2

Savannah took the proffered seat. John Grant wasn’t what she’d expected, though she wasn’t really sure what she’d thought she’d find when Detective Donnelly had suggested she go to him to get help finding her daughter. For starters, she’d expected him to be older, much older. Hadn’t Donnelly said John Grant was highly experienced when it came to missing persons? How could he have gained that kind of experience when he was clearly still in his thirties?

And then there was his looks: for a private investigator he was too good looking, too tall, too athletic. Would somebody with model-like good looks like his really choose a career where he’d come into contact with criminals and violence on a daily basis, when he could easily find employment in modeling, acting, or fashion? His long dark mane alone could advertise any hair product and make it a bestseller.

“How may I help you, Ms. Rice?”

His question pulled her from her reverie. She pushed her thoughts about his appearance aside, remembering the glowing praise Donnelly had sung about him and Scanguards. To make sure they were legit, she’d looked into the company and found only complimentary reviews. It appeared that even the mayor enlisted their services from time to time, and what was good enough for the City of San Francisco, she hoped was good enough for her.

She swallowed and folded her hands in her lap, forcing herself to remain calm. It was hard, because every time she had to recount what had happened, tears inevitably came and choked off her ability to speak. It helped no one, least of all Buffy. For her sake, she had to pull herself together.

I won’t give up till I find you, baby, I promise.

“Ms. Rice?”

She snapped her gaze to his face.

“Detective Donnelly said your daughter disappeared three days ago. Can you tell me what happened?”

She nodded. His voice was laden with concern now, and it helped put her at ease. He was willing to listen. “Mr. Grant, thank you for seeing me—”

“Call me John, please. Tell me about your daughter. Buffy’s her name?”

She nodded. “She’s only ten.” And she was probably frightened to death wherever she was. “She disappeared after school.”

“Tell me everything. Start on the day she disappeared.”

“She attends Grattan Elementary in Cole Valley, has since kindergarten. I normally drop her off just after eight and then go to my office in SoMa and—”

“Normally?” he interrupted.

While it wasn’t too far to drive from Buffy’s school to her office in the largely commercial South of Market district, she’d had to go straight to her office that day. “Yes, but that morning I had an early business meeting, so I asked my neighbor to take her. Her son goes to the same school, so Buffy rode with them.”

“And you trust your neighbor? I will need her name and address.”

Savannah made a dismissive hand movement. “That’s not when it happened. Buffy got to school alright. She was there all day. The teachers and the students all confirm it. It happened sometime later.”

“Sometime later? Has the time of her disappearance not yet been established?”

“Yes and no.” And that’s where her frustration with the police had started. They were dismissing some of the witnesses’ claims, just because those witnesses happened to be children. “She goes to the after-school program there, too. And while some of the students said they saw her there, others said they think she’d already left.”

“Why’s that?”

“They were doing an impromptu field trip.”

“Where to?”

“Just a few blocks away to a lookout point called Tank Hill.”

John nodded. “I know it. Is it unusual for such a field trip to take place without any planning?”

“It happens on occasion that due to teacher availability or bad weather, activities are shifted from one day to another. You see, it was completely fogged in the day before, so they couldn’t take the walk on the day they were supposed to. When the fog cleared that afternoon, the teacher decided to take advantage of it.”

“And you say that nobody is sure that your daughter went on the walk with her class?”

“The teacher said she was with them, she’d even ticked her off the register before and after the walk when they returned to the school. But several of the kids said they didn’t see Buffy.”

“Hmm.” John steepled his fingers under his chin, closing his eyes for a moment.

The gesture drew her attention to his long dark lashes and the full eyebrows that curved over his eyelids. When he suddenly opened his eyes again, his gaze collided with hers, pinning her.

“What time does the after-school program end?”

“At six.”

“And you were there at six to pick her up? Were you waiting or were you late?”

Savannah edged forward on her chair. “Neither. I had a meeting that ran over.”

“So you asked your neighbor to take Buffy home again?”

Was he judging her, because she couldn’t be there for her daughter when she needed her?

“No.” Savannah realized how agitated she was becoming, but she couldn’t stop her distress from seeping into her voice. “Her son doesn’t go to the after-school program. I called my babysitter. She went to pick up Buffy. But when she got there, Buffy wasn’t there.”

“I’m assuming your babysitter—what’s her name?”

“Elysa, Elysa Flannigan.”

“I’m assuming Elysa is on the list of authorized persons to pick up Buffy?”

“Yes, the school only releases the kids to somebody on their list. And Elysa is on the list.”

“Was she on time?”

“She said she was.” And Savannah believed her. Elysa had been babysitting for her since Buffy was three and was very responsible. “She was on time. She’s always on time.”

“Even if you tell her last minute that you need her to come and pick up your daughter?”

With that, Savannah lost her temper and jumped up. “What are you implying? That I’m a bad mother? That I don’t look out for my child?”

John rose and walked around the desk. “Please calm down, Ms. Rice.”

“You’re right, it’s my fault! I didn’t have enough time for her. I put work before her, when I should have been the one picking her up, when I should have kept her with me rather than put her into an after-school program so I could spend more time at work. It’s my fault.”

“It’s not your fault, and I’m not suggesting that you’re a bad mother. I’m just trying to establish what happened and how it happened. I’m not judging you. I’m sure raising a child on your own is hard enough.”

His last words calmed her a little. She felt awful for her outburst. “You must understand Buffy is everything to me. I love her more than my own life.” Tears welled up in her eyes now, and she no longer had the strength to hold them back. “The thought that she’s out there somewhere, taken by somebody, alone and frightened, is killing me inside. I have to find her. No matter what it takes.” She wiped the back of her hand over her wet cheek. “The police are too slow. The Amber alert yielded no results. And they have no idea what to do next. No suggestions, no plan.” She looked straight at him now. “Do you have children?”

Something seemed to jolt him, but then it was gone again just as quickly. “No, I don’t.”

“If you had children, you would understand that I can’t leave a single stone unturned. Whatever it costs, I need you to find Buffy. I need you to bring her home.”

He stood there, clearly contemplating something, almost as if he didn’t know how to say what he had to say. “I need to be honest with you. Detective Donnelly might have overestimated what Scanguards can do. I don’t want you to, uh…”

“What are you saying? That you won’t take the job? I assume your services aren’t cheap, but I can pay whatever—”

He lifted his hand. “It’s not about money. In fact, if the disappearance of your daughter is indeed connected to the other disappearances in the Bay Area, and we take the case, the city will pay us.”

She shook her head. “I don’t understand. Other disappearances? How many have there been?”

“A dozen girls around Buffy’s age have disappeared in the last six weeks alone. The police—”

“Oh my God!” Savannah reached for the chair to steady herself, but before she could do so, John had gripped her elbow, helping her to keep her balance. She’d read of a few disappearances, but those things happened, and for a large metropolitan area one or two a month wasn’t unusual, but a dozen? “The newspapers. Why—”

“Why did the papers not report on it extensively? Because the police and the parents of the children decided it was in everybody’s interest to keep this under wraps so the police could investigate without a bunch of crazies flooding their tip line with made-up sightings and theories.”

“Under wraps?” Anger churned up in her. “Had I known, I could have protected her. I would have hired somebody to watch over her twenty-four-seven!”

“I know you would have.”

Surprised, she met his eyes. Their chocolate brown color was shimmering with understanding as if a flame was turning it into a golden brown.

“I received the file from the police tonight.” He pointed to a thick manila folder on his desk. “I’m going to see if I can connect your daughter’s disappearance to that of the other girls and find a common denominator. If there’s something there that connects these cases, I will find it.”

The confidence in his voice was infectious.

“Thank you!”

“Don’t thank me yet. I can only tell you if we’ll accept your case once I’ve checked out all the details. Did you come by car?”

A little confused about the abrupt change of subject, she shook her head. “I took a taxi. There’s never any parking in the Mission.”

“Good. We’ll take my car. It’s in the underground garage.”

Her forehead furrowed further. “To do what?”

“You’re going to show me all places connected to you and Buffy: your home, your work, Buffy’s school, your neighbor’s home, your babysitter’s home. I need to make myself a picture of Buffy’s life.”

She glanced at the clock on the wall. It was well past eight o’clock and dark outside. “You mean now?”

“Security is a twenty-four hour business.”

Savannah found herself wanting to hug this man. His willingness to go the extra mile and not waste any more time, but jump into action immediately, filled her heart with hope.

Hold out a little longer, Buffy, Mommy is coming.