can't find any record of her or the child past about three years ago. It's as if they fell out of the sky and into Los Angeles."
"That might have been about the time that Becky's father took off. She's a little vague on the dates."
"Well, if her mother wanted to hide the two of them from the child's father, she did a remarkably good job of it. I'm sure I'll be able to trace them but it could take quite some time."
Flynn leaned forward in his chair. "I'm not all that interested in their past. I want to know where the woman is now. I want to know why she didn't show up when she was supposed to."
"I understand, Mr. McCallister, but as I told you, we're running into walls. Beyond the fact that she left with a man, just as the little girl said, we haven't been able to find out much more. No one remembers the car, except that it was brown or possibly tan or maybe black. No one remembers the man except that he was tall or possibly short and he might have had brown hair, though one of the neighbors distinctly remembers that his hair was red."
Flynn stood up, his movements tight with controlled impatience. "Didn't anyone pay any attention at all?"
"Not really. Apparently, it wasn't at all unusual to see the woman leaving with a man. It was a normal occurrence. There was no reason for anyone to take special note of the child's mother going off for a weekend trip.''
"Except that she didn't come back from this trip."
"Exactly. But there was no way of knowing that ahead of time."
"Have you managed to find out anything at all that might tell us where she went?"
Leon shook his head slowly. "I wish I could say otherwise, but so far we've found very little of any use."
"Let me know if anything changes. You've got my number."
Leon stood up, coming around the desk to open the door for Flynn. "Rest assured, Mr. McCallister, that you will be the first to know if we find out anything helpful. But, frankly, I can't hold out much hope."
The two men shook hands and Flynn stepped out into the hall, listening to the door shut behind him. He didn't move away immediately. He wasn't looking forward to going home and telling Ann that he hadn't found out anything at all. As time passed, it was beginning to look less and less likely that Becky's mother was coming back. How was he supposed to tell a little girl that her mother might never return?
❧
Child and cat stared at each other with equal intensity. Each waiting for the other to make a move. Oscar's paw darted out, catching hold of the old sock and jerking it from Becky's hand. With a triumphant lunge, he was off and running, Becky hot on his trail. Ann looked up from the medical journal she was reading and smiled. She'd been concerned about introducing Becky and Oscar, uncertain of how the big tomcat would take to having his territory invaded by a small human. After some initial caution, Oscar had apparently decided that Becky had been imported solely for his pleasure. When he was tired of playing, Becky was content to sit beside him and pet him. Oscar was in cat heaven.
Ann looked at the clock and frowned. It was only five minutes since the last time she'd looked at the clock. This was ridiculous. Flynn would return as soon as he could. He'd only been gone a little over an hour. As soon as he'd talked to the private detective and found out if there were any leads to Becky's mother, he'd come home. There was no sense in watching the clock.
When the doorbell rang fifteen minutes later, Ann practically flew to the door, Becky hard on her heels. Oscar watched them from a safe perch on the sofa. Ann flung open the door, hoping that she'd be able to read something from his expression. They'd already agreed not to tell Becky where he'd been, so until they could get Becky out of the room, they wouldn't be able to talk openly. But surely he'd find a way to let her know if there was any news.
"Flynn—"
"Mr. Flynn—"
Both sentences came to an abrupt halt. The man standing outside the door
"That might have been about the time that Becky's father took off. She's a little vague on the dates."
"Well, if her mother wanted to hide the two of them from the child's father, she did a remarkably good job of it. I'm sure I'll be able to trace them but it could take quite some time."
Flynn leaned forward in his chair. "I'm not all that interested in their past. I want to know where the woman is now. I want to know why she didn't show up when she was supposed to."
"I understand, Mr. McCallister, but as I told you, we're running into walls. Beyond the fact that she left with a man, just as the little girl said, we haven't been able to find out much more. No one remembers the car, except that it was brown or possibly tan or maybe black. No one remembers the man except that he was tall or possibly short and he might have had brown hair, though one of the neighbors distinctly remembers that his hair was red."
Flynn stood up, his movements tight with controlled impatience. "Didn't anyone pay any attention at all?"
"Not really. Apparently, it wasn't at all unusual to see the woman leaving with a man. It was a normal occurrence. There was no reason for anyone to take special note of the child's mother going off for a weekend trip.''
"Except that she didn't come back from this trip."
"Exactly. But there was no way of knowing that ahead of time."
"Have you managed to find out anything at all that might tell us where she went?"
Leon shook his head slowly. "I wish I could say otherwise, but so far we've found very little of any use."
"Let me know if anything changes. You've got my number."
Leon stood up, coming around the desk to open the door for Flynn. "Rest assured, Mr. McCallister, that you will be the first to know if we find out anything helpful. But, frankly, I can't hold out much hope."
The two men shook hands and Flynn stepped out into the hall, listening to the door shut behind him. He didn't move away immediately. He wasn't looking forward to going home and telling Ann that he hadn't found out anything at all. As time passed, it was beginning to look less and less likely that Becky's mother was coming back. How was he supposed to tell a little girl that her mother might never return?
❧
Child and cat stared at each other with equal intensity. Each waiting for the other to make a move. Oscar's paw darted out, catching hold of the old sock and jerking it from Becky's hand. With a triumphant lunge, he was off and running, Becky hot on his trail. Ann looked up from the medical journal she was reading and smiled. She'd been concerned about introducing Becky and Oscar, uncertain of how the big tomcat would take to having his territory invaded by a small human. After some initial caution, Oscar had apparently decided that Becky had been imported solely for his pleasure. When he was tired of playing, Becky was content to sit beside him and pet him. Oscar was in cat heaven.
Ann looked at the clock and frowned. It was only five minutes since the last time she'd looked at the clock. This was ridiculous. Flynn would return as soon as he could. He'd only been gone a little over an hour. As soon as he'd talked to the private detective and found out if there were any leads to Becky's mother, he'd come home. There was no sense in watching the clock.
When the doorbell rang fifteen minutes later, Ann practically flew to the door, Becky hard on her heels. Oscar watched them from a safe perch on the sofa. Ann flung open the door, hoping that she'd be able to read something from his expression. They'd already agreed not to tell Becky where he'd been, so until they could get Becky out of the room, they wouldn't be able to talk openly. But surely he'd find a way to let her know if there was any news.
"Flynn—"
"Mr. Flynn—"
Both sentences came to an abrupt halt. The man standing outside the door
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