The Perfect Couple (8 page)

Jonathan crossed his ankles and leaned back, hoping to encourage Zoe and Lucassi to relax by appearing relaxed himself. "And you, Ms. Duncan?

50

When was the last time you saw your daughter?"

"Before work yesterday. I went in to her bedroom to say goodbye, as I always do."

"Where do you work?"

She began digging at her thumb cuticle. "I used to work at Tate Commercial, but I don't anymore. I quit yesterday."

"When you found out your daughter was missing?"

"No. Before. Sort of," she corrected. "I couldn't reach her. I was distraught. My temper got out of hand."

"I see." So she was feistier than she seemed in this zombielike state.

"Has your daughter ever taken off on her own?"

"No."

Lucassi made a noise of disagreement. "Zoe, tell him everything."

She covered her face as if trying to compose herself. But it didn't make any difference. Tears spilled over her lashes when she dropped her hands. "She got angry when I decided to move in with Anton because it meant we had to give up her dog."

"She took off running down the street, and we had to chase her in the car," Lucassi added.

"Where was she going?" Jonathan asked.

"Nowhere." It was Zoe who answered. "She was...running because she was upset. Any child would be upset over losing her dog."

"She said she'd rather live on the street than let Peanut go." Lucassi again.

Zoe wiped her tears. "But once I explained to her what this move meant to us, she eventually calmed down."

"But she talked about running away again, in a note to her best friend," Lucassi said.

Skye had mentioned only the letter to the grandfather. "Where did you find this?"

"In her backpack."

"But you don't think she was serious."

Lucassi shrugged. "Who can say? It's possible. I wasn't aware of how she felt about me."

Had he cared enough to notice? "And how did she feel about you?"

"We had Marti Seacrest over last night. That's her best friend, her only close friend. Sam hasn't been at this school very long, and at first, she was pouting over the dog so she refused to acclimate. Anyway, when we showed Marti the note, she finally admitted that Samantha was always complaining about how...uptight I am."

51

"Do you consider yourself uptight?" Jonathan asked.

"Of course not." He nudged Zoe's knee. "Would you say I'm uptight?"

When she stared at him without answering, he frowned. "I'm not uptight. Sam just wasn't used to having any rules." He turned to Jonathan and lowered his voice as if confiding a great secret. "They've always lived in dumps, so they've never had to worry about taking care of personal property."

"At least she could keep her dog in those dumps," Zoe said.

"You're blaming me for the dog? You're the one who wanted to move in here. You liked the schools, the neighborhood."

Anger flared in her eyes. "You forced me to choose."

"And you made the right choice. Her education is more important than keeping a dog in the house, with all that hair and the smell." He wrinkled his nose. "The dog's fine, by the way," he added. "I made sure it went to a good home."

"I still don't understand why Peanut couldn't have lived in the backyard," she said.

"Because we have landscaping back there. And the damn thing wouldn't quit barking."

Jonathan coughed discreetly. "Can we move on?" They fell silent, and he continued. "In what condition did you find the house when you arrived home yesterday, Mr. Lucassi?"

The two exchanged sulky glances but stopped bickering. "No different than it is now," he said.

As far as Jonathan could tell, there wasn't so much as an out-of-place magazine or a gum wrapper to disturb the pristine cleanliness. He couldn't imagine a child living in such a mausoleum; it wasn't any surprise to him that a dog would be out of the question. But that was none of his business.

"Were any of the doors open? Was the shower running, the TV on? Did you notice anything at all? Describe the scene for me."

Growing more agitated, Lucassi rubbed his hands back and forth on the arms of his chair as he spoke. "The doors were all closed and locked, except the one leading to the pool. She'd been tanning when I called, so I walked outside, expecting her to be asleep on the chaise. Instead I found the iPod we gave her for Christmas, a towel and a book."

"Any food?"

"Food?"

"A brand of soda you might not have purchased? A Starbucks coffee cup even though Sam hates coffee? Anything like that to indicate she might've had a guest?"

52

"Nothing."

Nothing wasn't helpful. Stifling a sigh, Jonathan stood. "Would the two of you walk me through the house?"

Lucassi jumped to his feet, but Zoe said, "I'll do it."

Her fiance might've argued with her about that, too, but the phone rang. Glancing at a set of double doors that probably led to a den of some sort, he nodded and went to answer while Zoe took Jonathan out to the pool through the kitchen.

"You have a nice place," he said as they stepped onto the patio.

"That's what I thought," she said. "I saw what Sam never had, what I wanted to give her--the success, the better schools, the safe environment."

She laughed bitterly. "The safe environment," she repeated on a little sob.

He touched her arm to gain her full attention. "This isn't your fault. It could've happened anywhere."

Her throat worked as she swallowed. "But it wasn't supposed to happen here. That's why I went along with giving up Peanut."

"I know," he said.

She took a deep breath. "Will you level with me?"

A warning prickle traveled down his spine. He knew what she was going to ask and didn't want to answer that particular question. "I'll be as honest as I can," he hedged.

"It's been over twenty-four hours. What're our chances? Will we ever find my daughter alive?"

Squinting into the setting sun, he studied the pool area. He needed some detail, some clue. Soon. If Sam had been abducted, her chances dwindled with every passing minute. "That depends on a lot of factors."

"Like..."

It was his turn to draw a deep breath. "Do you think it's possible the man who raped you might've taken her for revenge?"

What little color she had in her face drained away. "No! He's in prison."

Far from eager to dispel that assumption, Jonathan cleared his throat.

"Not anymore."

She gaped at him for several seconds. "He's out? Already?"

"It's been almost thirteen years. That's actually better than the average."

She shook her head. "He doesn't even know about her."

"Could he have found out? From a friend of your father's perhaps?"

"No."

"What about your mother?"

53

"She's never been part of my life."

"How did Franky know you in the first place?"

"He didn't. Not really. Anyway, I don't want to go into it. He's not aware Sam exists, okay? Please don't mention it again." She glanced over her shoulder, then lowered her voice. "Anton doesn't know. No one does, except my father, and only because I was fifteen and living with him at the time. Sam thinks her dad died in a car accident before she was born. I--I wouldn't want her ever to learn the truth. She might assume that--" she broke down, the sentiment she was trying to express too painful "--that maybe I didn't want her." Bringing a hand to her chest, she continued to force words through tears. "It might make her doubt...my love...or think she's...not as good as--" she sniffed, struggling to go on "--other girls...or some craziness like that...you know?"

Jonathan had no idea what made him do it. Probably the rawness of her need. But the next thing he knew, he had her in his arms and couldn't let go because she was clinging to him and sobbing quietly into his shoulder.

"We'll find her," he whispered. "You've gotta hang on for her sake."

It didn't matter that they'd just met. Empathy made the physical contact seem completely natural--until Lucassi stepped outside.

"Do you comfort all your clients with such tenderness?" he asked.

Jonathan felt Zoe go stiff. When she pulled away, she seemed to stagger, and he wished he could've consoled her for a few minutes more. At the same time, he could understand why Lucassi might not like what he'd seen. "Only those who aren't getting it elsewhere," he said and strode to the side of the pool.

"Ask for anything you need and stay as long as you'd like," Zoe said.

Then she must've gone inside, because when he turned back, Lucassi was standing on the patio alone.

54

Colin hovered at the window, peeking through the blinds, just as he'd done for much of the previous night. Watching the activity at the Lucassi household proved fascinating, better than anything he could've anticipated.

Loath to miss a single thing, he'd had trouble making himself go to work today and had hurried home as soon as possible. He'd never been this close before, never been able to witness firsthand the chaos caused by his actions.

Technically, in this instance, they were Tiffany's actions. But she'd taken Samantha for him, and he wasn't unhappy about it. He wasn't even worried about Rover anymore. If Rover had been capable of revealing any damaging details, the cops would've knocked on his door already. The only police officer Colin had seen was the investigator who'd stopped by earlier this evening to ask if he'd seen Samantha Duncan.

"What's going on?" Tiffany asked.

The television blared behind him. Colin spoke over the actors' voices.

"Someone's over there."

"Another cop?"

"No."

"Probably a friend or family member. People have been coming and going all day, bringing food and being supportive." She smiled as if she shared his enthusiasm for the drama playing out next door, but he knew she didn't. Fortunately, he didn't care. She did what he needed her to do. What did it matter whether she liked it or not?

"Any of the neighbors stop over?" he asked.

"A few, why?"

He leaned against the wall, hoping to catch a glimpse of the people inside the Lucassi house. "Zoe moved in a couple months after we did. I didn't think she knew anyone well enough to have them gather round her.

She's certainly never been very warm with us."

"She hasn't been unfriendly."

"She's been a cold, aloof bitch, and don't try to tell me differently. I've barely been able to get her to say two words to me the entire time she's lived there."

Tiffany seemed torn as to how to respond but ultimately backed off from whatever she'd been tempted to say. "I'm sure the neighbors are sympathetic because of the situation. And Anton's been living here a lot 55

longer."

"Who else came by?"

"His pastor, his parents, his secretary."

He'd expected her to say something like, "A man in a white SUV, a lady in a red Audi." "How would you know his pastor from his tailor?"

"I could hear Anton talking as he walked people to their cars."

Straightening, Colin folded his arms. "You were close enough to hear that?"

"I was out front, weeding. I figured since I was home I might as well do some yard work."

Appearances mattered. The neighbors were less likely to pay attention to them if they kept the place up. But he'd made Tiffany call in sick for a reason. "If I didn't want the nosy busybodies at that nursing home making a big deal about your lip, what makes you think I want the neighbors to see it?"

Uncertainty flickered in her eyes. She was so powerless against him.

It turned him on, made him want to take what she'd offered last night. But ever since he'd learned about Samantha, he'd been too preoccupied to even touch Tiffany.

Later, he promised himself. There was always later. That was the great thing about marrying someone like her, someone overlooked by others, someone whose gratitude for his love made her more loyal than a dog. She'd never leave him, no matter what he did.

"No one saw my face," she said. "I kept my head down the whole time, didn't speak to anyone." She gave a little laugh. "I don't think they realized I was there. They were too concerned about Samantha."

Irritation combined with arousal to make his muscles tense. But the activity next door was more exciting than the prospect of a bondage session with his wife, so he let it go. For now. "Who do you think is driving that old Mercedes sitting out front? That piece of shit's got five hundred thousand miles on it if it's got ten."

She went to the window on the other side of the fireplace and peered through the blind. "I've never seen that car before. It wasn't there earlier."

"The driver's maybe six-two, around two hundred pounds. Athletic build. Definitely needs a haircut."

She raised both palms. "Doesn't ring a bell."

The man he'd just described suddenly walked through the gate, coming from the backyard of Lucassi's house. "There he is!" Colin whispered, and Tiffany, who'd started to turn away, changed direction.

"Could he be a detective?" she asked, squinting out at him.

56

Colin made a noise of disgust. "You were here when the investigator showed up last night, Tiff. You know what he looks like."

"But...there could be others, couldn't there? Maybe the police put together a task force."

"Not this fast--especially when they still think she might be a runaway."

"Shows what they know."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"She wouldn't run away from a mother who loves her that much."

He didn't react to the wistful note in her voice. Tiffany had never been loved by anyone. Her mother, shot to death five years ago by Tiffany's brother, had been an even worse bitch than his own mother. His mother used to beat him on a regular basis, but Tiffany's had ignored her. After seeing that neglect take its toll through all the years they'd gone to school together in Modesto, he'd decided extreme indifference was worse than abuse, at least abuse that stopped short of permanent physical damage. "They don't know Zoe. And neither do you. My mother made sure no one ever saw my bruises.