In Broad Daylight (13 page)

was at the school."

He turned her chair around so that he could look at her. "Are you sure?"

Brenda blew out a breath, trying to be as truthful as possible. "Could I differentiate

between her and her twin sister, or a lookalike cousin? No. But barring that I would say

that the woman there," she moved her chair back around so that she faced the screen

again, "definitely bears a striking resemblance to Mrs. Kingsley, the woman I was giving the tour to when the fire broke out. And Annie disappeared."

That was good enough for him. "Can you remember if she was with you at all times?"

She shook her head. "All I remember was focusing on getting the children out," she said honestly. "I really don't remember where she or her husband were during all this, but I'm

fairly certain that they were—" Her eyes widened as a thought materialized. "Wait a

second, the girls' bathroom."

Was she talking about the bathroom at the fast-food restaurant? Had she seen

something there that he'd missed? "What about it?"

But she was talking about the bathroom at the school. "The woman asked to use it just

after we started the tour. It was right after we came out of the music room. She wasn't

gone long." Certainly not long enough to arouse any suspicion. "But she joined us in the art room and I didn't think anything of it. We were on our way to the library when the alarm

went off."

It was falling into place now. "That was probably when she started the fire," he told her.

"When she supposedly went to the bathroom."

She frowned. "In all the excitement, I forgot about that." Brenda was annoyed with

herself. He'd asked her questions, why had that faded to the recesses of her mind until

just now? "Damn it, I should have remembered that."

So far, she'd been nothing but a huge asset. She was being much too hard on herself.

"Don't beat yourself up about it, you remember it now."

Brenda blew out a breath. "Right, for all the good it does."

"It establishes a time line," he pointed out. Dax knew how frustrating it had to seem to her, but this was the way things worked in the real world, things didn't come together in a

rush. It was usually one piece at a time. "Every clue, however small, helps to give us a

whole."

"You do fortune cookies, too?" The second the words were out, she regretted them.

"Sorry, that sounded kind of snippy, didn't it?"

"Not when it's followed by an apology. You've been through a lot."

Emotionally, she'd been through the wringer. And her attraction to Dax, not to mention

being pregnant didn't exactly help things along. "Not as much as Annie has."

There was no arguing that, but getting mired in thoughts of what might be happening to

the little girl, even as they stood here talking, wouldn't help free her. They had to keep

their efforts focused on the goal. He nodded toward the enlargement on the screen. "Can

you print that up?"

"No sooner asked than done." Brenda hit Ctrl P and the printer spit out an exact copy of what she had on the monitor.

Taking it out of the tray, Dax studied it. It was still somewhat fuzzy. He raised his eyes

to hers. "Can you clean this up any more?"

Brenda shook her head. "Not without being creative and enhancing it. This is still the

image. Anything I come up with beyond that could be subjected to interpretation."

"Good enough. This just confirms our theory that the couple kidnapped Annie." There was no doubt in his mind that if the woman was standing there watching, the man had to be one

taking the picture.

Dax saw the doubt on Brenda's face. "What?"

Funny how things began to come together. First the memory of the woman stepping out

for a moment, now this. "I saw both of them once we were outside the building. They came

and told me that these were less than ideal conditions for them in which to view the

school. They said that they'd be back when things settled down."

He followed her line of thinking. "So what you're saying is how could she have taken Annie

and still be there to talk to you?"

Brenda nodded. "Can't be in two places at the same time." She chewed on her lip, thinking out loud. "Maybe in all the chaos that followed the alarm going off and the fire engines

arriving, one of them managed to get Annie to go with them and stashed her."

"And what, came back later to get her?" That didn't seem very feasible to him. "You said you combed the school."

Against the orders of the firemen, she'd run into the building, screaming Annie's name.

She ran through the entire first floor, but Annie hadn't been there. While she'd been

doing that, Annie could have been taken somewhere else.

"Maybe not thoroughly enough."

He had another idea. "And maybe there's someone else involved."

Brenda rose from her chair. "You mean one of the teachers?"

His eyes were on hers. "Do you have any better ideas?"

It seemed like the logical way to go, but he and his partner had ruled the teachers out.

"But you already questioned them."

"So we'll question them again." It wouldn't be the first time a felon managed to slip by without detection. "More closely this time."

The school was supposed to open again tomorrow. It was going to be difficult enough to go

about business as usual without having the police there again to requestion everyone and

remind them of Annie's kidnapping. "They'll think you suspect them."

"Then they'd be right," he told her simply. He saw the surprise on her face at his

bluntness. "I suspect everyone until proven otherwise."

She pressed her lips together, then asked, because she had to know, "Even me?"

The smile took over his lips very slowly. "No, not you."

She believed him. But again, she had to know. "Why not?"

This time, the smile gave way to a grin. "Call it a gut feeling."

She'd heard that cops often relied on their gut instincts, but had thought that was just

another myth. "And what kind of an average does your gut have?"

He had this sudden urge to kiss her. Definitely bad timing. But because he thought it was

best to play it safe right now, he shoved his hands deep into his pockets. "Oh, about

ninety-seven percent of the time."

"Ninety-seven percent wrong or ninety-seven percent right?"

He laughed. "Ninety-seven percent right." He grew serious. "Do you want me to suspect you?"

"No, of course not." She was relieved that he still didn't, even though he was retracing his steps deductively. But that didn't change the way she felt deep down. "It's just that I

feel so responsible for this."

Dax put his hands on her shoulders, anchoring her in place so that she couldn't try to

escape his words. "Listen to me. You didn't do anything wrong. You had, how many kids to

take care of?"

"Twenty."

"Twenty." He nodded. He would have been undone by more than two. "Twenty kids you had to get out of the building—"

And she'd failed. "I only got out nineteen," she reminded him.

His eyes searched her face. "You always this determined to take the blame?"

Brenda shrugged off his hands and turned away from him. She crossed to the window and

looked out. The computer room faced the front of the building. Where they had all

gathered to get away from the fire that had been little more than a hoax. The front lawn

looked so empty, so desolate to her now. "Habit," she murmured.

He's struck a nerve, Dax thought. But he couldn't get himself to back away. "Husband?"

Brenda wrapped her arms around herself. She felt suddenly cold. "What? No, Wade never

blamed me. He was a good man."

So she kept saying. Was it to convince him, or herself, he wondered. "Then who?" Dax

pressed, coming up behind her. "Your father?"

Her eyes met his in the reflection. She forced a smile to her lips, reminding herself that

the way to face the ordeal of Annie's kidnapping was to be upbeat. She had to believe they

would find the little girl. Otherwise, she was never going to get through it. "Let's see,

masseur, philosopher, shrink—" She turned around to face him again. "Anything else?"

"Police detective," he said. "Don't forget police detective."

And that, he thought, was his cue. Whatever feelings this woman aroused in him, they

were going to have to take a back seat to what was important right now. Finding Annie

Tyler.

He picked up the image Brenda had printed up. "Let's get this to where it'll do the most

good."

"Sounds like a plan." Brenda paused only long enough to remove the photograph from the

scanner and shut down the computer.

They hurried out of the building, unaware that someone was standing at a window on the

third floor, nervously watching them leave.

«^»

"
P
leasebring my baby back. Please call and tell us what you want and where you want us to leave it so that we can get Annie back."

Rebecca Allen-Tyler was doing what she did best. Playing to the cameras. Evoking emotion

from her audience.

Brenda stepped back as she looked at the scores of representatives of the news media,

who were all crowded around in front of the table where Simon and Rebecca were set up.

The long table was littered with microphones, their metallic heads turned upward so not to

lose a single syllable. The impromptu press conference had been called less than three

hours ago and the citizens of the fourth estate had been summoned to theTylermansion to

carry the broadcast.

Brenda scanned the area around the couple. There wasn't a non-empathetic face in the

crowd. But the woman wasn't really playing to the media. She and her husband were playing

to an audience of two who were watching somewhere. Watching and gaining a great deal of

satisfaction? She couldn't help wondering if Rebecca and Simon were doing exactly what

the kidnappers wanted them to do. Begging.

Still, in Rebecca's position, she would have probably done the same thing. Who knew,

maybe the kidnapper did have a heart somewhere in storage and this would bring it out.

She glanced at Dax at her elbow. "Think this'll do any good?"

He'd been against this, but it wasn't exactly his call. Besides, the ball had already been

rolling by the time he arrived at the mansion.

Standing off to the side, he could only preside over the proceedings. "You mean appealing

to the kidnappers' sense of decency? No. But this is probably giving them exactly what

they wanted. A sense of power. Of control." He frowned, lowering his head to reach her

ear so that his voice wouldn't carry and interrupt the broadcast. "Rebecca Allen-Tyler is

literally begging to get her daughter back. She's letting the kidnappers know that she'll

pay any price. If one or both of them are after control or revenge, it's got to be a good

feeling for them."

"What if it's Simon they want it from?" Annie's father sat solemn eyed beside his wife.

His lean face looked haggard. He had said very little, for once leaving the words up to his

wife.

Dax saw him the way he imagined the kidnappers would see the man. "He looks pretty

beaten up. I'd say that probably feeds their ego, too."

A commotion at the table drew both their attentions back to the man they were

discussing. Simon had pulled one of the microphones even closer and was talking into it,

interrupting his wife. His anger was almost a tangible thing.

"Call, damn you. Stop playing games with us, with our daughter and call. Tell us how much

you want and where you want us to bring the damn money." His impatience and frustration

was clearly registered there for anyone to see. Flashes went off and cameras whirled,

recording the moment, the passion.

The overwhelming signs of barely suppressed panic.

Dax shook his head. "He just handed everything they wanted to them."

Brenda didn't want to think that way. "But if the kidnappers want the money—"

"Oh, I don't doubt they want the money," he assured her. "But they want the drama, too."

As Simon exploded for the camera, Dax drew her back even further from the eye of the

storm. "Don't forget, this isCalifornia. Where every second person either has a screenplay

they've written or a pile of eight by ten glossies sitting in the top drawer of their desk."

"I don't," Brenda quipped.

He only smiled at what he found to be her innocence. For such an independent woman, she

did have a naive side. The woman continued to surprise him. "I said every second person."

She pretended to count, silently pointing a finger first at herself, then at him. "That

would be you." When he made no hurried denial, she realized he was speaking from

experience. Brenda tilted her head, studying him. "Let me guess. Screenplay?"

"Notes for one," he corrected. His grin was quick and easy, and gone within less than a minute. "But that's not for public knowledge."

He hadn't really told anyone else about it, not even his cousin Shaw who was, all things

considered, his best friend. But there seemed to be no harm in letting the information slip

out. Brenda wasn't really part of his world, at least not a permanent part who could use

this information against him and tease him at will, the way his cousins or siblings could.

Or Nathan for that matter, he thought. His mouth curved again. Nathan's idea of writing

was signing his weekly paycheck.

Wow, you just never knew about a guy, did you? Detective Dax Cavanaugh would have been

the last person she would have thought capable of having the patience to sit down and