19

Alarmed by the appearance of Samson, whose name Savannah had recognized as that of the owner of Scanguards, she stood at the closed door, listening. She couldn’t make out many individual words or phrases, but the timbre of the two men’s voices left her with no doubt that they were arguing. She picked up words like case and children, indicating that they were talking about her case, Buffy’s case. But then their voices suddenly dropped to a volume where she couldn’t hear anything anymore. And she couldn’t very well open the door to listen.

Worried that whatever Samson had an issue with might impact their search for Buffy, she wrung her hands and started pacing. She wasn’t sure how long she was alone in John’s office, when the door suddenly opened. She spun around and watched John walk in. She was about to ask him what was going on, when she saw two younger men enter behind him.

Both were dark-haired, tall, and good looking. And both stared at her, one with a polite smile on his face, the other in a more assessing manner. Was this kid checking her out? And why did he look so familiar?

“Savannah,” John suddenly said and pointed to the two men. “This is Ryder Giles and Grayson Woodford. They’ve been assigned to me to aid in the investigation. Guys, this is Ms. Rice, our client.”

Ryder extended his hand. “Ma’am, pleased to meet you.” She shook his hand, surprised at his polite manners.

“Likewise,” she answered.

Then Grayson took a step toward her, also extending his hand. “I hope I may call you Savannah.” Charm oozed from him. She knew now who he was. His last name identified him as the owner’s son.

Why had Samson assigned his own son to this investigation when only minutes earlier he’d had an argument with John?

“Very nice to meet you,” she said, noncommittal.

John looked at her. “I’ve quickly filled Grayson and Ryder in on where we are with this, and they’ll dig into more details later. But right now we’ve got to check out that photographer.”

She nodded. “And what about Alexi? I still don’t—”

“Don’t worry,” John interrupted. “Damian and Benjamin are tailing him. Wherever he goes, they’ll be on him. He won’t go anywhere without us knowing about it.”

She felt relief wrap around her.

“In the meantime,” John continued, addressing Grayson and Ryder, “you’ll go through the police file, call every family and ask them if they took their daughter to a photographer before her disappearance. Take down the photographer’s name and when they visited the studio. I expect the photographer to be the same in all cases. Savannah, you have the name and address?”

She pointed to a post-it note on the desk. “I wrote it down.”

“Thanks.” John took it and showed it to the two Scanguards employees. “This is the photographer.”

Both pulled their cell phones from their pockets and snapped a quick picture.

“I don’t want you to pose leading questions. Don’t tell them the name, otherwise we might get false positives. Understood?”

Ryder nodded. “Yes, John.”

“You don’t need both of us making these calls. It’s only a dozen or so, right? Ryder can handle that by himself.” Grayson slapped Ryder on the back. “Right, buddy?”

Ryder grimaced. It appeared he was used to Grayson taking over.

“I’d rather come with you guys to put the screws on the photographer,” Grayson said, grinning.

“Nobody’s putting screws on anybody. We’re going to ask some questions, that’s all,” John said firmly, authority coloring his voice. “And if you step out of line, it’s desk duty for you all the way. Understood?”

Grayson grunted to himself, but then, after a few seconds said, “Of course, John, you’re the boss.”

John nodded, then looked at Ryder. “You know what to do?”

“Sure thing.” He walked around the desk and took the seat behind it. “That the file?”

“Yep. Have at it.” Then he pointed to the snapshots of the children. “Call those families that gave the police these snapshots rather than the professional photos first. Call me and give me the results as soon as you’ve confirmed that they saw this photographer.”

“Will do. See you guys later.” He reached for one of the photos, checked the name and dug into the file.

Instinctively, Savannah liked the young man. He seemed diligent and reliable, and he would do as John ordered. She was a little less sure about Grayson. While the owner’s son was charming, he also had a rebellious streak. Maybe he needed to be that way to forge his own way. Or did he think because he was the boss’s son, he didn’t need to follow the rules? She didn’t really care, as long as he could produce results. As long as he would be of help in finding Buffy.

“Let’s go,” John ordered. “Savannah, you’re riding with me. Grayson, take one of the vans and follow us.”

“Rock ‘n’ roll,” Grayson replied and followed them to the elevators.

When minutes later, they shot out of the garage in John’s Mercedes, Savannah looked in the mirror to make sure Grayson was following them. But she didn’t see a van following. The only other car exiting the garage behind them was an Audi sports car.

“He’s not behind us yet,” she said with a sideways glance at John.

“Oh, he is,” John grunted in displeasure. “But as usual he’s decided to ignore my orders and taken his own car.” He glanced in the rearview mirror. “The R8 behind us is his. Showoff.”

“Can’t be easy working with the boss’s son.”

John shrugged, but remained silent.

“Were you arguing with your boss about the case earlier?”

He whirled his head in her direction. “What did you hear?”

Taken aback by his abrupt tone, she fidgeted. “Uh, nothing. I mean, not much. But it was evident that you two had an argument. He seemed furious when he stormed into your office.”

John seemed to relax and concentrated on the traffic again. “It was nothing. Just some administrative issues. Nothing for you to worry about.”

She could tell that he was lying. But she didn’t press him for more information, knowing that it wasn’t her business. Just because they’d had sex didn’t mean she was entitled to know everything. By blowing her off like this, he’d made sure she knew not to cross that line again. She wasn’t his girlfriend or lover, she was just a client who he’d had sex with in a moment of madness. And that was all there was to it. His silence afterwards had already made her suspect that he regretted what had happened, and his evasive answer now was confirmation.

Savannah turned her head to look out of the window. It had been a mistake to sleep with John, to indulge in a few minutes of pleasure. Now that it was over, she felt guilty for having allowed herself a few moments of sheer and utter bliss, while her daughter was locked up somewhere, scared and alone.

She was a bad mother.

A terrible mother for having sought a few moments of happiness in the arms of a man she barely knew. Arms that had felt comforting and soothing. Arms she longed to feel again.

And that thought made the guilt she felt even worse.