He quickly maneuvered the phone so he could hear, too.
The voice had been electronically altered. He couldn’t tell whether it was male or female, though Margo had thought the kidnapper male.
“I’ll let you know when and where,” the voice said. “I want to make sure you have enough time to get all that nice money together. But you still understand, I hope, that telling the cops will be bad for Andee’s health.”
Hunter pushed the phone completely back into Margo’s hand and nudged her.
“Y-yes,” she said. “I understand.”
Before Hunter got into position again to eavesdrop, Margo cried, “Wait! Please—” But it was too late. She stared at the receiver for a moment as if willing it to talk to her.
Hunter held the thing to his own ear, wanting to shout but staying quiet in case the kidnapper remained silently on the line.
In a moment, the female recorded voice that signaled the other person had hung up began to speak: “If you’d like to make a call, please hang up and try again.”
Hunter slammed the receiver down, then demanded of Margo, “Do you have caller ID?”
She shook her head. She grasped the nearest counter as if ready to faint.
Pressing *69 wouldn’t do any good, Hunter realized. If he got the kidnapper on the line, what then?
Instead, he used his cell phone to call Banger. “You able to trace a call that came to Margo’s line yet?”
“Yeah,” Arthur Banner said. “Why? The kidnapper call again?”
“Yes,” Hunter hissed.
“I’ll get right on it.”
“Thanks.” Hunter closed his cell phone, then turned to face the women. “Margo, tell me exactly what the guy said.”
“He…he said the ransom will be one million dollars.” The figure came out in a wail. “How can we get a million—?”
“Don’t worry about that.” Of course Hunter hadn’t any better idea than she did. “What else did he say?”
“Only that he wanted to give us time to get the money together before telling me any more. At first, he just laughed, taunted me. I thought I heard Andee crying, but he didn’t put her on the phone.”
“Did she sound all right?” Hunter demanded.
“I don’t know.” Margo sobbed, then took a deep breath. “We have two days to get the money ready. He’ll call again the day after tomorrow to let us know where to drop the ransom.”
“Two days? Damn! That’s too long. Andee…but at least it’ll give us time to figure out a plan.”
“Plan? Our plan should be to get the money.”
“With luck, Banger’ll figure out where the call came from. Maybe we’ll catch the SOB and get Andee back without needing to get the ransom together. In any event, we’re going to talk it over with Banger and his FBI friend so next time the kidnapper calls, you’ll be able to dictate to him about when and where to make the ransom drop. He’ll listen if he wants the money.”
“Then you aren’t going to get the money together?”
“I didn’t say that,” Hunter snapped. “Two days isn’t enough for me to get a million dollars in cash, but I’ll get my hands on all I can. We just need to be as ready as possible.”
“I don’t have much,” Margo said, “but I’ll put in what I can—a few thousand. Maybe I can borrow from my friends. But we have to get the money for him. We just have to!”
He looked away from the frightened expression on his ex-wife’s face—and faced Shauna.
Her stricken expression told him exactly what she was thinking—remembering what was in her damned story about the ransom demand:
Big T was in it for the money. No more, no less.
As long as the kid’s family came through, they’d see her again. If not…
Well, that was a situation that no one wanted to think about. Especially Big T.
Damn, but he would not allow anyone to make a fool of him like that.
And having blood on his hands was not his idea of a good time.
Chapter 7
The doorbell rang.
They were in Margo’s house. Hunter’s ex-wife, still crying, appeared in no condition to answer it. But Shauna didn’t think it would be appropriate for her to go.
“Go check who’s there, please, Shauna.” Hunter’s voice was calm, his expression impassive.
But Shauna again discerned subtle nuances in features so familiar that she had known them as much by touch and taste as by appearance. He was hurting.
The green of his eyes was dulled from pain, shadowed below from apparent lack of sleep. The creases framing his mouth had deepened. His posture bowed an iota at the shoulders.
“Sure,” she responded, glad to flee, even for a moment, from the misery she could not ease.
As she hurried to the entry, her brain continued to reel from what she’d gleaned from the phone call from the kidnapper.
And her recollection of what her story had said about it: As long as the kid’s family came through, they’d see her again.
But a million dollars?
Shauna knew that Hunter’s private investigation agency was small but successful. Even so, could he gather that much together—especially right away?
In her story, it hadn’t been clear, when Hunter went to the ransom drop location, whether he’d been in possession of all the money that had been demanded.
If only that location had been specifically described in what she’d written, maybe they could prepare for it. Get the police to watch the area, ready to grab the kidnapper and get Andee back.
If only what she wrote was more specific altogether: about the kidnapper’s identity. And where he had taken Andee.
But her stories, stoked by emotion, often were plentiful in allusion and sparse in details, and even those weren’t always clear. Like the ones leading to her loss of Hunter. And in this one on Andee, only the ending seemed much too clear.
A sigh burst from her as she reached the door. The peephole was below her eye level, so she bent to peer out, just as the doorbell pealed again. And again.
She recognized Conrad Chiles. The irritated neighbor in her story? That would explain his impatience.
She opened the door. “Hi, Mr. Chiles. Margo’s a little busy right now. Can I help you?”
“No, you can’t. I want to see Margo right away.” His eyes glittered behind his glasses, and despite the fact that he’d struck Shauna as more senior citizen than middle-aged, he rocked with pent-up energy on the balls of feet clad in athletic shoes beneath his dressy brown slacks.
“I’ll tell her you’re here.” Shauna didn’t want to be rude and shut the door in his face, but better that than let him slip uninvited into the house, behind her.
“It’s okay. Let him in.” Margo’s voice was hoarse but strong. Shauna turned. Margo stood framed by the open doorway to the hall. She looked fragile yet brave.
Maybe that was because Hunter stood behind her. Shauna remembered having his strong, assertive presence as her own courage booster. Not that she’d needed a lot of courage then…until the end. When he hadn’t been behind her at all.
“Hello, Conrad,” Margo said more strongly. “Would you like to come in and join us for coffee?”
“No, but I’d like you to tell me what’s really going on.”
He stood inside the front door, thin arms crossed in his dressy shirt, and glared. “First, I see you yesterday in the alley and you’re looking for Andee. Then your ex-husband and his girlfriend show up and claim Andee’s fine but they want to know how she got out of your yard.”
Shauna felt her face go pink under Conrad’s stare—but not solely because of his accusatory look.
He’d called her Hunter’s girlfriend.
Of course she had been, long ago, but Shauna didn’t attempt to clarify their current relationship to this stranger.
She darted a glance at Hunter, who stood close to his ex-wife.
Conrad kept talking. “So you told me Andee’s visiting a friend now, after
the friend’s mother found her and took her home. Well, I don’t buy it. Tell me what’s really going on.”
Shauna’s mind changed again. Conrad wasn’t the irritated neighbor from her story; he was the nosy one.
How could they answer him? Should they answer him? Shauna donned her therapist’s hat. “It’s so nice of you to be concerned about her,” she said carefully. Were Margo and he such good friends that he normally would know where Andee was at any time?
She glanced toward Margo, hoping for a clue.
Hunter’s former wife seemed to rally as she came closer. “I know it seems a little odd, Conrad,” she admitted, “but, well…” She gave a small laugh that Shauna figured this actress would never dare use while playing a role. It was so obviously false. Margo turned toward Hunter. “Conrad’s been so sweet. When he sees us getting into the car in the garage, he always has a lollipop for Andee. They’re friends.”
Shauna throat constricted. How good friends were they?
Good enough that he would steal the child away, then hide his heinous act by pretending to be a concerned neighbor?
She had nothing to base that on, but she met Hunter’s stare and knew he wondered the same thing.
Not that his expression had changed much from its former impassiveness. But she could tell, from the tiny flare to his nostrils, that he was as suspicious as she.
“I like kids,” Conrad said to Margo. “You know that. And Andee’s one of the best. That’s why I want to know what’s up.”
Whether he was the caring neighbor that he seemed or an abductor, they had to tread carefully.
Hunter’s mouth opened. Shauna guessed he was about to start an investigator’s interrogation—and not a gentle one. Margo must have figured that, too, for she grabbed Hunter by the arm and took a step toward the door, which caused Conrad to fall back.
“Honestly, Conrad,” Margo said, “Andee’s fine. You’re sweet to be concerned, but there’s no need for you to worry.”
“But something’s going on,” the man persisted. “You look like you’ve been crying.” He’d allowed Margo to herd him toward the door but didn’t go through it.
Shauna decided to resort to the truth—a modified version. “Okay, Mr. Chiles. You’re right. There’s something going on, and I think you guessed part of it.” Three people’s stares focused on her, and none felt friendly. She continued anyway. “I’m a psychologist, and an old friend of Hunter’s. He was angry with Margo when he heard Andee got out of the yard, was considering not allowing her to stay here, when he traveled, if she wasn’t being adequately supervised by her mother. I agreed to come to ask some questions, determine whether Andee’s sneaking out was a fluke or whether Margo’s attention needed improvement. Obviously, she’s upset about it.”
“Oh?” Conrad maneuvered around Margo to confront Shauna. She was taller, but he didn’t seem intimidated. He pointed an arthritic finger at her and said, “I’ve known Margo for a while. She’s a nice lady. Loves her daughter, even though she doesn’t have full custody. Andee’s getting out of the yard was an accident. Margo takes good care of her, and don’t let her former husband tell you otherwise.” He took a couple of steps in Hunter’s direction, obviously intending to seem menacing.
But Hunter was a lot taller, broader, younger and obviously in much better shape than the older man. Conrad halted abruptly when Hunter strode toward him.
Oh, heavens, Shauna thought. Not a good time for a confrontation. What if the man went to the police? Banger might not be able to keep the situation quiet, even for a few more hours.
Assuming Conrad wasn’t the kidnapper.
But instead of accosting the man, Hunter held out his hand. “Thanks for keeping a close watch on Andee, Mr. Chiles. And for being a caring enough neighbor to check on the situation. Most people wouldn’t give a damn. And you’re right. I’ve seen nothing to indicate that Margo did anything wrong.”
Shauna’s heart swelled with pride in Hunter. He’d kept his cool despite the heat of the moment.
You’ve no right to feel pride about anything Hunter Strahm does. Her reminder deflated her.
Conrad’s chin lifted enough to straighten the folds of skin beneath. He shook Hunter’s hand brusquely, then let go. “All right,” he said sternly. Then, to Margo, he added, “Sorry if I was out of line, but you know I’m on your side.” He gave a quick nod and finally headed out the door.
Margo closed the door behind him, leaning her head against it with eyes closed, as if the confrontation had absorbed all her remaining energy. “Lord save us from well-meaning butt-inskies,” she intoned sadly.
“Yeah,” Hunter agreed.
Shauna said nothing. Something about Conrad Chiles had bothered her.
Could he be the abductor? She no longer thought so, yet…
She wasn’t surprised when Hunter slipped out the door after him.
“It’s not him,” Hunter said a while later, back in Margo’s kitchen. He hazarded a glance across the kitchen. The cabinets were dark wood. Depressing.
So was his damned mood.
“Unless he’s put Andee someplace else,” he continued. “He’d need an accomplice for that, since he’s been around here, and Andee’s too little to leave by herself this long.”
Unless, of course, his daughter was dead. And he refused to accept that. Besides, even Shauna’s story described how Andee was alive…at least until the kidnapper was caught.
He felt even more frustrated than before. His brainstorm hadn’t provided a breakthrough.
Attempting to pretend everything was normal, he got himself a drink of water from the dispenser on the refrigerator door.
“Who are you talking about?” Margo demanded. She stood by the sink, holding a dish towel decorated with flowers that went well with her yellow blouse. “Conrad? Of course he had nothing to do with Andee’s disappearance. He’s a pushy old guy, but he’s harmless. Don’t waste your time on him, Hunter, please. Find Andee!”
“How can you be sure it’s not him?” Shauna asked softly. She stood by the door as if eager to leave. Her arms were crossed, emphasizing the distinct swells of her breasts beneath her gold T-shirt.
He had seen the momentary shocked expression that had widened her eyes earlier as she’d looked at him. Hunter had known what she was thinking, for his mind had glommed at the same time onto the same possibility: that Margo’s grumpy but otherwise seemingly harmless, neighbor, whom they had interviewed before, could, after all, be the kidnapper.
Margo had been talking about Conrad’s handing out lollipops at the time. That had made Hunter suspicious. Why did an old guy like that, apparently with no kids of his own, have treats to pass out to youngsters? Shauna’s expression suggested she, too, had caught it—a kind act of a lonely man, or something more sinister? Her look had given Hunter the sudden, disconcertingly gratifying sensation of the past merging with the present.
They’d once been on the same wavelength about a lot of things. It was something he had particularly liked about her. And him. Them.
It was the things they hadn’t seen eye-to-eye about that had been the killers. Literally.
“I followed Conrad home,” Hunter said in response to Shauna’s question. “Called Simon on the way and let him in on what I was up to. When Conrad got inside, I walked around, looking in windows. When I didn’t see any sign of Andee, I rang his doorbell, asked about a neighbor who doesn’t exist, and—surprise!—his phone rang. I let myself in while he answered it, looked around. It took a few minutes. Simon’s good at things like keeping people talking. But there was no indication Andee had ever been there.”
During this speech, he’d approached the table. Instead of sitting in the nearest chair, he lifted one foot and rested it on the seat. Margo immediately protested, as she always had when his comfort conflicted with her most prized things, which consisted of nearly everything she owned.
And excluded him. He’d wondered—till now—if it also excluded Andee. But Margo was obviously up
set about their daughter’s kidnapping. Maybe it took something as terrible as this to turn on her maternal gene.
“Sorry.” He dropped the errant foot back to the floor. “Look, I’ve got to make a call.” He turned his back on both women and pushed buttons on his cell phone. Enough time had passed for the cops to trace the kidnapper’s call.
“What do you mean ‘no luck’?” Hunter demanded when he got Banger on the line and asked the trace’s status.
“Well, we did trace the call—to a cell phone. Only problem is, the thing was stolen a couple of days ago. The owner checks out—a college girl who reported it.”
“Great.” Hunter felt his fist tighten around the phone and loosened it. He depended on the thing too much to crush it.
He pivoted. Shauna and Margo were now seated at the table. The two were conversing quietly, although Shauna’s eyes met his for an instant.
Hunter hadn’t tried to hide his frustration before, that he hadn’t found Andee at Conrad’s place. He didn’t attempt to hide his anger now with what could be cop ineptitude but was more likely a smart kidnapper.
Shauna’s gaze on him was sad and compassionate, everything a shrink’s should be. She had come with him to L.A. to help…that way. Not the way he needed.
As if she could really fix things, her damned story or not. If he hadn’t been so gut-punched by Andee’s kidnapping, he’d never have given any credence to—
“I’ve got to get to the office,” he said abruptly, “to start getting the ransom together.”
Though he would much rather be tracking Andee and the kidnapper. That was the kind of thing he was good at. In fact, that was how he’d programmed things, in his plan.
But his plans always left room for flexibility and amendment. Right now, he had to make sure the money was available, in case it was the only way to get his daughter back.
He looked at his ex-wife. “About that cash you offered…?”
“I haven’t had any jobs for a few months,” she said, “but I received a couple of residual checks this month for almost five thousand dollars. For Andee, I’ll give it all to you now, and I’ll start calling friends about loans, too. A bunch of us actors are used to helping each other out in a pinch.”
Not a Moment Too Soon Page 9