. I want to leave the state in the hands of the lieutenant governor and do whatever I must to find my daughter."
From the frown that formed on Bain's face, Preston surmised his chief of staff didn't like the idea any better than Pilar had. "What's wrong? Why don't you think that is a good idea?"
Bain pursed his lips. "You fought a hard fight to become the governor. In spite of the Reagan legacy, there were many who didn't think another actor should be the governor of California - especially after Schwarzenegger. You convinced a lot of people you were the right man to lead the state. If you turn the keys over to the lieutenant governor now, you're surrendering everything you've worked for." Bain rose from the couch and began to pace. "It's going to make you appear weak to the constituents and seem like you're putting your personal life ahead of the problems the state is facing."
"I don't give a rat's ass about the state right now. My sixteen-year-old daughter is out there somewhere. Most likely she's sick, and may be dying. Since Monica passed away, Tiffany is all I've got left in the world." Preston slapped his empty soda can on the coffee table in front of him, creating a metallic echo. "Just because I'm governor of the state doesn't mean I don't care about my family. Under the circumstances, I think anyone would understand I need some time off."
Saying nothing, Bain continued to pace the room rubbing his chin with his hand as he thought. After a few moments he turned toward Preston.
"Here's the thing, you've presented me with two problems, and both will attract high media attention." Bain sat back on the couch directly in front of him. "You could use Tiffany's disappearance as a way to put distance between yourself and Pilar. She might not even realize what's going on for awhile."
Preston shook his head. "Don't count on that. She's planning to be tearfully by my side at all the media events."
Cocking his head, Bain thought. "That could work to your advantage too. You know the press loves Pilar. You could get a lot of media mileage using her. But then you'll have a harder time getting rid of her after Tiffany is found, and the press will make you out to be the bad guy for dumping the woman who stood by you when you had no one to turn to."
Sighing, Preston sank back in his chair and closed his eyes. "Wonderful."
"Maybe with Pilar beside you, it would seem more natural for you to take a break from the state's business, but I really think it would be a mistake. I mean you can do it, but you just don't have to say you're doing it. I'll pinch hit for you, and that way you don't have to involve the lieutenant governor. He's a moron." Bain looked at his watch. "It's almost time for the afternoon news. Let's see what the media has done with your appearance from this morning."
Bain grabbed the remote from the table in front of him and aimed it at the large flat screen across the room. "By the way, having that catch in your voice and breaking down in the middle of your press conference was a stroke of genius."
TIFFANY – 58
Dusk had settled over the desert compound as Tiffany hurried to meet her friend Brenda.
Reaching the clearing where they'd met this morning, Tiffany found Brenda just as she had this morning. Her friend was hunched over a shallow hole in the ground jabbing a stick at the hard-baked soil.
This time, Brenda heard her approach. She rose from her crouched position with her stick in hand. "Hi," she said, looking past Tiffany into the nightfall.
Tiffany pulled Brenda into a hug, but her friend cringed and stiffened at her touch. "What's wrong?"
Brenda pulled away and turned her back on Tiffany. "Nothing you'd understand."
Tiffany's stomach knotted with the realization that Brenda must have been made to service Drejohn and/or his friends. "Oh Brenda, I'm so sorry," she said reaching towards her friend again.
"Don't touch me!" she said, crying. "I don't want to be touched."
Tiffany didn't know what to do. She stood there, uncertain, biting her lower lip.
"I didn't have time to try to find an escape route. I was literally tied up," her friend said with a defensive edge in her voice.
"Th…that's okay," Tiffany replied, choking back a sob. "I was only able to do a quick circuit around the boundary wall. I didn't see any easy way out." Her mind raced with the fact her friend was regularly being abused. "I wonder if I could hide you in my room."
"Are you out of your mind? You don't think the first place they'd come looking for me is with you?"
"I have to do something. This can't go on." She held up her tote bag with her escape supplies inside. "I'm trying to gather things that I can use to help us get out of here."
"There's nothing you can do. We're stuck." Brenda gazed at her through the evening light. "Your time will come." Suddenly, Brenda stiffened. "What time is it?" she asked frantically.
Tiffany looked at the last remnants of daylight. "I'd guess about eight-thirty."
Brenda dropped her stick in the beginning of the hole she'd dug, and then pushed a large rock over the spot so the void wasn't visible. "Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God," she whispered as she hurried to rub her hands together to get the dust off. She stood. "I'm due in the studio at nine. I've got my first paid show. Drejohn said he's gotten more pre-sales for my show than any other debut."
Listening to the tone of her friend's voice, Tiffany was appalled that she heard a hint of pride. Swallowing her dismay, she asked, "If I don't think of something to get us out tonight, can I meet you here again tomorrow? Maybe in the morning? No one is around then."
"I'll try. I've got to go," Brenda said, running with the grace of a gazelle around the side of the dorm toward the entrance.
With her friend's sudden departure, Tiffany realized how glad she'd been to see Brenda. She shuddered to think what Brenda had gone through the past couple days. Thinking of her friend
being forced to have sex – and now, do a live televised show gave Tiffany an idea.
She'd go to the generator shed and figure out how to get in there. Maybe she could knock out the power and stop Brenda's show. She moved with purpose toward the shed, but with only a quarter-moon rising in the twilight, she slowed her pace. It wouldn't do her any good to break an ankle this far from the house.
Reaching the pre-fabricated wooden building, she moved to the front where the doors were. Straining her eyes to see in the night, she felt around and found the padlock securing the shed doors. She'd need bolt cutters – a tool that wasn't readily available. Then she ran her fingers over the wood to where the door hinges were. She'd seen on TV that burglars sometimes remove door hinges to get in that way. From her imitation Braille, she determined she'd need tools to undo the fixtures. You're going to have to think of something else. This won't work.
Hearing male laughter coming from the direction of the main house, she paused. She'd thought of a plan, but she'd have to hurry. At a slow jog, she hurried through the darkness.
MADDIE – 59
With the sun sinking into the foothills, bumper-to-bumper traffic crawled at single-digit speeds. Weary and wilted drivers struggled through the Newhall Pass connecting the San Fernando Valley with northern Los Angeles County.
Preoccupied with my concerns about Darius and Heather McCall, I jumped as my partner playfully punched me in my right bicep. "What'd you do that for?"
"I've been
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