But Savannah saw a flash of anger behind those thick lenses, and it occurred to her that Stanley might have a nasty side. And that, coupled with his hefty size, might present a problem to anyone who crossed him—even a smaller man, let alone a woman.
She hoped that if Daisy had run afoul of someone, it wasn’t this guy. Those huge hands could do serious harm.
“I need to ask you about your ex-girlfriend, Daisy,” Dirk was saying. “I guess you know she’s gone missing.”
Stan’s eyes widened. “Missing? What do you mean, ‘she’s missing’? I just saw her yesterday morning, and she was fine.”
“What time did you see her?” Dirk asked.
“I had breakfast with her at the café across the street when I got off work at eight yesterday morning. She was all jazzed about her taping tomorrow. So excited she couldn’t even eat. And for Daisy, that’s saying something. She and I have that in common. We both like to eat.”
A soft, affectionate smile crossed his face just for a moment, and Savannah began to revise her assessment of Stan. Just because a guy was big didn’t mean he was a threat. Some of the sweetest guys Savannah had ever known were big mushy teddy bears at heart.
One of them was standing right beside her.
Although if anybody called Dirk a teddy bear to his face, they might get bitten.
Stan had also spoken of Daisy in the present tense. That was always a good sign—at least where his noninvolvement in her disappearance was concerned.
“She had breakfast with you,” Dirk said. “So does that mean that you two are boyfriend-girlfriend again?”
Stan shrugged. “I guess. We had a big fight and broke up a couple of months ago, but I think we’ve made up now. You know how it is with girls... sometimes, it’s hard to tell.”
Both Stan and Dirk chuckled and gave Savannah sideways glances.
“Hey,” she said, “don’t look at me. A guy always knows where he stands with me . . . in trouble or out of it. No mixed signals here.”
“That’s true.” Dirk nodded. “Very true.” He turned back to Stan. “This is Savannah Reid. She’s working this case with me and—”
“Case? What case? Do you mean Daisy is a...a ‘case’!”
He looked genuinely distraught, and again, Savannah dropped him a notch lower on her mental list of suspects.
Stan actually looked like he might start to cry. “You don’t seriously think something bad has happened to her, do you?” he said.
It was Dirk’s turn to avoid eye contact. “We don’t know yet. But she hasn’t been seen or heard from in over twenty-four hours.”
Savannah added, “For some people, that’s no big deal at all. But Daisy’s mother says it’s unusual for her. Would you agree?”
Stan nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah. That’s not like Daisy. She always lets her mom know where she is, what she’s doing.”
“Her mom is pretty strict with her?” Savannah asked.
“She’s not strict like mean or anything bad. Pam’s a nice lady, and they get along good. Daisy checks in a lot so that her mom won’t worry about her. The two of them are close. They’re like all they’ve got.”
“I didn’t see any sign of a dad around when we were over there just now,” Savannah said.
“No, he took off with his secretary when Daisy was just a little kid. Pam’s been pretty pissed about it ever since. She doesn’t even like me all that much, and I think it’s because she doesn’t trust men.”
Savannah thought better of asking her next question, then decided to jump on in. “Stan, I heard that you and Daisy broke up over Tiffany Dante. Is that true?”
Even as she spoke the words, Savannah thought how ludicrous the whole idea was. She couldn’t imagine a shallow, materialistic girl like Tiffany Dante “soiling” her hands with a simple, poor, unattractive kid like this one. If she had, indeed, seduced Stanley Crofton, it could have been for no other reason than to spite her so-called friend.
“I never did anything with Tiffany,” Stan said. The indignant look on his face was convincing. “I wouldn’t touch that stupid girl. I can’t stand her, and I told Daisy a long time ago that she should dump those gals. Pam put that idea into Daisy’s mind, or maybe Tiffy did, just to mess with her head. But it’s not true at all.”
“So, you’re serious about this girl, Daisy?” Dirk asked.
“Yeah. Sure I am. I care a lot about Daisy. We’ve even talked about getting married one of these days. I wouldn’t mess around on her like that with anybody, let alone Tiffany Dante.”
Savannah leaned across the counter, lowered her voice, and said, “Stan, don’t take offense, but...I have to ask you. Is there any chance that Daisy could be pregnant?”
His pale complexion blushed dark red. “What? What kind of question is that?”
“A very personal one, I know,” Savannah replied. “And I’m sorry, but I have to ask. That’s one reason why girls leave home unexpectedly. They’re afraid how their family will take it, and—”
“No. She’s not. I mean, she said she was... you know... taking care of it. She told me she’s on the pill, and I trust her. Daisy’s a smart girl. We both want to go to college and get good jobs before we get married, before we have kids. She wouldn’t mess us up that way.”
“Okay. Sorry, I had to ask.”
Savannah was liking Stan more all the time, but one look at Dirk told her that he wasn’t as easily convinced as she was. He was still wearing his Clint Eastwood at high noon look as he evaluated the big kid in front of him.
Dirk cleared his throat and gave Stan his best long, stern interrogation look. “So, when is the last time you heard from her?”
“Yesterday,” Stan said, “when I left her after breakfast. We kissed good-bye there in the parking lot, and she left.”
“And you haven’t spoken to her on the phone or heard anything from her since?” Savannah asked.
“No. I called her once tonight, right before I came to work. But she didn’t answer her cell. I left her a message. She hasn’t called me back yet.”
Dirk said, “And according to you, you two were on good terms when you saw her yesterday. She was in an upbeat mood and didn’t mention anything like running away from home or a fight with anybody. Right?”
“Yeah, she was fine. We were fine.”
“So what do you think has happened to her?” Dirk asked. “What’s your best guess?”
Stan thought it over, then shook his head. “I don’t know. I really don’t.”
“Is there anyone you can think of that we should talk to?” Savannah asked him. “Any other friends, people she might have gone to see, phoned, places she might go?”
“No. Daisy’s either home or here at work or out with those stupid girls, those Skeleton Key idiots. She’s over there a lot. Have you talked to them yet?”
“Yes,” Dirk said. “We’ve talked to them.”
“Well, talk to them again,” Stan said, and this time he had an anger in his eyes that made Savannah think, once again, that this mild kid could be a danger to the wrong person. “Or maybe I’ll talk to them myself. Because if something bad has happened to Daisy, I can bet you it’s got something to do with them.”
Dirk reached across the counter and slapped Stan on the shoulder. “You stay away from them for now,” he told him. “Let us do our job. And meanwhile . . .” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a card. “. . . if you hear anything at all from Daisy or you think of anything, no matter how insignificant it might seem to you, day or night, you give me a call. Okay?”
Stan took the card, looked it over, then put it into his smock pocket. “Yeah, okay,” he said. “Thanks. Thanks for looking for her.”
Dirk shrugged. “No sweat. It’s my job.”
After Dirk walked away, Savannah lingered. She gave Stan a sympathetic look and a wink. “Don’t let him kid you,” she told him. “He’d do it even if it wasn’t his job. And so would I. We’ll find Daisy for you.”
Stan blink
ed rapidly a few times, then swallowed hard. “Please do. She’s a good kid. A really good kid. Bad things shouldn’t happen to good people.”
As Savannah walked away, she thought how much she agreed with him. But she knew more than most that fair or not, bad things happened to good people all the time. Sadly, even more often than they happened to bad people.
And it drove her crazy.
“Okay, now I’m bummed. I am seriously bummed,” Dirk said as they drove away from the drugstore. “I was just so sure it would be the boyfriend. Hell, it’s always the boyfriend.”
“Take heart,” Savannah told him. “Maybe Daisy’s got another boyfriend.”
“Yeah, right. Now you’re just being sarcastic.”
“Well, what would you prefer? A stranger abduction?”
“God forbid.”
She agreed with him there. If a stranger nabbed somebody, there was almost never a happy ending. And far too frequently, the case couldn’t even be solved.
He took another cinnamon stick out of the bag on the dash and stuck it into his mouth.
“How many packs of those do you, uh, suck a day?” she asked.
“Why? Does it bother you?”
“Not at all. At least with those, I don’t have to breathe the secondhand smoke, and you smell like a fresh-baked apple pie, instead of a barroom ashtray.”
“Uh, okay. Thanks. I guess.” Then he added, “You’re the only person I know who can give me a compliment and, at the same time, make me feel like I’ve just been kicked in the ba—”
“Hey, watch it with the potty mouth. Gran will ask me if the young man I was out with was a gentleman, and I can’t lie to her. She can always tell.”
He chuckled. “What’ll she do? Take you out behind the woodshed and tan your hide?”
“Don’t think it hasn’t happened. Gran was a sweetheart ninety-nine percent of the time. But if you sassed her or lied to her, heaven help you. She’d take a switch to your hind end and make you dance a jig.”
“You don’t have to convince me. I’m scared to death of her.”
“I’m sure she’d be delighted to hear that, to know that her reputation has spread from coast to coast.”
They both laughed.
She noticed that he was headed west. “Are you taking me home now?”
“Yeah. It’s after ten. There’s not much more we can do tonight, and I want to stay on Gran’s good side. I’ll go home and grab some sleep and get an early start tomorrow morning.”
“And you’ll be picking me up at what time?”
“Is eight o’clock too early?”
“Yes, but I’ll be ready anyway. In fact, make it seven-thirty, and I’ll have hot biscuits and sausage gravy waiting for you.”
He gave her a sideways glance that was quick but full of heartfelt affection and soul-deep gratitude. “I love you, Van. Adore you. I worship the ground you—”
“Oh please. You’re just a glutton for free food.”
“And free, Southern-style, finger-lickin’, gum-smackin’, calorie-laden cuisine is just part of the glorious wonder that is you.” He paused. Rested. Then added, “How’s that? Have I kissed up enough to get peach preserves on those hot biscuits?”
“Yeah, I reckon that’ll do it. Now shut up already.”
“Okay. Cool.”
***
When Savannah entered her house, she found Granny Reid lying on her sofa, sound asleep, her reading glasses on her nose, her Bible on her chest, her True Informer folded neatly on the coffee table.
For a deliciously, long time, Savannah stood there, looking at her grandmother, loving this woman who had been grandparent, mother, and best friend to her for so many years.
She shuddered to think what might have happened to her and her siblings if Gran hadn’t summoned her considerable strength and decided that she did, indeed, have what it took to raise nine grandchildren.
And now, even though she was more than eighty years old and all of those grandchildren were adults, Gran still felt as though she was on duty. She would consider them all her little chickadees for the rest of her life.
But twenty years ago—maybe even ten years ago—she would not have gone to sleep while waiting for one of them to come home.
Age took a subtle toll, even on as youthful a spirit as Gran’s.
For just a moment, Savannah considered waking her grandmother and walking her upstairs to bed. But she knew Gran well, and she knew that Gran’s preference was to snooze where she landed. Once she had passed out in a chair or on a sofa, there she stayed until time to rise and shine.
Gently, Savannah reached over and carefully slipped the glasses off her face, folded them, and placed them on the coffee table beside the tabloid. Then she moved the well-worn Bible, too.
She took an afghan, one of her dearest possessions because Gran herself had crocheted it for her, and spread it over her grandmother, covering her from chin to toes. After tucking it around her legs and feet, Savannah reached over and gave her a light kiss on the top of her silver hair.
She stirred slightly and whispered, “Savannah? You home, sugar?”
“Sh-h-h. Yes, I’m home safe and sound.”
“Did you have a good time with your young man?” she asked, her voice soft and drowsy from sleep.
Savannah smiled. Old habits die hard, she thought. “I was out with Dirk,” she reminded her, “looking for that girl who’s missing.”
“Did you find her?” she asked, squinting up at Savannah.
“Not yet. But we will.”
Gran nodded and closed her eyes again. “I know you will, darlin’. I prayed on it. Real hard.”
“Thank you.” Savannah gave her another kiss, this time on the forehead. Then she reached up to turn off the table lamp. “Nightie night,” she said. “Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”
But Gran was already asleep. And this time, she was snoring.
The chickadees were safe in the nest—she’d sleep soundly for the rest of the night. But Savannah was pretty sure she wouldn’t.
Once upstairs and in bed, she would pray for the missing girl’s safety, too. But she didn’t have as much faith as Gran.
Sadly, few people did.
Some nights, sleep just would not come. And it was one of those nights for Savannah. Nothing helped.
Her prayers had been said. And her two cats, miniature black panthers named Diamante and Cleopatra, were in bed with her—Diamante snuggled under the covers against her legs, Cleopatra curled inside the crook of her arm. Moonlight was streaming through the lace curtains, throwing filigree shadows across the bedspread. But none of it helped.
“Where are you, Daisy?” she whispered into the night silence. “Are you still with us?”
Or are you already gone?
She didn’t speak that thought—not even in a whisper.
Nearly twenty years ago, there had been another girl named Maggie, who had gone missing. And as misfortune would have it, Maggie’s case was one of the first that the newly made Detective Sergeant Savannah Reid and her partner Dirk Coulter had been assigned.
Oh, they found Maggie.
Well, actually, they found Maggie’s remains. Only hours after the girl had been murdered by a pimp.
Savannah had never gotten over it.
Some hurts, especially those having to do with children, never, ever heal. And from that moment on, any mention of a missing kid re-wounded that injury for her.
When Savannah remembered Maggie, finding her thrown away like so much unwanted garbage in that old citrus packing shed, Savannah felt like she was twenty-something going on ninety. The teenager’s young life was ended, and a twenty-five-year-old, freshly promoted policewoman was changed forever.
To Savannah, after Maggie, the world was never quite as good a place.
She lay there, watching the shadows change on her bedspread as the moon made its way across the sky. She did her deep breathing relaxation technique and the hypnosis routine that Tammy had taught her
. She watched as the red numbers on her alarm clock changed—one hour of sleep gone, two hours, then three.
Go to sleep, she told herself. Just give it up and go to sleep. If you don’t, you won’t be worth shootin’ tomorrow.
Four hours, and the moonlight was gone.
So were the cats. They liked to go downstairs and sit on their perch every morning just before dawn, waiting to bask in those first rays of sunlight.
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