Читать книгу Christmas with Daddy - C.J. Carmichael - Страница 10

BRIDGET WAS ROUTED to messages on Nick’s cell phone. “It’s almost five,” she said. “If you’re not home in two minutes I’m taking Mandy to my place.”

She picked up the baby and coaxed a smile from her. It wasn’t hard to do. Mandy really was a doll. Obviously Lefty thought so, too. The boxer looked up at Bridget mournfully, as if to say, why did you have to take her away?

Bridget bundled Mandy into her snowsuit again, then settled her into the stroller cautiously. To her relief Mandy was perfectly happy to go on another outing.

Still, Bridget was not impressed. If Nick thought he could flash his sexy grin at her and get away with stunts like this, he was sorely mistaken.

NICK HAD BEEN PROMOTED to detective four weeks ago, and he loved it. He loved being able to dress in plain clothes and drive an unmarked car. He loved working regular hours instead of shifts and having his weekends free the majority of the time.

He especially loved the challenge of working on cases and feeling he was actually making a difference.

When he reached the mall, he parked and took out the photo he had of the missing girl. Tara Lang smiled up at him, her large brown eyes full of defiance.

Clearly she hadn’t wanted to pose for this photo. Who had taken it, he wondered? One of her parents, perhaps?

Fourteen years from now, would Mandy look at him like this if he tried to take her picture? He sure hoped not.

A group of kids were hanging out around the benches by the mall entrance, probably waiting for rides from their parents. He studied them as he passed by, but none of them came close to matching Tara’s description.

Once inside he headed for the food court, where Tara had supposedly been spotted. He circled the area, passing Japanese eateries, burger spots, smoothie joints and taco stalls, stopping frequently to show the picture and ask if anyone had seen the girl.

No luck.

He hadn’t really expected it to be this easy, but he’d hoped. Solving this case would be a great way to begin his career as an investigator, since the Chief had made it clear that this case was the number-one priority of the entire department.

Nick went over every corridor of the mall, twice, before finally conceding defeat. As he headed for his parked car, his mind was full of thoughts about Tara Lang. He wondered where she was right now. Was she safe with friends?

Or out on her own?

Was she still defiant and angry at her parents? Or was she scared and sorry she’d run away?

Then there was the worst possibility of all. That she’d been the victim of a crime. Kidnapped, assaulted or even…

No. He wasn’t going there. Not yet. She hadn’t been missing more than twenty-four hours. Her father believed she was hiding out with one of her friends. Hopefully he was right.

As he slid into the driver’s seat, Nick’s focus settled on the time display. Cripes, was it five o’clock already?

Where had the time gone? He opened a window and slapped a siren on the roof of the car. God, Bridget was going to be totally pissed at him.

ONLY AFTER HE’D ARRIVED home and found the place deserted did Nick think to check his messages. As he listened to Bridget’s recording he noticed she’d also left her business card on his kitchen table. Pampered Pooches…loving care for your best friend.

He stared at the slogan for a moment. He knew, firsthand, that it wasn’t an idle claim. Bridget did give loving care to all of her dogs. She had a big, generous heart and he’d taken advantage of that today when he’d convinced her to help him with Mandy.

And now he was late. Not a good first impression.

Using a magnet, he stuck the card to his fridge, then jogged out to the street. Bridget lived just two doors down in an identical town house to all the others on this block. But she’d managed to make her place stand out thanks to her mailbox, which had been built and painted to look like a miniature doghouse.

A dusting of snow covered the sidewalk that led to her door and he could see the tracks of Mandy’s stroller, several sets of boot prints, and lots of doggy paws leading up and down the stairs. He added his footprints to the mix, hurrying to the door, then knocking.

As he waited he noticed two discreet brass placards screwed to the wall just under the outdoor lamp. Pampered Pooches and Bridget Humphrey, Numerologist.

He cringed at the second one, just as the door was whisked open.

“About time.” She sounded annoyed.

“I’m sorry. I should have called—”

Bridget nodded. “No kidding. Nick, if this arrangement is going to work, you need to respect my schedule and my time. I have commitments, too, you know.”

He apologized again. “I just couldn’t resist a second look around the mall.”

Bridget’s face softened. “You didn’t find her?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry. I hope she’s all right.” She stepped back from the door. “Come on in. Mandy’s just had her bottle and now she’s playing with my yarn basket.”

The house smelled…tantalizing. Like oatmeal cookies, he decided as he removed his boots and looked around. The rooms were laid out the same as his, but the similarity between the two homes ended there.

Bridget had put her stamp on this place, made it warm and inviting. The living room was alive with colors and textures, including a fluffy white rug. Mandy sat plum in the center of it, surrounded by dozens of balls of yarn, each one a different color.

He didn’t need to see Mandy’s smile to know that she was loving this. “She’s discovering the world.”

Bridget looked at him as if he’d said something clever. “That’s right. She is.”

As soon as she spotted him, Mandy held out her arms and smiled. In his mind, he imagined her one year older saying “Daddy! Daddy!” the way he remembered his nieces doing for his brother Gavin when he came home from work.

He swung her up, then hugged her. He was surprised by the feelings that swamped him, even though he’d last seen her only a few hours ago. It was almost as if he were choking on one of those balls of yarn. He swallowed, then turned to Bridget. “I’m really sorry I was late. I didn’t want to leave the mall until I was sure the runaway wasn’t there.”

Bridget didn’t seem angry anymore. “Tell me about this girl. You said she was a good kid from a nice family. Why did she run away?”

Mandy reached for the yarn and he set her back down amid the colored balls. “According to her father, there were some typical teenage rebellion issues. Unfair curfews, too many family functions, not enough time for friends. He said they had a big argument on Tuesday night. Wednesday morning, when she didn’t come down for breakfast, his wife checked her room and found her gone.”

“Did she go to a friend’s house? That’s what I would have done.”

Nick felt a flash of curiosity. Had Bridget suffered from rebellion issues in her youth? Surely not. She didn’t look the type. “That’s exactly what her parents assumed she’d done. But when they hadn’t heard anything by the next morning they became worried. Yesterday the mother questioned all of her daughter’s friends, but no one had seen her.”

“Could they be covering for their friend?”

“It’s certainly possible. In fact, I hope that’s what’s happened. It beats the alternatives.”

“An abduction…”

He nodded. “Her father is an important political official here in Hartford. So kidnapping is a possibility. Though we aren’t considering it likely since the girl’s warmest coat, her backpack, wallet, iPod and cell phone are all missing.”

“So she probably ran away.”

“It definitely looks that way. What happened after she hit the streets though…” He shrugged. “Hartford isn’t Detroit, but every city has its criminal elements. A girl on her own could get into trouble pretty quickly.” Especially a girl with no street smarts.

“Maybe she left Hartford?”

“We don’t think so. She’s too young to drive, and we’re keeping tabs on the bus station and airport. It’s possible she hitched a ride from a stranger, but again, that doesn’t seem likely.”

“Her poor family.” She tilted her head and eyed him speculatively. “I’d be happy to try and help you. All you’d need to do is tell me this girl’s full name and birth date.”

He didn’t understand the reason for her question at first. Then he scowled. “Are you talking about numerology?”

“Don’t sound so skeptical. Numbers are all around us, and they have power and meaning.”

“Get real. This kid’s name and birth date isn’t going to tell us where she is.”

“Did I say they would? What numerology will do is give us some insight into what’s in this girl’s head right now. Where her life is leading her.”

“Yeah, well, thanks for the offer. But I think I’ll conduct this investigation the traditional way.”

“Lots of intelligent, educated people believe in numerology, Nick. It’s not that strange. If you’d like a demonstration, I’d be happy to show you. Give me your birth date.”

He looked at her suspiciously.

“Let me calculate your life path number.”

“What the heck is a life path number?”

“It’s like a road map for your life, highlighting the opportunities and challenges that you’ll face in your journey through this world. The life path number is the cornerstone of numerology.”

Did she have any idea how wacko she sounded? “Look, I’m sure this is interesting to a lot of people. I just happen to put my faith in things that are more objective. Like the size of bullets, the patterns of fingerprints and the results of DNA testing.”

“Okay. Fine. Forget it. Clearly you haven’t evolved to this level yet.”

Evolved. Right. That was one way of putting it. Still, nutty as he thought this numerology stuff was, he didn’t want to insult her.

He inhaled deeply. “Look, I realize lots of people check their horoscopes every day. I’m just not one of them. And I don’t base my police work on the stars—or numbers, either.”

“Maybe so far you haven’t. But later, if it turns out you do need my help, don’t let pride stand in the way of asking for it.”

He almost laughed. Fat chance of that happening.