by Debra Webb
At the moment he wasn’t entirely certain, but he would continue to follow his instincts until he felt he’d found all he was going to or his need for alcohol lured him to his room.
He pressed the doorbell. The chime echoed through the house. The double doors were more glass than wood. No curtains or blinds obscured the view into the entry hall and to the staircase that stood in the middle of it. He saw a woman’s bare feet first, then her lean calves as she descended the stairs. The sides of the white robe she wore came together but not before he got a glimpse of toned thighs. Martin tightened the sash as she walked runway style toward the door. She didn’t look forty, more like thirty. Long blond hair hung in thick waves around her silk-clad shoulders. Her eyes were pale. Gray, he decided as she neared. But it was her mouth that gave him pause. Wide with full, lush lips. The kind women paid the big bucks to have and men paid even more to taste.
“You lost, honey?” she asked through the glass.
A sleek black Doberman pinscher trotted up beside her. Black eyes scrutinized Tony.
“Hailey Martin?” Tony showed his official ID—the one he’d lost years ago and had to replace, then found in his glove box just this morning when he’d dug around for a pair of sunglasses.
Her face registered surprise. “Well, alrighty then.” She opened the door. “Come on in.”
Tony glanced at the dog.
“Brutus, go.”
Perfect name for the animal that stared suspiciously at his owner’s visitor. With one last glower at Tony the dog walked away, toenails clicking on the gleaming hardwood.
Martin cocked her head, scrutinizing Tony much as the dog had done. “You staying or am I going? I’ll need to get dressed if we’re going somewhere.” She pushed the door closed, the move causing the robe to show even more of her generous cleavage.
Tony ignored the instinctive stir of desire. “I have a few questions for you, Ms. Martin. As long as you’re cooperative, I don’t see why we can’t take care of what I need right here.”
“Follow me.” She turned and started in the same direction her pet had taken. The last of the sun filtering in through the windows highlighted the curve of her bare ass beneath that thin layer of silk.
Tony watched the sway of her hips for a moment before following. “Nice house.”
“Compliments of my first and only husband.”
The entry hall flowed around the staircase on both sides and then into the center of the home where an enormous kitchen sat to the left. On the right was the great room. A leather sofa flanked by upholstered chairs were nestled around the fireplace, the stacked stone soaring upward to collide with the vaulted ceiling. The rear wall of the house was mostly glass and showed the view of the lake. Behind the stairs a dining room separated the kitchen from the great room.
Tony asked, “Divorce?” The sun was just settling down against the water. The view was breathtaking—the one out the window and the one inside.
She smiled. “Heart attack. Seventy-year-old men shouldn’t take Viagra but his fondest wish was to make me happy.”
Tony acknowledged the comment with a nod. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
She reached for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. “Thank you.”
He waited until she’d lit up before moving to the next question. “How long have you lived in Macon?”
“I moved here when I was eighteen to attend Mercer University.” She took a long drag from her cigarette and blew out a plume of smoke. “Would you like a drink, Agent LeDoux?”
His throat ached at the offer. “No thanks. I’d like to get to those questions I mentioned, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course. Please, sit.” She sashayed over to the bar and poured herself a Scotch on the rocks.
Tony’s mouth watered. He looked away and made himself comfortable on the sofa. “Do you know Tiffany Durand?”
Martin curled up on a chair near the wall of glass. The white silk slid all the way to the tops of her thighs. “I don’t really know her, but I see her at a club I visit occasionally.”
“Are you aware she’s missing?”
She gasped. “Are you serious?”
“You haven’t seen the news?”
She made a scoffing sound. “Honey, I haven’t been up long enough to watch the news. I was in a dead sleep until you showed up at my door.”
“She and another freshman from Georgia College, Vickie Parton, haven’t been seen since Friday afternoon.”
Realization dawned in her gray eyes. “I don’t know the Parton girl, but I saw Tiffany at Wild Things a few days ago. Maybe on Wednesday or Thursday.”
“Did she mention a new boyfriend or any plans to go out of town?”
Martin shook her head. “No. She did seem excited though.” She sighed. “Oh dear. I feel terrible about this. Tiffany is such a sweet girl.”
“Do you know a man named Miles?”
“Miles Conway?”
“Does he frequent Wild Things?”
“Occasionally. He’s—” she shrugged “—a little reclusive. He doesn’t get out much.”
“How can I get in touch with Mr. Conway?”
“I think I have his number.” She finished off her Scotch and got up. The brief glimpse of the Brazilian wax job between her legs had Tony glancing at the floor. Martin went back to the bar. She left her glass and returned to her chair with her cell phone. For a half a minute she scanned her contacts. “Here he is. What’s your number and I’ll send you his contact info?”
Tony gave her his number. A fleeting vibration announced he’d received the number. “What does Mr. Conway do for a living?”
She seemed to consider his question. “I really don’t have any idea. I see him from time to time but we’re not really friends, more acquaintances who share an appreciation for the same things.”
Tony didn’t have to ask what those things were. “So Tiffany never mentioned a boyfriend or anyone new in her life?”
Martin moved her head side to side. “Never. She was a little shy when it came to men. Smart girl but very sheltered. I think she came to Wild Things just to prove she had the nerve to step outside her comfort zone.”
Tony could see Tiffany stretching her boundaries exactly that way. She loved life and wanted to experience it to the fullest. Please don’t let that free spirit attitude have gotten her into something dangerous.
“Do you recall anyone at the lounge watching her? Anyone odd who was new to the crowd who hangs out there?”
Again Martin appeared to consider the question. “I’m afraid not. It’s most always the same crowd. I go once or twice a week just to check on things. The owner is a friend of mine.”
“The owner?” Tony asked as if he didn’t know.
“Kenneth. He lives in Atlanta. He and I had a thing back in college.” She smiled as if remembering. “Back then he was too poor for me. I had my sights set on finding a rich old man with one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel, as the saying goes.”
Apparently she’d found one.
“You have my number.” Tony stood. “I hope you’ll call me if you remember anything at all that might help with the search for Tiffany.”
“I will, yes.” She stood. “I’ll check with some of the others who frequent the club. If I learn anything at all I’ll be sure to call it in.”
“Call me. You have my number,” Tony countered. “I don’t want any information you find lost in the storm of calls coming into the hotlines.”
“All right. I’ll call you.” Her lips slid into a smile. “Maybe we can have dinner or something.”
He decided not to touch that one. “Thank you, Ms. Martin.”
“Hailey,” she insisted as she walked back to the front door with him. “The pleasure was all mine.”
Tony felt her eyes on his back as he walked through the
dusk to his car. A woman as hot and wealthy as Martin wouldn’t generally be caught dead in a place like Wild Things. Drugs? Maybe. Disposable fresh meat? Probably.
His phone vibrated against the console.
Angie.
Maybe if he gave her an update now she wouldn’t be waiting at his door when he got back to his room.
He would call her, and then he intended to find Miles Conway.
Antebellum Inn, Milledgeville
10:30 p.m.
He’d meant to call Angie but he’d gotten distracted and frustrated with trying to find Miles Conway.
As Tony walked past the pool and through the gate his entire body sagged with dread. His sister waited for him on the covered patio that served as a porch for the cottage. The lamp on the table next to her provided all the illumination necessary to get a good look at the devastation on her face.
He exhaled a big breath. “I’m a jerk.”
Funny how he regressed to their teen years whenever he was with his sister. No matter what he’d done in his life—good or bad—she was still the big sister who was older, smarter and cooler than him. And prettier, no matter that she was an emotional wreck right now.
“You couldn’t call? Your phone is dead?”
That her voice rose and then wobbled tore him apart inside. He sat down in the other chair flanking the table. “I’m sorry, Ang. I’ve been tracking down leads from here to Macon. I was so absorbed in my work, I lost all track of time.”
Her lips trembled before they twisted into a sneer. “I can smell how absorbed you were.”
“Do you want to hear what I’ve found or do you want to argue about my bad habits?”
She looked away, swiped the back of her hand across her cheek. When she glared at him once more she said, “Fine. Let’s hear it.”
“First, this part is for yours and Steve’s ears only. I had a friend do some digging into Tiffany’s social media accounts. There are only two and she hasn’t posted anything in the last couple of weeks. No private messages, no email. Nothing. Before that, she posted frequently, mostly about school. So something definitely changed recently. I haven’t been able to get to her cell phone records yet.”
“The police say the call and text histories were deleted on both girls’ phones,” his sister pointed out.
“True, but the carriers will have records of their communications. It just takes time to get them.”
Angie looked at him as if she’d expected more. “It took you all day to find that out?”
“I spoke to Tiffany’s roommate again.”
Angie’s eyes widened in surprise. “Why?”
“She wasn’t completely forthcoming in her official statement.” Few her age were. “In my second interview with her she mentioned that Tiffany was dating some guy with dark hair—a guy Riley didn’t know.”
Angie frowned. “Tiffany never said anything about a new boyfriend to me. I assumed the boyfriend her roommate mentioned was only a friend. I can’t believe Tif would keep a new boy in her life a secret from me.”
“Well, there’s probably a good reason for that. This guy is older. Mid-to-late thirties.”
“Oh God.” Angie hugged herself, a fresh wave of tears gathering in her eyes. “Does she know his name or where he lives?”
“No she didn’t know, but I do.”
Angie covered her mouth with her hands.
“The roommate also told me she’d seen Tiffany at a club in Macon with this guy. I went to the club.” No need to tell his sister how sleazy the place was.
“Tiffany went to a club?”
Tony raised his eyebrows. “Like you didn’t when you were in college.”
Angie squeezed her eyes shut. “Right.” She drew in a deep breath. “Keep going.”
“The roommate saw her with this guy. According to a friend of the manager the guy is one Miles Conway. I spent the past few hours trying to track him down. He’s not at home. I interviewed a couple of his neighbors who say he’s employed in some capacity in Milledgeville but no one knew where. I’ve got someone working on tracking down his place of employment.”
“You think this guy may have seen her before she...disappeared, or do you think he’s involved somehow?”
Tony opted not to mention the roommate’s statement about seeing Tif with the dark-haired man on Friday. He needed to know more before he gave Ang something else to worry about. So he shrugged. “Until I find him, I can’t say, but if the two were involved he may have seen her or know where she planned to go for the weekend.”
The truth was he couldn’t say the guy was involved. Until Tony looked him in the eyes and questioned him, it would be best to keep his thoughts to himself. At this point he felt confident that Tiffany was taken by someone she knew. Her disappearance was far too clean to think otherwise. Generally, with an abduction by a stranger there were signs of a struggle or something left undone. The victim’s car might be left in an unexpected place. The vic’s home or room would be left unlocked or show signs of breaking and entering. Some little something would be off. A neighbor would have heard a noise. There was always some unexpected element, small though it might be.
But this was clean. This was planned. And Tiffany cooperated without realizing she was doing so.
“Did you share this information with the police?”
“I called Chief Phelps on my way back here. He’ll pass the information along to the task force. Tomorrow morning I’m hoping to catch Vickie Parton’s roommate or one of her friends to see if I can connect this Miles Conway to her. Beyond that, I’ll continue trying to find him.”
Angie swiped at her eyes again. “I’m sorry I was so hard on you.”
Tony reached across the table and took his sister’s hand. “I won’t let you down, Ang.” He looked away a moment. “I know I screwed up with the Bureau. I let down my wife and myself. But I won’t let you or Tiffany down.”
She squeezed his hand. “Giselle’s a bitch. She didn’t deserve you.”
Tony laughed. “Yeah, well, maybe I made her that way.”
They shared a good laugh before Angie hugged him hard and hurried back to the inn.
Tony dropped back into the chair. He didn’t know how the hell he would keep the promise he’d made his sister, but he would die trying.
9
11:20 p.m.
Angie Durand hugged her husband closer. As hard as she tried she could not go to sleep. How could her beautiful daughter get involved with an older man? She knew better. Angie had taught her better. Tif was so much more mature and responsible than most girls her age.
Anger and hurt twisted inside Angie. She closed her eyes tight to hold back the tears. Dear God, how could she feel anger right now? Her baby was missing. She could be hurt badly or, oh God, dying. Please, please, just let me find my baby alive.
Didn’t matter how old Tif was, she would always be her baby.
Tif had her entire future ahead of her. Angie closed her eyes and prayed. Please, God, don’t let my sweet girl be taken from me.
Maybe Tif did make a terrible mistake, but she was only human and so very young.
“I’m so scared.”
Steve turned onto his side, facing her. He stroked her hair gently. “I know. I am, too. But we have to trust Tony and the police. They will find her. I refuse to believe otherwise.”
“I don’t know about Tony.” More of that ridiculous anger fired inside her. “He’d been drinking tonight.” Tears choked her for a moment. “Maybe...” Her voice broke. She cleared her throat, fought back the tears. “Maybe he can’t help. I know he wants to, but maybe he just can’t. Between the divorce and all the drinking and now his career is tanked.” She pressed her hand to her mouth for a moment. “Maybe he just can’t help the way he wants to...the way we need him to.”
Steve pulled her close against his chest.
“Please don’t cry. We have to be strong right now. For Tiffany and for Tony. We have to believe.”
Angie nodded, unable to speak for fear of breaking down completely.
She believed. She believed. Tiffany was coming home. Tony would find her.
Angie believed this with all her heart.
10
Cowboy Bill’s
11:50 p.m.
Jo sipped her beer slowly. She’d been nursing this same one for two hours. Keeping her head clear was far too important to risk a second one. Tonight’s objective required her to play her part perfectly. He would see through anything less and this one step could make all the difference.
The prelude was the hardest part. Blend in. Be cool. Pay close attention. Don’t say too much or too little. Listen carefully. Be the part.
“To tell you the truth,” Wes Cline, an up-and-coming assistant producer at CNN, said as he leaned closer, “I don’t trust anyone at the FBI or the GBI, for that matter.”
Jo rested her elbows on the table and put her forehead closer to his. “I’m with you. I’m not certain we can be confident that anyone will give us the down and dirty on a hot case like this one—not until they’re ready to anyway.”
“You said it.” He knocked back his third shot of tequila, then leaned forward again, placing his forearms on the table as she had. “I was a newly hired intern six months ago when that serial killer psychiatrist, Randolph Weller, was on the loose. I followed our top investigative journalist, Chase Whitt, all over Savannah. Turned out the FBI was not only keeping secrets; they were deeply involved in Weller’s escape. One of the former top dogs at Quantico is still under investigation. My guess is he’s going up the river.”
