The Perfect Couple (7 page)

Skye raked her fingers through her shoulder-length, choppy hair--the result of a recent cut. "Her daughter's missing."

He considered that for a moment. "What happened?"

"She disappeared."

"When?"

"Yesterday afternoon."

"How old is the girl?"

"Thirteen."

"Was she troubled, likely to be a runaway?"

"The age might make you wonder, but she's a straight-A student."

"Smart kids run away, too, Skye."

"Not smart kids who are at home recovering from mono. If she wanted out, she would've waited until she felt better. Besides, there were no serious problems at home."

He ran a finger over his bottom lip. "She was living with her mother, then?"

"Yes."

"What about her father?"

"He was released from prison about three months ago."

Jonathan rested his elbows on his knees. "That's an interesting coincidence. What was he in for?"

"Rape. One count. The woman he attacked was a fifteen-year-old girl.

He served thirteen years of a twenty-year sentence."

An ugly suspicion stole over him. "Don't tell me..."

44

"Yes, Zoe was his victim. That's how she got pregnant with Sam."

His jaw dropped. "She had the kid?"

"Yep."

The shock inherent in this information finally enabled him to push his encounter with Sheridan to a corner of his mind. "Holy shit!"

"Exactly."

"I'm guessing she testified against him."

"You guessed right."

"Makes you wonder if this asshole got out, did a little research and swiped the kid for revenge."

Skye picked up the photograph of her husband and two children prominently displayed on her desk and gazed down at it. "Yes, it does."

"Does Zoe know he's loose?" he asked.

"She didn't mention it to me, so...I doubt it. Like most victims, she'd rather not look back."

"It's got to be him."

"It might be. But if so, I'm hoping he just wants to see his daughter, be part of her life. He'd have to know Zoe wouldn't be friendly to the idea.

Maybe the desire was so strong it forced him to take drastic action."

"Either way, sounds like a good place to start looking." He rose to his feet. "I'm assuming the police have already been notified?"

"They have and they're taking this seriously because of her age, but they're not completely convinced we're dealing with an abduction."

"We just came up with at least two reasons she's more likely to be a kidnap victim than a runaway."

"Yeah, well, I didn't tell you that her grandfather isn't much of a role model, either. He's been in and out of jail most of Zoe's life for petty crime and drug charges, but he was all she had so she more or less hung on to him.

While he was going through Sam's belongings this morning, the detective assigned by Rocklin PD came across a letter she'd written to her grandpa last week but hadn't mailed."

"And..."

"In it, she talks about how much she hates Anton Lucassi."

"Who is..."

Skye drew a deep breath. "The man they're living with. Zoe's fiance."

"Has anyone spoken to the grandfather to see if he has the girl?"

"Zoe hasn't been able to get hold of him. She's left several messages, but he's living in L.A., so it's not as if she can easily drive over and check."

Jonathan moved to the window and stared out at the parking lot.

"What does Zoe have to say about the letter?"

45

"She claims Sam might not have been enthralled with Lucassi, but they didn't have a bad relationship."

"Meaning no abuse."

"I spelled that out with her. Yes."

"Have you met him?"

"No. But according to Zoe he's very nice. He owns a tax-preparation company and treats her better than any of the other jerks she's hooked up with over the years."

That didn't necessarily mean anything. "Does he have a record?"

"Not even a speeding ticket." She cleared her throat. "So...are you interested in helping out? I'll pay you as much as you need on this one, Jon."

He refused the promise of money. He knew it was always in short supply at TLS. Sometimes he helped with the fund-raising that kept their doors open. "I'm fine for now. I'll let you know when they're about to repossess my car."

She smiled for the first time since he'd walked into her office. "That old hunk of junk? No one would bother with it."

"Hey, it runs," he said. "My clients might think I'm overcharging if I had a fancy ride."

"Who would ever believe you overcharge? You hardly even remember to bill."

"Because I don't have any clerical support."

"Because you're not concerned about money." She sobered quickly.

"So...are you on board for this?"

He adjusted the blinds. "Why not?"

"Thanks, Jonny." Coming to her feet, she circled the desk to hand him a sticky note. "Here's the name and last-known whereabouts of the ex-con."

"Franky Bates," he read. "Wasn't the killer in Psycho named Bates?"

She was too preoccupied to respond to his trivia question. "I called Lancaster, where Franky served his time, just to get a feel for what he was like as an inmate."

"And..."

"He found God while he was in prison."

Jonathan rolled his eyes. "Most of them do. But the devil's still their best friend the minute they get out."

Skye shifted some files so she could sit on the corner of her desk.

"Zoe's beside herself. I really hope we can help before..."

She didn't need to finish her sentence. Before it's too late. That was what they always hoped. "I'll have to talk to her."

"Of course." Twisting around to grab her message pad, Skye held it 46

out to him. "I've got her address and phone number right here. Why don't you put it in your database?"

He stored practically every piece of information he came across in the BlackBerry he pulled from the front pocket of his jeans. It was the only possession he prized because it facilitated almost everything he did. He figured he didn't need a secretary as long as he had his personal digital assistant and a good computer at home.

After recording Zoe's phone numbers and address, he gave the pad back to Skye. "Okay, I'll do what I can."

She followed him to the door. "What will you tell Zoe about the likelihood of finding Sam alive?"

"I hope I don't have to tell her anything."

"I avoided a direct answer, but I know she'll ask you the same question."

He hesitated with his hand on the knob. "It's been more than twenty-four hours, Skye. If Samantha was abducted by a stranger--and in this case, I think her rapist father qualifies, despite your optimistic father-daughter-bonding scenario--you and I both know it looks grim. It's probably over already. But I can promise to go after whoever took her."

Skye gripped his forearm. "Zoe's been through so much. I can't stand the thought of her hearing that."

"Then I'll tell her the sooner I get the information I need, the better Sam's chances will be."

"Thank you."

Keeping his head down to avoid another encounter with Sheridan, he walked out of the office. But once he reached his car, he sat behind the wheel, wondering whether he should go back in and apologize. If he couldn't have Sheridan in a romantic sense, he wished their relationship could be the way it was before she'd gone to Tennessee.

"Yeah, her husband would like that," he muttered and put the sticky note Skye had given him on his rearview mirror. A young girl's life could be in danger. It was time to forget his own stupid problems.

47

A tall, thin woman much younger than he'd expected, and prettier too, answered Jonathan's knock almost as soon as he'd lifted his hand. Wearing a brown-and-blue sweat suit and fleece-lined slippers but no makeup, she swayed in the opening as if she'd dashed for the door at first sign of a visitor without taking time to find her balance. Obviously she'd hoped to see someone else on her doorstep, presumably someone with her daughter in tow.

"Ms. Duncan?"

"Yes?"

"I'm Jonathan Stivers." He provided his business card. "Skye Willis from The Last Stand sent me over to talk to you about Sam."

Before she could speak, a man came up behind her. "Zoe, damn it, what are you doing? You know I would've gotten it. You're supposed to be lying down."

The dark smudges beneath her eyes--amber-colored eyes that matched the golden brown of her long hair and would've been downright stunning if they weren't so flat and hollow with pain--testified to the fact that she needed rest. But Jonathan knew there wasn't any point in trying to force her.

She couldn't sleep. She was in the numb aftermath of tragedy--a place where people moved and breathed but had stopped living.

Resisting his efforts to guide her back to wherever she'd been

"resting," she tucked her hair behind her ears and opened the door wider.

"Thank God you're here. Please, come in."

"Let me handle it," the man said.

Jonathan wanted to believe this was Zoe Duncan's father or brother.

The age difference should've suggested such a relationship. But body language identified Mr. "I'll Take Over" as the live-in lover Samantha Duncan hadn't liked: Anton Lucassi.

"Zoe?" Lucassi pressed.

A spark of emotion lit her pale face. "No, Anton! I'll take care of it."

Clearly unhappy with this response, Anton shook his head. "You're going to wind up in the hospital. And then what good will you be to Sam?"

As far as Jonathan was concerned, they could argue later. "You're..."

"Zoe's fiance," the man said.

Just as he'd suspected. "Great. Mr. Lucassi." He smiled. "Let's not 48

worry about a nap right now, okay? We need to focus on the problem at hand. Could you both take a few minutes to sit down with me?"

A muscle twitched in Lucassi's cheek. He didn't like being overridden but eventually gave a curt nod and led them into a living room decorated in white and black with several art deco sculptures. It reminded Jonathan more of a high-rent office than a living room.

"Can I get you a drink?" Zoe asked. Her offer was polite, automatic, an attempt at normalcy. But Jonathan could sense how fragile she was. He had the impression her composure might shatter at any moment. And Lucassi wasn't helping. Although he was clearly doing his best, the friction between them was as apparent as her desperation.

"No, thanks." Jonathan seated himself on an expensive-looking leather couch. Taking a small recorder from his pocket, he situated it on the glass coffee table in front of him. "Do you mind if I record our conversation?"

"I'd rather you didn't," Anton said.

Jonathan felt his eyebrows slide up. "Is there a reason?"

Lucassi selected a chair opposite the leather couch. "I'm worried about Sam and what this is doing to Zoe. But everyone knows that in a situation like this, those closest to the girl are always the first to be investigated. I was the last person to talk to her, and found her gone. I'm guessing that I'm going to become a suspect at some point. And that makes me nervous."

"Did you harm Sam?" Jonathan asked point-blank.

Lucassi rocked back. "Absolutely not!"

"Then relax and let me do my job. I was a cop here in Sacramento for six years before I hung out my own shingle. I've been through this a few times, and I've learned it's best to record conversations that could reveal important information so I don't lose any of it. It also helps to be able to watch the expressions of the people who are speaking, which is difficult to do while I'm writing."

Anton shifted uncomfortably. "In case they're lying."

"Yes. But if you're not lying, you don't have to worry."

"There's been more than one innocent man sent to prison."

"I'm not trying to pin this on anyone." Jonathan held his gaze. "All I care about is finding Samantha."

Lucassi blinked, then nodded, and Jonathan scooted forward. "I'm here to help you, okay?"

Zoe Duncan perched on the edge of her seat, her back straight, hands folded in her lap. "Don't listen to Anton. He's just...we're both so...frightened and confused."

"I understand." What was this beautiful young woman doing with a 49

man like Lucassi? He treats her better than any of the other jerks she's hooked up with over the years, Skye had said. Considering Lucassi's condescending manner, those previous relationships must've been bad indeed. Jonathan couldn't have tolerated someone like Lucassi for five minutes. "For the record, could you both state your full names and birthdates?"

"Zoe Elizabeth Duncan. September 13, 1980."

Nineteen-eighty. That meant she was Jonathan's age. Briefly, he tried to imagine a girl in his sophomore class as a rape victim, having a baby at fifteen or sixteen--and keeping it. They'd been mere kids at sixteen. To top it all off, Zoe hadn't had the support system he'd enjoyed. Knowing what he did about her father, he wondered how she'd gotten by in those early years.

But now wasn't the time to ask. He turned his attention to Lucassi.

"And you, sir?"

"Anton Kenneth Lucassi. November 1, 1965."

Fifteen years between them. Jonathan would've guessed at least that much. "Mr. Lucassi, you mentioned you were the last to talk to Zoe's daughter, and the first one home. Could you tell me what happened yesterday?"

"I called Sam over lunch to see how she was. She said she was fine and--"

"Wait a second." Jonathan held up a hand. "Over lunch? Yesterday was Monday. Why wasn't she in school?"

"She has mono," Zoe explained. "She's been out of school for over a week."

"I see."

"So both of us have been checking on her quite often," Anton continued. "But about three hours after I talked to her, Zoe called me at the office, worried because she couldn't reach her."

"Where were you?" he asked Zoe.

"Work."

"This was about three o'clock?"

"That's right," Lucassi said. "She asked me to come home and check on her."

"Which you did."

"Reluctantly," he admitted. "I couldn't imagine that anything bad had happened to her. This is a nice neighborhood, you know? But when I got here--" he shook his head helplessly "--she was gone."