The Perfect Couple (13 page)

He waited a moment, giving her time to deal with the disappointment, then continued. "I pulled up the addresses directly surrounding the one you gave me for your father. I've called at least ten of his neighbors. Most don't answer."

"Anything before noon is too early."

They didn't have the luxury of waiting. "I managed to rouse an R.

Butler."

"R?"

"He told me his first name was Rhett, but he was chuckling when he said it."

"Rhett Butler. Funny guy."

"He thought so." Frustrated by his lack of progress, Jonathan got up and began to pace.

"I take it he wasn't cooperative."

She sounded so despondent he hated to tell her any more, but he needed her help. "Not that you'd notice. He told me he's never met your father. I also spoke to a Tilly Smith and a Heather Hatfield. Any chance you know either of these folks?"

"No. What'd they say?"

"Pretty much the same thing."

"The people who live at Mount Vernon Mobile Home Park don't like strangers snooping around. They have too many of their own secrets to guard."

He paused to gaze out the window over his kitchen sink--and saw a yard that'd gone mostly to weeds. When had that happened? How long had it been since he'd taken time to mow?

With a grimace, he turned away. His neighbors were probably getting impatient, but the lawn would have to wait another few days. "I definitely got that impression."

"So you can't find my father."

Let alone Sam. "I haven't found him yet. But I won't give up. I'm going to L.A."

"You think that'll make a difference?"

"I do if you're with me."

There was a moment of surprised silence. "But I've been away from 84

that area for so long. I doubt I know anyone."

"You'll have a better chance of getting through to the neighbors than I will, or the police."

"But the people you spoke to might tell me the same thing. It's entirely possible they really don't know my father. The population rises and falls depending on when the cops come through on a drug bust."

He couldn't imagine her as a little girl, growing up in all of that. The person she'd become didn't even hint at such a beginning. Unless you were talking about the distrust that lingered in her eyes, and a tendency to hold the world at arm's length. How long had she been running from the trailer park?

Probably since well before she'd actually left it. Now, here she was, living at the opposite end of the spectrum in a respectable, upper-middle-class neighborhood, a perfect example of minivan, soccer-mom suburbia. "I understand, but I think it's worth the chance. It's only an hour's flight. Let's hop on a plane, pound a few doors, get folks talking."

"I can't leave Sacramento. What if Sam...I mean, she could come home and--"

"You have a cell. Anton can head up the search efforts in your absence. You trust him, don't you?"

She didn't answer.

"He's your fiance."

"But we're talking about my daughter. No one cares about her as much as I do."

"We're working against the clock, Zoe. We've got to trust him and the police on this end. Meet me at the airport, and we'll get on the next available flight. This is too important to leave to anyone else."

"Okay," she said at length.

"Is there someone, a friend or relative who can help Anton?"

"There's Colin, I guess."

"Colin?"

"My neighbor. He's doing what he can."

"If they find her, someone will call you."

"I know. It's just...it's so hard for me not to be here."

"Don't worry. We'll turn around immediately if there's a reason to do so, even if it means I have to rent a car and drive you back. I think we have to visit L.A." And maybe San Diego. As long as Franky was close and accessible, Jonathan figured he might as well look under that rock and, if possible, determine whether or not Sam's biological father was involved. He had no plans to take Zoe with him on that little side trip, however, so he saw no need to make the situation any worse for her by mentioning it. "Can you 85

reach the airport in forty-five minutes?"

"I'll try. Should I pack anything?"

"Bring some clothes. Depending on what we find, and the availability of flights, we may have to stay over."

"Stay over?"

"Depending on what we find," he reiterated.

"Hopefully, that won't be necessary," she said.

Someone in the background--probably Anton--said, "What's going on?"

She covered the phone to respond. But Jonathan could still hear. "I'm going to Los Angeles with Skye's investigator."

The other voice grew louder and, at that point, Jonathan knew for sure it was Anton. "The man who was hugging you in my backyard?"

By the time Zoe arrived at the airport, Jonathan had purchased her ticket. He'd called while she was en route to tell her they'd be leaving from the new terminal. He was waiting by the skycaps in front when they pulled to the curb in Anton's Escalade.

Anton wasn't pleased that she was going. He'd scarcely said a word the entire ride over and grew even more morose when he saw the man who'd be escorting her. As she got out of the SUV, he came around to hand her the small carry-on bag he'd retrieved from the backseat, his jaw clenched.

She hated that he was making this harder on her than it already was.

She wasn't even sure she was doing the right thing. Sam could be close, and in trouble. But it'd been two days since her daughter disappeared. Maybe Sam wasn't in Sacramento anymore; she could be anywhere.

Holding a stack of flyers, Zoe scanned the crowd, searching, just in case. She wasn't thinking coherently anymore; she'd been without sleep for too long.

Jonathan studied her for a moment, wearing a frown. "You look tired," he said.

She had her hair pulled back and was wearing some makeup, but she hadn't been able to conceal the dark circles under her eyes.

"Thanks," she muttered.

He didn't apologize. "Have you gotten any sleep since Sam went missing?"

Her smile felt so brittle she wondered why she bothered. "I can sleep once we find her."

Anton gave her a quick hug. "We'll get through this," he said tersely, but she got the impression he was trying to convince himself more than her.

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His embrace didn't make her feel any better. It was too mechanical, too strained. And there were so many people. She had to check every face--

the businessmen, the tourists, the families and all the children. Especially the children.

"Zoe?" Anton prompted.

She blinked, shifting her attention. "I'll call you later." She was acting almost robotic, but a more genuine response required thought and feeling, and she didn't want to break down. She had to carry on at all costs. For Sam.

He squeezed her arm and left without even speaking to Jonathan.

Embarrassed by the all-too-obvious slight, Zoe avoided the private investigator's gaze by turning to see the people behind her.

"Let's go," he said and started off.

She hurried to catch up and, when she did, almost slipped her hand in his. He'd seen devastation before. She'd gathered that from the world-weary mantle he always wore. He wouldn't rebuff her--because he understood. But it was a strange impulse for an engaged woman to have, especially with a man she'd barely met.

"I hope we'll be able to locate my dad." Feeling like a completely different person without Samantha, she moved through the crowd, wheeling her bag behind her. He looked down the line of people waiting to clear security. "We'll give it our best shot."

"How did you get my ticket?" Belatedly, she realized that this wasn't the way air travel worked in the age of terrorism. "Didn't you need my ID?"

"I talked to a skycap."

"So?"

"I told him you forgot your ID and had him print your boarding pass along with mine."

"They'll do that?"

"Depends on their level of motivation."

Which he'd obviously enhanced, much to her chagrin. She'd spent a thousand dollars on the flyers. Who knew what other expenses she'd incur?

This trip wouldn't be cheap. And she and Anton fought about money more than anything else.

She swallowed hard. "How much do I owe you?"

He glanced back at her. "Nothing."

Pride warred with relief. "The Last Stand is paying for it?"

His lack of a response suggested it was. They were paying his bill and travel expenses, after all. That was what the charity was supposed to do for people like her, she told herself in order to feel better about accepting their help. But it rankled. She wanted to be self-sufficient. She'd had her fill of 87

secondhand clothing and government handouts when she was a child, and again as a teenage mother.

"Be grateful you met Skye Willis and forget it," she muttered under her breath. Although she'd heard from Detective Thomas several times this morning and knew the police were assigning extra officers to look for Sam, Skye made it possible for her to be more involved in the search.

They reached the top of the escalator and joined a line snaking almost to the skywalk that straddled the street below. But Zoe was still puzzled about how Jonathan had managed to get her a boarding pass. "That guy who gave you my ticket--isn't that a breach of security?" she asked.

"Not really." He stepped out of line to gauge their progress. "They'll check your boarding pass against your ID here."

"You seem nervous."

"I don't want to miss this flight."

"What're the chances?"

"We're cutting it close."

Did they really need to take this trip? It was a logical move, but if her father could help it'd be the greatest irony ever. Ely had never been there for her when she needed him. And the prospect of seeing Ely didn't appeal to her in her current state. They'd had such a terrible argument the last time they'd talked on the phone. She wished she was stronger, better prepared for the inevitable confrontation.

You have no right to demand any kind of a relationship with Sam.

She's my granddaughter.

How can you say that to me? You didn't even want me to keep her!

I was trying to protect you.

It was a little late to protect me, don't you think? That should've happened before you left me alone with Franky Bates.

That barb had hit its target. She could remember her father's voice growing hoarse with emotion. You were too young to be saddled with the responsibility of a child.

Tell the truth, Dad. It wasn't about me. Nothing was ever about me.

You knew you'd continue to spend our grocery money on your next fix and didn't want the added guilt of taking food from a baby.

She'd been in her car alone, talking on her cell. Since that day, she'd often wished the conversation had taken place somewhere she wouldn't have been able to speak so freely. But the stress of starting a new job, regret for denying her daughter a trip Sam would love and anger that she couldn't trust her own father enough to allow it had all combined to put her on edge.

Jonathan's voice cut into her thoughts. "Do you have your ID ready?"

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She fumbled through her purse, searching for her wallet, and showed her driver's license to a uniformed security officer. Then she put her bag on the conveyer belt along with her shoes, purse and sweater--but when her belongings went through the X-ray, she didn't move. She stood there, rooted to the spot, clutching the flyers to her chest while watching the people around her act as if nothing in the world was wrong.

Although she hated to draw attention to herself, she couldn't remain silent. What if someone here had spotted Sam?

Jonathan had already reclaimed his shoes when he glanced back and saw that she hadn't come through. Then his eyes lowered to her hands, gripping the flyers like a lifeline to Sam. "We'll miss the plane," he cautioned.

"I just want to put up her picture."

It was so important to Zoe she could hardly breathe, and he must've realized she wouldn't budge without doing at least that much, because he didn't fight her. Pulling a member of security aside, he bent his head and murmured a few words.

Five minutes later, copies of the flyer were taped up in several places and everyone in line was staring at her. Some were even whispering, "Is that her child?"

"Yes!" she shouted to the group at large. "She's my only child. I have to find her. Will you help me? Please!"

Her plea met with shock and sympathy and open curiosity, but no one stepped forward.

A moment later, Jonathan had taken her hand and was dragging her down the terminal at a trot, her bag bumping behind her. They caught the plane just as the flight attendant was closing the door.

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Colin didn't interrupt his work when Misty, the firm's receptionist, knocked at his office door.

Concentrating on a purchase agreement for a land-development company, he barked out, "What is it?"

Misty poked her head in. "Got a message for you."

He held out his hand without looking at her, and she came in far enough to drop a piece of paper in his palm.

Slapping it down on his desk, he kept working. He'd get to it later. He had to make up for the preoccupation that'd been damaging his productivity since last weekend, when Rover had started acting up. He hated the prospect of bringing work home with him tonight. He wanted to be available to console Zoe.

"What's this?"

At the sound of Misty's voice, Colin swiveled away from his computer to see that she hadn't left. Instead of hurrying on, as she usually did, she was pointing at the stack of flyers on the edge of his desk.

"That's my neighbor's little girl," he said.

"She's missing?"

"Says so, doesn't it?"

She didn't take offense. Focused on what that flyer meant, she frowned, causing unattractive dimples to appear on her pudgy face. "How sad!"

The whine in her voice grated on his nerves. The flyer elicited the same reaction from almost everyone, especially women. But Misty's instant concern bothered him. She was so damn sentimental. Single at thirty-five and more than a little overweight, she was always cooing about some stray dog or cat she'd taken in. She got behind a new cause every week and pressured others to join her. One day she was pushing cookies for the Girl Scouts, the next it was coupon books for Little Leaguers or magazines to benefit the local elementary school.