John's Yearning

by Tina Folsom

  “How may I help you, Ms. Rice?”

  His question pulled her from her reverie. She pushed her thoughts about his appearance aside, remembering the glowing praise Donnelly had sung about him and Scanguards. To make sure they were legit, she’d looked into the company and found only complimentary reviews. It appeared that even the mayor enlisted their services from time to time, and what was good enough for the City of San Francisco, she hoped was good enough for her.

  She swallowed and folded her hands in her lap, forcing herself to remain calm. It was hard, because every time she had to recount what had happened, tears inevitably came and choked off her ability to speak. It helped no one, least of all Buffy. For her sake, she had to pull herself together.

  I won’t give up till I find you, baby, I promise.

  “Ms. Rice?”

  She snapped her gaze to his face.

  “Detective Donnelly said your daughter disappeared three days ago. Can you tell me what happened?”

  She nodded. His voice was laden with concern now, and it helped put her at ease. He was willing to listen. “Mr. Grant, thank you for seeing me—”

  “Call me John, please. Tell me about your daughter. Buffy’s her name?”

  She nodded. “She’s only ten.” And she was probably frightened to death wherever she was. “She disappeared after school.”

  “Tell me everything. Start on the day she disappeared.”

  “She attends Grattan Elementary in Cole Valley, has since kindergarten. I normally drop her off just after eight and then go to my office in SoMa and—”

  “Normally?” he interrupted.

  While it wasn’t too far to drive from Buffy’s school to her office in the largely commercial South of Market district, she’d had to go straight to her office that day. “Yes, but that morning I had an early business meeting, so I asked my neighbor to take her. Her son goes to the same school, so Buffy rode with them.”

  “And you trust your neighbor? I will need her name and address.”

  Savannah made a dismissive hand movement. “That’s not when it happened. Buffy got to school alright. She was there all day. The teachers and the students all confirm it. It happened sometime later.”

  “Sometime later? Has the time of her disappearance not yet been established?”

  “Yes and no.” And that’s where her frustration with the police had started. They were dismissing some of the witnesses’ claims, just because those witnesses happened to be children. “She goes to the after-school program there, too. And while some of the students said they saw her there, others said they think she’d already left.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “They were doing an impromptu field trip.”

  “Where to?”

  “Just a few blocks away to a lookout point called Tank Hill.”

  John nodded. “I know it. Is it unusual for such a field trip to take place without any planning?”

  “It happens on occasion that due to teacher availability or bad weather, activities are shifted from one day to another. You see, it was completely fogged in the day before, so they couldn’t take the walk on the day they were supposed to. When the fog cleared that afternoon, the teacher decided to take advantage of it.”

  “And you say that nobody is sure that your daughter went on the walk with her class?”

  “The teacher said she was with them, she’d even ticked her off the register before and after the walk when they returned to the school. But several of the kids said they didn’t see Buffy.”

  “Hmm.” John steepled his fingers under his chin, closing his eyes for a moment.

  The gesture drew her attention to his long dark lashes and the full eyebrows that curved over his eyelids. When he suddenly opened his eyes again, his gaze collided with hers, pinning her.

  “What time does the after-school program end?”

  “At six.”

  “And you were there at six to pick her up? Were you waiting or were you late?”

  Savannah edged forward on her chair. “Neither. I had a meeting that ran over.”

  “So you asked your neighbor to take Buffy home again?”

  Was he judging her, because she couldn’t be there for her daughter when she needed her?

  “No.” Savannah realized how agitated she was becoming, but she couldn’t stop her distress from seeping into her voice. “Her son doesn’t go to the after-school program. I called my babysitter. She went to pick up Buffy. But when she got there, Buffy wasn’t there.”

  “I’m assuming your babysitter—what’s her name?”

  “Elysa, Elysa Flannigan.”

  “I’m assuming Elysa is on the list of authorized persons to pick up Buffy?”

  “Yes, the school only releases the kids to somebody on their list. And Elysa is on the list.”

  “Was she on time?”

  “She said she was.” And Savannah believed her. Elysa had been babysitting for her since Buffy was three and was very responsible. “She was on time. She’s always on time.”

  “Even if you tell her last minute that you need her to come and pick up your daughter?”

  With that, Savannah lost her temper and jumped up. “What are you implying? That I’m a bad mother? That I don’t look out for my child?”

  John rose and walked around the desk. “Please calm down, Ms. Rice.”

  “You’re right, it’s my fault! I didn’t have enough time for her. I put work before her, when I should have been the one picking her up, when I should have kept her with me rather than put her into an after-school program so I could spend more time at work. It’s my fault.”

  “It’s not your fault, and I’m not suggesting that you’re a bad mother. I’m just trying to establish what happened and how it happened. I’m not judging you. I’m sure raising a child on your own is hard enough.”

  His last words calmed her a little. She felt awful for her outburst. “You must understand Buffy is everything to me. I love her more than my own life.” Tears welled up in her eyes now, and she no longer had the strength to hold them back. “The thought that she’s out there somewhere, taken by somebody, alone and frightened, is killing me inside. I have to find her. No matter what it takes.” She wiped the back of her hand over her wet cheek. “The police are too slow. The Amber alert yielded no results. And they have no idea what to do next. No suggestions, no plan.” She looked straight at him now. “Do you have children?”

  Something seemed to jolt him, but then it was gone again just as quickly. “No, I don’t.”

  “If you had children, you would understand that I can’t leave a single stone unturned. Whatever it costs, I need you to find Buffy. I need you to bring her home.”

  He stood there, clearly contemplating something, almost as if he didn’t know how to say what he had to say. “I need to be honest with you. Detective Donnelly might have overestimated what Scanguards can do. I don’t want you to, uh…”

  “What are you saying? That you won’t take the job? I assume your services aren’t cheap, but I can pay whatever—”

  He lifted his hand. “It’s not about money. In fact, if the disappearance of your daughter is indeed connected to the other disappearances in the Bay Area, and we take the case, the city will pay us.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t understand. Other disappearances? How many have there been?”

  “A dozen girls around Buffy’s age have disappeared in the last six weeks alone. The police—”

  “Oh my God!” Savannah reached for the chair to steady herself, but before she could do so, John had gripped her elbow, helping her to keep her balance. She’d read of a few disappearances, but those things happened, and for a large metropolitan area one or two a month wasn’t unusual, but a dozen? “The newspapers. Why—”

  “Why did the papers not report on it extensively? Because the police and the parents of the children decided it was in everybody’s interest to keep this under wraps so the police could investigate without a bunch of crazie
s flooding their tip line with made-up sightings and theories.”

  “Under wraps?” Anger churned up in her. “Had I known, I could have protected her. I would have hired somebody to watch over her twenty-four-seven!”

  “I know you would have.”

  Surprised, she met his eyes. Their chocolate brown color was shimmering with understanding as if a flame was turning it into a golden brown.

  “I received the file from the police tonight.” He pointed to a thick manila folder on his desk. “I’m going to see if I can connect your daughter’s disappearance to that of the other girls and find a common denominator. If there’s something there that connects these cases, I will find it.”

  The confidence in his voice was infectious.

  “Thank you!”

  “Don’t thank me yet. I can only tell you if we’ll accept your case once I’ve checked out all the details. Did you come by car?”

  A little confused about the abrupt change of subject, she shook her head. “I took a taxi. There’s never any parking in the Mission.”

  “Good. We’ll take my car. It’s in the underground garage.”

  Her forehead furrowed further. “To do what?”

  “You’re going to show me all places connected to you and Buffy: your home, your work, Buffy’s school, your neighbor’s home, your babysitter’s home. I need to make myself a picture of Buffy’s life.”

  She glanced at the clock on the wall. It was well past eight o’clock and dark outside. “You mean now?”

  “Security is a twenty-four hour business.”

  Savannah found herself wanting to hug this man. His willingness to go the extra mile and not waste any more time, but jump into action immediately, filled her heart with hope.

  Hold out a little longer, Buffy, Mommy is coming.

  3

  John grabbed his jacket, held the door open for Savannah and motioned her to walk through it ahead of him. A gentlemanly move, yes, but it also meant that he could follow her with his eyes, eyes that instantly dropped to her ass. Maybe for once he should have foregone his Southern manners, because looking at that shapely ass, those firm, round cheeks, gave him all kinds of ideas wholly inappropriate for this situation. He prided himself on being a civilized vampire, a man who kept his needs and desires firmly leashed. But just looking at Savannah as she sashayed out of his office and into the hallway, made him want to snap that leash and toss all his good intentions out the proverbial window.

  Savannah suddenly turned and looked at him. Startled, he froze. Shit, had she somehow sensed that he was checking out her ass?

  “Where to?”

  “Uh, this way,” he said and motioned to the elevators. As he walked next to her, the silence between them felt awkward, so he asked, “Ms. Rice, I’m sure that even with Detective Donnelly’s recommendation, you considered other companies to help you with the search for your daughter. Why choose Scanguards?”

  “I spoke to several of the other companies in the field, but none of them struck me as even remotely qualified.” She gave him a sideways look. “They all started the initial meeting by laying out their fee structure and per diems, expenses, and what not. I knew then that they couldn’t care less whether they found Buffy or not, as long as they could bill me a bunch of hours.”

  “Hmm.” He would have had the same concern had he been treated that way.

  “But when your first move was to ask me to tell you about Buffy and what had happened, I knew Scanguards was different. Detective Donnelly’s recommendation certainly helped, but I don’t rely on other people’s opinions. I form my own.”

  Maybe that attitude was what Donnelly had meant by bossy and opinionated, but John considered it good instincts. Very good instincts.

  “I’ll do my best not to disappoint you.”

  When they arrived at the elevators, John pressed the button, and Savannah turned to him. “I didn’t have much confidence in the police to begin with. But after what you just told me about the other children, I know I can’t rely on them to find Buffy. I hate to put more pressure on you, but Scanguards is my last hope.”

  Before he could respond, the elevator doors opened and Amaury, Scanguards’ founder Samson’s best friend and a high-ranking director of the company, stepped out. As always, he was casually dressed in cargo pants and a shirt that was open at the collar. His long dark hair, shorter than John’s, touched his shoulders, shoulders that were as broad as a tank. He was linebacker material for sure, though John knew Amaury had never played American football in his youth, which he’d spent in sixteenth century France.

  “Hey, John,” Amaury greeted him and nodded to Savannah.

  “Amaury, evening.”

  “Glad I’m running into you. There’s been a small change in the schedule.”

  John raised an eyebrow. Would he have to hand Savannah over to somebody else? “Yeah?”

  “Damian and Benjamin requested to do their hands-on-training exercises with you starting tomorrow night. Take ‘em patrolling and find something for them to do.” Amaury grimaced. “Sorry, but I had to approve it, or they would have talked my ear off.”

  John shrugged and reached for the elevator door, preventing it from shutting. “I don’t mind. Like I said to Gabriel earlier, the boys need to start pulling their weight. We need the extra pairs of hands.”

  Amaury slapped him on the shoulder. “Glad you see it that way. Not everybody is keen on training the next generation.” He made a motion to walk away, then stopped and grinned. “Oh, and I told them that your word is law. They run roughshod over me, ‘cause I’m their father, but there’s no reason for you to tolerate such behavior.”

  John had to chuckle involuntarily. “They’re good boys. You could have done worse.”

  Amaury winked at him. “Yeah, I could have gotten Grayson as a son.” With a nod and a “Ma’am” to Savannah, he left.

  John looked at Savannah and motioned to the elevator. “Shall we?”

  Inside the elevator, John pressed the button for parking level two and watched the doors slide closed.

  “I couldn’t help but overhear that you’re patrolling. What kind of patrolling?” Savannah asked.

  “We have a contract with the city. For security services.” When she gave him a curious look, he added, “The city’s police force is too small to handle all of the city’s security needs. So they hired Scanguards to patrol certain areas at night. Make sure the city is safe.” Safe from creatures of the night. From creatures like him.

  “The city seems to have lots of confidence in Scanguards.”

  “We’ve been working with them for a long time.” The former mayor of San Francisco, a hybrid and a friend of Samson, had negotiated the deal. When the new mayor had taken over, he, as well as the chief of police, had been let in on the secret that vampires existed. Fortunately, they’d agreed to honor the prior mayor’s arrangement and sworn to keep the existence of vampires, witches, and other paranormal creatures secret. The deal worked well for both sides: the city was safe, and Scanguards received steady pay from the city’s treasury.

  The elevator doors opened. “Go ahead, my car is parked to the left.” He followed Savannah out into the clean, well-lit garage.

  “The SUV?” she asked, pointing to a blackout van, one of Scanguards’ preferred modes of transport because it shielded the vampires riding in it—including the driver—from the sun.

  John shook his head, clicked his key remote, and the lights of the car next to the SUV flashed briefly.

  Savannah’s gaze snapped to it. “The sports car?” There was a hint of surprise in her eyes, as if she hadn’t expected him to drive a sports car or make enough money to afford such an expensive vehicle. Or maybe it was just appreciation for the fine German machine he owned. For whatever reason, he had a hard time reading her.

  The black Mercedes AMG was a sleek two-seater and his pride and joy. It had also been made vampire-safe, its windows coated with a film UV-rays couldn’t penetrate, while still let
ting in enough light so the car didn’t look suspicious.

  He opened the passenger door and waited for Savannah to slide into the leather seat, before closing the door behind her. Then he got in on the driver’s side and engaged the engine. Moments later, he merged into traffic on busy Mission Street, before turning North toward Cole Valley.

  “We’ll start with the school,” he announced.

  “There won’t be anybody there right now. It’s night.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” In fact it was better if he could snoop around without any school staff asking him questions. Besides, a visit during the day was out of the question. “I’ll be able to see what I need to see.”

  “You work nights a lot?” she asked.

  “Mostly.” Though not by choice.

  “Don’t you mind it?”

  “You get used to it.” After a couple of hundred years.

  “Hmm.” She looked out the side window and fell silent for a moment. “Yeah, I guess you can get used to a lot of things if you have to.”

  He could sense sadness in her voice, and knew it was time to guide the conversation in another direction. Just as well, because he still had plenty of questions pertaining to Buffy. “You said there was no Mr. Rice. So where is he, Buffy’s father?”

  She turned her head to him. “I don’t know. Why do you ask?”

  “Because we can’t rule out the possibility that he might have kidnapped her. It happens all the time that non-custodial parents kidnap their own children in order to get back at their ex-spouse.”

  “I was probably not very clear earlier.” She sighed. “There is no father. None that Buffy would know. I was never married.”

  “Your ex-boyfriend then?”

  From the corner of his eye he noticed her shake her head. “I wanted a child, but I didn’t want a man in the bargain. Buffy’s biological father has no idea he has a child. He donated his sperm to a sperm bank, and for all I know, he has lots of children he doesn’t know about. He was a very desirable donor.”