bills on the table, making sure to give the temptress a big tip.
His jovial mood lasted only until he got outside the restaurant. He went to his truck and sat in it. The interior, warmed from the sun, felt good. He hadn't brought proper clothing for the coolness of the mountains. Content to sit for just a minute, he tried to decide what his next move should be.
Technically, he could be suspended or fired by not being at his house, since he was relieved of duty. And the pricks running the department were just the type to send some junior sergeant to check up on him. On the other hand, he could avert any problem by calling his boss and letting him know he was staying at Dave's cabin. But no doubt they'd flip out and send a shrink from Behavioral Sciences Section all the way up to Big Bear to pick his brain. The department had already confiscated all his duty weapons, but the morons seemed to forget, or not care, that he'd have his own guns and was married to another cop — a cop who had several guns of her own.
What was he going to do about Maddie? Why in the hell had he lashed out at her like he did? She was right. He hadn't been carrying her, she'd been carrying the load in their marriage ever since Dave was murdered. He was ashamed of what he'd said to her. He knew she had her own demons to contend with. What if she wouldn't talk to him? The reality was they were both fucked up.
Starting his truck, he decided to return to the cabin for a nap. He'd figure out what to do about his life after a nice long nap.
PILAR – 20
Pilar didn't want to, but she smiled at the police chief and the two detectives she'd met yesterday. They were being chauffeured in a large van equipped with leather bucket seats and tinted windows for privacy. The detectives were silent and actually appeared to be a little embarrassed, as the chief prattled on about his many accomplishments and his "high horse-power friends."
Pilar's mind wandered, and she decided the female detective would benefit from a makeover; she really needed to do something with that mousy brown hair. The male detective was extremely attractive. If he were higher up in the department's chain of command she'd consider a quick fling, but movie star-looks on a detective weren't worth risking a relationship with the governor of California. Especially since the governor was her ticket to the White House.
Then there was the chief of police. Still rambling away. What an idiot. The mayor continued to smile and nod and occasionally, throw out 'really' where it seemed appropriate, but in reality, she was bored to tears. Funny the difference a day made. Yesterday, Preston had been focused on finding that McCall woman. Today his mission was finding his daughter.
"Excuse me, chief," she said interrupting his monologue. "We're approaching the governor's home now."
"Excellent. I want to get the FBI on board with our investigation."
Pompous ass, thought Pilar. More than likely, they want to be sure you don't screw up this investigation. It ought to be very entertaining to watch the different law enforcement agencies jockeying for control of finding Tiffany.
After filing out of the van, the group moved into Preston's private home. Pilar had been here a number of times, mostly for late night rendezvous after a social appearance with Preston. Sometimes she spent the night, but if Tiffany was at home, Preston didn't want to be a bad influence, and made Pilar leave before morning.
If Tiffany were permanently gone, there'd be no reason she couldn't spend most nights here with Preston. However, Pilar knew, that thought would be best kept to herself.
SECTION THREE (Chapters 21 – 30)
TIFFANY – 21
Retreating to the bed, Tiffany climbed in and pulled the covers around her body. This was bad. Real bad. She shook uncontrollably, from cold or fear, she wasn't sure.
"Okay, think," she whispered to herself. "You and the girls ditch your security detail. Party in the valley. You and Penny drive to the party, lock your purses in the trunk of Penny's car so you don't get ripped off, and the other girls show up later. You meet Drejohn. He went off to get Brenda from the back bedroom." When her recollections stopped, she closed her eyes hoping to assist her memory. It helped.
She remembered a belligerent Brenda being led by Drejohn to the front of the house in the foyer where Tiffany waited. She'd tried to calm Brenda down, but her friend was drunkenly hostile. Drejohn had suggested to Tiffany they take Brenda outside. She'd agreed, and with Drejohn holding Brenda on one side and Tiffany supporting the other, they'd staggered out into the cool night air.
She opened her eyes when no other memories of the night before came to her. Outside the locked room, Tiffany heard footsteps and whispers. Tiffany's heart pummeled her chest. She listened intently, and released her pent up breath when the sounds moved away.
I'd better get dressed. The last thing I want is anyone to see me half naked. She got out of bed and hurried to the dresser, yanking open the top drawer. Lace thongs were clumped to the left, looking like a pastel pile of spaghetti. On the right side of the dresser, dozens of bras 'spooned' each other in various sizes and colors. Tiffany shivered with repugnance at the idea of wearing someone else's undergarments.
Pulling open the second drawer, she found sweatpants, yoga pants, and shorts. Taking a peek in the third compartment, she found T-shirts and summer tops. Slamming the drawer shut, she skittered over to the closet.
The wardrobe covered an entire wall with two sets of accordion folding doors made of rich varnished wood. Quietly pushing aside the first section, Tiffany was disappointed to find the compartment held nothing but robes. And not the fleece and flannel robes she usually wore; these garments of satin and lace included an assortment of colors and animal prints. After shutting the first set of doors, she moved to the second.
Expecting more of the same attire, she was surprised to find floor to ceiling shelves holding at least a hundred pairs of shoes — most of them high-heeled. She did see some flashy athletic shoes in some of the bottom cubbies and quickly found a pair that looked like they'd fit.
Going back to the dresser, she pulled out a pair of navy sweatpants and the largest T-shirt she could find. Slipping them on without the benefit of panties or a bra felt foreign and once again, made her skin crawl. Forcing her feet into the name-brand tennis shoes, she sighed with relief. Now, no matter who came into her room, at least she was clothed. And, if given an opportunity, she would run.
MADDIE – 22
I thoroughly enjoyed watching the mayor suffer through the chief's pitiful attempts to impress her. Occasionally our eyes would meet, and being the only two women in the Mayormobile, she knew that I knew she wanted this ride over with — and fast.
Several times I caught the mayor studying me. I'm not sure why Pilar Luna's dissection bothered me, but it did. Each time she did it, I instinctively tried to adjust my hair, which is a lost cause. I've been trying to grow my hair out for about three years. When it gets almost long enough for me to curl or put up, I can't stand it and go get my hair whacked short again. Right now, my hair is longer than I'd like, but I don't even have time for a quickie hair cut. And after one disastrous attempt at cutting my hair myself, I know it's a job best left to the professionals.
Even my normally placid hairdresser scolded me after my turn with the scissors. Honestly Maddie, I don't go home and start slapping handcuffs on the neighborhood taggers. Why do you think it's okay to start hacking at your hair?
I still hadn't been able to get a hold of Travis. I tried not to be obvious about checking my cell phone, but Darius blistered me with pointed looks the last three times I'd pulled my phone out of my pocket. The chief droned on while Larry-the-Wife-Beater hung on the chief's every word, hoping to get in a profound remark of his own.
While we'd been waiting for the mayor to join us in the Mayormobile, I'd even texted a quick, 'u ok?', to my wayward husband. But now, at almost nine o'clock, I still hadn't gotten a reply. Of course, Travis hates texting. But I'd hoped if he'd gotten the message he'd at least call; but, maybe not after last night.
I was relieved when Pilar told
the chief to shut up because we'd arrived at the governor's house. I needed to get my mind off of Travis and find out what the hell happened to the governor's daughter.
"Shit! The Feds got here before us."
Leave it to Larry-the-Wife-Beater to leave a lasting impression on the mayor. I eyed the two Crown Vics with tinted windows parked in the driveway. Yes, the FBI had beaten us to the investigation. Not the first time and probably not the last.
TIFFANY – 23
Tiffany was twisting her long, honey-blonde hair into a loose knot when she heard someone unlocking the door. Dropping her hair in a jumble, she jumped to her feet.
It was Ginger. "Good you're dressed." The girl eyed the outfit Tiffany selected. "My God, could you have found anything uglier?" Not waiting for a reply, she motioned for Tiffany to follow her out of the room. "I was told to take you to the kitchen for some breakfast."
"Oh, okay, thank you," Tiffany said, following the girl who now, upon closer inspection, appeared much younger than Tiffany first thought. Walking through the house, Tiffany kept her eyes open for a telephone she might use to call her father. She hadn't seen her clothes and purse, but after the angry pounding on the door earlier, she didn't want to ask about them.
After descending a wide flight of