Not a Moment Too Soon

by Linda O. Johnston

  “As if your story about my daughter’s kidnapping isn’t hard enough to buy into. Did you also have to pretend to dig into my private thoughts? And then stick what you came up with into one of your stories, complete with beginning, middle and end, like it was really going to happen? Forget it!”

  “I didn’t ask to write this story,” she countered. “I thought you finally recognized that I never plan the stories I write about real people. Blame yourself, if you want to blame anyone. I’m a conduit, at least for my stories’ beginnings. They’re transmitted to me from others’ emotions.” He opened his mouth, and she raised a hand to deflect his protest. “It’s not really how you feel? Fine. Let’s pretend it never happened and move on. Now I have a question for you. Why were snooping in my computer files in the first place?”

  “I’d intended to read again the description of where Big T was—the thing about the mountains. I wanted to make sure I remembered it right before following up on my calls. Maybe do some checking myself, like I should have earlier before I got distracted.”

  A distraction? She’d considered their lovemaking a lot more than that.

  A chilliness she had to dredge from deep down, beneath the hurt she refused to show him, dripped from her response. “I’ll bring up that file on my computer, and then you can read it. And that way you won’t get into anything else that’s private.”

  Head high, she skirted around him. She didn’t want to touch him, not even the merest brush. It might remind her too much, again, of all they’d shared so recently. His distraction.

  “That story was about me,” he growled. “Any confidentiality related to it should be mine. The thing may even be defamatory, the way it lies about what I’m supposedly feeling.”

  “I understand that’s your position,” Shauna retorted, wishing she could cover her ears. She didn’t want to hear him disclaim what was in that story.

  “Is there anything else about me on your computer?” he demanded.

  “Not that I’m aware of,” Shauna replied icily. And she wasn’t aware of any on this one. She didn’t keep all those stories she had written about him for years on her laptop’s hard drive, for she had never wanted to accidentally read any of them. As long as she’d kept them on disk and in paper files, she’d been able to delete them in their entirety when she was done.

  No matter how often she had told herself they no longer mattered—that he no longer mattered—they had always evoked an emotional reaction from her.

  Now she turned her back on him, sat and brought up the story about Andee. She scrolled to the part in which Big T thought about where he held the child, in the mountains.

  “Here,” she said, and rose.

  “Fine. Just a minute.” He left the room, returned quickly with his cell phone and made a call.

  Glancing at the corner of the computer screen, Shauna noted the time: five-thirty in the morning. Still early for most people to rise, though Hunter might be calling Simon or Banger, both of whom had struck her as diligent enough about their responsibilities that neither might have even seen their beds this night.

  “Hi, Margo, it’s me.” Hunter’s body was rigid beside Shauna, his eyes on the screen. “Yes, again. Yes, I know what time it is now, too.”

  Staying quiet, Shauna filled in the other side of the conversation without hearing Margo. She rose, crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, both feet on the floor.

  “Have you come up with any ideas of where Aitken might head if he went to the mountains?” He paused, then said, “I’m using my resources to track him down, and you should use yours, too. What about BillieAnn? Have you called her yet? She’s a friend to both of you. She might know something.”

  This time, after a short pause, he muttered, “Damn.”

  Shauna wanted to ask what was wrong but stayed silent. Hunter probably wasn’t even aware she was still in the room.

  She half wished she wasn’t. She wanted to be home.

  But even after the soul-twisting ups and downs of yesterday and this morning, she wouldn’t go before the story’s end was reached. Whatever way it played out, she had to know the finale.

  Hunter continued, “How long will BillieAnn be gone? No, obviously a week’ll be too long. She doesn’t have a cell phone? All right. If you hear from her, be sure to ask if she knows about any place Aitken has in the mountains. Or a cabin he might borrow or a quiet resort—anywhere he might not be known well and could take a child who isn’t his without anyone questioning him.”

  When he hung up, he continued to stare at the computer, as if the answers were written somewhere behind the screen, and if he watched it long enough, they would appear.

  “I gather she still didn’t have a clue,” Shauna finally ventured.

  “Yeah,” he said without looking at her. He pushed a couple buttons on his cell phone. “Simon? Found any other addresses for Aitken yet? Great! Oh. Well, let’s check them out anyway.”

  He slid onto the empty chair. Squeezing the phone between his neck and chin, he opened a new document on the computer and typed some addresses onto it. “None more recent than last year? Damn. What about something that connects Aitken to the mountains? Yeah, it popped up in the damned story. So don’t rely on it, but— Sure, keep going. I’ll stay in touch.”

  He hung up, then called Banger and reached him this time. He professed that the clue about a mountain connection had come from something Simon had found online, but changed the subject fast, obviously so he wouldn’t have to answer questions. But Shauna figured Banger hadn’t found a mountain connection yet, either. Neither, when Hunter called him, had Tennyson.

  And then he rested the cell phone beside the computer, saved the three addresses that Simon had apparently dictated to him, and brought up Shauna’s story about Andee. Again. He didn’t look at her, didn’t ask her permission, simply ignored her, even as she drew closer.

  She watched silently over his shoulder as he went right to the end of the document, deleted a bunch and began typing.

  Once more, he inserted an ending in which his daughter was saved, this time alluding to Big T’s mountain hangout being located and the kidnapper being caught.

  He saved it, closed the file, then opened it again.

  No matter how angry Shauna was with him, how hurt and eager to be anywhere but here, she had an urge to approach and put her arms around his bare, shuddering shoulders as he stared at the screen reading the same old ending.

  But knowing nothing she could say, nothing she could do—especially now—could help Hunter, she resisted the impulse and left the room.

  Hunter was aware as Shauna slipped out.

  Should he go after her? He’d been too hard on her. Again.

  As he’d acknowledged yesterday, it was thanks to her story about Andee that they had any kind of break in the case.

  And that other story? Hell, he still believed in free will. But he also felt out of control where Shauna simply picked scenarios out of the air and they came true.

  Yeah, he felt something for her again. Still. But that didn’t mean he’d go anywhere with it, like the sweet little ending she had written that locked him into marriage with her. And where was Andee? She hadn’t been in that story at all.

  “It’s my life,” he muttered. He’d do what he wanted with it, stories or not.

  Or could he…?

  His cell phone rang. He snatched it up from the edge of the table, glad for the disruption. Looking at the display, he smiled grimly. “Yeah, Simon?”

  “I have something.” Hunter’s assistant sounded excited.

  “On Aitken and his mountain connection?”

  “You got it,” Simon replied.

  An hour later, Hunter tried to keep the GTO to a speed fast enough to hit the San Bernardino Mountains, and the area known as Big Bear, in as short a time as possible, and slow enough not to get pulled over by the cops. They were already out of the LAPD’s jurisdiction. Banger wouldn’t be able to help him out of a ticket, even if he wa
nted to take the time.

  But he wanted to get there himself before the feds and Banger arrived. He’d called to let them know where he was heading, and the connection to Aitken that Simon had found.

  Shauna rode shotgun yet again. He was surprised when she’d insisted on it. He had only argued a little bit.

  Actually, he was glad for her company. Especially after the way he’d come down so hard on her. No apology this time. No discussion, either.

  They’d grabbed something at a fast food drive-through. Shauna’s only comments since they’d left his house were to thank him for the food, and to remark on how much nicer driving in Southern California was at this time of day, too early for much traffic.

  “Does Aitken own property at Big Bear?” Shauna asked, almost startling him as she broke her silence. “Is that what Simon found out?”

  Hunter glanced toward her. “Someone close to him does.”

  She wore an unbuttoned white shirt over her navy T-shirt that was tucked into tight jeans. She could have worn a shapeless, waistless gunnysack and still looked beautiful. In this outfit, she was lovely, but the slender curves that he had molded in his hands last night were all but obscured by the looseness of that overshirt.

  It was as if she was telling him hands off. Which he deserved.

  Plus, it was what he wanted. Otherwise, he just might cave in to the gooey, loving stuff she’d written about the way he felt about her. And that too-pat ending.

  “Who owns the property?” she persisted. “A friend? A member of his family?”

  “The latter.” Hunter stopped himself from grinning at her irritated look. Obviously, she wasn’t satisfied with short answers.

  “What family member? And how did Simon find out?”

  “He is a genius with computer searches,” Hunter said. “It turns out John Keenan Aitken’s mother was named Esther Keenan.”

  “So that’s where his middle name came from.”

  “Exactly. The Keenans lived in Fresno while John was growing up, but his granddad was originally from the L.A. area. He was a skier and owned a place up at Big Bear. John’s grandmother passed away while he was in high school, and his grandfather a few years ago.”

  “So John owns the place now?”

  “No, his sister does. She’s married, and the title is in her married name. That’s why I say Simon’s a genius. What with accessing birth records, court probate records and all, he tracked down this place that Aitken has access to. In the mountains. A place he’s not likely to have gone often, so he could tell anyone he ran into that he’s got his sister’s permission, and he’s there with his own kid. Who’d bother to check it out?”

  “Probably no one,” Shauna said. “Not even now that there’s been publicity about Andee’s kidnapping.”

  “Right. The good thing is that he won’t know we’re on to him, either. So hopefully, we’ll catch up with him nice and quietly, and rescue Andee, before Tennyson and his guys arrive. Banger doesn’t have jurisdiction so far from L.A., but I figure he’ll be along anyway.”

  “That sounds wonderful.”

  He shot another look at her to see if that had been sarcasm. After all, it didn’t follow her precious story. But she was looking out the windshield, not at him. Her smile lit her face in what appeared to be genuine anticipation and pleasure.

  Appeared to be? Hell, he knew it was. Her facial expressions had once more become as readable to him as her Andee story. More so.

  He enjoyed every nuance of her soft, radiant skin, her high cheekbones, her proud, small chin.

  Watching those brown eyes that spoke volumes, even when—especially when—her full lips were still and silent.

  And he’d again learned her face tactilely, with his fingers and his mouth. Tasted her…

  Damn! If he wasn’t careful, that second story, which had blown his mind, just might come true.

  “Have you ever been to Big Bear?” she asked.

  That seemed a neutral enough topic. He told her of a trip he’d taken there to go boating on Big Bear Lake shortly after arriving in L.A. “It was a big change from Oasis, Arizona.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  They continued to talk about stuff that didn’t strike sparks in either of them, stopping for lunch and a rest-room break.

  Hunter checked out the map Simon had downloaded from the Internet and faxed him, then he headed that way up the mountain and into a thick, wooded area not far from the lake.

  Eventually he stopped near a small, winding road through the trees and looked around. Made sure the landmarks on the map were those he saw around him.

  “This is it.” He intentionally sounded as impassive as if they’d just gotten to another restaurant, not the place he believed his daughter was being held.

  “Okay,” Shauna said, equally neutrally.

  He aimed the car down the road and stopped outside a rustic-looking wood cabin that had “Keenan” on the mailbox.

  Hunter didn’t bother to suppress his grin, especially since an old truck squatted right beside the building.

  That had to be how Aitken had transported Andee here.

  Only then did he notice the white car parked beneath some trees. It had gold lettering on the side: Police.

  “Damn!” he said. He got out of the car and approached the cabin as a couple of guys in uniform came around the side.

  “Are you Hunter Strahm?” called one.

  “Yes.” Hunter drew closer to them, knowing Shauna was right behind him.

  “Detective Banner from the LAPD called, said to check out this place,” said the taller, more senior cop. “Said you were on your way, but you might as well have stayed home. No one’s here.”

  Hunter swallowed the invective that sprang to his lips. He was angry with Banger, but what the hell? These guys might have been able to catch Aitken—if the guy had actually been here.

  “Any indication anyone was here recently?” Hunter asked.

  “Yeah. Looks as if they left in a hurry.”

  “Is it okay if I look in the windows?”

  “Sure. We’ll hang around while you do.” To make sure he didn’t break in, Hunter figured.

  With Shauna beside him, he peered in the front window. Just typical rustic furniture there. As he looked in the kitchen window, he saw dirty dishes on the table. And when he went around to the back and looked in a bedroom window, he saw a familiar-looking stuffed animal on the floor.

  Andee’s.

  “I’m so sorry, Hunter,” Shauna said from beside him.

  “Yeah.” He felt as if all the substance had spilled from his body, draining from his punctured heart.

  And despite their argument, the way he hated her stories, he didn’t object when she came toward him, put her arms around him and held him close.

  He rested his head on her fragrant hair, shuddered in frustration…and fought the urge to yell.

  Shauna almost cried at the unvoiced despair that shuttered Hunter’s expression, pursed his lips into a grim line as he navigated the narrow, tree-shrouded roads toward the highway down the mountain.

  She had to get him talking, planning their next move.

  Focusing on optimism, not defeat. At least until the time for optimism ran out.

  “It looked like they left in a hurry, don’t you think?” When he didn’t answer, she continued, “Do you suppose someone alerted Aitken?”

  She held on as they navigated a particularly sharp curve.

  “Yeah, I’ve supposed that.” His tone was an ironic growl.

  “Do you think the police somehow warned him they were coming, or that we were?”

  “Who knows?” Hunter replied gruffly.

  “Well, someone must have,” Shauna said. “And I don’t imagine it was Banger. Did you tell Tennyson where we were going?”

  “No, but it’s possible he found out the same way Simon did.”

  Still, Tennyson’s alerting Aitken made no sense. And after Hunter had called him to let him know what had happened,
he’d told Shauna the guy sounded truly pissed off and had promised Hunter he’d have a team up there soon anyway to scour the place for evidence and clues on where the SOB was headed now.

  No, Hunter didn’t believe it was Banger or Tennyson or Simon who would have let Aitken know. The local police? Could be, if he had a friend on the force, but Hunter had assumed he’d chosen this place because no one knew him here and would question his having a child with him.

  But— “Hunter, I hate to suggest it, but Margo was Aitken’s friend before this. Could she have accidentally let on what we were up to the last time the kidnapper called?”

  “Or intentionally?” He held up a hand as she formulated a halfhearted protest. “I know—sour grapes against my ex-wife. I’m grasping at straws. And any other kind of stupid cliché you can think of. But it’ll be easy enough to eliminate her as a possibility.” He pulled his cell phone from his shirt pocket, glanced at it and pushed a couple of buttons. “Banger? No, nothing new here. Have you gotten any further word from Simon?”

  He looked toward Shauna and shook his head, then turned back to the road. They’d reached the main route down the mountain.

  “I don’t suppose Margo’s spoken to the kidnapper or anyone about what’s going on, has she? Maybe she inadvertently told someone who’s still in touch with the guy where we were going.” A slight pause. “She’s not been on the phone at all then—her house or cell? And Tennyson and you have had people in her place the whole time? The monitoring system’s working? Okay, thanks. And I don’t suppose your guys have found anywhere else yet where Aitken might go. All right. See you soon.”

  He hung up and replaced the phone in his pocket. “They’re checking out Aitken’s old addresses,” he said to Shauna. “He and Tennyson have people out canvassing everyone Aitken might have talked to in the last few years—people Margo suggested, studios and theaters where he’s worked or even auditioned. A couple of restaurants where he’s waited tables while waiting for his big break. It’s not been long enough for most to have reported in, but so far there’s nothing.”