stairs, they crossed through a small office area and into a large kitchen. Cherry-wood cabinets topped with light coordinating granite lined the walls of the room. Restaurant-worthy appliances in stainless steel were placed strategically for functionality around the car-sized island centered in the kitchen. The remaining wall was floor to ceiling windows facing the spectacular pool area that would rival any tropical resort. Next to the tower of windowpanes was a glass-topped table that would easily seat ten people. In fact, three teen-aged girls occupied chairs at the table.
Ginger waved a hand vaguely at the group. "That's Destiny, Vegas, and Laylo."
"Hi," Tiffany said, noticing the trio's vacant stares as one nibbled toast, another scooped neon cereal puffs into her mouth, and the third licked frosting off a chocolate donut. None of them acknowledged her presence.
"Don't mind them. They're tired. They were out having too much fun last night."
The girl eating cereal let her spoon crash into the ceramic bowl. "I've had enough," she muttered. Taking the bowl to the sink, she rinsed it and the spoon and placed them in the dishwasher and headed toward the office Ginger and Tiffany had come through.
"Vegas, where you goin'? Drejohn will be here soon."
"I gotta pee. Is that alright with you?"
Tiffany was startled by the anger in the young girl's voice.
"Well, make it snappy. You know he gets mad when we're not here in the morning."
Vegas didn't say anything, but lifted her hand with her middle finger extended while she walked out of the kitchen.
Ginger looked at Tiffany and shrugged while displaying a wan smile. "She gets cranky if she doesn't get enough sleep."
Tiffany believed her. The three girls looked wiped out, with pale skin emphasizing the dark circles under their eyes. More troubling was the lack of vitality in any of them.
Ginger opened a door exposing a large pantry. "There's lots of cereal in here, along with donuts, bagels, and bread for toast. Juices and soda are in the refrigerator. Eggs are in there too, but you'll have to fix them if you want 'em. Oh, if you want coffee, you'll have to make that too." Glancing worriedly in the direction Vegas had taken, Ginger said, "I'll be back. I need to check on her."
The second the strawberry-blond was out of sight, Tiffany looked for a phone. Not seeing one, she shook her head. Everyone she knew had a phone in the kitchen. Moving to the archway where the kitchen joined the office, one quick glance told her no phone was here either.
She turned around and walked to the girls at the kitchen table. "Hey, is there a phone anywhere? I really need to make a call."
The Hispanic girl set down her donut and tried to focus her eyes on Tiffany. "We don't have phones. We don't need to call anyone."
Oh this is just great. I've got no clue where I am, I can't find a phone and I'm locked in this house with a bunch of zombies.
TRAVIS – 24
Travis tossed his duffle into the rear seat of his pick-up truck, then slid behind the wheel. Rejuvenated from his nap, he'd decided the best course of action was to return home and work things out with Maddie. The fact was he loved her. He knew they were both messed up, but traipsing up to the mountains wasn't going to help anything, in fact, would probably only make matters worse. Besides, it was probable that some sergeant from work would do a welfare check just to be sure he hadn't 'offed' himself.
Maneuvering his vehicle toward the main road of the small mountain resort town, he plugged his cell phone into the car charger he kept in the center console. He hadn't been able to make or receive calls at Dave's cabin, but he knew he'd get reception at some point in the small village. As if on cue, his phone vibrated and lit up as recorded calls and messages were announced via the newly connected signal. Glancing at the device, he saw a photo of Maddie's laughing face displayed on the touch screen. He remembered the day he'd taken the snapshot. He'd just gotten his phone and told her that she was the first female he wanted to photograph. She'd demanded to know what the difference was between being the first person and being the first female. He'd sheepishly turned the display to where she could clearly see a picture of their two year-old pitbull mix, Sammie. A head shot of the butterscotch-colored shelter dog's quizzical expression filled the screen.
"Isn't that nice?" Maddie had laughed. "Now I know where I stand in the family hierarchy. I'm behind the family dog!" She'd continued to laugh and shake her head in mock dismay, when Travis had turned the phone around and snapped her picture. He loved that picture. He loved that Maddie, and he wanted her back.
Travis watched as Maddie's image was displayed with each new message. From the number of times she'd tried to call him and gotten no response, Travis bet she wasn't smiling now. He'd already reached the outskirts of the quaint mountain town and was descending the two-lane highway leading to Los Angeles.
I'll just pull into the next turnout and give her a call and let her know I'm okay, he thought. But when he tried to do just that, he was once again in a dead zone. "Damn!"
Knowing he had about a two-hour ride ahead of him, he pulled back onto the roadway. Thinking of the good times he and Maddie shared early in their marriage, he pressed on the accelerator just a little more.
MADDIE – 25
Seated around the table in the large dining room of the governor's private residence, I was getting a personal glimpse into the character of the former actor now turned governor. At least as much of the governor's persona as the interior designer had allowed.
The large, sleek, dark furniture was countered by palomino-colored walls and chairs upholstered in a pale purple fabric, the material in a shade so light it didn't get lost in the richness of the dark wood. At first I thought lilac was a feminine choice of color, but with the grandeur of the dining set and gold leafed accent pieces, the hues suddenly made sense. It was a room fit for royalty. Preston Truesdale had been a Hollywood titan, and now he was a political king, heading up the most populated state in the nation.
While we waited for the governor to make an appearance, the Feds and our chief were politely trying to wrestle control of the investigation into Tiffany Truesdales's disappearance. Of course, if the case turned to shit, the two agencies would be pointing fingers at each other faster than an aspiring actress could give a blowjob to an assistant director.
I'd picked up a bran muffin and some orange juice from the sideboard before I'd sat down at the massive table. It was one of the perks of being a female on the job; it didn't seem unusual for me to take a seat at the table. Darius sat next to me, and next to him sat Larry-the-Wife-Beater and then the chief. I noticed the mayor had taken a seat at one end of the table. The chair at the opposite end was empty; presumably for the governor. A quick count revealed the table sat eighteen people, but there were probably ten more people than that jammed into the room. The over-flow crowd of FBI agents and apparent gubernatorial staff loitered against the walls as best they could, but they had to work around a massive grandfather clock and a sideboard that matched the table.
My main worry was that somehow the chief would hand over the Tiffany Truesdale missing person investigation to the FBI. Generally, our office doesn't handle juvenile missing person investigations, but in light of the fact that the two women were connected by Heather's bone marrow donation to Tiffany, it seemed possible the two cases might be related. My goal was to get Tiffany back — hopefully in one piece.
Larry-the-Wife-Beater attempted to impress our boss. "Chief, since we've already started interviews on the McCall case, it makes sense to have us work on Tiffany's case as well. We'll undoubtedly be interviewing some of the same people in both cases."
The head FBI guy shook his head. "That's too much for a pair of local detectives to handle," he said, glancing toward Darius and me.
"Then I'll add some other teams," Chief Fryer said easily.
FBI boy wasn't having any of it. He shook his head again. "We can't rule out that the abductions aren't somehow connected to the governor's position."
Darius
shifted in his seat and shot a look at the G-man. "We don't even know for sure they've been kidnapped." Turning his gaze to our chief, he said, "Perhaps we could run a joint investigation, with the FBI working on leads connected with the governor, while we work personal sides of both missing women."
Leave it to Darius to come up with the perfect solution. The Feds could feel they were doing something useful while we conducted both missing person cases.
FBI boy glanced briefly at his co-workers, who stood along the wall. "Yes, I think that will work. You guys chase down leads in the girls' lives and we'll work the political angle. I do think it's imperative we keep this under wraps as long as possible."
Darius nodded. "I think that's going to be impossible, but maybe if we can get the governor to continue making brief appearances in public, that will quell any notice that Tiffany is off the radar."
"Sounds good to me," FBI boy said.
Preston Truesdale strode into the room, his six-foot-three frame driven with intensity. "So who in this room can tell me where my daughter is?"
The dining room fell silent. The ticking of the grandfather clock at the end of the room was the only audible sound.
The governor frowned. "You folks have been in here waiting and you still haven't come up with an answer as to where my daughter is?"
The lead agent from
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