“I’ll call the repairman immediately. I can mail them to you as soon as they are done.”
“Will the photos be ready today?”
“Probably,” he hedged.
“We’re heading into the, um, I mean, we’ll be busy for a few hours. We’ll pick them up on our way back. Perhaps I can meet with the owner then.”
“All right.” He dragged out the affirmation. “Could I get your name so I can tell my boss she has an appointment?”
“Sylvie.”
The woman simply reiterated the first name on the form. “Oh, and your cellphone number, in case the pictures aren’t ready in time,” he added with what he hoped looked like an innocent smile.
“I have the studio’s number on the receipt. I’ll call. They’ll be done by tomorrow, for sure?”
Damn her. She had upped the stakes in this game. “Absolutely,” he assured her. Even if the pictures weren’t ready, his trap would be.
He almost held his breath as he finished up their transaction. She pulled out her billfold to pay, and just when he thought she would lose the game by default, she paid in cash.
“Ta-ta,” he called out as they left.
The boy turned and gave him a small wave and a smile.
One last item to check. She had her defense skills honed around strangers, but what about open-air security? After a full minute had elapsed, he followed the pair out of the shop and trailed them to their car. If she or her child spotted him, he had a duplicate receipt and a buy-one-get-one-free coupon to present as a plausible excuse.
Score one for him, she didn’t notice his presence. Her attention fully focused on her son, who dragged his feet, begging to go back to look at something in a brightly decorated store window. Some words were exchanged between the mother and the little boy, resulting in the little man throwing one heck of a temper tantrum.
He stood, openly watching her for the several minutes it took for her to manhandle her screaming son into the car and buckle him into his car seat. In the meantime, he savored the memory of their verbal foreplay. To his credit, he’d confirmed her weak spot—her child. And he knew exactly how to exploit that.
Oh, he did so enjoy the hunt.
Chapter 2
What a nightmare!
Lia Morgan rubbed her temples. Of all the calls she had ever envisioned receiving about her sister, this one didn’t come close to anything she’d expected.
When the police officer introduced himself and told her Sylvie was missing, the words almost didn’t register. Missing? Impossible. But instead of opening her mouth to argue, she’d listened.
“Yesterday morning, Sylvie and her two-year old son, Deion, left their home at approximately eight-thirty. According to statements we’ve taken, they had planned to go to Pier 39, have lunch and return home by five o’clock. When your sister’s friend, Margaret Fletcher, called at five, no one answered,” the officer stated.
He then went on to tell her Margaret had called at five-thirty and then at half-hour intervals until eight o’clock. When there was still no answer, and Sylvie couldn’t be reached on her house or cellphone, Margaret drove to the residence. Finding no one home, she’d reported Sylvie and her son, Deion, missing.
As the story unfolded, Lia’s disbelief increased. Sylvie had a son? And what had happened between Sylvie and Margaret that they were no longer living together?
“When did you last see your sister?” the officer asked.
“Seven years ago.”
A pregnant silence greeted her statement.
“My sister and I weren’t close,” Lia finally added. Now that was the understatement of the year.
“Then you wouldn’t know if she’d voluntarily left the area? Is it possible she planned to visit you for the upcoming holidays?”
“No, I’m sorry. I wouldn’t know anything about her plans. But just up and leaving isn’t something my sister would do. You’re aware that she’s a bestselling author of a personal security book, right?”
“Yes, ma’am.” The officer intoned. “Right now, we’re considering all the scenarios.”
“Of course. Thank you for letting me know.”
“You’re welcome, ma’am. If you do hear from your sister—”
“I’ll be sure to let you know.”
Lia laid the telephone receiver back in its cradle. Her thoughts were so jumbled that the sudden loud ticking of the clock on the kitchen wall made her jump. Had time really stood still? Perhaps. Something else infeasible had occurred. Her staid and respectable, older and wiser sister had disappeared.
The thought still felt foreign. For ten years, Sylvie Morgan worked as a security expert for some top secret government organization. According to the little Sylvie had been able to say, she had kept numerous presidents and foreign dignitaries safe by working behind the scenes. Whatever that meant. She knew the ins and outs, hell, she’d written the book on keeping your person and identity safe. Lia had bought it last year and taken it to heart. As a freelance photographer, she traveled a lot, and needed to not only to feel secure but to be safe. Even now, Sylvie’s book dominated as a hot topic of discussion on talk shows and sat prominently displayed in every bookstore Lia frequented. So, what had happened to her sister?
Margaret? Lia conjured up a vision of her sister’s partner, or were they ex-lovers now? Margaret was exactly six feet tall, just like her sister. Sylvie’s ebony complexion sharply contrasted Margaret’s lack of any pigmentation. Black and white bookends. To complement the comparison, they wore their hair in short bobs. Both had curves and legs that seemed to go all the way up to their necks. Many men admired the women from afar; however, none were allowed any closer.
Even if they weren’t together now, Margaret couldn’t have been complicit in Sylvie’s disappearance. According to the police, she had called in the missing person’s report. A niggle of doubt called to mind all the other cases where once lovers had murdered their partners. Lia pushed the thought away impatiently.
Instead, she focused on the other tidbit of information the officer had dropped. Sylvie had a son. Wow. What a shock. Sylvie had always professed never to want children and often joked that she didn’t have a maternal bone in her body. Well, something had changed.
Lia twirled on the kitchen stool where she’d perched to answer the phone. Amazing that her small efficiency apartment could be so crowded and cluttered. The sink overflowed with dirty dishes and, off to left, a pile of laundry mounded up the side of the washer. Luckily, she’d finished a photo shoot and submitted all the shots to her publisher, so she could take off at a moment’s notice. However, she’d probably better clean the place up a bit.
She picked up the receiver to place a call to the airline. With her finger poised over the buttons, a series of beeps startled her. It sounded as if someone were already dialing a number. She hung up the phone and took a deep breath. Were the sounds real, or were they a sign she needed to pay attention to? Damn it, she hated when she couldn’t tell reality from a psychic impression. She picked up the receiver and again, the sounds repeated. This time, she left the phone off the hook. The call never connected, the tones simply repeated, two, perhaps three more times. Too bad she’d never memorized what sound went with which number. Perhaps if she hummed the tune, she’d remember it. She tried and then gave up.
Unexpectedly, tears flooded her eyes. Having unique psychic abilities weren’t good for