Читать книгу Heart of a Hero - Marie Ferrarella, Marie Ferrarella - Страница 10

Making himself comfortable, Rusty took out the worn notepad he kept in his pocket, the one that seemed to have an endless supply of paper and had been with him since he’d started. If he had one superstition, he would have had to say it revolved around the notepad. Every case he’d entered there had been solved.

“Let’s start with where you work.”

“Why?”

It certainly hadn’t taken long for her defensiveness to kick in again. He’d hoped that maybe she would have put it aside once they’d actually gotten started.

“Because I intend to go there and scout around, maybe talk to a few people.”

She didn’t want him talking to the people she worked with, didn’t want any suspicions being raised. It was her business that this was happening, not anyone else’s.

“There’s no reason for that,” she protested. “Vinny was stolen out of his crib in the apartment, not out of a dressing room.”

He wasn’t sure just what she was alluding to. Maybe she worked at a clothing shop. The one thing he did know was that he had to get her to be more cooperative or this investigation wasn’t going to go anywhere. The woman had to be convinced of the validity of every step he took and to stop challenging each one as it occurred, otherwise this wasn’t going to go anywhere.

Maybe a little personal insight would help. He knew Sam and Savannah wouldn’t mind.

“The woman you passed earlier is Savannah Walters. Her little girl was kidnapped by the wife of someone she worked with at the time of the abduction. Someone she trusted,” he emphasized. He leaned forward, making his point as sincerely as he could. “I need to talk to anyone you’ve had contact with to rule out that possibility.”

Resistance came naturally to her. She’d been resisting for so long that it was second nature to her. “I can rule it out for you right now. I’m not that friendly with anyone at work.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” he said under his breath as he jotted something down on his pad.

She raised a brow, immediately on the defensive. “What?”

That had been a slip. It wasn’t like him. Rusty admonished himself as he looked up. “You seem like the private type.”

Dakota frowned slightly. That wasn’t what he’d said originally. “I believe in minding my own business.”

“I still need your place of business.” He indicated an empty line on the form. “For the record. Humor me,” he told her when she didn’t respond.

With a sigh, she gave him the address of the store where she worked in Newport Beach. It didn’t matter really. As soon as she got Vinny back, Dakota already knew she’d be clearing out. Maybe even leaving the country this time, although she hated the thought of doing something that drastic. But to keep her son safe, she was willing to do anything, to go to any lengths. Nothing meant anything to her without Vinny.

Rusty looked down at the name and address he’d just jotted down.

“Neiman-Marcus department store.” It was a store he considered too expensive for even window-shopping. The one in Newport Beach had three stories. “That’s a lot of people to not talk to.” His expression was affable as he asked, “What do you do there?”

“I’m in sales.” It wasn’t what she’d wanted to do with her life, but it was the best she could get under the circumstances. Thinking that he probably thought the job beneath him, she added, “The position of Philosopher King was taken.”

Rusty was surprised at the Aristotelian reference. He didn’t take Dakota for someone who read such dry material. It had put him to sleep that one semester in college. “Don’t you mean Philosopher Queen?”

“No,” she contradicted. “King. A king’s higher.” Her mouth curved just the slightest bit. “I always aim for the best.”

He didn’t doubt it for a moment. She’d struck him as a class act the moment he’d seen her, someone who was accustomed to, and who got, the best. Which had made him wonder what she’d been doing living in his complex. It was a pleasant enough place in which to live and the surrounding area was nice, but there was nothing upper echelon about it. And neither was there about the job she had. Yet she read or at least was familiar with Aristotle. The woman was an enigma.

Rusty moved on to the next item. “I’ll also need a list of friends.”

Her eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. “Don’t you have any of your own?”

She was sharper-tongued and less frantic than she had been last night or even this morning. Had the kidnapper contacted her? And if so, why wasn’t she saying anything?

“Mine won’t help, yours might,” he said dryly.

There weren’t any friends, not here. She couldn’t allow herself to get close to anyone anymore. The woman at the day-care center where she left Vinny had tried more than once to get her to open up, or at least to get together with some of the other mothers, but she had steadfastly remained distant. It was safer that way.

“I told you, I’m a private person.”

His expression was innocent as he studied her. “No friends?”

“No need.”

It was a lie. She had a very real need to share, to lean, and there were friends, but they were all back in Las Vegas and she couldn’t risk contacting any of them. It was like being in the witness protection program without the comfort of safety.

Rusty didn’t buy that answer, either. No one was an island, even if they thought they were. Because of what he’d gone through, his brother Chad had been distant, like Dakota, but even Chad had eventually recognized his own need for contact, for warmth. Rusty reasoned that it would be the same for Dakota.

“Has there been anyone you noticed hanging around in the area lately? Anyone unusual?”

One side of her mouth raised a fraction of an inch as she looked at him. “You mean, other than you?”

She was referring to the times he had tried to get a conversation going with her. “I live there, remember?”

The hint of a smile faded and she shook her head. “No, no one unusual.”

He looked at her steadily. “And no one’s contacted you?”

Her impatience surfaced again. “I already told you they hadn’t.”

Rusty sighed inwardly. He felt like a lawyer with a hostile witness on the stand. It wasn’t usually like this. Most of the time the parent was only too eager to keep talking, hoping that something would lead to their child’s recovery. Doggedly, he pressed on.

As he continued asking questions, he noted that Dakota vacillated between being wary, snappish and wry. Writing down her answers in his own brand of shorthand, Rusty continued to wonder why she would behave in such a fashion, considering the circumstances.

He had no way of knowing that the woman sitting so rigidly in front of him was wrestling with her thoughts and her conscience. Throughout the questioning, she kept trying to decide whether or not to be completely honest and tell Rusty who she believed had abducted her son. But each qualm of conscience brought fear with it. Fear that if Rusty knew who he might be facing, he would back away. And she did need him.

But not telling him might delay finding Vinny. In addition, keeping Andreini in the dark might also prove dangerous to him, if not fatal.

The man had a right to know who he was up against.

But, she insisted silently, she had a right to get back her son.

Dakota played with the tips of her nails and decided, for the time being, to keep silent about the identity of the man who’d cast such a dark shadow over her life for the past two years.

Half an hour later, she saw Rusty close his notepad and hit the stop button on the tape recorder. For now, the questions stopped.

She had a question of her own.

“You haven’t talked about payment.”

He’d never been good when it came to talking about money. As a teenager, because he had always been naturally handy, he had worked on neighbors’ cars to earn spending money. But he had always had trouble asking for what was due him. Exasperated when she thought people were taking advantage of him, Megan had taken over the financial end of his business.

“You can stop at Carrie’s desk on your way out, she’ll be happy to go over everything with you. If there’s any problem,” he said, anticipating that there would be strictly because of what she’d said in her apartment last night, “it can be worked out. The main thing is to find your son.”

She was starting to believe that he believed that. “Yes, it is, but I don’t intend to do that on credit.”

Dakota dug into her purse, searching for what she’d slipped inside just before she’d left. Her fingers curved around the multifaceted surfaces.

She tossed the item on his desk with a carelessness that surprised him. He’d thought that every woman revered jewelry. The diamond necklace sitting on top of his papers would have inspired reverence in a Spartan.

The sparkle emanating from it was almost blinding. “Is it real?”

“As real as you are.” She tried to not think about when she had received it from Vincent. He’d made her close her eyes before he’d slipped it around her neck. She’d felt like a queen. She’d felt loved. What she’d been, she knew, was blinded. She smiled at Rusty. “I never accept imitations.”

The smile struck him as incredibly sad. Rusty picked up the long, gleaming string of near-perfect diamonds. When the sunlight hit it, it was like holding blue fire with his fingertips. He couldn’t begin to estimate its worth.

“I don’t think the bill’s going to be quite this high.”

She shrugged carelessly. The necklace had been in its box since Vincent had died. Because she’d accidentally discovered the necklace’s true origin, the gift no longer meant anything to her. He’d bought it for someone else, but had taken it back after the breakup.

“Make change,” she told him, rising.

“Two bracelets and a pair of earrings?” he offered, raising a brow.

“Whatever.” She didn’t care about the necklace. She cared about getting Vinny back. Quickly. Dakota paused in the doorway. “You’ll call me if there’s anything?”

He crossed to the doorway to stand beside her. Who had been the man in her life? Did she miss him? Had she hardened her heart to everyone because losing him had been so devastating? Questions occurred to him that weren’t restricted to the immediate case at hand. He wanted them answered.

“I’ll call you regularly one way or another.”

She only wanted to hear from him if he had something positive to tell her. She didn’t know how much more of this she could take without breaking. “Make it one way,” she instructed.