But even as the words formed in his mouth, Sam had a sinking feeling he was really going to regret this break with tradition.
“All right, you can come with me.”
A minor wave of relief swept over her. Savannah released the breath she was holding. Her eyes thanked him even though she didn’t say the words out loud. Instead, she turned toward the petite, lively-looking blonde at her side and made another request.
“I’ll have that cup of coffee now.”
“You got it,” Megan told her.
“And I’ll grab that shower,” Sam said by way of an exit, although by now it was going to take a lot more than just cold water to get him functioning properly again, he thought grudgingly.
Megan measured out a hefty serving of coffee granules and poured them into the coffeemaker. He glanced at the machine as he walked past.
Maybe there was hope after all, Sam mused. One cup of Megan’s coffee and Savannah would probably be too numb to want to go anywhere.
Chapter 4
His hair was still damp and curling about his ears and the back of his neck from the shower he’d taken. It’d been more like a quick, three-minute flirtation with pulsating water than a shower, but it was enough to remind him that he could still feel human rather than something the cat had dragged in.
Sam had toweled his body dry and hurried into Cade’s clothes. Cade had a couple of inches on him in height and mass, but the fit was close enough.
It was as if there was an inner clock ticking within him, and he didn’t want to waste any more time than he absolutely had to. Certainly not on going to his apartment and getting a change of his own clothes.
The inner clock went off every time he took over a new investigation. Hours, minutes, seconds were precious. The more that slipped away, the greater the odds of not finding the child.
That outcome wasn’t something he was prepared to accept or even actively entertain. Not because Savannah had looked at him with eyes that were filled with pain, or the fact that she managed to somehow eloquently restrain the fears that he knew had to be ravaging her, but because there was a child out there who’d been wrongfully taken, and with some luck and skill, he could do something to change that.
And he had to give a hundred percent of himself in order to try.
That didn’t allow anything to be left over, he thought as he headed out the door with Savannah.
“It’s that one over there. The tan one.” Leading the way into the parking lot, he pointed out his car for her benefit. His dream was a sports car, a red one. But red cars stood out, and he needed to blend in if he was going to do his job effectively.
The car could stand a wash, he thought as he brought Savannah to it and unlocked the door.
He paused a moment as she slid into the passenger seat, his eyes drawn to her legs. They were shapelier than most. He wondered if she worked out at a gym.
He used to. When there was time. Lately, though, there didn’t seem to be enough time to take care of the lesser details in his life, like workouts and car washes. He’d no sooner finish one case than another one walked through the door. Cade had been talking about hiring another investigator, but he hadn’t had time to get around to that yet.
Sam was the first to agree that it took a unique individual to do what they did, to immerse themselves in the world of the hopeless and find a path to hope. But the rewards were indescribable. The high that came from seeing a parent reunited with his or her missing child was nonpareil. Though the work was draining and demanded everything from him, he wouldn’t have traded his life for anyone’s.
But occasionally he needed some time to himself, and wished there were more than twenty-four hours in a day.
Rounding the hood, Sam got in on his side. He sorted through his key ring for the right one, then put it in the ignition and started the car.
Usually, he was too busy to notice the loneliness. And when he wasn’t, there was his family—his brothers and sister and their kids and spouses—to plug up the holes in his life He’d been on the verge of lasting relationships three times in his life, but each time he was always the one to back away first. There was no way he’d ever allow someone he cared about to be subjected to the kind of austere life he led. It was, in essence, the kind of life his father had led. A man who couldn’t be there a hundred percent of the time for those he loved shouldn’t have a wife, shouldn’t have a family. It wouldn’t be fair to them.
After garnering three strikes, Sam figured he was out of the game.
But once in a while, when he saw someone like Savannah, he remembered with a touch of fondness just what the game had been all about.
Guilt came less than a beat later, finding him on Culver Drive as he took the main thoroughfare heading south. The woman was literally torn apart because her child was missing, and he was noticing her legs. Sam wasn’t exactly sure what kind of a lowlife that made him, but he was fairly certain it was somewhere down there on the food chain.
The silence in the sedan was thick, oppressive. Sam liked silence when it was of his own choosing. This wasn’t.
There were things that hovered between them, unsaid, that needed clearing He waited until he came to the first light, then turned toward her. Her profile, half hidden by her long blond hair, was flawless. And rigid. He felt for her, and told himself he shouldn’t. Not if he was going to handle the case properly.
He felt it anyway
“I just want you to know that just because I’ve agreed to let you come with me on the investigation, that doesn’t mean I’ve changed my mind about having you along. I’m against this.”
She already knew that. Just how was it that he thought she’d interfere? “Why? Can’t you use an extra pair of hands?”
Though he was outgoing, he’d never partnered well. It would have been difficult for him to work with even Megan or Cade on a continuing basis. Experience had taught him that he moved more quickly by himself. Having Savannah along was going to change all the rules, all the parameters. He couldn’t pretend to be happy about it.
“Not getting tangled up in mine,” he told her as he looked back at the road. “This isn’t a juggling act, and it doesn’t involve manual labor. That’s all extra hands are good for.”
She’d always been inclined to work with others, although she admittedly did better when she was the one in charge. Being a subordinate was something she wasn’t accustomed to. She was willing to do it for Aimee.
“But you could use an assistant, couldn’t you?” Savannah pressed.
He switched lanes to get out from behind a truck with the logo of a local supermarket embossed on its side. Sam had made his own assessment of Savannah when she’d first walked into his office. There’d been nothing to change his mind.
“To be honest, you don’t strike me as the type of person to take orders very well.” He glanced at her and saw the protest rising to her lips. “I know because I’m not either.” He supposed that gave them something in common. A half smile curved his mouth. “Kindred spirits know each other, Ms. King.”
The formality of being addressed as Ms. King erected walls between them. She didn’t want any. She wanted him free to share any thoughts, any theories.
“It’s Savannah,” she corrected. “And if we’re kindred spirits, then you can guess what I’m going through.”
The changing light gave him the opportunity to stop and really look at her. His answer was honest. “Not even a clue.”
She liked that, liked the fact that Sam didn’t presume to put himself in her place by virtue of projection just because that was the easy way. No one who had not been through it could possibly know what it felt like to have a child stolen away from them. Looking back later, she realized that it was this moment when she began opening up her heart to him.
“And I hope you never find out. But making me stay out of this can’t be called anything except cruel and unusual punishment, and I think you’d agree that I’m being punished enough.”
He
r choice of words jumped out at him. “Is that how you see it—as punishment?”
Sam played with the angle. Maybe there was a cult lurking in the background, some sort of religious fanatics that she was, or had once been, associated with. People who sought to “punish” her for some transgression, or for the act of leaving them. There were thousands of angles to explore and thousands of questions he hadn’t asked yet. The trick was always being able to find the right ones. It always amazed him the kind of things people left out when they told a story.
“What else could it be?” she retorted, staring at the green digital numbers on his dashboard announcing the time. Almost one-hundred twenty-four hours now. Despite her best efforts, a trickle of irritation broke through. “I wasn’t a vigilant mother. If I was going to indulge myself, I shouldn’t have brought Armee along. And if I did bring her along, then she should have been foremost in my every thought, my every movement.”
She was being hard on herself. He’d seen it before. It was a common reaction to the situation. “You’re only human.”
There was no comfort in the excuse for her. “I’m a mother. I’m not supposed to be human.” Savannah’s lips twisted into a semismile as she recalled something she’d once heard. “I’m supposed to have eyes in the back of my head and wisdom beyond my years.”
Sam laughed shortly. “Doesn’t sound like any mothers I know. What kind of child-care manuals have you been reading?”
Her mother used to say that—that she needed eyes in the back of her head to keep track of her children. Savannah let out a long, shaky breath as she dragged a hand through her hair.
“Nothing lately. I can’t seem to focus long enough to read anything.” She looked at him suddenly, needing to hear someone be honest with her. “Do you think we’ll find her?”
He kept his eyes on the road. Optimism was something he’d always taken for granted. “I have every hope.”
Hope. The biggest four-letter word ever created, she thought cynically. But it was also a smoke screen where the truth was concerned.
“Do you think we’ll find her?” she repeated insistently.
The light turned green, but Sam didn’t step on the accelerator immediately. Instead, he looked at the woman in the passenger seat. She was asking him for the truth—and praying for a lie if the truth was too difficult to handle.
“Yes.” The single word rang within the car like the first church bells at Christmas. The driver in the Range Rover behind him honked his horn. Sam moved his foot off the brake. “I think we’ll find her.” He would have said it even if he didn’t believe it. But he did. “ChildFinders has an excellent reputation.” In two years, they’d tracked down twenty-five of the twenty-six missing children they’d searched for. Anyway you sliced it, it was a hell of a record, and he was damn proud of it, damn proud of being associated with the agency.
Savannah sank back into the seat, the rigid features of her face relaxing a little. “Thank you.”
“Don’t say it yet,” he cautioned, then glanced at her in case she misunderstood. “But you will.”
The words of caution surprised her. “Are you superstitious?”
He would have been quick to deny that once. There was something unenlightened-sounding about being superstitious. But he was far more at ease with idiosyncrasies than he used to be.
“Only about some things,” he admitted. “Never met an investigator or cop who wasn’t superstitious in some way about something.”
She wanted to know about this man she was putting her faith and trust in. “Have you met many? Policemen, I mean.”
He thought of his years on the force and the men he’d worked with, good and bad. “A whole slew of them. I was a cop, until about a year ago.” And he had a newly minted detective’s shield when he walked out.
“What happened?”
He thought of his last case—the one for which he had almost killed a man with his bare hands. That man had willingly left a baby to die because it suited his purposes. But sharing that with Savannah might make her feel uneasy, so he gave her only half the truth. It seemed simpler that way.
“The unsolved cases got to me. There’s just too much work to be able to handle anything properly.” It was the lament of every policeman, every detective. Some just bore up to it better than others because they had more patience to spare. Or because they didn’t care. But he did. And that was a problem on its own. “Even with overtime, I just didn’t have the kind of time I wanted to devote to them. And then Megan suggested I talk to Cade. The rest, as they say, is history.”
For a moment, names scrambled in her mind. “Megan, that’s—”
Sam turned right on University Drive. “The blonde who tried to poison you with what she calls coffee.”
Savannah nodded. Absently, she wondered if Sam and the other woman were more than friends. The next moment she dismissed the thought. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except getting Aimee back.
The route Sam was taking began to look familiar to her. She straightened, looking out the window. “Are we—?”
He thought he detected apprehension in her voice. Maybe he should have tried harder to prevent her from coming along.
“We’re going back to the mall.”
While still toweling dry, he’d called the Newport Beach police station and been told that Underwood was due in sometime after one. The detective had to be in court this morning to testify in a case. That tabled a meeting between them until later. Sam had reorganized his schedule accordingly.
“Since you insist on coming along, I thought we’d try to re-create every step you took. Maybe something important’s gotten lost in the cracks.”
It made sense. Savannah braced herself stoically. She hadn’t been back to the mall since Aimee disappeared. The very thought of returning drove a chill through her, but Sam was right. Maybe she would remember something by being there that she’d overlooked earlier or forgotten to mention.
That was part of her own bargaining ploy, she realized. That having her along might help her remember. She just hadn’t realized how difficult it was going to be, going back.
“When we’re finished,” Sam was telling her, “if we have nothing new to go on, I’d like a complete list of the names and addresses of your friends and the people you work with—when you do go to the office.”
“My friends are the people I work with,” she told him. “We’re pretty much like family.” Closer, actually, she thought. She certainly felt closer to some of the people she worked with than she did to her own parents.
“Then that makes it even easier.”
Savannah saw no connection between her friends and Aimee’s disappearance. They had been nothing but kind and supportive since they’d found out about the kidnapping. “Why?”
He didn’t relish explaining this to her. She’d been shaken enough, but it was a very real possibility, and, unless he missed his guess, one she’d have to face eventually
“Because, according to all the reports I’ve read and the stories from people in the area where Aimee disappeared, no one saw anything unusual. No one saw a child struggling with an adult.”
She knew all about the stories. She’d read and reread the newspaper articles, and watched every single broadcast that she could. Savannah couldn’t begin to understand how no one had seen anything. It was as if her daughter had just vanished into thin air.
“No one even saw Aimee,” she said bitterly.
“Exactly. And unless magic has suddenly decided to rear its head in the twenty-first century in an upscale mall, or everyone’s been struck selectively blind, that’s not possible.” He slowed his speed as morning traffic began to pick up. “Your daughter didn’t just vanish. Which means someone had to have seen her—but didn’t know they were seeing her.”
That made even less sense to her. “I’m still not following you.”
Sam made a sharp left and brought the car to a stop in the first parking lot. Weekday mornings the malls were generally
empty until almost noon. There were no sales going on the way there usually were in the latter part of the week. Megan had disappeared on a Thursday at the height of the crowd swell—which made her vanishing act even more difficult to believe. For Sam, it all pointed to one thing. Someone would have noticed if there’d been a struggling child.
“I think Aimee was taken by someone she knew. Someone you knew.”
Savannah looked at him, appalled. “That’s not possible. No one I know would do something so horrible.” She had no enemies, no friends who were cruel or unbalanced. How could he even suggest something so despicable?
He was vaguely aware of the fact that it pained him to be so blunt with her, to tear away any strands she was clinging to for strength. But it didn’t make what he was saying any the less true.
“Everyone’s got a darker side, Savannah.” He saw the defiant look in her eyes, but a part of her believed him, he thought. “It just takes something to trigger it.”
To agree was to shake up her universe. “I won’t think that way,” she insisted.
He caught her hands in his, dragging her attention back to what he was saying.
“Work with me here. Someone you know follows you to the mall, bides his or her time until your back is turned, then sneaks up and draws Aimee away. He or she tells your daughter that they’re going to play a game. A trick on Mommy. She looks like the type who loves games.”
Savannah pressed her lips together. She felt her eyes moistening. “She is.”
Savannah struggled against what he was saying. She didn’t like the way this sounded. It was all too plausible. And too horrible. If she were to believe Sam’s theory, then there wasn’t anyone left who she could trust, except her parents and sister. Everyone else would be a suspect.
The thought constricted her heart still further.
“All right,” she agreed, her voice shaky. “Let’s just suppose you’re right. That still doesn’t explain why no one saw her.”
The answer was simple. “Because she wasn’t Aimee anymore.” He’d played around with the theory after he’d mentioned it to the hot dog vendor yesterday. “Maybe the kidnapper put a jacket and a baseball cap on her to hide her hair. Aimee was wearing a pair of jeans and a T-shirt when she disappeared, wasn’t she?”
A Hero for All Seasons Page 5