Shauna O'Leary opened her eyes slowly. As she remained
seated on her stiff desk chair, apprehension contracted
her body into the same tight, quivering mass that it
always did when she wrote something at her computer.
Most of the time, the tales that poured from her
fingertips were fine, even delightful. Suitable for
reading to the kids who came especially to her restaurant,
Fantasy Fare, to hear them. She would laugh aloud as she
read, in relief as much as enjoyment. Chastise herself
gaily, push the print button and -
As she automatically began to scan the words on the
screen, she gasped aloud. This was one of those rare, yet
nevertheless too-frequent, other times.
"Oh, no," she whispered, though no one else was there, in
her small, secluded home, to hear. "Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh,
no." She repeated the words in a mantra born of despair as
she continued to read:
Andee was scared. So scared. "Daddy," she cried.
But Daddy didn't come. Instead, the bad man came back into
the room.
"Help me, Daddy!"
Shauna stared at the hand clutching the computer's mouse
as if it belonged to someone else. The long, slim fingers
with blunted, pink-polished nails - fingers that were so
skilled on the computer keys - were trembling.
Resolutely,she highlighted the entire file, prepared to
push Delete. Get rid of it.
But that wouldn't get rid of the problem.
She did it nevertheless. Erased everything. Closed the
file.
Opened it again.
The story was still there. Of course.
With a small moaning sound, she pushed Print.
There would be a physical record of what had already been
set into motion.
Shauna took two long, deep breaths, steeling herself for
what was to come. Anxiously running fingers through the
sides of her long, ash-blond hair, she looked at the
telephone beside her computer. It sat on the antique door
that had been taken from her grandmother's house and was
now propped on wooden file cabinets, serving as her desk.
She studied the phone, delaying the inevitable.
And then, filled with dread, she lifted the portable
receiver and pressed in a familiar number. Elayne
Strahm's. She needed to speak with her immediately. Get
another phone number from her.
For the little girl in her story was Elayne's grandchild.
Hunter Strahm's daughter.
Hunter Strahm steered his speeding rental car off the
Interstate and onto the main road toward his mother's
home.
Oasis, Arizona. Lord, it seemed like ages since he'd been
back. It was late afternoon, desert time, though he'd
already put in a full day of work and travel. He ignored
the pounding of his heart as he hurtled through town,
trying to silence the inner voice that told him he was on
a fool's mission. Wasting not just minutes, but hours of
precious time.
He'd made the decision to come here first. He'd live with
it.
Yeah, but would Andee ...?
"Damn," he muttered aloud, forcing his thoughts from the
direction that could only make him crazy.
He stared out the windshield. Oasis looked the same as he
remembered. Except - where was the restaurant he knew
Shauna O'Leary now owned?
He'd find out, if he had to. First, he'd go see his
mother. Would Shauna still be there? If not, his mother
would know how to find her.
He turned onto the street where his mother lived, and he
looked around.
What kind of car did Shauna drive?
It had been more than five hours since that series of
phone calls which made him want to lash out in total
frustration and fear at whatever, whoever, was convenient.
He usually thrived on dealing with the worst of
situations. Taking control, and resolving them.
But the calls had concerned his five-year-old daughter.
Andee.
She'd gone missing from Margo's home in L.A. Wandered off
from the backyard. Or at least that was what his ex had
said in the first of those damnable calls.
Hunter, a private investigator, had been a thousand miles
away on business, unable to do a blessed thing but head
for the airport. He'd left a job unfinished. He had never
done that before.
He'd never faced an emergency this urgent before.
Shauna's had been the second call. And Margo's next call
had confirmed what Shauna had claimed.
Andee hadn't just gotten lost. She had been kidnapped.
Emergency, hell. It was a crisis of a magnitude he'd never
imagined.
Shauna had called from his mother's, where she said she'd
gone to be with Elayne. And though what she said reminded
him too much of the past, he couldn't ignore it - just in
case she could provide a clue, no matter how absurd, about
where Andee was. That was the major reason he'd come here,
instead of straight to L.A.
Surely Shauna would have gone home, or to her business, by
now. Yet when he strode up the familiar walkway to Elayne
Strahm's tan stucco hacienda, he figured it wouldn't
necessarily be his mother who answered the door.
He rang the bell, reluctant to use his key after not being
here for so long.
He heard footsteps inside. Light, quick ones.
And when the door opened, he found himself staring into
soft brown eyes that were wide but not with surprise, the
way her call had startled him. With ... what? Uneasiness?
Pleasure?
No way.
She hadn't changed at all, except to become prettier. Her
blond hair was a little longer, a little lighter. She was
slim in her T-shirt and shorts, with shapely, endless
legs.
Steeling himself for what was to come, he took a step
toward her. Parroting the initial, friendly greeting she'd
given him over the phone earlier - before she had dropped
her bombshell - he said simply, "Hello, Shauna."