serious, but you won't tell me what it is. You don't even want me calling her mother, who's my friend. The next thing I know, you're rushing her in here like she's some sort of fugitive or something.”
“Wright's missing.” Cassidy's voice came from the top of the stairs. Apparently the water from the shower hadn't been loud enough. Still dressed, she came partway down the steps.
“She's what? Are you sure?” Marcia asked.
“No one's seen her since midnight last night,” I said.
“I was just coming back down to get my shampoo,” Cassidy said.
Marcia looked horrified. “But there's been nothing on the news. And the police—”
“It hasn't hit the news,” I said. “And the cops don't know yet either. We're trying to keep it quiet, until we figure this thing out.”
Marcia gave me the same kind of worried look she might have given had it been her own child. “Do you think she's been kidnapped? Is she in some kind of danger?”
“Too early to tell.”
“I told him not to let anybody know, Marcia. Not even you,” Cassidy said.
“Why not?” she asked. “What about your mother?”
Cassidy looked at me.
“It gets complicated,” I said. “Why don't I leave Cassidy to fill you in on whatever she wants to tell you? Every minute I sit here talking is another minute the trail grows cold.”
Marcia looked back and forth between the two of us, settling her gaze on Cassidy. “Go ahead, then.” She dismissed me with a wave of her hand.
I took it as a sign that meant I was to remove my Cro-Magnon brain from the premises, so I did.
My cell phone rang as I was backing out of the driveway. I fished it out of my pocket and answered.
“Well?”
It was Nicole. Psychic.
“Well, what?”
“Any more developments on the big case? I came over here to your place and let myself in to use the computer. Didn't want to use one at the university. I've got that folder ready for you.”
“Thank you very much. I've got something else for you.”
“You do?’
“Has Jake called, by any chance?”
“No. Why?”
“He's getting some information for me.”
“What else do you have for me?”
“A laptop computer. Got some files on it we can't seem to open. Also need to find a password to get into somebody's E-mail.”
“Cool.”
“I thought Jake might be able to help you.”
“Where are you? What's going on?”
“Can't get into that right now, sweetheart.”
“C'mon, Dad. Don't hold out on me. I'm the one who gave you some great advance surveillance of the Drummond place.” Technically, she was correct.
“I love you, Nicky. And because I love you, I'm not going to get into any more of this right now.”
“But—”
“No buts.”
She let out an audible sigh.
“How was your late class this afternoon?” I asked.
“It was the most boring class I've ever been to. Charlemagne.”
“Charlemagne was actually quite a fascinating fellow.”
“Yeah? Well, maybe you can come take my class next time.”
That'd be the day. I'd last about fifteen minutes with one of those profs.
“Dad?” she said.
“Yeah?”
“When are you going to bring me the laptop?”
“Later.”
“All right. I'm meeting Jerry at seven-thirty to play racquetball.”
“Jerry?”
“Just a friend, Daddy.”
“Uh-huh. Shouldn't you be studying about Charlemagne?”
“It's just a history class. I wouldn't even be taking the stupid course if it wasn't a requirement.”
“ ‘Don't know much about his-to-ry. Don't know much bi-ol-o-gy …’ ”
“I hate it when you sing the oldies,” she said.
9
Potential Olympian Jed Haynes, it appeared, preferred the Spartan lifestyle. His house was a sixties-style ranch wedged between apartment buildings off Fourteenth Street. Brown paint peeling over the doorway, broken shutters askew at the front window, a trio of empty Coors Light cans decorating the muddy microchip of a front lawn. There were a couple of cars in the driveway and the lights were all on inside,
“Wright's missing.” Cassidy's voice came from the top of the stairs. Apparently the water from the shower hadn't been loud enough. Still dressed, she came partway down the steps.
“She's what? Are you sure?” Marcia asked.
“No one's seen her since midnight last night,” I said.
“I was just coming back down to get my shampoo,” Cassidy said.
Marcia looked horrified. “But there's been nothing on the news. And the police—”
“It hasn't hit the news,” I said. “And the cops don't know yet either. We're trying to keep it quiet, until we figure this thing out.”
Marcia gave me the same kind of worried look she might have given had it been her own child. “Do you think she's been kidnapped? Is she in some kind of danger?”
“Too early to tell.”
“I told him not to let anybody know, Marcia. Not even you,” Cassidy said.
“Why not?” she asked. “What about your mother?”
Cassidy looked at me.
“It gets complicated,” I said. “Why don't I leave Cassidy to fill you in on whatever she wants to tell you? Every minute I sit here talking is another minute the trail grows cold.”
Marcia looked back and forth between the two of us, settling her gaze on Cassidy. “Go ahead, then.” She dismissed me with a wave of her hand.
I took it as a sign that meant I was to remove my Cro-Magnon brain from the premises, so I did.
My cell phone rang as I was backing out of the driveway. I fished it out of my pocket and answered.
“Well?”
It was Nicole. Psychic.
“Well, what?”
“Any more developments on the big case? I came over here to your place and let myself in to use the computer. Didn't want to use one at the university. I've got that folder ready for you.”
“Thank you very much. I've got something else for you.”
“You do?’
“Has Jake called, by any chance?”
“No. Why?”
“He's getting some information for me.”
“What else do you have for me?”
“A laptop computer. Got some files on it we can't seem to open. Also need to find a password to get into somebody's E-mail.”
“Cool.”
“I thought Jake might be able to help you.”
“Where are you? What's going on?”
“Can't get into that right now, sweetheart.”
“C'mon, Dad. Don't hold out on me. I'm the one who gave you some great advance surveillance of the Drummond place.” Technically, she was correct.
“I love you, Nicky. And because I love you, I'm not going to get into any more of this right now.”
“But—”
“No buts.”
She let out an audible sigh.
“How was your late class this afternoon?” I asked.
“It was the most boring class I've ever been to. Charlemagne.”
“Charlemagne was actually quite a fascinating fellow.”
“Yeah? Well, maybe you can come take my class next time.”
That'd be the day. I'd last about fifteen minutes with one of those profs.
“Dad?” she said.
“Yeah?”
“When are you going to bring me the laptop?”
“Later.”
“All right. I'm meeting Jerry at seven-thirty to play racquetball.”
“Jerry?”
“Just a friend, Daddy.”
“Uh-huh. Shouldn't you be studying about Charlemagne?”
“It's just a history class. I wouldn't even be taking the stupid course if it wasn't a requirement.”
“ ‘Don't know much about his-to-ry. Don't know much bi-ol-o-gy …’ ”
“I hate it when you sing the oldies,” she said.
9
Potential Olympian Jed Haynes, it appeared, preferred the Spartan lifestyle. His house was a sixties-style ranch wedged between apartment buildings off Fourteenth Street. Brown paint peeling over the doorway, broken shutters askew at the front window, a trio of empty Coors Light cans decorating the muddy microchip of a front lawn. There were a couple of cars in the driveway and the lights were all on inside,
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