Not a Moment Too Soon

by Linda O. Johnston

  “Any other addresses on Aitken?” he immediately asked Simon.

  “Still working on it, but I’ve already given you the easy ones.”

  Hunter had checked in with Simon before even leaving Aitken’s sister’s cabin at Big Bear, letting him in on his frustration. “I’ve got some new stuff for you to check out. People Margo and Aitken know in common. We’ve reason to believe the guy’s holding Andee somewhere she’s visited before with her mother, but not when Aitken was with them.”

  “And we think this because—?”

  “Because of a new twist in Shauna’s story,” Hunter admitted. “We made a little stop on the way here and it appeared then.”

  “Yes! Any suggestions from Margo?”

  Hunter, who’d also taken notes, gave Simon a rundown. “See if you can find alternate addresses for a BillieAnn Callahan. She’s out of town. Only problem is, she’s got a roommate, so it’s unlikely that Aitken stashed himself and Andee at their place.”

  “Sure thing. And you want this info the day before yesterday.”

  “Yeah, but I’ll settle for half an hour from now.”

  “Right. And you won’t take into consideration that I’m twenty miles from the office? I just talked with one of Aitken’s former landlords—from about three years ago.”

  “Anything useful?”

  “Not really.”

  “Then, no, I won’t take into consideration that you’re not near the office. Not when my daughter is counting on me to figure out where she is, and fast.”

  “That was in the story?”

  “Yeah,” Hunter said. “In Shauna’s latest version.”

  “So you think John Keenan Aitken kidnapped Andee and started this entire mess just because he needs money?” Shauna wanted to make the best use possible of her time alone with Margo.

  She’d run through most things she could think of to remind Margo of other people she and Aitken knew in common. Now she needed to delve into the emotions behind what happened. Aitken’s emotions, perceived by someone who really knew him and not just her keyboard impressions.

  “I’d never have believed it of him,” Margo said sadly. “How could he do this to me?” Even under interrogation by a woman she despised, and especially in her obvious distress, Hunter’s ex managed to look distressingly beautiful.

  “But money is his reason?” Shauna pressed.

  “I can’t imagine anything else.” Margo stood and began pacing the limited space in her designer kitchen. “When you find him, tell me. I want to ask him why he’d do such a terrible thing. He’s my friend, or at least I thought so. Sure, he needs money, but that’s a terrible motivation to steal any woman’s child, particularly mine.”

  “Hopefully we’ll be in a situation where you can ask him,” Shauna said carefully. She couldn’t make any promises that Margo would be able to confront Aitken, for in her story the kidnapper died.

  “So Hunter and you are back together,” Margo’s soft comment ripped into Shauna’s thoughts. She had stopped pacing and stood behind the chair next to Shauna’s. So close that Shauna felt smothered by her expensive perfume.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Don’t play games,” Margo said. “It’s okay with me. We’ve been divorced for years, and things weren’t great before that.”

  “All that’s between us now is related to finding Andee,” Shauna told her.

  “Then I might try to salvage something with him when this is over,” Margo said thoughtfully. “For Andee. She’ll need extra TLC. Having both her parents there for her should help.”

  “Of course.” Shauna’s heart rolled slowly over inside her. “But right now, I’d like to ask you—”

  Hunter burst through the kitchen door. A jubilant smile lit his features and elicited an involuntary mirroring grin from Shauna, despite her not knowing its origin.

  “What is it?” she asked him.

  “You were half-right.” He addressed his comment not to Shauna but Margo. “BillieAnn has a roommate. What you didn’t know was that her roommate got her the role in this commercial. They’re both out of town. But BillieAnn’s place would fit right into the criteria: a place Andee’s been with you before, but without Aitken. Right?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “And Shauna, get this—the apartment building is a converted warehouse.”

  Though Margo looked puzzled, Shauna recalled immediately the last scene of her story…which took place in a warehouse.

  “I’m going to take a look, and I’ll let you both know what I find,” Hunter continued. “And if Andee’s there, you’ll be the third I’ll notify—after Banger and Tennyson. I don’t want to tell anyone else, not even the cops, right now, after what happened up at Big Bear. I don’t want to take any chances on Aitken hearing that I’m on my way.” He looked at Margo. ‘You’re not going to tell him, are you?”

  “Of course not,” Margo replied, sounding indignant.

  “Anyway, keep your fingers crossed.”

  Shauna’s fingers, usually so independent, crossed tightly together.

  Chapter 17

  “See any?” Hunter demanded.

  From the corner of his eye, he watched Shauna, beside him in the car, swivel and peer out the window. Her soft blond hair swayed about her shoulders. “No, I think you lost them.”

  “Good.” His tension eased, though just a little. It was one thing to lose a bunch of media cattle who’d tried to stampede him as he left Margo’s. But the bigger hurdle was yet to come.

  That was why he’d allowed Shauna to join him. She’d reminded him quietly, before he’d dashed from Margo’s, that the more things that were different from what they expected—meaning her story, though they didn’t mention that in front of Andee’s mother—the better chance they’d have for an alternate ending.

  Of course Margo, confused, had asked what they were talking about.

  Good thing Shauna had some tact, one of her admirable traits from the old days that had become even more pronounced with time and her shrink’s training. He had none.

  He let her make up something about scenarios that the authorities anticipated in similar kidnappings. And then they’d left together.

  They were followed by a bunch of microphone-wielding reporters who wouldn’t take “no comment” for an answer.

  “Where is BillieAnn’s place?” Shauna asked. Her voice was low and conversational, as if she discussed L.A.’s sunny weather and smog.

  He heard anxiety beneath the surface nonetheless. He didn’t try to smooth it over. Much as he would have liked to sugar-coat the situation for Shauna’s sake, she’d see right through it and call him on it. He’d treat her as he would Simon—like an equal.

  Yeah, an equal that he had an overwhelming urge to touch. And hold against him. Even make love to again, just once more, for when this day was done, his life would be different. He’d have his daughter back.

  He had to.

  But to do it, he would most likely have to kill a man.

  That part of Shauna’s story he believed.

  “Her address is in Burbank,” he said. “We’re only about fifteen minutes away.”

  “In real time or speed-limit time?” Shauna asked wryly.

  “Guess.” He shot her what he hoped passed for a grin.

  “I figured.” She was silent, then said, “Shouldn’t we talk strategy?”

  “Not necessary. Backup’s on the way. I told Simon to let Banger and Tennyson know where we’re going, but I wanted to get a head start.”

  He felt in control again. Finally. So many of their clues, helpful and not, had come from Shauna. But Simon had found this address for BillieAnn. And Hunter would be the one to get his daughter back.

  “When we get there, it’ll go like this. I’ll check out the area, then knock on the door. If Aitken answers, I’ll insist on coming in and I’ll try to talk to him—not that I expect his cooperation, but I’d like to try to get Andee back the easy way. If he doesn’t answer, I’ll still go in.
And then, assuming they’re both there, I’ll still get Andee back.”

  “I’m figuring on Andee not being there, Hunter, even if Aitken is.”

  “Yeah. Right. Your story. That’s why it’ll be better if I at least try to force the guy to talk to me first.”

  “Before you shoot him?” Her voice, though still soothing, rose a little. She glanced down at his pant leg.

  After leaving Margo’s, they’d sneaked out the back to avoid reporters. At his car, he’d taken a snub-nosed .38 from the locked box in his trunk and stuck it into his ankle holster. It hadn’t been till they’d gotten on the road that they’d been spotted again.

  He sucked in his breath. “No matter how much I want to do damage to him, I’ll only fire my weapon in self-defense, or to protect Andee or you.”

  “Don’t try to be my defender in this, Hunter. I don’t want you harming anyone on my behalf, even if you think I’m in danger. I especially hate the idea that you may be endangering yourself without being sure you can save Andee this way.”

  His fists clenched on the steering wheel, and he forcibly relaxed them. “This is real life, Shauna. Not one of your stories.”

  “And you’re following my story like you believe it,” she retorted.

  Of course she was right.

  But that ending—

  He glanced at her. Her eyes were downcast and misty, her lips dipping sadly at the edges.

  “Yeah, I believe in it,” he told her softly, dampness in his throat coating his words. “But it’s changed some, and I’m going to change it more. Whatever it takes to get my daughter back.”

  “Whatever it takes?” she repeated. “So you won’t shoot Aitken, the way it says in the story? He wouldn’t tell where Andee was, and then he couldn’t.”

  “You think I don’t remember that? If I can avoid shooting him, I will, as much as I’d love to see the SOB rot in hell.”

  Shauna almost mouthed the words as Hunter said them. “Stay in the car. I’ll come and get you soon as it’s over.”

  Her insincere nod was toward his disappearing back.

  She got out of the car. She couldn’t let him go alone. She wouldn’t. For her own sake, as well as his and Andee’s.

  She carefully shadowed him up the sun-baked concrete walk to the large warehouse in this rundown industrial area. This was where BillieAnn Callahan lived? As Hunter said, it had apparently been converted into apartments. Someone had a sense of humor, for the old concrete building had a sign on the side: Jardin del Valle Apartments. Shauna hurriedly translated in her mind—Garden of the Valley. The name was evocative of greenery and pretty colors.

  Sure, and it had probably once smelled like a cesspool.

  She stopped when Hunter paused at the entry. Despite its industrial origins, this apartment building must have a security entrance like most these days. He scanned the directory, then pushed a button.

  She wished she could hear what he said. She’d have bet anything he didn’t simply press the button for BillieAnn Callahan’s apartment, identify himself to the voice that answered, and get let in. But whoever he’d talked to did, indeed, unlock the front door. Hunter slipped inside.

  How would she get in?

  She looked at the directory and found BillieAnn’s apartment number—6. Wondered how much she’d sound like a pizza delivery person if she started ringing everyone’s bell.

  She heard a footstep behind her. Though it was midafternoon, a guy who looked like a real delivery person was walking up the path, a large box in his hand. As he got there she smiled and shrugged. “My friend probably can’t hear me over her hairdryer. She said she was washing her hair when I called her before.”

  As it turned out, she probably could have stood there with a knife in her teeth and the guy would have paid no attention when she slipped inside after him.

  She hurried to the end of the drafty corridor, which opened into a courtyard of sorts—with a concrete floor, open metal-beamed ceiling, and dirty glass walls at the two ends. The apartments had apparently been constructed inside the shell.

  Shauna headed for the door marked 6. BillieAnn’s.

  When she got there it was closed, but she heard voices inside.

  She tried the door. It was open. She pushed it slowly at first, watching for movement, listening.

  “I don’t give a damn why you took her,” Hunter was saying. “I just want my daughter back.”

  “And I want my money,” growled a voice that Shauna didn’t recognize. Of course she’d only met John Keenan Aitken once. And he might sound different in the heat of the moment.

  She cautiously sneaked inside. And stared.

  The two men were in a large, open room that looked as if a portion of the old warehouse had been simply walled off from the rest. Mismatched furniture formed a couple of conversation areas, and appliances and shelves formed the kitchen. Along one end was a wall with a door in it. Did it lead to a bedroom? Another apartment?

  The two men faced each other in what appeared to be a testosterone-charged battle of wills. Thank heavens neither pointed a weapon at the other.

  Hunter towered over the other man, much broader and more well toned beneath the beige buttoned shirt he had worn with black denim trousers that day. He remained several feet from Aitken, but dominated the room with his anger.

  Please, stay cool, Shauna silently commanded him. The man had Andee. And, according to her story, the man had a gun.

  Not only his daughter’s life was in danger. Hunter’s was, too.

  They hadn’t noticed her yet. She tried to slip by to hunt for Andee.

  “Ah, Shauna, isn’t it?” Aitken demanded. Even if she didn’t recognize his voice, he was definitely the man she’d met a couple of days earlier at Margo’s. He was of medium height, and more slenderly built than Hunter. Once again, he wore a muscle shirt that emphasized that the guy worked out. His face was almost debonair, and Shauna figured he excelled at roles playing royalty, the rich, or high-placed government types.

  He didn’t look like a kidnapper.

  But he also hadn’t told Hunter he hadn’t the foggiest idea what he was talking about.

  “Hello, John,” Shauna said, coolly joining them in the living room. “The game’s over. How about letting me know where Andee is. I’ll go make sure she’s all right.”

  “I didn’t expect you,” Aitken said. He sounded awfully cool for such a tense situation, but of course the guy was an actor. “Especially not you, Shauna.”

  Which was a good thing. In her story, Hunter and Aitken had faced each other alone.

  “If I’d known you were coming, Strahm,” he continued, “maybe I’d have brought the child to make sure you followed my instructions this time.”

  “What instructions?” Hunter growled. Shauna could see, by the heaving of his chest, that he was having a hard time controlling his temper. But he wouldn’t do anything rash while his daughter’s whereabouts remained unknown.

  And that was the biggest fallacy in her story. For at its ending, Aitken had been shot. In a warehouse—one converted into an apartment? By Hunter, after “Big T” fired at him.

  Hunter simply wanted his daughter back. There was no reason for Aitken to shoot at him.

  Was Aitken’s weapon behind the couch, like in her story? But there were two couches. Shauna slowly approached one, intending to hunt for the gun herself. But what if she chose the wrong one?

  And how long could Hunter remain calm enough not to attack the man who had stolen his daughter?

  “Stay where you are,” Aitken snapped at her. Actor or not, he was losing his cool.

  Shauna froze in place. “John, you know this is over,” she said in the most placating voice she had learned as a therapist. “We just want Andee back safely. Let’s go where she is, okay? Then we’ll help you as much as we can.”

  “I want my money,” Aitken repeated. His voice was louder still, with a whine at the edges. He was definitely no longer in character.

  “We unde
rstand,” Shauna said. “And Hunter has most of it together. If we get Andee back safely now, he’ll give you what he’s got on him and make sure you get a head start, before the authorities know what’s happened.”

  “The authorities? There weren’t supposed to be any. No police. No publicity. That was how it was to be.” What was left of Aitken’s suave demeanor crumbled, and his expression turned wild. “Where’s my money? I need to get out of here.”

  “After we get Andee back.” Hunter spoke through gritted teeth. He edged closer as if trying to get around Aitken—toward the couch farthest from Shauna.

  “If you get her back, what’s my leverage?” Aitken’s voice grew strident as he blocked Hunter. “I don’t think so.”

  “What I think is—” Hunter began.

  Shauna approached and touched his arm warningly. “We’ll work it out as a fair trade. I’ll stay with you, John, while we go get Andee, and Hunter will join us with the money. Let’s do it now, since we may have been followed by some reporters, and possibly even the police and FBI.”

  “What?” Aitken’s hazel eyes bulged, and he looked panicked. “Why did you tell them? Oh, no, it’s going to be too late. I was afraid that was happening. I’m trapped!”

  “No, you’re not,” Shauna soothed, her heart sinking. He was trapped. So were they.

  Without Andee.

  “Let’s go get Andee right now, and do the exchange,” Shauna said again.

  Aitken ran his hand through his hair, and only then did Shauna realize that it had been cut so expertly that it had hidden the way his hairline was receding.

  “I don’t know. I need to ask…” His voice trailed off.

  “What are you talking about?” Hunter demanded, but Aitken only shook his head. “Where’s my daughter?”

  Hunter’s rage combined with Aitken’s indecision would only make things worse. “It’s the best way, John,” she said. “Once Andee’s okay, no one will have any reason to harm you.”

  “Yes, they will,” he cried out. “This isn’t how it was supposed to be. It’s—” He seemed to look beyond Shauna. And then, without any warning, he dove behind the sofa that Shauna had tried to check out earlier.