"Any food?"
"Food?"
"A brand of soda you might not have purchased? A Starbucks coffee cup even though Sam hates coffee? Anything like that to indicate she might've had a guest?"
"Nothing."
Nothing wasn't helpful. Stifling a sigh, Jonathan stood. "Would the two of you walk me through the house?"
Lucassi jumped to his feet, but Zoe said, "I'll do it."
Her fiance might've argued with her about that, too, but the phone rang. Glancing at a set of double doors that probably led to a den of some sort, he nodded and went to answer while Zoe took Jonathan out to the pool through the kitchen.
"You have a nice place," he said as they stepped onto the patio.
"That's what I thought," she said. "I saw what Sam never had, what I wanted to give her--the success, the better schools, the safe environment."
She laughed bitterly. "The safe environment," she repeated on a little sob.
He touched her arm to gain her full attention. "This isn't your fault. It could've happened anywhere."
Her throat worked as she swallowed. "But it wasn't supposed to happen here. That's why I went along with giving up Peanut."
"I know," he said.
She took a deep breath. "Will you level with me?"
A warning prickle traveled down his spine. He knew what she was going to ask and didn't want to answer that particular question. "I'll be as honest as I can," he hedged.
"It's been over twenty-four hours. What're our chances? Will we ever find my daughter alive?"
Squinting into the setting sun, he studied the pool area. He needed some detail, some clue. Soon. If Sam had been abducted, her chances dwindled with every passing minute. "That depends on a lot of factors."
"Like..."
It was his turn to draw a deep breath. "Do you think it's possible the man who raped you might've taken her for revenge?"
What little color she had in her face drained away. "No! He's in prison."
Far from eager to dispel that assumption, Jonathan cleared his throat.
"Not anymore."
She gaped at him for several seconds. "He's out? Already?"
"It's been almost thirteen years. That's actually better than the average."
She shook her head. "He doesn't even know about her."
"Could he have found out? From a friend of your father's perhaps?"
"No."
"What about your mother?"
"She's never been part of my life."
"How did Franky know you in the first place?"
"He didn't. Not really. Anyway, I don't want to go into it. He's not aware Sam exists, okay? Please don't mention it again." She glanced over her shoulder, then lowered her voice. "Anton doesn't know. No one does, except my father, and only because I was fifteen and living with him at the time. Sam thinks her dad died in a car accident before she was born. I--I wouldn't want her ever to learn the truth. She might assume that--" she broke down, the sentiment she was trying to express too painful "--that maybe I didn't want her." Bringing a hand to her chest, she continued to force words through tears. "It might make her doubt...my love...or think she's...not as good as--" she sniffed, struggling to go on "--other girls...or some craziness like that...you know?"
Jonathan had no idea what made him do it. Probably the rawness of her need. But the next thing he knew, he had her in his arms and couldn't let go because she was clinging to him and sobbing quietly into his shoulder.
"We'll find her," he whispered. "You've gotta hang on for her sake."
It didn't matter that they'd just met. Empathy made the physical contact seem completely natural--until Lucassi stepped outside.
"Do you comfort all your clients with such tenderness?" he asked.
Jonathan felt Zoe go stiff. When she pulled away, she seemed to stagger, and he wished he could've consoled her for a few minutes more. At the same time, he could understand why Lucassi might not like what he'd seen. "Only those who aren't getting it elsewhere," he said and strode to the side of the pool.
"Ask for anything you need and stay as long as you'd like," Zoe said.
Then she must've gone inside, because when he turned back, Lucassi was standing on the patio alone.
Chapter 8
Colin hovered at the window, peeking through the blinds, just as he'd done for much of the previous night. Watching the activity at the Lucassi household proved fascinating, better than anything he could've anticipated.
Loath to miss a single thing, he'd had trouble making himself go to work today and had hurried home as soon as possible. He'd never been this close before, never been able to witness firsthand the chaos caused by his actions.
Technically, in this instance, they were Tiffany's actions. But she'd taken Samantha for him, and he wasn't unhappy about it. He wasn't even worried about Rover anymore. If Rover had been capable of revealing any damaging details, the cops would've knocked on his door already. The only police officer Colin had seen was the investigator who'd stopped by earlier this evening to ask if he'd seen Samantha Duncan.
"What's going on?" Tiffany asked.
The television blared behind him. Colin spoke over the actors' voices.
"Someone's over there."
"Another cop?"
"No."
"Probably a friend or family member. People have been coming and going all day, bringing food and being supportive." She smiled as if she shared his enthusiasm for the drama playing out next door, but he knew she didn't. Fortunately, he didn't care. She did what he needed her to do. What did it matter whether she liked it or not?
"Any of the neighbors stop over?" he asked.
"A few, why?"
He leaned against the wall, hoping to catch a glimpse of the people inside the Lucassi house. "Zoe moved in a couple months after we did. I didn't think she knew anyone well enough to have them gather round her.
She's certainly never been very warm with us."
"She hasn't been unfriendly."
"She's been a cold, aloof bitch, and don't try to tell me differently. I've barely been able to get her to say two words to me the entire time she's lived there."
Tiffany seemed torn as to how to respond but ultimately backed off from whatever she'd been tempted to say. "I'm sure the neighbors are sympathetic because of the situation. And Anton's been living here a lot longer."
"Who else came by?"
"His pastor, his parents, his secretary."
He'd expected her to say something like, "A man in a white SUV, a lady in a red Audi." "How would you know his pastor from his tailor?"