laughter came from downstairs in Preston's house. Small chimes when glasses grazed plates, and the ring of silverware being handled indicated that his staff was having breakfast. Good. After that romp with Pilar last night, I'm starved.
Entering the dining room, he took them by surprise. All chatter stopped as they took in the fact he was wearing a suit and tie and was freshly shaven. Well, their confusion made sense since he'd been dressing casually for the past few days and holed up here at the house.
"Good morning, governor," said Bain, leaping to get Preston a plate.
"Good morning. Everyone please continue. We're going to be busy today, so eat hearty."
Preston was glad to see a flicker of worry flash across Bain's face. His chief of staff was getting a little too comfortable. Preston fixed himself a plate of food and sat at the table. He couldn't but notice the atmosphere in the room had changed. People spoke with lowered voices and no one was laughing. Bain, sitting next to him, pulled out his cell phone and tapped at the touch screen. Preston noticed his aide was researching financial contacts, so he must be working on obtaining reward money.
Eating in silence, Preston considered what he wanted to do about Pilar. Theirs was a relationship built on convenience and image. There were no true feelings; there was no love. He was tired of pretending, he was tired of the deceit, and he wanted out. Besides, she was getting too wrapped up in their image as a couple. She was beginning to believe their hype. In truth, they were two political pretenders equipped with perfect botoxed faces, dazzling veneered smiles, and not much else.
On the other hand, it was hard to think of breaking away from her when his balls actually ached from the superior sex they'd had the night before. She was gorgeous. The press loved her. Her record as mayor was as good as it could be, given the financial circumstances of almost every city in America. Somehow she managed to stay in favor, in spite of some of the unpopular decisions she was forced to make. Yes, thinking pragmatically, there really was no reason to discontinue his relationship with Pilar.
Draining his coffee cup, he motioned for his administrative assistant and Bain to follow him into the library. After they'd entered, he sat at the ornately carved desk and directed Bain to shut the door.
"Tiffany has been missing for three days now. This is totally unacceptable. She may be sick. She needs her antibiotics to fight infections. How are you coming with the arrangements for a reward for Tiffany's return?"
"I've contacted your banker and told him you'll want a sizable amount of cash available and you'll need a contact person twenty-four hours a day."
Preston nodded. "Good. I also want you to hire a private investigator to find Tiffany. I don't want some sleaze-ball former cop. I want someone with a good reputation and I don't care what it costs. Have you notified the media about a press conference today?"
"Sir, with all due respect, you need to run this by the pol—"
Preston held up his hand stopping the words spilling from Bain. "You heard me. Just do it." He rose from behind the desk. "The authorities are worthless. They looked for Heather McCall and she's dead. The cops are looking for Tiffany, and I don't want the same result."
Preston's gaze seared his administrative assistant. "I want the whole staff back in the office and picking up where they left off. We'll have to assign someone to run interference for the media. I've got a state to run, a daughter to find, and I intend on doing both—starting with my daughter."
MADDIE – 69
Navigating the stop and go traffic on the Golden State Freeway, I was weighed down with guilt. Earlier, I'd tiptoed in the dark getting ready for work. I hadn't wanted to wake Travis. I'd told myself I was being a considerate wife, but in reality I didn't want to discuss our sleeping together. I knew he'd want to analyze every move. Lying next to him with my arms around him comforted me as much as it relaxed him. He hadn't stirred the whole evening, and there was no doubt I'd slept better to, which made the whole thing confusing. But, realistically, with our marriage hanging by a thread, I doubted one good night of sleep would erase a year's worth of our shame and despair.
Travis said his visit with the department shrink had helped him. Considering he'd shot up the house afterwards, I was not inclined to agree.
The closer I got to work, the less I thought about Travis. Instead, I thought about Heather McCall's body dumped with trash in the middle of the desert. I thought about my partner and his convenient lapse of memory. What were the chances of him getting a picture taken with a murder victim a couple of years before her death? It just didn't feel right to me.
I hadn't even sat down when Darius appeared at the side of my desk. "We've been summoned to Larry's office."
My stomach dropped. Could someone else have discovered the picture of Darius and Heather? I made a face and grabbed a lined pad of paper from my desk. No use borrowing trouble. "Well, let's go deal with the beast," I said. "But you owe me for having to face the Wife-Beater before my first cup of coffee."
"Well, before we go see our boss, come over to my desk. I want to show you something real quick."
I was surprised that Darius would intentionally delay our response to our boss. Blowing off a supervisor wasn't my partner's usual style.
"Here, sit down." He leaned next to me and clicked the mouse of his computer. His monitor filled with the picture of Heather and him. Then he moved the cursor to the right side of the screen where the photograph's location on the Internet was identified. With another click, the page that opened up was Heather McCall's AllAboutMe page. Underneath the picture was the caption: Me hangin' with the LAPD.
"I figured Roger must have told her we were cops when he took the picture," Darius said. After closing the images on his computer, he looked down at me. "You can call Roger if you want to, but it will only drag him into this investigation unnecessarily. There's no sense in drawing attention to a photo that has nothing to do with our case." He pulled my chair back indicating we should head to our boss's office.
What Darius said made sense…but only if he was telling the truth.
Just then, Larry-the-Wife-Beater stuck his head out his open office door and waved for us to hurry. Our boss held his cell phone to his ear, but pointed to a couple of chairs against the wall. We'd barely sat down when he finished his call.
"You guys all set to close the McCall case? I need you to focus on Tiffany Truesdale."
"Lieutenant," I said, "we're not sure the two cases aren't connected. We still have a couple of leads to follow."
"Give them to the Kern County Sheriff's Department. They've got the McCall case now. If it turns out she died in our jurisdiction, Major Crimes can work with them. The woman's no longer missing, so there's no reason for our involvement anymore."
Darius leaned forward. "Lieutenant, it will take us a couple of hours max to check out a few things. We might pick up the trail to Tiffany."
"Yeah, that's what I want to tell the chief," Larry said. "My detectives are chasing leads on a missing person who's been found dead in the desert. Meanwhile they're ignoring the missing person case involving the governor's daughter."
We all looked up when another detective poked his head through the doorway. He pointed to the television in the corner of Larry's office. "Turn on the news. Channel Nine. You're gonna shit a brick."
PRESTON – 70
For the second time in as many days, Preston stood in the forecourt of City Hall before throngs of reporters. At least a dozen journalists shouted questions regarding Tiffany's disappearance. He held up his hands, patting the air in front of him in order to quiet them.
"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming on such short notice. As you're aware, my daughter, Tiffany's, been missing for three days." Preston focused his gaze on the cameras set up in front of him. "While the LAPD, FBI, and other law enforcement agencies have been conducting their investigations as expediently as possible, I'm sure you can understand I'm distraught with worry."
A few reporters started to c
all out questions, but Bain waved them off.
"While the police are doing everything in their power to find Tiffany, the case is stagnating. Therefore, I'm offering a reward of one million dollars for the safe return of my daughter." The news correspondents who ignored Bain's futile attempts to keep them quiet, fired a frenzy of questions.
Preston patted at the air again, indicating he had more to say. "Please, let me finish, and then I'll take a few questions." The media settled down while he continued. "Many of you may know that yesterday afternoon a body was found in the desert outside of Lancaster, California. There are indications the body may be the remains of Heather McCall, the woman who'd offered to donate her bone marrow to Tiffany." Trickles of sweat ran from his temples, causing Preston to remove his handkerchief to dab at his face.
"At this time nothing suggests the two cases are related, but a connection hasn't been ruled out." Again, the governor's eyes locked on the lenses pointed at him. "Understand I'm not saying the law enforcement agencies aren't doing their job to the best of their abilities. But someone's seen Tiffany or knows her location, and a monetary 'incentive' might get faster results. If you have information, you can call the LAPD at, 555-LAPD." Preston relaxed his shoulders while motioning he'd take questions. Pilar, who'd been standing to the side, moved
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