repeated.
He glanced over toward the technician who was wiring the telephone Brenda had just used
in hope that when the kidnapper called the next time, they might be able to trace the call.
Even if they did, he had a hunch it would probably be coming from a public phone. But
sometimes they got lucky.
The blonde with the killer legs was still waiting for him to answer her. "You could stay
here and talk to theTylerswhen they arrive home." He was leaving someone from the task
force to speak to them, but there was no harm in their seeing a familiar face, especially if
that familiar face could walk them through what had happened at the school.
Hewasbrushing her off. "Mrs. Tyler won't be due in for another couple of hours and Mr.
Tyler will probably be here in the morning."
"Good estimate." Sidestepping her, he set his sights on the front door.
Didn't he understand that she could be useful? That she knew Annie better than anyone
and that maybe that knowledge might be helpful? Moving quickly, she got in his way again.
"What do I do until then?"
He put his hands on her shoulders and deliberately moved her to the side, out of his way.
"You might try praying," he told her as he left.
She was at her wits end.
The journey to that destination hadn't been an overly long one. As the brash, annoying
Detective Cavanaugh had suggested, she'd remained at theTylerestate, waiting for Annie's
mother to arrive. Secretly, she'd hoped that perhaps the kidnapper might have a change
of heart and call again.
But he didn't.
Trying to keep her frustration under wraps, she'd spent the time she was waiting for
Rebecca Allen-Tyler to make her appearance talking to the policeman who had been left on
duty.
Exactly seven-hours after she had placed the call to her, Annie's mother swept into the
mansion riding on a tide of reporters. By now, the story of Annie's kidnapping as well as
her sketches of the two kidnappers had led off every station's evening news broadcast.
The little girl's abduction from theHarwoodAcademywas fodder for the newest media
feeding frenzy.
Brenda braced herself as she faced the former actress. To her credit, Annie's mother
did look distraught, and she did have the housekeeper shut out the media reporters. Her
personal bodyguard, a man who looked as if he'd just walked off with the Mr. Olympia
bodybuilding crown, stood like a towering sentry at the front entrance.
"How could you have allowed something like this happen?" Rebecca screamed at her the
moment she recognized her.
"Mrs. Tyler, I'm very, very sorry—" Brenda began.
"Sorry? You don't know the meaning of the word sorry. You'll be sorry all right, sorry you
were ever born when Simon and I finish suing your asses off for this."
She'd already given the woman the details over the telephone when she'd placed the
original call. Brenda supposed that three thousand miles was a long distance to work up her
anger. That didn't excuse what had come out of the woman's mouth, though.
"With all due respect, Mrs. Tyler, we thought there was a fire going on. And if it were my
daughter, my first thoughts wouldn't be about suing people, it would be about moving
heaven and earth to get her back."
"How dare you!" Rebecca Tyler shrieked. "Howdareyou?"
Brenda looked at the patrolman closest to her. "I don't think I'm needed here right now."
She began to leave.
The patrolman came to life. "Wait, Detective Cavanaugh said I was to take you to your
car."
Her car was still parked in the school lot. She was about to call for a cab, but this made
things easier. "Always thinking, your detective."
The patrolman flashed her a smile. "We like to think so."
Once they got past the media reporters camped outside the door, the trip was relatively
quick. Hers was the only vehicle left in the lot.Danvers, the patrolman, pulled up beside it.
Dusk had descended, and with it a strange clamminess in the air. It was a strange May
night. But then,
He glanced over toward the technician who was wiring the telephone Brenda had just used
in hope that when the kidnapper called the next time, they might be able to trace the call.
Even if they did, he had a hunch it would probably be coming from a public phone. But
sometimes they got lucky.
The blonde with the killer legs was still waiting for him to answer her. "You could stay
here and talk to theTylerswhen they arrive home." He was leaving someone from the task
force to speak to them, but there was no harm in their seeing a familiar face, especially if
that familiar face could walk them through what had happened at the school.
Hewasbrushing her off. "Mrs. Tyler won't be due in for another couple of hours and Mr.
Tyler will probably be here in the morning."
"Good estimate." Sidestepping her, he set his sights on the front door.
Didn't he understand that she could be useful? That she knew Annie better than anyone
and that maybe that knowledge might be helpful? Moving quickly, she got in his way again.
"What do I do until then?"
He put his hands on her shoulders and deliberately moved her to the side, out of his way.
"You might try praying," he told her as he left.
She was at her wits end.
The journey to that destination hadn't been an overly long one. As the brash, annoying
Detective Cavanaugh had suggested, she'd remained at theTylerestate, waiting for Annie's
mother to arrive. Secretly, she'd hoped that perhaps the kidnapper might have a change
of heart and call again.
But he didn't.
Trying to keep her frustration under wraps, she'd spent the time she was waiting for
Rebecca Allen-Tyler to make her appearance talking to the policeman who had been left on
duty.
Exactly seven-hours after she had placed the call to her, Annie's mother swept into the
mansion riding on a tide of reporters. By now, the story of Annie's kidnapping as well as
her sketches of the two kidnappers had led off every station's evening news broadcast.
The little girl's abduction from theHarwoodAcademywas fodder for the newest media
feeding frenzy.
Brenda braced herself as she faced the former actress. To her credit, Annie's mother
did look distraught, and she did have the housekeeper shut out the media reporters. Her
personal bodyguard, a man who looked as if he'd just walked off with the Mr. Olympia
bodybuilding crown, stood like a towering sentry at the front entrance.
"How could you have allowed something like this happen?" Rebecca screamed at her the
moment she recognized her.
"Mrs. Tyler, I'm very, very sorry—" Brenda began.
"Sorry? You don't know the meaning of the word sorry. You'll be sorry all right, sorry you
were ever born when Simon and I finish suing your asses off for this."
She'd already given the woman the details over the telephone when she'd placed the
original call. Brenda supposed that three thousand miles was a long distance to work up her
anger. That didn't excuse what had come out of the woman's mouth, though.
"With all due respect, Mrs. Tyler, we thought there was a fire going on. And if it were my
daughter, my first thoughts wouldn't be about suing people, it would be about moving
heaven and earth to get her back."
"How dare you!" Rebecca Tyler shrieked. "Howdareyou?"
Brenda looked at the patrolman closest to her. "I don't think I'm needed here right now."
She began to leave.
The patrolman came to life. "Wait, Detective Cavanaugh said I was to take you to your
car."
Her car was still parked in the school lot. She was about to call for a cab, but this made
things easier. "Always thinking, your detective."
The patrolman flashed her a smile. "We like to think so."
Once they got past the media reporters camped outside the door, the trip was relatively
quick. Hers was the only vehicle left in the lot.Danvers, the patrolman, pulled up beside it.
Dusk had descended, and with it a strange clamminess in the air. It was a strange May
night. But then,
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