think so?”
“Yeah, I do. But to be enough incentive, the reward should be substantial, I’m afraid.”
“I was thinking of ten thousand dollars.”
He gave a low whistle. “That’s substantial.” Unspoken was a question. Could she afford that much money?
“Don’t worry. I have the money. Thing is, how do we publicize this for maximum benefit?”
“Leave that to me. We’ll call the TV and radio stations and the newspaper office. By tonight, everyone around here will have heard about it. And I wouldn’t be surprised if the wire services pick it up.”
“Okay.” Glynnis actually smiled. Kat, who was watching and listening to the one-sided conversation, smiled back at her.
After hanging up, Glynnis said, “I think I’ll go take a shower and get dressed.”
“Good. I’ll take mine when you’re done.”
As Glynnis headed for her bedroom, she felt ten times better than she’d felt just an hour earlier. She had a good feeling about this reward. And God willing, by tonight maybe Olivia would once again be sleeping in her own bed.
True to his word, Dan notified everyone he could think of about the reward Glynnis was offering. He spent the rest of the day questioning people and following what slim leads they were able to unearth. A couple of times he thought he was on to something, but nothing panned out. He was beginning to fear the woman who’d taken Olivia March had gotten away clean. No one had seen her leave the mall and so far, no one seemed to know who she was.
The bus station and cab companies were long shots, and Dan knew it. In all likelihood, the woman had come to the mall in her own car and left the same way. Without knowing what kind of car she drove, there was no way to trace her. Trouble was, the mall had been really busy the day before. A woman and child—even if the child were crying—would not stand out. Hell, Dan had seen half a dozen crying kids when he’d arrived at the mall yesterday. Crying kids were the norm, not the exception.
No one else had any luck, either. All in all, it was a damned frustrating day. Their only hope was the reward Glynnis was offering. News of it would reach the majority of people tonight, on the evening news.
At five o’clock, Chief Crandall walked out to Dan’s desk. “Go home, Dan. You’ve been at it for what, twenty-four, twenty-five straight hours? You need to get some sleep.”
“Not sure I can sleep, Chief.”
“Well, try. You’re no good to me if you’re punchy, and without sleep, you’re gonna be. Don’t worry. I’ll call you if anything happens.”
Dan didn’t want to go, but he could see by the expression on the chief’s face that he wasn’t going to take no for an answer, so reluctantly Dan stood and put on his coat. “You’ve got my cell phone number? In case I’m not home?”
“Dan…”
“I just thought I might stop by the mother’s house on my way home, that’s all.”
“Fine. But make sure you get some sleep after that, you hear? And yes, I’ve got your cell phone number.”
Dan knew Glynnis’s neighborhood. One of his best friends from high school had lived one street away from where she lived now. It was the kind of neighborhood working class families aspired to, near Whitney Park and the public golf course. It wasn’t far from downtown, so it only took him a few minutes to get there, locate her home and park in front. She lived in an attractive red-brick-and-frame, one-story bungalow. A giant blue spruce tree stood on one side of the house. A black Honda Passport sat in the driveway. Dan had wondered if his sister was still there, but he didn’t see her red Accord anywhere.
Dan took note of the Christmas welcome mat on the front stoop. It was going to be one helluva lousy holiday for Glynnis and her family if they didn’t find her little girl. On that somber thought, he walked to the door and rang the doorbell.
Only a few seconds went by before the door opened. He wanted to kick himself when he saw the expectant light in her eyes. He should have called first.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “There’s nothing new. I just stopped by to see how you’re doing.”
“Oh.” The light died. She shrugged. “I’m okay.”
She didn’t look okay. She looked like hell. Tired, pale and worried. Despite this, she looked younger than she had the day before, probably because today she wore no makeup and was dressed in jeans and a sweater, with her hair tied back in a ponytail. The sweater, in some kind of reddish-brown shade, complemented her eyes and hair.
“I also thought I’d give you an update of what we’ve done so far.”
“Come on in, then.”
He followed her into the house, his eye—trained to notice even minute details—taking in the warm colors and hominess of the interior, from the beautiful wood floors to the comfortable-looking furniture to the family photos on the walls.
He stopped in front of an eleven-by-fourteen framed photo of a chunky infant with a dimpled smile. “This is Livvy.”
Her eyes widened. “How can you tell? She’s only eleven months old in that picture.”
“The dimples gave it away.”
She made a brave attempt at a smile. “I love her dimples,” she said softly. “They reflect her mischievous personality.”
Next to that photograph was another, this time of her son, who looked to be about three. He, too, was grinning, but even with the wide smile on his face, it was easy to see this child was much more serious than his younger sister.
As if she’d read his mind, she said, “Michael bears the weight of the world on his shoulders.”
Dan looked at her. “Like his mother?”
She blinked. “How did you know that?”
“I’m pretty good at reading people.” Once he hadn’t been.
She nodded. “I guess you have to be in your line of work.”
“It helps.”
For a moment, she didn’t say anything. Then, so softly, he had to strain to hear her, she whispered, “I’m so scared.”
“I know you are. That’s one of the reasons I came by. I wanted to assure you that every law enforcement officer in the county, maybe even in the state, is out there looking for your daughter. It may take awhile, but we’ll find her.”
She nodded.
Just then the grandfather clock standing in the corner of the foyer began to chime. Dan realized the local news would be starting now. “You have a TV set, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Want to watch the news? See what they say about the reward?”
“Oh, yes, of course.”
He followed her into the living room and sat on one of the green print love seats, while she picked up a remote from the coffee table and aimed it at the television set. A moment later, the local NBC news-room flared into life. Bill Mendoza, the male anchor, was giving an update on the national budget crisis and the headway made that day by a resolution being debated in the House of Representatives. When he finished, Sherry Hudson, the pretty blond coanchor, held up the photo of Olivia that Glynnis had given him yesterday. Talking rapidly but succinctly, she re-capped yesterday’s events, then said, “Olivia’s family is offering a reward of ten thousand dollars to anyone with information leading to the girl’s recovery.”
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