Not a Moment Too Soon

by Linda O. Johnston

  “Thanks.” He didn’t reject it, but five thousand dollars wasn’t going to do a lot of good. And he doubted that show-business friends of Margo’s would be able to lend much more.

  “I—” Shauna began.

  “You’re coming to my office with me,” he said, purposely interrupting her. He could guess what she’d been about to say. Even with her restaurant and shrink business, Shauna probably didn’t have much money, but even if she’d been loaded he didn’t want her to offer any to him.

  Unless he got desperate.

  “All right,” she said. “I’ll come with you.”

  Hunter strode to the back door and opened it. “Call if you hear anything else,” he told Margo. “And I’ll keep you informed about what’s going on from my end.”

  “Okay,” she said. “And Hunter, I know you understand, but please don’t let word out about what’s going on, for Andee’s sake. I’m really sorry I can’t help more with the money, but I know you’ll do your best.”

  Of course he would. But a million dollars cash, with his assets—a whole lot less—rolled up in his business and home the way they were, might as well be ten times that.

  He’d need a hell of a lot of luck on his side to get the money together.

  And he feared he’d need more than luck to get his daughter back.

  Shauna, beside him at the door, said to Margo, “Take care of yourself, and remember I’m always available to listen.”

  “Thanks,” Margo murmured, “but I really can’t talk about this.”

  “It might help,” Shauna urged.

  “Only getting Andee back will help.” Margo closed the door behind them.

  A few minutes later, settled in his GTO beside Shauna, he pretended to concentrate on his driving. “You don’t always have to act like a psychologist,” he finally blurted.

  “And why is that?”

  Infuriated that her response sounded like something a shrink would say, he glanced toward her—and saw her teasing smile.

  She was pulling his leg. Despite his instinct to fight her, he liked it.

  And if she were really pulling, touching, stroking his leg…

  “You can’t help anyone feel better about what’s going on, you know,” he said, trying to ignore what his randy thoughts about the woman in his passenger seat were doing to his body.

  “I understand. Like Margo said, I’m sure nothing can make you feel better till you get Andee back.”

  What she thankfully didn’t say was to remind him the condition she expected his daughter to be in when he got her back.

  “That’s right,” he agreed. “And you were awfully nice to Margo.”

  “You don’t sound entirely pleased by that.”

  He wasn’t, though he wouldn’t admit it to her. But a touch of jealousy would show she still cared.

  Yeah, and why on earth should Shauna be as foolish as he was, thinking about the past too often, too nostalgically?

  Too heatedly.

  “Of course I’m pleased,” he lied.

  Because the reason he needed Shauna with him wasn’t rooted in the past. It was in the future.

  Andee’s future.

  Shauna was glad when Hunter turned on his radio—a soft-rock station that allowed her to think without talking.

  Act like a shrink.

  Don’t act like a shrink.

  Which was she to do?

  For her own sake, she had to keep an emotional distance. And that meant drawing on all she had learned in school and in her practice.

  But could she really help Hunter?

  He’d followed Conrad Chiles home. Exonerated him from Andee’s kidnapping—maybe.

  But there had still been something about the man that had formed an irritation in Shauna’s mind, like the bite from a sand flea in a place she couldn’t reach.

  What was it…?

  The song on the radio changed to news on the hour. Nothing, still, about Andee, thank heavens.

  Traffic on the San Diego Freeway heading south through the Sepulveda Pass was always this bad during the day, or so Hunter informed her. At least talking about traffic, the misty marine layer due to come in over the Pacific, the scenery including the majestic off-white Getty Center perched on a ridge overlooking the road—these were neutral topics.

  Still, it seemed forever until they reached Hunter’s office. It was in a tall building in Westwood, not far from the UCLA campus, which Hunter pointed out to her.

  The Strahm Solutions suite, on the sixth floor, wasn’t very large—a reception area, combined kitchen and file room, and three offices for Hunter and his staff.

  Hunter’s office had a lot more pizzazz than his home did—modern sleek furniture and colorful oil paintings of an ocean sunset, a desert rainstorm—and his daughter.

  Shauna stood with her back toward Hunter’s desk, looking at Andee’s portrait. “She’s beautiful,” she sighed. This portrait was probably even more recent than the ones in his home, for the child looked older. Her smile was huge, her black hair an adorable curly mass that framed her cherubic features.

  “Yeah,” Hunter said from behind her. “Smart, too. You’ll love her when you meet her.”

  Shauna didn’t let him see her sorrowful smile. He clearly didn’t want her to help prepare him for what she feared was inevitable. He needed to keep his hope alive.

  She cared too much about him still to do anything to shatter that hope—unless he precipitated it. Like trying again to get her story to change.

  Yet it had changed….

  “So, you’re both here,” boomed a familiar British voice. Shauna turned to see Simon Wells standing in the doorway. He was wearing a different sport jacket from the one she’d seen him in when they’d met at Margo’s the day before. He approached and gripped her elbow as he pumped her hand with a firm grip. “Delighted to see you again, Shauna.”

  “You, too, Simon.”

  Hunter, still seated at his desk, took no time for amenities. “Have you been in touch with the bank? I’ll use my house for partial collateral. How much money will they lend—fast?”

  Shauna tuned her mind out and sat in one of the seats facing Hunter. She didn’t need to hear them talk finances. She let her thoughts return to what had nettled them earlier: Conrad Chiles.

  What was it about the man that—?

  It hit her.

  “Hunter!” she said excitedly. “I have an idea about something in my story.”

  Simon perked up. “Really? Hunter’s told me a bit about it. I’d like to hear more, if you don’t mind.”

  “I mind,” Hunter growled.

  Simon sighed dramatically. “Too nasty of you. Well, I believe I hear my telephone ringing.” He left the room.

  “What is it?” Hunter then demanded, rising from his chair.

  “Well, you know we’ve been wondering which neighbor Conrad Chiles is—from my story, I mean. At least I have.”

  A small pulse began to throb at the side of Hunter’s neck. Was he preparing to dispute her intuition before even hearing it?

  She wouldn’t give him the opportunity. “My story described four neighbors.” She said quickly, then quoted, “A neighbor was irritable. A neighbor was too nosy. A neighbor had actually seen something useful but didn’t realize it. Yet another neighbor offered help and sympathy.” She rose, placing her hands on her hips and leaning over his desk just a little so he had to look at her. “That sounds as if it’s four different people, but what if the first three descriptions refer to the same person—a neighbor who is irritable and nosy and has seen something useful? The fourth sentence begins, ‘Yet another neighbor…’ That can be interpreted to mean that the first three are all one neighbor, and the fourth is a separate person.”

  “So what are you saying?” Hunter’s dark brows dipped in confusion.

  “If the first three are one person, then irritable, nosy Conrad Chiles has seen something useful but doesn’t realize it!” She waited for a long moment as Hunter appeared to ponder
.

  Then his handsome features lost their dourness. He rose and unexpectedly grabbed Shauna by the shoulders, giving them a squeeze. “You might be right. Good deduction, Detective O’Leary.”

  Shauna reveled in what he undoubtedly meant as a compliment. And the fact that the more time they spent together, the more relaxed, and the less remote and irritable he seemed to become with her, despite the terrible circumstances that generated their reunion.

  She reveled even more at the sensations he generated in her hungry body when he touched her.

  He looked down at her. Something more than admiration tinted his eyes a deeper, hotter green.

  He had obviously noticed their proximity, too.

  Shauna, feeing a flush rise up her face, resisted the urge to clear her throat and run to the far side of the room. She didn’t want to notice how wonderful it felt to be so close to him.

  She shouldn’t want to…

  Hunter’s breathing was uneven as he released her and glanced at his watch. “It’s getting close to rush hour.” His tone was more gravelly than usual. “And on the San Diego, every hour is rush hour—but we can probably be back at Conrad’s in forty-five minutes.”

  All business again, Shauna said, “I’ll call and let him know we’re coming, if you can get his phone number from Simon.”

  He did, and handed it to Shauna.

  On the third ring, an answering machine picked up.

  Shauna, disappointed, left a message that they needed to talk to Conrad about something. She made certain she didn’t sound too excited, for that might cause the irritable man to avoid them.

  But what did Conrad Chiles know that could help them find Andee Strahm?

  Chapter 8

  But Conrad didn’t answer the phone the second time Shauna called from Hunter’s office, either. Or the third.

  Sighing, Shauna hung up once more.

  “No answer?” Hunter asked, popping his head in the door.

  “No,” she said shortly. Conrad probably wasn’t home, for she left messages each time for him to call her on her cell, emphasizing how important it was that she talk with him.

  Frustrated, Shauna had agreed with Hunter when she hadn’t reached Conrad the first time that it made no sense for them to dash back there on the off chance they’d find him. Not with all the other matters involved with Andee’s kidnapping that needed immediate attention.

  Rising from Hunter’s desk chair, Shauna again went into Simon’s office, where the two men had been meeting.

  She’d sat there quietly earlier as Hunter and Simon discussed which financial institutions Hunter should call to start assembling the ransom money. Fortunately, his credit sounded excellent and he had substantial equity in his home to use as collateral. Even if he emptied his bank accounts for cash, he could probably get loans. Whether the amount he could amass would be enough to meet the demand…well, that they couldn’t tell yet.

  Then they went through the list Hunter had previously compiled, of people who might think they had reason to get even with him. Shauna’s story had suggested that Big T knew one of Andee’s parents and that the kidnapping could be retaliation for some perceived wrong, not just a random crime with a ransom demand its reason:

  It wasn’t just that Big T wanted big bucks out of snatching the kid. Oh, no. This was personal, too—against one of Andee’s parents.

  They’d shown her story to Simon, who, bless him, had treated it—and Shauna—like an additional resource, not a freak.

  In addition to all that Hunter had accomplished on the computer, Shauna learned that Simon had used his infinite, sometimes undisclosable and not entirely legal sources to track down and verify current addresses, phone numbers, places of employment and car license numbers of people on Hunter’s list. Quite a few were in the L.A. area.

  They faxed all the info to Banger, in a condensed form that wouldn’t give away any of Simon’s indiscretions. When they’d called to alert him it was coming, Banger reported that, not unexpectedly, his own investigation was starting to burgeon, thanks to rapidly increasing numbers of law-enforcement personnel assigned to the matter. He’d made it clear to everyone, he said, that keeping the kidnapping hidden from the media was mandatory. Still, he’d warned Hunter, with the mushrooming numbers involved, the time the matter remained covert was quickly running out.

  An indignant and tearful Margo had continued to profess, when they’d called her, that she was beloved by everyone—or at least that no one disliked her enough to kidnap her daughter in revenge, not even the other actresses she’d mentioned. And, no, she hadn’t seen Conrad Chiles that day.

  As a result, for now, at least, they would concentrate on Hunter’s possible foes.

  Simon had checked out several yesterday. No indication they had Andee. But there were others. And that was to be their quest that afternoon—Hunter’s and Shauna’s.

  Shauna tried Conrad’s number once again before they left.

  Still no answer.

  A short while later, Shauna watched house numbers as Hunter drove his car slowly down the cramped Hollywood street. He parked in front of a place with a sagging fence and flaking wood trim in dire need of a paint job, half a block from the house they were looking for.

  Shauna opened her car door and started to get out. She felt a hand firmly grab her upper arm, stopping her.

  “What are you doing?” Hunter demanded.

  She turned back to face him. “I’m going for a walk.”

  He looked perturbed. Exhausted. There were dark circles beneath his brilliant green eyes. He kept his hand on her shoulder, as if trying to control her movement.

  She took it gently in her own, squeezed it reassuringly, then placed it back in his lap. “This fellow Salinger would recognize you if he hates you so much. He won’t know me, so I can check things out at his home without his getting suspicious.”

  She saw the war inside Hunter reflected on his face, despite the way he continued to block any overt emotion. The merest glimmer of appreciation in his eyes told her he recognized the validity of what she said, maybe even admired her for it.

  But he didn’t like it. That was visible in the unyielding set of his broad jaw.

  She recognized his decision in his scowl as he opened his mouth to respond. She beat him to it.

  “I’m tired of doing nothing today, Hunter,” she said. “Simon and you hardly let me get a word in during your strategy session at your office. Not that I had any problem with your tactics, but I felt invisible.”

  “There’s no way I’m letting you get anywhere near Jerome Salinger,” Hunter said.

  Even without a t in his name to suggest he was Big T, Hunter had stuck Salinger near the top of his list of avowed enemies who hated him enough to steal his daughter. On their way here, Hunter had explained that the guy lived in this rundown area because his wife brought all the money and brains into their marriage. Salinger had blown it by getting caught cheating—thanks to the surveillance Hunter had done for his wife a couple of years earlier. It wasn’t the kind of case Hunter liked, but since Salinger’s ex was an executive at one of the major studios, he’d agreed to the job.

  Once Hunter had described the sleazy, potentially dangerous guy, he’d apparently expected Shauna to stay in the car.

  She had other ideas.

  “If he’s got Andee, he’ll be suspicious of anyone checking out his place,” Hunter argued now. “He could be dangerous. I’ll be as fast as I can, but if I don’t get back here within half an hour, call Banger.”

  Hoping to take him off guard, Shauna leaned toward him over the console and planted a kiss on his stern lips. To her surprise, they yielded, opening and welcoming hers. His tongue darted out and laved her mouth until it opened.

  Heat and liquid desire raged through Shauna. Heck, that wasn’t what she’d intended by her impulsive action.

  Regretfully she pulled back. “I’ll be back soon,” she called as she threw open her door again and hurried out. “You call Banger
if you don’t see me in fifteen minutes.”

  She heard his door open but figured she had enough of a head start that he’d have to back off. If he did anything to call attention to them, the element of surprise would be lost.

  And he wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize Andee if she was here.

  Hunter did what he hadn’t intended and parked in plain sight of the house.

  That was the best way to keep an eye out for Shauna.

  He was angry with her, though he had recognized the logic of what she’d said.

  He was angrier with himself for letting her throw him for a loop that way—with a kiss that had almost made him forget where they were.

  But not why they were there.

  What if Salinger did have Andee?

  What if the torment he was experiencing was compounded by the jerk harming Shauna, too?

  He’d seen Shauna go to the front door, but no one had answered the bell. She’d slipped around the side.

  Enough. He’d been twiddling his thumbs for five long minutes. Time to do something. He opened his door—and stopped.

  Shauna was walking down the house’s driveway toward him.

  He got back inside the car. She joined him in a minute.

  “Well?” he asked.

  “She’s not there. Jerome Salinger has remarried. His new wife was in the backyard with her three-year-old from a prior marriage. I told her I was thinking of moving to the neighborhood and that I was pregnant with my first baby, wanted to find out if there were other kids around.” She shook her head sadly. “If there are any besides Salinger’s new stepson, they don’t include Andee. None has a t in their names. Oh, and Jerome was home all day yesterday, nursing a cold.”

  Shauna pregnant with her first baby.

  Hunter knew she wasn’t, that she had made it up to further her investigation, just as he did when he was on a job.

  But as much as he tried to eject the thought from his mind as he drove them quickly toward the next place on his list, the more it implanted itself in his brain.

  Now and then, as surreptitiously as if he had been hired to check her out, he let his gaze drift toward Shauna and her slacks and her formfitting T-shirt, dark blue today, that emphasized her slender, sexy curves. She was just hanging up her cell phone after another attempt to reach Conrad Chiles.