sentry. "If you need anything, talk to Tank." Without saying goodbye, Ginger trotted off across the yard, in the direction of the outbuildings.
"Does she work at NTL?" Tiffany asked, trying to establish a rapport with her latest watchdog.
Tank narrowed his eyes and looked her up and down. "Let me give you some advice. Don't worry about what anyone else here is doing. Just keep Dre happy and you'll be fine. Don't piss him off, do what he says, and he'll treat you good. Screw up, and he'll give you to someone else, and frankly, I'd like a sweet piece like you. You've got class written all over you."
Embarrassed by the man's words, Tiffany ducked her head and marched past him to the pool house. As soon as she got inside, she closed the door and locked it. She knew that if Tank wanted to get in, he'd break open the door like a football player bursting through a pep-rally banner. But she hoped the lock would discourage any destructive thoughts he might have.
She turned to check out the surroundings. Evenly spaced skylights in the ceiling lighted the area. There was a couch, a fireplace, and small bar in this room. There was a door on each side of the fireplace. One was marked "Bitches" and the other was marked "Playa's."
Pushing open the door for the girl's dressing room, Tiffany was relieved to see it was empty. There were cubbies lining the room and she made short work of feeling through the clothes and belongings looking for a cell phone. Worried that Tank might come looking for her, she stripped off her clothes and tucked herself into the pink bikini. She donned the robe she'd brought to put over her swimsuit.
Moving back into the main pool house, she had a sudden thought. None of the girls were likely to have cell phones if they were being held here, but the males seemed to have full privileges. Maybe one of them had left their phone with their clothes. Scared to death, but not giving in to her fears, she cautiously opened the door to the male dressing area.
Her heart pounded so hard, its beat was thunder in her ears. She told herself to calm down so she could hear if anyone approached, but her fright at being discovered prevented any control of her body. Working feverishly, she made her way through the men's belongings. Patting one of the last bundles of clothes, elation ran through her when she felt the bulk of a cell phone. Jubilation was replaced by dread when Tiffany felt a breeze across her neck from an open door.
"I kinda thought you wouldn't follow the rules," Tank said, twirling a key on a chain.
MADDIE – 39
"Darius, has Bain called you back yet?" I asked.
"No, and it's getting to the point where I'm considering contacting Lieutenant Keever in the chief's office to see if we can get some response from the governor's aide. This is eff-ing ridiculous. I'm sure he's a busy guy, but we need the details on what they know about Heather McCall. At this point, they're the only source we've got."
"Just call Granite-face and get this show on the road," I said. My partner looked at me thoughtfully then picked up the phone.
I sat at my desk and stared at my computer screen wondering why Heather McCall was such a mystery. Not only did she disappear from her neighborhood, it seemed she was a ghost when she was living there. I grabbed a three-ring binder off the shelf in my cubicle and flipped to the information I'd gathered so far in the McCall case. Reviewing the documentation it occurred to me I had nothing, other than the fact the girl had a driver's license and had gotten one ticket. That was from law enforcement sources. Time to hit the social networking sites.
I tapped a few keys on my computer to access my favorite search engine. I typed some more. The results were daunting. There were so many Heather McCalls listed, it would take forever to find our Heather. Then I tried Heather McCall, nanny. There were a few websites that looked promising, but didn't pan out. Then I got another idea. A few more keystrokes on my computer and suddenly my screen filled with images of the multitude of Heather McCalls in the world. Now we're talkin. I may not know much about you Miss McCall, but I do know what you look like. Someone has to have a photo of you and posted it on the Internet.
This was much easier. I could zip through a page of photos in less than a minute. I was hoping to find a match to the starlet-like headshot the governor had provided. Maybe I could find out who took the photo and why. I mean, after all why does a nanny need a publicity photo?
"I just heard from Lieutenant Keever," Darius called out. "Bain is supposed to call me within the next ten minutes."
"Yeah well, I hope so. We need a lead and we need it soon. I could spend a week looking at all these photos of different Heathers and never find our girl."
Larry-the-Wife-Beater headed our way. I turned my back to him and continued scanning my computer monitor.
"Cutter, I'd like to see you in my office," he said.
Darius rose from his desk. "Maddie, can you take any calls on my phone so we don't miss Bain?"
"You bet," I said wondering why Larry wanted Darius, but not me. After all, we were partners.
I'd barely gotten back to my screen scan, when the phone on Darius's desk rang. I sprung up to answer. After my professional, department-mandated, and much too lengthy greeting I heard Bain's voice.
"Detective Divine, is your partner, Detective Cutter available?"
I glanced at the Wife-Beater's office door, which was closed. "Not at the moment, but I know what he wanted."
"What can I do for you?"
Sitting in Darius's chair I pulled a pad of paper toward me. "Thanks for calling us back, I'm sure you're busy." It doesn't hurt to flatter a politico when you want information from them. "Detective Cutter and I were wondering who advised Governor Truesdale that Heather was missing?"
"I did."
I waited a few seconds to see if he was going to elaborate, but he didn't. "Well, who told you?"
"The case manager at the hospital who was arranging the bone marrow transplant between Heather and Tiffany Truesdale."
Again, I waited for him to say more. Good gravy, it was like sitting on the 405 Freeway at rush hour to get the guy to give up any information.
I didn't have time to play games with the governor's gofer. I intentionally put a patronizing tone in my voice. "Would you be able to tell me what hospital and the case manager's name?"
"Saint Peter's in Santa Monica, and her name is…" I heard him shuffling paperwork on his desk. "Candice Murphy."
"Do you have a phone number for her?" I put Bain on my long list of male jerks. He rattled off a number to me, which I jotted down next to the notes I'd made on the hospital and case manager. "Excellent, thank you. By the way, Mr. Bain, do you think you'll be faxing the copies of the medical paperwork over to us soon?" I was taking a stab at the fact he hadn't already sent it. If the documentation had been sent, Darius hadn't told me.
"Um, I think there might be a problem there."
"Really, and what would that be?
"The HIPAA laws. I don't believe I'm able to send Miss McCall's medical information to you without her permission.
I silently counted to five. "Getting her permission would be a little difficult since she's missing. Don't you think she'd want the police to have her information if it helps us to find her?"
"Detective, I don't know what Miss McCall would want, but I won't be able to fax those documents without her authorization."
"That's fine, Mr. Bain. Thanks for your help." I wondered if Darius and I would have to get a subpoena for the medical records.
"You'll keep us in the loop as to the investigation's progress?"
"We'll continue to exchange information just as you've been doing," I said. Then I hung up the phone. Bain was a sharp guy. He knew what I meant.
PILAR – 40
"Preston, darling," Pilar breathed into the phone. "We've got the press conference set up for tomorrow afternoon at noon here at City Hall."
"What press conference?"
Pilar bit back the sarcastic reply that sprang to her lips. "The one where you and I are going to give Zepeda Sorriano over two million dollars to open an Everyon
e Get Along gang rehabilitation center here in L.A."
"Oh, yes, right, right."
"You sound very distracted. Have they found Tiffany?"
The governor sighed. "No, and as time goes on, I'm finding it harder and harder to concentrate on anything else."
"Well, that's understandable. Perhaps you should plan on staying in L.A. until she's found." There was a pause on the line. Pilar feared they'd been disconnected. "Preston, are you there?"
"Yes, I'm here. I was thinking. You know that's not a bad idea. I was talking to Bain this morning and I think I might be making a mistake by keeping up with my appearances and duties as governor."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because the media will fry me once they learn that Tiffany is missing."
Now it was Pilar's turn to be silent for a few seconds. Her mind mulled over different possible outcomes. "Hmmm. I think you might be right. Since we're having a press conference tomorrow, maybe you could announce her disappearance after the presentation of funds for the EGA center."
Pilar could hear a bunch of voices in the background.
"I've got to go," Preston said. "I'll think about it and let you know later today."
"Preston! One more thing. Neither Zepeda Sorriano nor the EGA has the money to fly him down for the press conference. Could you arrange for transportation?"
"Let him drive," Preston said crossly.
Pilar kept her voice quietly controlled. "I was thinking it would be a very big gesture of goodwill to fly him down in your
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