kitchen, he carefully headed that way.
There were several more empty aluminum cans on the galley counter. Using a shaky finger, he lifted the top of the cardboard container. Typical. He'd eaten one large slice of the pie. Food didn't appeal much to him these days. But then, very little did. He knew it was a bad sign he didn't remember driving up to the lake, much less stopping for pizza and beer.
He allowed himself a wry smile. At least he'd have plenty to eat for breakfast. Dropping the lid, he glanced at his watch. Almost seven. He wondered if Maddie had tried to call him. From previous visits, he knew cell phone signals at the cabin were sketchy. He tapped at his shirt pocket, then ran his hands over his jeans and came up empty.
"Where in the hell is my phone," he muttered, encircling the top of his head with hands to try to ease the pain.
His jacket lay on the seat of the thick-wale corduroy recliner near the door. Moving slowly, he grabbed the garment and felt through the fabric for his phone. He wanted to try to call his wife and let her know he was all right; not that she probably cared after last night. He also wanted to be sure he hadn't made any late-night drunken calls spewing how unfair he was being treated by the department. No one wanted to hear it anymore.
Finding the device in one of the pockets, he gazed at the display. Not one incoming call. He punched a few buttons and was relieved to see he hadn't made any outgoing calls either. He started to tap in the numbers for Maddie's cell, but then realized he had no signal.
He decided to get cleaned up and go into the village and give her a call from a landline there. Whether or not she'd talk to him was a whole other matter.
PILAR – 15
"Good morning, Crystal," Pilar said, breezing into the foyer of her office. "I'm going to need coffee and lots of it."
"Yes, ma'am," said Crystal, leaping to her feet. There were two other assistants in the room, but Crystal catered directly to Pilar's needs.
Even before she'd sat at her desk, Pilar's assistant brought the steaming brew. "Thanks. I really need this. I had a late night in Sacramento, then flew back here." She took a sip from the oversized mug emblazoned with the city seal. "I was so tempted to call and cancel the meeting I've got this morning with the head of the Department of Transportation."
"Mr. Mulvany's office called earlier to confirm."
"Okay, and he'll be here in—?"
"Half an hour. The reports are in the top folder on your desk."
"Great. I'll review them while I caffeinate," Pilar said with a dismissing smile.
Crystal closed the door and Pilar opened the folder, but the ringing from her personal cell phone jarred her from her work. Recognizing the ring-tone to be one she'd set up exclusively for Preston, she took the call. Smiling to herself, she figured he was calling her to recount the exceptional sex they'd had the night before.
"Pilar, it's me."
"How's that beautiful cock of yours?" she whispered. "I'm ready to go again right now."
"Pilar! Shut the fuck up!"
"Preston, what's wrong? And don't ever talk to me like that again."
"It's Tiffany. She's gone."
"Oh sweetheart, I'm so sorry. Shall I fly up? I've got a really full calendar, but under the circumstances of you losing your only child—"
"No, no." Impatience saturated his voice. "That's not what I mean. She's not…dead. She's missing."
Pilar let out a silent sigh and ran her hand across her forehead. To herself, she counted slowly to five.
"Missing. How can that be? She has a security detail." Pilar hoped he couldn't hear the irritation in her voice. She doubted he would; he was so distracted.
"She and her friends ditched those idiot CHP officers. A bunch of teenaged girls got the better of those two morons!"
"It's not going to do you any good to get all upset. Does anyone have an idea where she might be?"
"Not really. The LAPD has been called in and they'll be interviewing Tiffany's friends. All I know is that the girls were at a party last night somewhere in the San Fernando Valley. Tiffany's friend Penny is in the hospital with alcohol poisoning. I'm hoping the cops can get more information from those little airheads."
"Preston! They're just young girls."
"I don't care! My daughter is out there somewhere. God only knows what's happened to her. You know she's not well."
Pilar heard voices calling to him in the background.
"I've got to run. I'll call you as soon as I know anything."
"I'll be waiting. I love you." As soon as the words left Pilar's mouth, she realized he hadn't heard them; he'd hung up.
Isn't this an interesting turn of events, she thought. That spoiled brat, Tiffany, goes missing a few days after her life-saving bone marrow donor disappears. I wonder what the cops will make of that?
MADDIE – 16
I tossed my brush in a drawer, then slammed it closed. I'd already spent too long trying to make my hair look decent. Scowling at my reflection in the mirror, I left the bathroom.
Damn it, Travis, call and let me know where the hell you are and that you're all right. For the sixth time since I'd gotten up an hour ago, I went to the kitchen and grabbed my cell phone off the counter and checked for messages. Nothing. Snapping the phone shut, I tossed it into my purse.
"I'm makin' my lunch, and then I'm outta here," I said aloud to no one.
For about six weeks, I'd enjoyed my newly remodeled kitchen. But that was over a year ago, before our lives had changed forever. Being the final phase in the refurbishment of our home, the kitchen had become our pride and joy. We'd spent almost thirty grand putting in custom cabinets, granite countertops and restaurant quality appliances. I'm not sure why we spent such a wad, neither of us did much cooking. Now I just see the fancy upgrades as another loan to pay off and an obstacle to moving out of the house.
I eat almost the same thing every day, and it only takes me a couple of minutes to throw a frozen low-cal dinner, a couple of sodas and an orange into my lunch container. I zipped the lid closed and reached across the earth-tone slab of granite. Snagging the strap of my handbag, I headed for the front door.
The harmonious chime of my cell phone stopped me dead in my tracks. I plunged my hand into my purse and burrowed around until I felt the damn thing. Yanking the phone from the confines of my bag, I was disappointed when I scanned the display and saw it was Darius.
"It's awfully early to be calling me. What's up?"
"How soon can you get to the office?" Darius sounded uptight, and he was rarely tense.
"I'm leaving the house right now. What's wrong?"
"Drive safely, but get here as quick as you can. Our case may have exploded."
"Has her body been found?"
"I can't talk right now. Just get here, and be prepared to meet with the chief and possibly the mayor." The line disconnected in my ear. I hate when people hang up on me.
On my way to the office, it seemed every driver on the road was intent on impeding my progress. In the three years we'd been partners, I'd never heard so much stress in Darius's voice. Heather McCall must be dead, but why couldn't Darius just tell me that, and why did he say the case had exploded? That was not a good sign.
Finally making my way to the metal-beamed parking structure nicknamed "the erector set," I whipped my car into the first available space, then hustled the several blocks to PAB. Every time I get to the office, I think about how stupid the city was to build a central headquarters for the police department and not make enough parking for the employees who worked in the building. Unfortunately it's stupid, but not uncommon.
Exiting the elevator on the sixth floor, I was surprised to see Darius standing in the hallway. Surely he isn't standing there waiting for me.
As soon as he saw me, he started toward the elevator I'd just vacated.
"Are you going to let me set down my lunch?" I asked, frowning at him.
"Hurry. We're supposed to be in the chief's office. Larry-the-Wife-Beater is already up t
here."
I actually jogged to my desk, and after being run to death in the police academy eleven years ago, I try not to jog or run anywhere. Nonetheless, I ran back to the elevator where Darius had his finger glued to the 'door open' button.
Stepping inside, and slightly out of breath, I locked eyes with him. "What's going on?"
His gaze shot to two other detectives in the car with us.
I rolled my eyes and sighed in frustration. Nothing like making fellow officers feel like they're in the way.
The other cops got out on the seventh floor, and were probably glad to do so. As soon as the doors closed, I moved in front of Darius and crossed my arms.
"I am not going into this meeting blind. What the hell is happening?"
"I don't have details. All I know is the governor's daughter is missing. She hasn't been seen since last night."
"Shit," I said, while my stomach twisted into a tight knot.
"That's right, it's a big pile of doo-doo, and I suspect we're both about to step in it."
TIFFANY – 17
Tiffany wasn't ready to wake up. Keeping her eyes closed, she stretched her arms above her head while elongating her legs as far as they'd go. When her fingers brushed an upholstered headboard, her eyes flew open. Fear rushed through her. She wasn't in her own bed. She had no idea where she was. While her heart threatened to beat out of her chest, she shot upright and surveyed her surroundings as best she could. She felt light-headed, almost as though she might faint. Once the room stopped spinning, she noted that the bed she slept in was clean and comfortable