Gone In The Night. Anna J. Stewart
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other contact information for your brother besides his cell number?”
“Yeah.” Max returned to the mug, watched the steam swirl up but still couldn’t bring himself to drink. “Yeah, he wrote it down and stuck it on the message board.” He walked around the detective to the recessed desk, pulled the paper off the corkboard. “He’s been working on a merger with a Japanese company interested in his latest invention, app, something I don’t understand.” Joe with all his big ideas that always paid off. Out to change the world, make it better. For everyone. For Hope.
“Do you know where we can find Gemma?” Dr. Hollister asked.
“She said she was going to a spa until Joe got back.” Because his morning wasn’t going bad enough, now he had to think about Hope’s mother. “Joe wanted her to go with him, thought maybe they could work out some of their issues. She refused. Big knock-down, drag-out fight the night before he left. Nothing violent,” he added when he realized the impression that statement would make. “Joe would never hurt either of them. But things have been difficult between them. As I’m sure she knows.” He glanced at Dr. Hollister, who gave a nod of agreement. What was wrong with the woman? She knew Hope; she’d been treating her. Why did she look as if she didn’t want to be bothered to be here?
“Do you know what spa Mrs. Kellan was going to?” Detective MacTavish asked.
“Honestly, I don’t pay much attention to anything Gemma says.” Max blinked. “And no, before you ask, I haven’t heard anything from her since she took off. She knew she wouldn’t have to worry about Hope with me around.” Guilt walloped him in the gut.
“I’d agree with that assessment,” Dr. Hollister said as she flipped through something on his phone. “Gemma isn’t the most hands-on parent, but if she stayed local, I’d lay odds on the Camellia Day Spa off Fair Oaks Boulevard, Jack.”
“We’ll have one of our officers work on tracking her down,” Detective MacTavish said. “May we have your permission to search your cell phone and the house? Maybe there’s a chance someone picked her up and dropped her off here late last night.”
“Search whatever you want,” Max said. “Hope hasn’t been here. I’d know. I don’t sleep much.” Maybe never again.
“Hope told me you’re living in their guesthouse,” Dr. Hollister said as she returned the phone to the detective.
“Officially, yes, but I moved in here when my brother left so I’d be close to Hope. The guest room is on the other side of the stairs. You’re wasting your time questioning me.” But he knew they had to. How many child abductions led to relatives or friends of the family? Frustration began to swirl. “I should be out there trying to find her.” He couldn’t just sit—or stand—around and wait. He needed to be doing something.
“We are doing that, believe me.” Detective MacTavish left the room with a gesture that he’d soon return.
Max stared at the doctor, anger boiling inside him as he pushed aside those warm, fuzzy feelings that had descended out on the street. The last thing he needed in his life again—in any capacity—was a useless doctor. “Stop looking at me like I’m a specimen under your microscope, Doc. I won’t lose it completely.” He gripped the edge of the counter, leaned over and squeezed his eyes shut. “Not yet, anyway.”
“I haven’t used a microscope since college.” She walked over and picked up his coffee, carried it over to the sink and dumped it out. She searched the cabinets, pulled out another mug, one of the ones Hope used for her hot chocolate, and filled it with coffee. “Here. Drink.”
He wrapped both hands around the white ceramic, his eyes falling on the cartoon princess frolicking with her animal friends. “Why did you do that?”
“To give you something of hers to hold on to.” Dr. Hollister pressed her hand over his for a brief moment, long enough to warm him in conjunction with the coffee. “We’re going to find her, Max. We’ve got a lot of smart, dedicated people who are going to help us. Jack and his partner? You won’t find better. We just need you to be here when she comes home.”
“Easy for you to say, Doc. I bet you don’t feel what I’m feeling.”
“You’d be surprised what I feel.” Her faint smile was anything but bright. “And it’s Allie, please. Doc sounds a bit clinical.”
“All doctors are clinical.” He sounded harsh. He didn’t care. Couldn’t let himself care. The only thing that mattered was Hope. “What if she’s run away again? She’s been doing that lately. It’s one of the reasons I moved out here.”
“If that’s what’s happened, we’ll find her sooner than later.”
“But you don’t think that’s what this is,” Max countered, daring the doctor to claim otherwise.
“She’s well aware she can trust you,” she said after the briefest of hesitations. “I’ve seen a marked improvement in her since you came to stay. She’s spoken about you often during our sessions. She loves you. Worships you, as a matter of fact. Her hero uncle Max who fights fires and saves people. I think I actually saw stars explode in her eyes talking about you one day.”
“Twist the knife deeper, why don’t you.” Max drank more coffee, surprised at how soothing the jolt of caffeine felt. The last thing he needed to dwell on was Hope out there waiting for him to find her, which he couldn’t do as long as he was stuck in here. Not that leaving was an option. What if a call came in...
His arms shook as his muscles clenched. “For the record, I don’t fight fires. Not anymore, anyway.”
Detective MacTavish reentered the kitchen.
“What?” Max’s spine went stiff.
“Crime scene unit is on its way. My partner is working on getting some FBI assistance while he’s up at the Vandermonts’ home. We want as many agencies on this as possible. The more we blanket the valley, the sooner we’ll find her.”
“Tell him to request Special Agent Eamon Quinn,” Allie said. “He’s out of the San Francisco office, but he’s one of their top experts in cases like this.” She flinched, as if afraid she’d said too much.
“Cases like what?” Max demanded.
“Missing persons,” Allie said quickly. Too quickly.
“Before this goes any further,” Detective MacTavish said, “I need to ask you something, Max.”
“Ask away.” What was it with these people that they were treating him with kid gloves? “I don’t have anything to hide.”
The detective glanced at Allie, who gave an encouraging nod. Max reined in his temper. Damned doctors always thought they knew best about everything.
“Given the custody fight over Hope,” Detective MacTavish said, “do you think it’s at all possible that either your sister-in-law or your brother could have taken her without telling you?”
“You have got to be kidding me.” Max set the mug down with a clack. “Seriously?”
“Very seriously. Allie’s filled me in on what she can—”
“Did she?” Max sneered. “Stretching those confidentiality boundaries are we, Doc?”
If his words hit an emotional target, he couldn’t tell. Not even a flicker of acknowledgment. Boy, she was one cold ice queen. “I told the detective what I could,” she said. “That your brother’s case has been contentious. Something I’ve been witness to in court on numerous occasions.”
“Joe wouldn’t do that to me.” Max couldn’t shake the sensation there was something more to this situation than he was being told. Or maybe he was overreacting. The last thing he could rely on these days was his own judgment. He’d never done well when people he loved were threatened. Situations like this always threw him into a tailspin and that’s when