“I’ve already got an investigation started. Mostly Foothill Division guys.” He looked at Hunter. “They’re okay. I know all the detectives on the case. They’ll keep a low profile, don’t worry.”
For once, though, Hunter sided with Margo. “You’ll have to be damned careful,” he told the detective. “We can’t take the chance of a leak. Any publicity will spook the kidnapper. In fact, I want to handle the canvassing of this neighborhood myself. Do you have any problem with that?”
Banger didn’t look happy. “You know that if it wasn’t your kid, I’d tell you to go pound sand and not interfere with a police investigation. But you and I have a history, so I’ll cut you some slack and call off the guys I’ve got on the way—for now. We’ll work the case from some other angles. But I don’t like it. I won’t give you more than a day.”
“But that’s not—” Hunter protested.
“One day,” Banger repeated. “And only regarding asking questions around here. The rest of the routine is already underway. I checked out Margo’s yard personally when I got here, looked for evidence of the abduction, kept a log of what we did and what we found, dusted the gate’s latch for prints, took a zillion photos of stuff big and small, that kind of thing. Not that it’s regular procedure, but Simon assisted. Good thing you both were cops once and know the drill.”
Blessing Banger for having enough seniority and guts to take any heat for doing things his own way, Hunter asked, “Anything helpful?”
“Nada, so far. Not even Margo’s prints on the latch. Looked like it was wiped clean. But we gathered print samples from the house and yard, plus some of Andee’s things and other items from outside. Started a standard—more or less—report, including collection and chain of custody of evidence. I’ll send what little we found to the lab for analysis soon as I get back to my office.” He shook his head. “I’ll let you take the initial swipe at asking questions around here, but you’ll need to butt out otherwise. Though I’ll keep our investigation as quiet as I can, a kidnapping’s high priority. I’ve already called my most trusted FBI contact—maybe you know him, Lou Tennyson?”
“I know of him,” Hunter said. “The feds all tend to be heavy-handed. The kidnapper has made it clear he’ll harm his victim—” He almost choked on the last—it seemed like such a detached way to refer to his sweet Andee. “—if there’s any publicity at all. And the more people you get involved on this case, the more likelihood there is it’ll leak out.”
Banger’s slow nod made his long, thin face look even more doleful. “I’m doing my best, but you know I can’t do nothing. While you’re looking around here, my guys’ll be asking questions at Andee’s school, talking to parents of kids there, your neighbors, whatever. We’ll give ’em a good cover story, like they’re investigating you for a security clearance or something. Even so, word’ll get out, count on it. A day, two days—” He raised his hand to silence Hunter, who’d opened his mouth to protest. “That’s assuming we don’t get her back right away, which we hope to do. But I’ll keep a lid on it as long as I can—as much of a lid as can be on a kidnapping investigation.”
Through this discussion, Shauna appeared to be attentive, taking in every word. Only when they were nearly done did she venture a question to Margo. “Can you think of anyone who might have taken your daughter?”
Margo, who’d cried quietly into her hands during the discussion, looked up tearily. Her tone was disdainful as she replied, “I’d have told these men if I did.”
That had been a clue in Shauna’s story, if it was true. Andee apparently knew her kidnapper. It was something Hunter intended to pursue, just in case. Right now, he gave Shauna credit for not flinching under Margo’s contemptuous stare.
“Of course you’d tell them,” she said soothingly. “Tell me this, then. Do any of your friends or acquaintances go by nicknames that refer to letters, like their initials?”
Interesting question. Hunter had been racking his own brain for who this “Big T” could be but had come up with no one.
“What are you talking about?” Margo’s tone suggested bewilderment—unsurprisingly. It was a rather offbeat question.
“Just answer, please.” Shauna could hardly say it was a clue that came to her out of the blue, or Banger would demand to know what she meant. And Shauna and Hunter had already agreed to avoid mentioning her story to the official investigators.
Looking at Hunter with exaggerated tolerance, Margo said, “No, I don’t know anyone who uses initials for their nicknames.”
“How about friends or acquaintances whose names—first or last—begin with the letter T?”
“What—?” Banger began.
“Just humor her,” Hunter said. He jotted down the few names Margo mentioned, but they were mostly women. Shauna hadn’t specified men, but her story, and Margo, had indicated that the kidnapper was male. A couple of the men Margo named were clearly name-dropping—big Hollywood celebrities whom his ex might have met at large industry parties.
When Margo threw up her hands and proclaimed she couldn’t think of anyone else, Hunter suggested that they map out investigation tactics.
They continued their discussion until it became clear they could accomplish no more that night. Though what he wanted to do was to start pounding on doors right now, Hunter knew he’d only freak people out. He’d do what he could tonight on his computer, mapping out strategy, doing what research he could, directing Simon on the rest. Time for Shauna and him to leave.
Once they were in his car, Hunter headed for the San Diego Freeway, which he would take south toward his home. And his personal computer, which would serve him just as well, for now, as his office computer.
Then there was the other thing he intended to do. Or, rather, he intended Shauna to do.
“Are you okay?” Shauna asked.
“No. Are you? You should be pretty pleased with yourself. Everything’s following your story so far, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” she said quietly. “Andee disappeared, and the kidnapper called her mother. Her father did the right thing and told the authorities, and enlisted their cooperation while he starts the search for his missing daughter.”
“I’ll change things—the outcome, at least,” Hunter insisted. “Everything that’s come true did so without my input, or I did it because it made sense.”
“Don’t blame yourself for mostly following the story,” Shauna said. “Though I can’t tell you why, I don’t think you have much choice. And I can say from experience that even if you do things differently, it doesn’t change anything.”
“So you said.” He knew he sounded irritable, but, hell, he believed in free will. No damned story was going to be so engraved in stone that real life would follow it.
His daughter would be fine.
“I’m still changing your story, Shauna,” he finished. Fortunately, they were stopped at a red light near the freeway entrance. He looked at her.
The time was close to midnight, but they were under a streetlight. Shauna’s brown eyes were wide and puzzled and even a little irritated. “Hunter, I’ve already explained—”
“Yeah, I know you think that changing something won’t make a damned bit of difference. And even if I alter events and you enter the changes onto the computer, it won’t save them. But I won’t give up before I’ve even tried. Got it? And you’ve got to work with me, like it or not. That’s why you came, isn’t it—to help me?”
She was silent, biting her bottom lip as she obviously thought how to respond.
He once had nibbled on that same full, sexy lip. The top one, too.
And other places on her silky, sexy body—
But