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“Very well.” Russ stepped back. “This is my opinion. The person who took Aimee knew exactly what he was doing. It was a professional job by someone who knew your routine, the house, the grounds, the security code, everything. Our ‘ghost’ left nothing to chance.”
Shelby tamped down the questions.
“If you know, tell me!” she demanded. “Who did it?”
“I do not know that. Yet.” He glanced up through his black lashes at Daniel. “But I believe it was someone close to you.”
“You’re hinting at me? This is ludicrous! Pure supposition with no facts on which to base it.” Daniel turned his back and strode to the door. “I do need to speak to you, Shel. But I can wait until tomorrow.” He twisted to look at Russ. “I suggest you wait till then also. In the meantime, find something solid on which to base your ideas.”
He walked out, slamming the door behind him. Shelby turned on Russ.
“Daniel did not do this, Russ. I can’t believe you would think he did. You, he and Grant were friends not very long ago.”
“Yes.” Russ held her gaze. “We were friends. Once. But things change. The person who stole your daughter had personal knowledge of things an ordinary thief wouldn’t know. He left nothing to chance, not even his footprints in the garden. Either he or someone helping him knew the freshly worked ground would imprint and was prepared to cover those tracks.”
“And you believe that person was Daniel?”
“I do not say exactly that. I say merely that you must be wary of whom you trust. I will keep digging, but you must be alert. These are people who wish you harm, Shelby. Be very careful.”
While she stared after him, Russ walked out of the room, leaving her door ajar. A moment later she heard the elevator doors whoosh close.
She stood alone in her office, staring out the windows into the blackness while the sounds around her magnified a thousandfold.
The words of the Psalm she’d repeated over and over in the wee hours of the morning now echoed through her mind. She couldn’t remember all of it, but one line sang through, sharper, more poignant than the rest.
“May He grant your heart’s desire and fulfill all your plans.”
Her heart’s desire was known to Him. He alone could help Aimee now.
FOUR
Tim wandered through the house he’d rented for the past nine months, pausing beside the windows from time to time to see if Shelby was home yet. One hand absently rubbed the keloids forming on his face, an unpleasant reminder of the burns he’d suffered and of yet another operation the doctors had insisted he have—soon.
Like a looming cloak, the reminders of past operations hung suspended in the shadows of his mind—black timeless moments when he first came out of the anesthetic and the pain was too real, too piercing to be controlled. That space before the morphine kicked in, that was when the specters of what should have been threatened to tear his heart from his body.
No! He wouldn’t go back there now, would never allow himself to dwell in that black pit of despair when he could stop it. They were gone, why think about what could have been? He thought of Aimee, sweet innocent Aimee, who had pushed against his self-imposed barriers, insisted he accept that life went on in spite of great tragedies. He missed her sweet giggle, her charming laugh and the tender way she touched his scars, as if they were somehow precious.
From the corner of his eye he saw Natalie, the police investigator, walk through Shelby’s rose garden, pull out a cell phone and speak on it. Moments later she clipped it closed and returned to the house. Something about her had bothered him from the moment he’d laid eyes on her, but Tim had no justification for those feelings. In the past eighteen hours she hadn’t left her post or handed over the assignment to another—which should have garnered her some Brownie points. Instead an irritating niggle at the back of his brain wouldn’t be silenced. Something wasn’t right.
Finally Shelby arrived. He watched her plain black car roll up the driveway. Even at this distance he could tell from the slump of her shoulders that she’d found nothing new, learned no more than she’d known when she left this morning. Inside he felt a flood of awareness when she stepped out of the car.
She was so beautiful. Her hair flowed out behind her like a golden burnished cape, tousled curls dancing in the freshening wind, tall and slim yet still elegant, even after her ordeal.
She might have been any other businesswoman returning from a day at the office except that three men protected her from the cameras and microphones shoved into her face. Looking for another headline, no doubt. He glanced down at the newspaper he’d tossed to the floor in a fit of anger. Rumor, speculation—they had no facts. Why did they need to hound her so?
Her protectors shuffled her inside the house, physically pushing aside those who would stop them. Tim already knew they were policemen, charged with protecting the scene from nosy newshounds until the police were ready to release what they knew. Knowing that didn’t make him any less jealous. He wanted to be there, to help, to do something. Instead he was on the outside looking in, the neighbor nobody noticed.
Tim moved to the side window of the kitchen and waited. After a while Shelby emerged in a pair of jeans and a loose shirt and a bright red quilted jacket. She carried a cup which he knew would be brimming with mint tea. Shelby loved mint tea. She found a chair and sat down, her face pensive.
Tim grabbed his own mug of cold coffee. He might be an outsider, but he intended to be there if she needed him. He walked through the hedge that abutted her property, pausing at the corner of the house when he heard someone speaking.
“I could not say this at the office, Shelby, but I can be silent no longer. I must tell you to watch out for Daniel. He has been acting very strange.”
“Strange?” Shelby’s voice carried to Tim, clear and filled with puzzlement. “What do you mean strange, Russ?”
“I mean this—he hides things. He comes back late at night when everyone has gone home. The next day I hear something is missing from the warehouse. I ask Daniel but he will not explain. I do not like to say it, but I think Daniel is in trouble. What other reason can there be to keep so many secrets?”
“Secrets?” She stared at him, a frown marring her beauty. “What secrets does Daniel have?”
“I have no secrets from you, Shelby. You can ask me anything.”
Tim peeked around the corner, saw the man he’d met this morning standing in the doorway, his lean body erect, his face glowering. Russ and Daniel glared at each other like tigers.
Though Tim thought it would probably be prudent for him to leave and return when Shelby’s guests were gone, walking across the pebbled area would disturb them and reveal he’d been listening. Judging by the anger resonating through both men’s voices, Tim also had a feeling that he might be called upon to intervene. He decided to wait.
“Why are you bothering Shelby again, Russ? If it’s merely to blacken my name, can’t it wait?” Daniel strode forward, his thin face tight with anger. “I have done nothing wrong and I have nothing to hide. I’m sorry I wasn’t there when Grant needed me, but all I can do now is run the company the best way possible. I told you I knew about the warehouse thefts and that I had implemented special security measures to track the thief. What more do you want?”
“To know about these ‘special’ measures.”
“I’m not prepared to discuss that with you, Russ. It’s a matter of company security. As I told you before.” Daniel glanced at Shelby, then back at Russ. “Perhaps I should come back another time.”
Tim didn’t like his tone. According to Shelby the two friends had previously enjoyed a good relationship. What Tim didn’t understand was why they seemed enemies now.
“There’s no reason in the world you should have to drive back out here to see me,” Shelby murmured. “You look tired, Daniel. You should get some rest.”
“I’ll rest when Aimee is back at home with you,” he murmured.
“So sincere,” Russ sneered. “I wonder—can we know what lies behind such a voice?”
“I don’t like your tone. Why don’t you say what you really mean?” Daniel stood directly in front of Russ. The two glared at each other menacingly. The situation was descending from bad to worse and Shelby was paying the price.
“Good evening.” Tim stepped around the corner, feeling tension land on him like a thick blanket. “Have I come at a bad time?” He scrutinized each man in turn then looked to Shelby for direction. “Perhaps I should go?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted, her lips pinched tightly together. “Russ and Daniel seem to have some personal differences which I was not aware of.”
“But I’m sure neither of them would want to hamper the investigation into Aimee’s disappearance.” He glared at both of them, saw the flush of shame wash over Daniel’s face. Russ merely clenched his fists. “There are media everywhere, gentlemen. They’re looking for something to splash all over tonight’s news. Unless you both want to be tomorrow’s front-page story, with an accompanying article describing how Shelby’s friends make her life miserable, it might be prudent to present a united front. Otherwise Shelby’s company is going to suffer.”
He watched two quite different reactions to his chiding.
“He’s right. Finders, Inc. has a lot of wealthy clients who don’t want to be known. If they see us in the media, arguing, we’re not going to look very professional. Forgive me, Shelby. I’m afraid I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
Daniel’s swift apology relieved Tim. He had no right to preach to these two, but he was concerned about Shelby. He noted that Russ also covered his angry look, managed to seem chastened.
“I must also apologize. I do not wish to upset you. I will leave now, but I think not through the front. A woman waits there to talk to me and I do not like her questions. If I may use your hedge?” Russ inclined his head toward Tim, barely waited for his nod of approval.
“Of course. Go ahead.” Tim stopped. Russ had already disappeared.
“I need to show you this, Shel. I have prepared a statement for the press. If you’d like to look over it first, I’d appreciate that. Then I’ll go out and read it to them.”
She scanned the sheet Daniel handed her, nodded and gave it back. “It’s fine. What picture of Aimee will they use?”
“I gave them one I’d kept on the security file.” His face softened. “Natalie is against our publicizing it, and I’m sure we will get some crank calls, but if one person remembers her, if just one lead comes of it, it will be worth it.” Daniel held out a hand to Tim. “I understand you initiated the effort to have posters made and distributed all over town. Thank you.”
“Tim!” Shelby rose, walked over to touch his arm. “I didn’t know. That was kind. Thank you.”
“A committee will hit the streets with them as soon as a public announcement is made. It’s the least I can do. I want her back, too.”
“I know.” She smiled through unshed tears which made her eyes shiny and squeezed his heart. He covered her fingers, held them and stared into her lovely eyes.
Daniel cleared his throat.
“I’m on my way then.” He leaned over, murmured quietly. “I’m sending you some documents, Shel. Please read them when you’re alone.” He cast a sideways glance at Tim, chewed his bottom lip. “I’d intended to talk to you about it earlier, but—”
“What is it?” she asked curiously.
“Just…some business stuff.” He leaned down, brushed his lips against her cheek. “Hang on, Shelby. We’ll find her.”
“Yes,” she agreed. But the conviction in her voice wasn’t as strong as it had been.
Tim watched the other man leave, then turned his eyes on Shelby. She slumped in her chair, her gaze on the rose garden beyond. Her forehead pleated in a frown of concentration.
“Grant loved those two like brothers. They used to argue all the time, but it was good-natured squabbling. Not like what I heard tonight.”
“Perhaps they’re jealous of each other,” he suggested, wondering why such a thing should happen now, after so many years. Was it because Shelby’s return to Finders threatened each of them? “You’ve handed over the reins of the company to one, given the other permission to conduct his own investigation into Aimee’s abduction,” he murmured, studying her response.
Shelby shook her head.
“Russ doesn’t have any illusions about his importance to the company. He knows he’s the top recovery agent we have, probably the best there is. Daniel’s speciality was always information gathering. He’s a master at disguises, at slipping in and out without anyone knowing he was there. Even though he’s management now, he still goes into the field occasionally if he thinks our information is suspect.”
Tim waited, knowing she was thinking this through aloud.
“I think this feud goes beyond jealousy, but I can’t figure out what triggered it.” She relayed Russ’s remarks about Daniel being responsible for Grant’s death. “Do you think he seriously suspects that?”
“I think it’s more important to know what you think.”
She tapped one finger against her bottom lip, her gaze on something he couldn’t see.
“Russ is hard to read. He’s of Russian descent and though he’s lived in North America for a long time, he’s very close to his family and retains a lot of ties to the old country.”
“You’re thinking that might turn him against Daniel? But why? Daniel knew that, surely? And he hasn’t changed, has he?”
“No, but I haven’t followed things at Finders as closely as I could have. I didn’t want to face going back and so I let Daniel take over for me. Russ is a bit of a wild card. Maybe Daniel had to rein him in. Or he may be nursing a grudge because Daniel ordered him on some mission he thought beneath him. Russ has a big ego. Maybe he’s chafing at having Daniel as a superior—a job he now wants to handle.” She raked a hand through her hair, disturbing the glossy strands of gold. “Maybe I was wrong to set one against the other.”
“You haven’t done that.” He hated seeing her like this, second-guessing a decision she’d made months ago. “You’re their boss, Shelby. You chose Daniel as leader. If Russ wants to be part of the team, he’s obliged to work under the conditions you set. If he doesn’t like it, he can always ask for a change. Same with Daniel. Don’t let their temper tantrums change your mind. You made your decisions because you had a good reason. Stick to that, or change it if you feel it’s necessary, but don’t be swayed by what someone else wants.”
“You’re right, of course. It’s just that I’ve been away from it, I suppose. Daniel’s kept me posted on major developments, cases they were handling. But my primary focus has been on Aimee and the rose garden.” She motioned to the bushes heavy with blooms not yet open. “Aimee and I don’t need all this space. The house is too big, too empty. It has historical significance to the community so I thought if I donated it, the rose garden would be a memorial to Grant.”
“You can still do that.”
“Yes.” She looked at him, her gaze troubled. “But I need to have Aimee safe before I move on.” Her fingers gripped his. “Inside me a voice is screaming to know why we haven’t had a ransom call, a threat, a demand—something. The only thing I can come up with is that somebody took her because—”
He watched her struggle and suddenly understood what she meant.
“No, Shelby. Aimee is alive. You have to keep clinging to your beliefs. You have to hang on to God’s promise to help us when we need Him.” He felt like a hypocrite saying that but this wasn’t about him. It was about Shelby and her missing daughter, a little girl he couldn’t believe God would take from her loving mother.
But then he hadn’t believed—
“You’re a fine one to talk about hope.”
Shelby’s voice broke through the nightmare that waited to creep into his brain. He stuffed it back, concentrated on the conversation.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you haven’t mailed that manuscript yet, have you? Aimee told me before—” She gulped, dashed a hand against her eyes, then continued in a slightly wobbly voice. “Aimee said you told her you have to do some more revisions. How many revisions will you do before you send the thing out to find out if it can be published, Tim?”
“It’s not the same for me. I am a history specialist. Or I was. I can’t afford to make a mistake. If some date doesn’t jibe with my story, my name will be mud.”
She tilted one eyebrow at him. “They’re children’s stories, my friend. Delightful tales set in your favorite milieu, which you know like the back of your hand—and you’re trying to tell me you might make a mistake with a date?” She was openly scoffing. “You were a museum curator in London. I can hardly imagine you’d get the job if they worried about you making those kinds of mistakes.”
“The stories aren’t ready yet.” He refused to look at her, knew he’d see that stubborn chin jut out at his lie.
“You know those books could help children learn about the past in a fun, nonthreatening way, yet you refuse to send them to a publisher. It doesn’t make any sense, Tim. I think you’re stalling. The question is why.”
He’d come here to help her through a rough time, to offer his shoulder, if she’d take it. But in true Shelby style, she’d turned the tables and put the focus on him.
“I’ll get around to finishing my stories, Shelby,” he hedged, “but we were talking about your problem and the reason your two friends are at each other’s throats.”
Esmeralda Peabody cleared her throat. Everyone who knew Esmeralda knew she was as soft as a marshmallow inside but she liked to project a gruff, tough facade. Except when it came to Shelby, and especially Aimee. Esmeralda never spoke more gently than when she was addressing the little girl. Now that she was missing, the older woman’s face seemed like a mask of fury.
“The mail came,” she mumbled, handing Shelby a sheaf of papers. “Police checked it all. Nosy parkers. Probably nothing but junk anyway.” But she waited, hands hanging by her sides while Shelby sorted through it.
Shelby set the flyers to one side, and checked the envelopes.
“Daniel sent something,” she murmured as she slid out a file from the long white envelope. It landed in her lap.
Tim glanced up, surprised when she allowed the file to slide to the ground. Her fingers clenched around a sheet of paper.
“Oh, no,” she whimpered.
Tim jumped up, moved beside her. Shelby clutched a picture of Aimee holding a copy of that day’s newspaper, a huge grin stretched across her gamine face.
He turned his head and yelled for the detective. Natalie came at a run. Her skin blanched to ashen as she stared at the picture. It seemed an unusual reaction to Tim, who nudged her.
“Aren’t you going to do something?”
“Yes, of course.” Natalie snapped out of her stupor, ordered Shelby to freeze, then carefully lifted the sheet out of her hands with a tissue. “Where did this come from?”
Esmeralda showed her. Tim’s attention remained totally on Shelby.
