Nine

Nicole encountered even worse traffic after leaving the ransom in Centennial Park. In addition to tourists milling around Hollywood’s star-studded sidewalks, Madame Tussauds, and Grauman’s Chinese Theater, long lines of young people were waiting to get into clubs. Every car seemed to be changing lanes, slowing whenever it looked as if a parking spot might open up. It was well past midnight before she got home.

She was exhausted from the strain of the day and sick with worry. Despite her fatigue, she was too keyed up to sleep. Not knowing what else to do with herself, she got ready for bed. As Arnault had suggested, she set the burner phone next to her cell on her night table, checking to be sure they were both charging. She spent the night tossing and turning with worries that turned uglier with each passing hour. She would have sworn she hadn’t slept. But she must have dropped off because the ringing of the burner phone woke her at six o’clock. Her heart was pounding as she picked it up.

“They didn’t show,” Arnault said. “We have to talk.”

“What do you mean? No one picked up the money? What about Steph? Do you think something—” her voice broke, and she had to swallow hard before she could go on. “Has something happened to her?”

“All it means,” he said, “is that they figured out we were there. They want that money and keeping your sister safe is the only way they’re going to get it. But I want to meet with you before work so we can talk. Is there a coffee shop in your office building?”

“On the first floor. You don’t have to go through security to get in.”

“Great. I’ll meet you there at eight o’clock.”

Nicole got to the coffee shop fifteen minutes early. Arnault was already there, drinking coffee in one of the booths. She slid in across from him. “So, what now?” she said.

“We’ll have to wait until you hear from them again. What I’m wondering—” he stopped. A waitress was standing by the table, waiting for their attention. They both ordered, Nicole without looking at the menu.

When the waitress was gone, Arnault went on. “I’m wondering how they found out we were there. Did you tell anyone you’d called the police?”

“Of course not.” She thought for a moment. “Well, David knew, of course. He was there when I made the call. But he had to have surgery yesterday because of the head injury. When I visited him late in the day, he had no memory of anything that happened after they went to bed that night. I had to break the news of Steph’s kidnapping.

“In any case, he wouldn’t have told anyone. He was terrified because the kidnappers swore they’d kill Steph if he called the police. He wanted to use a private hostage negotiation firm. He felt they’d be more focused on working directly with the kidnappers by paying the ransom and getting Steph back home without delay.”

Arnault raised an eyebrow. “Is that what he said? That he wanted the ransom paid but wasn’t interested in catching the perps?”

Despite her own suspicions, Nicole didn’t like what he was suggesting. “No. I mean yes,” she said. “But only because he was afraid of what might happen to Steph if we called the police.”

“For all your smarts, you’re pretty naïve,” Arnault said. “As I said before, Stevenson could have had someone beat him up to make him look like a victim when he’s actually one of the perpetrators.”

Nicole was silent, remembering how David had believed he was somehow responsible for Steph’s disappearance. At first, this had alarmed her, making her wonder if he really was involved. Now she was inclined to think that David was simply confused. His failure to stop the intruders made him feel guilty. He wasn’t able to sort out his emotions because he had no recollection of the break-in. Nicole was glad she’d had Sue intervene so the police couldn’t continue questioning him. In his current state, who knew what they could get him to confess to?

“OK. Go on,” Arnault said. “Who else knew?”

“My lawyer, Sue Price. She’s the one I called when David asked for an attorney.”

“How long have you known Ms. Price?”

“About three years. She’s a good friend, as well as my attorney. I’d trust her with my life. Other than that,” she shook her head. She explained that she’d spent the day pretending nothing was wrong. “So, what’s next?”

“Continue to go about your life as you normally would. The kidnappers will contact you with instructions for another drop. And don’t be surprised if they ask for more on the second go. That’s par for the course. Meanwhile, find time today to return to the park and pick up the bag with the ransom.” He got out his card and jotted something on the back. “I don’t think you’re in any danger, but I want a plainclothesman to keep an eye on you when you go out there. Call this number before you leave.”

The waitress was back, placing their food on the table. Nicole nibbled at her scrambled eggs and toast, while Arnault wolfed down a full breakfast of eggs over easy, sausages, and blueberry pancakes.

“Let me know when you hear from them.” Arnault gazed into her eyes with what looked like genuine sympathy. “I know how worried and upset you are. But I promise we’re doing everything possible to get Stephanie home safe. We have a crack team working on this, and we have some solid leads.” He stood, got out his wallet, and tossed a few bills on the table. “That should take care of my share. I’ve got to go.”

As he was walking away, Nicole glanced through the glass partition into the building’s lobby. Joanne, just arriving at work, was staring at her. Nicole waved, put down enough money to cover her share of the meal, and hurried into the lobby.

“So, you met that hot techy for breakfast. Fast work,” Joanne gave a smile. “Good for you. You’ve seemed a little blue lately. You need to start dating again.”

Nicole simply nodded. Maybe it was best Joanne thought Arnault was a romantic interest. That would provide an excuse if he needed to come by again.

By lunchtime, Nicole still hadn’t heard from the kidnappers. Her anxiety had built to the point that she couldn’t sit in her office any longer. Maybe some fresh air would help. She made sure both the burner phone and her cell were in her purse and set her office phone to call forwarding. On her way out of the building, she picked up a turkey sandwich from the deli case in the coffee shop in case she got hungry. Once on her way, she headed briskly along Wilshire Boulevard toward the county museum.

After a block or two, she had the feeling she was being watched. She stopped next to one of the highrises, got out her makeup mirror, and angled it to see if anyone was following her. A man in a Dodger’s T-shirt and khakis, half a block behind, had stopped and seemed to be looking in her direction, although it was hard to be sure. She started walking again, faster now, and casually glanced around. He was on the move again, walking at the same clip she was. She wondered if he was with the police. Had Arnault sent him to make sure she wasn’t meeting with the kidnappers on her own? She thought of a possibility she liked even less, that this might be one of the kidnappers with who-knew-what in mind.

When she got to the La Brea Tar Pits, the place was unusually crowded. It took a moment for her to realize why. The park had a new feature that was getting a lot of publicity. Today, it had attracted a crowd that made it the perfect place to hide while she figured out how to lose the man following her.

She hurried into the middle of the gathering. There she paused, standing on tiptoe to see past the people gathered at the edge of the black pond where tar slowly undulated with bubbles of oily gas.

At that moment, an enormous creature—a life-like tyrannosaurus rex—emerged from the goo. His skin must have had a special coating because the tar slid off him as he rose. Once he was all the way out of the dark pond, he stood erect, gazing around, as if deciding which of the spectators to have for lunch. Even though it was only a robot, it was frighteningly realistic, as if the curators had raided Jurassic Park. Suddenly, the dinosaur let out a roar and lunged toward a group of tourists. Instinctively, the crowd moved back, and a small boy let out a shriek, hiding in his mother’s skirt. People around Nicole laughed nervously, keeping it down as if afraid of attracting the creature’s attention.

After perhaps thirty seconds, the robot began sinking back into the tar, struggling as if a powerful force were sucking it under. The whole spectacle took just a few minutes. For that brief time, it took Nicole’s mind off Steph and the stranger. Once the creature disappeared under the muck and the crowd began to disburse, Nicole looked around for an escape route. Behind the tar pit’s museum, she spotted a path lined with tall shrubs. She was pretty sure it led to the park’s rear entrance, one street north, and would allow her to return to her building without encountering her shadow. She hurried toward it. She reached the side street and walked quickly back to work, her mind buzzing with Stephanie’s plight, David’s injury, the question of what would happen next, and when, if, and how the kidnappers would get in touch. Now she had a new worry: Who was following her and why?

As soon as she got back to her office, she called Arnault. “Do you have someone following me?”

“Now, why would we be following you?” he said.

“To make sure I don’t make a private arrangement to pay the kidnappers without police involvement.”

“Did you actually see someone following you?” he said.

“I did, and I was worried it might be one of the kidnappers. Then I thought maybe you were responsible.”

“Absolutely not,” he said. “We aren’t following you.”

“Would you tell me if you were?”

“No.”

She gave a laugh. “All right, then. I take it you have been following me.”

“I will say this. Now that you’ve told me you’re being followed, you can be sure we’ll be keeping an eye on you. As for making a private arrangement with these criminals, I can see it might be tempting. But it would be a terrible mistake. Listen, I can’t talk now. Assuming the kidnappers don’t call this afternoon demanding a drop tonight, let’s meet after work so I can fully explain the downside of paying ransom directly.”

Nicole thought of the long evening ahead. She was free, all right. “Sure,” she said.

“There’s a place in West Hollywood, Bernini’s,” he said. “I could meet you there at seven thirty. You need directions?”

“No, I’ll find it. Bernini’s,” she repeated. “I’ll see you at seven thirty.”

After they hung up, she considered what he’d said. She couldn’t help thinking there must be a way to reach a deal with the kidnappers without getting killed. All these people wanted was the money. Still, the thought of having someone to spend the evening with was comforting. She wouldn’t have to sit home alone, waiting to hear from the kidnappers.

A moment later, Nicole found herself typing “Arnault, Greg” into her computer. Under normal circumstances, she was insatiably curious about everyone who came into her life. If she hadn’t been so upset about Steph, she would have checked out Arnault when she first met him.

When his name came up, she learned he was thirty-five and had never been married. He was a native Angeleno who’d attended local public schools and then her own alma mater, UCLA. In fact, they’d both been there at the same time. It wasn’t surprising she’d never encountered him. The school had more than thirty thousand undergraduates. Arnault had earned a B.A. in art history, then completed his MFA. He’d been teaching at Newhall Community College, when he quit to join the police force.

Nicole wondered what had happened to make him change direction so completely. He’d been a beat cop for a couple of years before earning several promotions that landed him on the elite Robbery and Homicide squad.

When she finished reading about Arnault, she thought of David and put in a call to the hospital. They connected her to his room, and he picked up.

“Hey,” he said. “What’s going on with Steph? Have you gotten the money to the kidnappers yet?” He sounded more clear-headed than he had earlier.

“David,” she said. “We can’t discuss this on the phone. You never know who might be listening. Everything’s going according to plan. I just have to wire them the money. It’s all working out. Okay?”

“Yeah. But will you call me when the money is wired? I’m just lying here, going crazy. I don’t mean to be a whiner, but—God, I’m so worried about her.”

“I know. But I’m sure it’s going to be okay. I’m following the kidnappers’ directions, understand? We should have her home in a day or two.”

“Thanks,” David’s voice was thick, as if he were crying. “Thank you, Nicole. I knew I could count on you.”

After they hung up, Nicole felt guilty that she hadn’t called David earlier. In the crush of events, her thoughts had been elsewhere.

She spent the rest of the afternoon finishing up her report on Ashley for Rexton. She was relieved that she’d managed to track down more of Ashley’s past, confirm that Ashley was an identity assumed by someone named Jessica Reese, and furnish proof that Jessica was a criminal. She couldn’t hand the report over to the police because of confidentiality rules. But she was sure Rexton would. Maybe that would get the police focused on locating Ashley.

She showed the report to Jerry, who leaned back in his chair and read it while she waited. “Great detective work,” he said. “Go ahead and send it to Rexton.”

It was three in the afternoon when she emailed the report. She was looking over her next assignment when someone tapped on her office door.

“Come in,” she said.

It was Joanne. “You got a minute?”

“Of course,” Nicole said. “What’s up?”

Joanne sat down and studied Nicole before she spoke. “That’s exactly what I was going to ask you. Are you going to tell me what’s going on? Anyone can see you’re under a lot of stress. At first I thought it had something to do with techie boy, like you were lovesick or something. But I can see it’s more serious than that. Come on,” she said. “I’m your friend. Maybe I can help.”

Nicole looked away. It was tempting to pour out the whole story to Joanne. But what would that accomplish? It wouldn’t lighten her burden, nor could Joanne do anything to help. This would be one more person in the loop, worrying about Steph and asking for updates.

Nicole was quiet, searching around for an explanation that would sound convincing. Finally, she said, “Stephanie’s not well, and they’re doing a bunch of tests. I’ve been worried, that’s all.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear it,” Joanne said. “Keep me posted, okay?” But her expression suggested she wasn’t buying it. More tellingly, she didn’t ask questions about the nature of Steph’s illness, something she’d normally have done.

At four o’clock., Nicole shut down her computer and called the number on the card Arnault had given her. She spoke to a woman who said she’d send an unmarked car to Centennial Park immediately. With this out of the way, Nicole left for the long drive to retrieve the bundle of phony cash. It wasn’t until close to six thirty that she pulled into her parking spot in her condo’s garage. She stopped the elevator on the first floor to check her mailbox for a note or notice of a delivery. But there was nothing.