The Perfect Couple (Last Stand #4)(19)
Author: Brenda Novak

"Have the police canvased the neighborhood?"

She nodded. "This afternoon."

"No one saw anything," Lucassi said. "It’s as if she just…disappeared."

"The gate was standing open when you found her gone." Jonathan had asked about that when they were out back.

"That’s right."

"She didn’t disappear," he said. "Either she walked away, or she knew her abductor and welcomed him in."

"What makes you so sure?"

"She wasn’t dragged out of here."

"She wouldn’t walk away," Zoe said.

Jonathan agreed. That was what scared him. Sam’s actions weren’t consistent with those of a runaway. There’d been no inciting event. She hadn’t confided in her best friend or packed a single item of clothing.

Beyond that, she’d been ill, and had been doing her homework. If she was planning to take off, why would she bother completing her school assignments?

But if she knew and trusted her abductor, the culprit was more likely her derelict grandfather or her mother’s self-righteous boyfriend.

Jonathan pinned his hopes on Ely Duncan. If it was Anton Lucassi, a man who could sit in her room and pretend such concern without a flicker of regret, Sam was already dead.

Chapter 9

"So what do you think?" Skye’s voice sounded tinny as it came through the phone.

Jonathan stood in the kitchen of the two-bedroom, two-bath fixer-upper he’d bought off Broadway. The house had potential, but it’d been thirteen months since he’d taken ownership, and he still hadn’t found time to make a single improvement. Because he usually worked while he ate, his kitchen had become more of an office than the spare bedroom, where he had an old desk and all his files. "I don’t think it’s the ra**st father."

"Why not?"

Jonathan’s dog, an Akita named Kino, nudged his hand, demanding attention. The woman next door dog-sat while he worked; Akitas required a lot of social interaction and wasn’t a good breed to leave home alone for long periods of time. But Ronnie, short for Veronica, had to go to San Francisco today, so Kino had been cooped up and was eager to go out.

Jonathan planned to take him for a walk, even though it was nearly eleven. But first he wanted something to eat. "Chill out for a second," he told the dog before returning to his conversation. "Sam knew whoever it was."

"So there was no sign of a struggle," Skye was saying.

"None." He rummaged through his refrigerator. "And since she believes her father was killed in a car accident, I don’t think she’d welcome some stranger who claimed to be dear old dad."

"I wondered how Zoe had handled the story of Sam’s conception, but I didn’t want to pry."

Jonathan tossed two of three to-go containers in the trash because the food had gone bad, found the leftovers from last night and put them in the microwave. He wasn’t in the mood for lasagna, but he didn’t dare trust anything else in his fridge–except maybe the ketchup, mustard and pickles.

"She’s kept a very tight lid on it. Only her father knows."

"Anton doesn’t?"

If Skye had met him, she wouldn’t be surprised. "No. And Zoe didn’t act as if she wanted him to learn."

"The more people who know, the greater the chance Sam will find out."

He bent to watch the food turning on the carousel. "But if you can’t trust the man you love, what does that say for your relationship?"

"Maybe they’re not that close."

"They’re engaged."

"Engaged doesn’t seem to mean as much as it used to."

Crossing his arms, he leaned against the counter. "I doubt she’d tell him even if she married him. I think she’s afraid he’d look down on her. Or hold it over her head. She doesn’t want to give him that much power." He took his food out, but it was still cold so he put it in for another two minutes.

"Or maybe it’s just that he already has no respect for her father. Knowing what happened on Ely Duncan’s watch would only make that worse."

"Sam could’ve opened the door to Franky," Skye argued. "Some kids will open the door to anyone. They don’t realize how dangerous it is.

They’ve been taught to be polite, so they respond to any knock with a smile."

"The front door was locked when Lucassi came home. It was the back gate that stood open."

"So what’s your point?"

Feeling the effects of another fifteen-hour day, Jonathan glanced at the coffeemaker. He’d never sleep if he succumbed to the temptation, but…until then he could use the caffeine boost. "I think it’s more likely to be Lucassi than Franky."

"But he has no criminal record."

"That doesn’t mean he didn’t do it. If it was a stranger, she would’ve screamed for help. It’s reasonable to expect that someone would’ve heard her. The next-door neighbor was home all day." Purposely ignoring the blinking light on his answering machine–probably calls on his other cases that he no longer had time to worry about–he picked up the photo of Sam that Zoe had given him.

"He certainly would’ve had the opportunity," she agreed.

"If someone was taking her by force, if she tried to get away, there should’ve been a chair or table knocked askew." He held the picture closer, studying the missing girl. "Her drink wasn’t even spilled. And whoever took her wasn’t interested in her iPod. It was right on the table, in plain sight."

"Okay, so maybe you have to take a closer look at Lucassi. But you can’t eliminate Franky Bates as a possible suspect."

"If I spend the next few days tracking down this ex-con and it’s a false lead, we’ve lost a lot of valuable time. You know what they say about the first forty-eight." He thought of Zoe, how beautiful and fragile she was and, oddly, how good she’d felt in his arms. It’d been years since he’d noticed a woman in that way, a woman besides Sheridan, and it made him feel hopeful and creepy at the same time. Zoe was already committed. What was it with him?

"Ignoring Franky is a big risk," Skye said.

He set the picture on a stack of files that represented some of his other cases. "I know. But this business is about risk. I have to follow my gut–and move fast."

"So you think it’s Lucassi?"

"Or the grandfather. Sam was on friendly terms with Ely, even though he and Zoe are somewhat estranged."

"Don’t tell me Zoe finally wrote off her old man."

"No. Nothing that permanent. She wouldn’t allow Sam to visit him alone last summer, for obvious reasons, and it made him mad. That’s all."

The microwave beeped. He opened the door to remove his dinner–and nearly dropped it when it burned him. "Shit!"