“Miss Gregory?” As Heather nodded, the housekeeper said, “Please come in. I’m Mrs. Thornton.” She stepped aside to allow Heather to enter.
Heather offered her hand, “It’s nice meeting you, Mrs. Thornton.”
The brown skinned older woman smiled. She nodded her regal head, saying, “It’s good to meet you, too, young lady. So sad it has to be like this... so sad. Mr. Montgomery’s in his study.”
Heather knocked briefly on the open paneled door before walking in. “Quinn. Any news?”
Quinn stood with his back to her, staring down into the grate. Logs were in place but they weren’t lit. The afternoon sunshine spilled through the louvered blinds covering the windows. He didn’t speak or so much as turn when she said his name. He couldn’t. His throat muscles felt as if they were locked with despair.
The slump of his powerful shoulders, the open whisky bottle on the mantel were all indications that something was very wrong. Even though her heart filled with dread and she feared the worst, she went to him. He was hurting... badly. It never occurred to Heather not to respond to that need.
“Tell me.” Her small slender fingers curled over his forearm. She could feel the tension of his large muscular frame through the layers of a navy blue wool suit jacket and cream silk shirt.
“She’s gone. Cindy’s run away.” His tone was low and raw with pain.
“Oh, no.” Heather unwittingly tightened her hold on him.
“I’ve made a mess of things.”
Uncertain as to what to say, for she knew words couldn’t bring Cynthia back or ease his fears, Heather remained silent while her tender heart went out to him.
“I handled this whole pregnancy thing wrong. I was just so angry, so upset that I didn’t try hard enough to reach her.” Slowly he turned toward Heather, allowing her to view the anguish he couldn’t hide. His eyes shimmered with unshed tears, his face gaunt with worry. His stomach was burning as if it were on fire.
For once Quinn welcomed the pain. He’d let Peggy down. She had left Cynthia in his care. She trusted him to raise their daughter and keep her safe. He had failed. Over the years, he had become consumed by his own sense of guilt and grief that he had shut Cindy out.
Peggy’s death had been such a shock. It had happened so suddenly. There had been no time to resolve the division between them. She had died angry and upset with him. That pain had been something no amount of time could ease.
“Quinn, it’s not your fault. You made mistakes, yes. But you tried, you really did try to help her through this. Besides, neither one of us is totally blameless. I felt something was wrong on Saturday. But I thought it was connected to her disagreement with you. Maybe if I had tried harder, I could have reached her. I don’t know. But blaming ourselves is not going to bring her back any sooner.”
“I’m scared for her, Heather. She’s only a baby. She doesn’t know anything about being on her own. I lost a brother to the streets. I won’t lose my little girl. I can’t...”
Heather silently prayed for Cynthia’s safety as she squeezed Quinn’s hand reassuringly. She held on to him, hoping he would allow her to share some of his pain. He was such a strong man, sometimes a bit too proud. He’d been alone for so long that he’d become an expert at locking his emotions deep inside himself.
Quinn hurt. Oh, how he hurt. She offered comfort and compassion. He didn’t fight it, he simply accepted. There would be plenty of time later to analyze, but not now.
Where had it all gone wrong? Was it when Peggy died? All he had ever meant to do was love Cynthia, give her everything he and Peggy had planned for her long before she was even born. Cynthia… Quinn unwittingly clung to Heather’s hand and a bitter sob caught in his throat.
“She’ll be back, Quinn. I just know it.”
By focusing on Heather’s words, he was able to ease the pain in his stomach and allow himself to gain control of his emotions. He took slow, deep steadying breaths, forcing his lungs to empty, then fill again.
Suddenly, he dropped her hand and he moved away, embarrassed by his weakness. Startled by the rapid change in his demeanor, it took Heather a few moments to recover. She had given as well as received comfort from his closeness.
Quinn was infuriated with himself. Why couldn’t he be around her without baring his very soul to her. Hell! Another few seconds and he would have broken down entirely.
“Care for a drink?” he asked stiffly.
“It’s a little early for me.”
Quinn didn’t allow himself to meet her frankly assessing gaze. He stared at the amber liquid in the glass he recovered from the mantel.
“I talked to as many of Cynthia’s classmates as I could before I left school. No one has seen her.”
He watched her as she sat in the leather armchair beside the stone fireplace. “I had the same idea. I looked for her address book, but I couldn’t find it. I was hoping to find a name of a friend she might have turned to.”
Heather couldn’t tell him that Cynthia had no friends at school. The girl didn’t have a clue as to how to make friends. “What makes you so certain she has run away?”
Heather was wearing a knee-length black straight skirt. Crossing shapely legs covered by sheer black hose, she unwittingly drew his gaze. She shrugged out of a man-tailored, black leather jacket. Her silk blouse was tangerine. Her braids curled softly against her shoulders. Small gold hoops dangled in her earlobes when she moved.
“Cynthia left this in her room.” He held out a single sheet of pink paper, silently cursing the tremor in his hand.
Heather read it twice. “She has to go away because she couldn’t tell you the truth? What truth? What could be worse than being pregnant?”
“How the hell should I know?” he growled in frustration. “You’re the expert. Tell me.”
“I wish I knew,” she said thoughtfully. “What’s being done to find her? It’s too soon to call the police, I suppose?”
He said, “I’ve a few connections on the force, so I contacted them anyway. At this point I was told all I can do is stay by the phone in case she tries to call. I’ve checked with the airlines and the train stations.” He thrust his hands into his pockets. “I don’t mean to take this out on you. It isn’t you she ran away from.” He stared down at the patterned carpet for an extraordinary length of time. Finally he said impatiently, “I should be out there trying to find her!”
The telephone rang. Quinn grabbed for it. “Montgomery residence. Darnell? Any news?” He perched on the edge of the desk. Absently he loosened then removed a cream and navy patterned silk tie as he spoke into the receiver. His movements were jerky, disjointed, unusual for him. He shoved the tie into his jacket pocket, releasing the buttons near his dark brown throat. “No... keep at it. Call when you have anything... anything at all.”
Heather listened, anxious but hopeful.
“That was a friend of mine, Darnell Hunter,” he explained after returning the phone to its cradle. “He and three of my associates are out checking the truck stops, bus depots, and rest areas on all the major freeways surrounding Detroit. The patrol cars are out. They’re all circulating a picture of Cindy.”
“What about R.A.P. Hotline? The Runaway Assistance Program of Michigan? Did you call them?”
“Yeah. I want my little girl back... safe and in one piece.”
“Quinn, please. You’re tormenting yourself.”
“I should be out there doing something... anything!”
“What if Cynthia calls and you’re not here? What if she changes her mind and wants to come home? She would want to talk to you, wouldn’t she? Quinn, I think you’re really needed here. The police may even need more information.”
“It’s so damn frustrating.”
Heather nodded.
“Quinn, how much money does she have?”
He straightened slowly, then said, “I don’t know.”
“Does Cindy have her own savings account?”
“She has a checking account. She also has a trust fund. Her mother and I started it for her when she was a baby. But she can’t touch it until she’s twenty-one. The insurance money went into CD’s for her after her mother died.”
Heather ignored the last. “Her own checking account. Why?”
“Expenses. When she needs more, she just tells me and I have my secretary make a deposit into her account. She charges her clothes to my accounts.”
“Are you saying she has access to your credit accounts, such as in a bank card? Quinn, she could have charged an airline ticket to South AmEricia by now.” Heather knew she made him angry, but she didn’t care.
“For heaven’s sake, she’s fifteen years old. How could you allow her access to so much money?”
Quinn stiffened at the disapproval all over her face. The truth hurt, especially coming from Heather. He cared what she thought of him. He wanted her respect. Obviously he was failing at that, too.
“Cynthia’s my daughter. I trust her.” Quinn’s face was cold and unyielding. “How was I to know she’d take off like this? She has to have clothes!”
She had really ticked him off now. Heather pressed her lips tight in frustration. Determined not to let her emotions get the best of her, she asked, careful to keep her voice level, “How much does she usually have in her checking account? Twenty dollars? Forty? She couldn’t have gotten very far on fifteen dollars.”
“Just a moment.” He went to the telephone and began punching out a number. When he completed the call, he said in a dry tone, “My secretary deposited six hundred dollars into the account this morning. She normally handles Cynthia’s expenses.”
Was it any wonder Cynthia believed her father didn’t love her? His secretary knew more about his child than he did. Heather didn’t have the heart to point that out to him. His dark face appeared haggard, as if he’d aged twenty years in the span of a few seconds.
“I should have had sense enough to...” his voice trailed off. He found the situation chilling. The buck stopped with him.
The quiet was unnerving. The only noise in the room came from the grandfather clock in the corner.
He couldn’t hold back the words anymore than he could contain the pain. His voice was tight with self-loathing when he finally spoke. “I’ve been living on the fringes of my daughter’s life. She did so well in school before we lost Peggy, always at the top of her class.” He hesitated. “She despised the boarding schools I sent her to after her mother died. I just didn’t know how to take care of a little ten year old girl. After that, she was always in trouble. I kept moving her from school to school.” He paused, finding it difficult to go on.
“Quinn, you don’t—”
“No, let me finish. When Cindy begged to come home, I let her. I didn’t know what else to do. Over the years I’ve gotten into the habit of giving her what she wanted. I wanted her to have the advantages that I didn’t have as a kid. Now I realize I’ve given her too much, and without adequate supervision. You’re right. I’ve been a lousy father.”
Although Heather longed to go to him, she couldn’t. She’d done it again, accused him of being an inadequate father. “Quinn, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just want you to realize that Cynthia needs you. Now more than ever before.”
There was a tap on the open door before Mrs. Thornton entered with a tray of coffee and plate of homemade cookies. She placed the tray on the coffee table in front of the sofa. “Thought ya’ll could use a little something.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Thornton.”
“I heard the phone?” she asked anxiously.
“There isn’t any news about Cynthia. I’ll let you know as soon as we hear.”
She nodded before leaving.
Heather moved to the sofa and began pouring coffee from the sterling silver pot. She held out a cup to Quinn, who was pacing the length of the fireplace.
“Pacing won’t bring her back any sooner. Maybe if we put our heads together, we can come up with a solid clue. Do you think she’s alone?”
“Do you mean—”
“Perhaps she and the baby’s father decided to run off and get married.”
“Well, there’s no mention of the guy in her note. I almost wish she were with him. At least I’d know she wasn’t alone.” Quinn frowned.
“Yeah, I know what you mean.” She held out his cup.
“Thanks.” He sat down on the cushion next to hers.
“On Saturday Cynthia got really upset when I explained that I wanted the four of us to sit down and plan the future. I suspect it has something to do with the boy. Quinn, she loves you so much, and she wants your approval, even if she’s gotten herself involved with someone she knows you won’t like.”
“I don’t even like considering that possibility.” Quinn brooded, ignoring the coffee cup in his hand. As of yet he hadn’t even been able to come to terms with the fact that his fifteen-year-old baby had been sexually active. But with some smart-ass punk? How in the world could he help her when he couldn’t find her? His eyes and mouth were bracketed by worry lines.
“Cream, sugar?”
“I take it black.”
“Mmmm, I’m sure that does wonders for your ulcer.”
A crooked smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. His gaze traveled over the delicate lines of Heather’s features. He found something new in her eyes each time he looked into their warm brown depths.
“I just wish there was some news,” she whispered. “We just have to remember that Cynthia is a bright, gifted young woman. And we’ll get her back. And then we’ll help her through this together.”
“Five o’clock,” he said unnecessarily as the clock chimed. Quinn surged to his feet, putting the still full cup back on the tray. He roamed the room, his footsteps soundless on the Oriental carpet.
“Quinn, does Cynthia have a diary or journal?”
He stared at Heather hopefully for a moment. “Yes, she does. Do you think she might have left it in her room?”
“It’s worth a look.”
He grabbed Heather’s hand and pulled her along with him. When they reached the foyer that opened on one wall to a wide staircase, the doorbell sounded. Their gaze locked in expectation for an instant before he hurried to the door.
“Quinn! Darling!” The elegant brunette hurled herself into his arms.
Heather stiffened as she watched the interplay.
“I’m so sorry, I came as soon as I heard. I was out shopping for the twins. Darnell couldn’t reach me when he left the office. Oh, darling, you must be absolutely frantic. Has there been any news?” she asked, studying him with wide blue eyes. With every hair in place, she was immaculately dressed in a bright blue knit dress and matching coat. At five-nine, she was as slim and strikingly lovely as any runway model in New York or Paris.
“Nothing,” he said, disengaging himself and ushering her inside.
“Heather Gregory, Elaine Hunter. Heather is Cindy’s school counselor. Elaine and her husband Darnell are old family friends.”
Heather smiled warmly, clearly shocked by her initial tinge of jealousy.
After the two had greeted each other, Quinn explained, “We were on our way up to Cindy’s room. Thought she might have left her diary behind. It might give us a clue to her plans.”
Heather volunteered, “I’ll look.”
“Thanks. It’s the first door on the right, at top of the stairs. Would you care for coffee, Elaine? We were in the study.” Cynthia’s room was done in pink and white, very pretty and girlish. A search of the nightstand and dresser proved fruitless. Heather spotted the gilt-framed photograph on the vanity. It pictured a much younger Quinn with his arms around an unbelievably beautiful young woman.
Her slender frame, almost ethereal features, and striking coffee and cream beauty reminded Heather of Cynthia. In fact, she was holding baby Cynthia against her small breasts, a radiant smile on her lips as she looked into the camera lens. They were a trio filled with happiness and love.
Heather felt as if she’d been punched in the chest as she studied the other photographs. Quinn and Peggy had evidently been very much in love and thrilled by their daughter. She had no reason to be upset. It was no surprise that Quinn had been deeply in love with his wife. He had told her as much himself. So why had seeing that love hurt so?
By the time Heather left the girl’s room, she was convinced that Cynthia had taken the address book and her diary with her. Intent on taking a few moments to sort out her thoughts, Heather went into the formal living room to the left of the foyer. Above the marble mantel was a huge oil portrait of Peggy Montgomery. She was captured for all time in a stunning concoction of cool blues and silver. The colors in her gown were echoed in the elegantly appointed room. She represented feminine perfection, the pinnacle of beauty and black womanliness.
As she looked at the likeness, Heather wondered if Quinn would ever have room in his heart for a new woman, a new love? Somehow she doubted it. Any woman in her right mind would know that although he was handsome and he was sexy, he was not available. He still cared too much about his late wife. The one thing Heather prided herself on was her common sense. It was time she started using it.
Quinn was speaking on the telephone, when Heather returned to the study.
“Anything?” Elaine asked from where she sat on the sofa. She patted the place beside her.
“No. She probably took it with her.” Heather asked, “Any word?” as she sat down.
Elaine sighed, shook her head. “He’s talking to his late wife’s sister in New York.” Elaine was frankly curious about Heather. “We’re summer neighbors. We own adjoining lots in Traverse Bay. In fact, my twin boys and Cindy practically grew up together on the beach,” Elaine said, with Quinn’s deep baritone in the background. “Peggy and I were close friends. Quinn and my husband Darnell have been friends since law school days.”
Uncertain as to whether she should be hearing any of this, Heather picked up her cup, but put it down again. The beverage was cold. She occupied herself by lacing her icy hands together in her lap.
“Has Cynthia been in trouble in school again this year? She’s had so many problems since Peggy’s death.” Elaine said, her concern evident. “I’ve tried to help her, but no matter how hard I tried I’ve failed to gain her confidence.” Elaine’s eyes were troubled.
“That may be because you’re such a close friend of her father’s. Cynthia’s problems are a bit complicated. But please don’t give up on her.” Heather smiled, deciding she liked the other woman.
“I’m glad you’re here. Quinn shouldn’t be alone tonight. Life hasn’t been easy for Cynthia and Quinn.” Elaine waited expectantly, hoping that Heather would focus on the nature of her relationship with Quinn.
“Did you find it?” Quinn asked as he replaced the receiver.
“No, I’m sorry. Apparently she took it with her.”
Weariness and disappointment were revealed in the lines of his body. He shoved both hands into the pockets of his trousers.
“Quinn, I’ve called the boys in East Lansing, told them to be on the lookout for Cynthia. They’ll call if she comes to them.”
“That was a good idea.” Quinn gazed thoughtfully out at the fading afternoon sun. It had been hours since they discovered his daughter was missing. Everything looked as if she’d been gone since early that morning. With the approaching nightfall his anxiety intensified.
“Is there anything I can do for you before I leave?” Elaine asked. “I wish I could stay, but we have a business dinner tonight with the Bradfords. One of us has to make an appearance. But if you need me, I’ll be happy to come back afterward.”
“Thanks for coming over, Elaine. You and Darnell have done so much already.” Quinn helped her with her coat. “Look, try not to worry,” he said, resting an arm along her shoulders. “We’ll get her back safe.”
“Call when you hear. Promise?”
“Promise.” He smiled at her affectionately, leaning down to kiss her.
“If it weren’t for this stupid dinner, I wouldn’t leave like this.” Elaine brushed at the tears in her eyes.
“Stop it. I’m fine. Besides, Heather has agreed to stay. Let me walk you to the door.”
“Alright.” To Heather, she said, “I’m glad I had a chance to meet you. I hope to see you again, under less strenuous circumstances.”
Heather nodded goodbye and watched as Quinn showed Elaine out, then wandered aimlessly around the room. Stopping at a bookshelf, she read the names on the spines of the books. Most were heavy law books, but there were also favorites of Heather’s such as John Wideman, J. California Cooper and Martia Golden. But her thoughts were far away from this room. They were with Cynthia. She uttered a silent prayer: Please, Heavenly Father, let her be safe. Heather turned at the sound of Quinn’s entry, hoping she looked calm and steady.
“Heather?” He approached her with long quick strides. “Did the phone ring while I was out of the room?”
“No one called.”
He swore, crossing to the mantel. Picking up the near empty squat tumbler, he downed the drink in a single swallow.
She said his name softly: “Quinn...”
A vein in his neck throbbed as if he were gritting his teeth when he asked gruffly, “You will stay won’t you?”
There was no hesitation on her part. She hated the misery she saw in his dark gray eyes. She nodded.
“For as long as it takes?” He couldn’t begin to express how much her staying mattered to him. Pride be damn, he needed her.
“Yes...” Heather bit her trembling bottom lip. She was close to losing the hold she had on her emotions. She was feeling much too much. Tears were not far away, and they certainly wouldn’t help the situation.
“Thanks,” he said so softly she barely heard him. “Heather I want you to know—”
The telephone rang before he could finish.
Heather’s eyes locked with his. Hope she didn’t vocalize was transmitted to him. Quinn stopped the sound on the second jingle.
“Montgomery,” he answered.