In Broad Daylight (10 page)

result of a combination of stress and vulnerability. And besides, men just didn't fall all

over themselves to be with a woman who was pregnant with another man's child. Granted,

she wasn't showing yet, but she would be. By and by she would be.

Her waist had already thickened by half an inch, despite her bouts of morning sickness.

Now that they appeared to be a thing of the past, she knew her body was going to begin to

assume a ripening shape. How attractive was that to the average man?

Oh, but Dax Cavanaugh was anything but average.

She upbraided herself for letting her thoughts get tangled again. Okay, so he'd shaken up

her world, but, like life in the aftermath of an earthquake, it had to go on.

"Sorry, you'll have to turn around, ma'am. This area's restricted."

Bunking, she realized that she'd stopped moving as she looked for an available space, and

a policeman had ducked his head into her car on the passenger side. He looked as if he was

running very short on patience. The officer probably thought she was part of the media,

Brenda realized.

She said the first thing that came into her head. "I spoke to the kidnapper yesterday."

Belatedly, she realized that had a rather crackpot sound to it. "I'm Annie Tyler's

teacher." The policeman continued to look dubious. Brenda looked toward Dax's car again.

"Ask Detective Cavanaugh. He'll vouch for me."

For a second, she thought the policeman was going to refuse and demand she leave. But

then, with a sigh he pressed down on the button on his walkie-talkie, backing away from

her car as he did so.

"Wait here," he ordered sternly.

Because he was standing directly in front of her car now, there was nothing else she could

do. "I'm not going anywhere," she promised.

He lowered his voice, murmuring something into the mouthpiece. Within two minutes, she

saw the front door to the mansion opening. All around her, she both saw and felt a

heightened anticipation as the members of the fourth estate moved forward as one.

Instead of one of theTylers, considered far and wide to be one ofHollywood's golden

couples, or their lawyer, it was Dax who emerged from the sprawling building. Looking

neither left nor right, he ignored the media and walked directly toward the policeman. And

her.

Obviously the officer had given him coordinates ahead of time, she thought. Either that,

or the man had an uncanny homing device to go along with his uncanny lips.

Get a grip,she warned herself.

"It's all right, Hadley," Dax told the policeman as soon as he was within hearing range.

Then he stopped and looked into the car. A din of noise accompanied him and she realized

that there were reporters hurling questions at him while scores of cameras rolled in hope

of securing something new, something exciting.

Dax grinned at her, causing her pulse to skip a beat or two before suddenly launching into

four-four time. "I was beginning to think you'd changed your mind." He pointed to a place on the far left, close to the building. "Park over there."

Nodding, she did as he told her.

All last night, after she'd driven away, he'd tried not to give Brenda too much thought,

concentrating instead on the case and what they had so far. But the sensation he'd

experienced kissing her, no matter what kind of a spin he kept trying to put on it, insisted

on popping up again and again, taking his system hostage each time. Vividly replaying itself

all through his body.

Whatever the reason, there was no denying the fact that the lady had shaken him up. He

knew he wanted a second go-around, if only to see if what he'd experienced the first time

was just a figment of his over-stressed imagination, or if he'd actually felt what he'd felt.

But right now, there was something more pressing to take his attention. He walked up to

her vehicle just as she got out. He noticed that she'd brought the flyers with her.

"Get any rest?" he asked as he took the boxes from her hands.

"Not much," she admitted, keeping her voice low. Wanting to keep her response away from the prying ears of the media.

How did people in the public eye stand it, she wondered. How had Annie stood it, the few

times she'd been allowed out with her parents? She was such a shy little girl, she must

have been terrified to have these one-eyed beings invade her world.

He used his body to shield her from the cameras trained in their direction. "Me, neither."

Brenda paused to look at him. It wasn't clear to her whether he was telling her that the

case, or what had transpired between them, was the reason for his flirtation with

insomnia.

But there was no way she was about to ask, if for no other reason than it seemed

disrespectful to Annie and what she was going through. So she decided just to assume he

was talking about the case.

"No new clues came in?"

He indicated that she should walk in front of him to the house. She realized that he was

shielding her and flashed a grateful smile at him.

"A few hundred loonies have already called in," he told her. It hadn't taken long for the deluge to begin. "Every case that gets on the news attracts them."

She tried to decipher his meaning. "But you have to go through each one, just in case

there's a germ of truth to it, right?"

He nodded grimly. "Right."

Luckily, he hadn't been one of the people manning the phones. Since he was the primary on

the case, he could allocate that job to others. He'd put in his time on other cases and had

quickly come to the conclusion that he hated being behind a desk, hated having to deal with

what he felt were the sidelines. He liked being out in the field, sifting through the

evidence or potential evidence firsthand. Being on top of things. There was nothing like it.

He'd never been one to take life in small doses. And standing on the sidelines was enough

to drive him crazy.

Which was why he empathized with Brenda York. He could see the frustration in her eyes

when she thought about being kept from the front lines. For now, since she was helpful,

since she might prove to be further useful, he saw no reason not to keep her in the loop.

Opening the door for her, he ushered her inside the mansion and past a distraught looking

Martha Danridge, who in Brenda's estimation looked even paler than she had yesterday.

Even before they took one step toward the living room, Brenda could hear the sound of

raised voices. Or rather, one raised voice. Simon Tyler was making his grave displeasure

known to anyone within earshot. If the look on Martha's face was any indication, the very

sound threatened to bring down the mansion's walls.

"Just what the hell are you people doing to find her?" Simon Tyler was demanding of

Nathan when they entered the room.

Dax's partner looked amazingly unruffled and calm in the face of the storm he was

weathering. "Mr. Tyler, we already explained that we have—"

"I don't want words, I want action," Simon bellowed. "I want Annie found. I want every inch of this city covered until you find my daughter, do I make myself clear?"

For Brenda, the show of parental concern was a matter of too little too late.Why didn't

you show her you cared this much when she was here?

The words burned on her tongue. Brenda bit them back, knowing she couldn't say anything.

Knowing that this wasn't the time, but still thinking that it would have done Annie a world

of good to feel, just once, that her father actually cared about what happened to her. It

might not have changed a single thing that was happening now, but it would have been good

for the little girl to know nonetheless.

She couldn't help wondering how much was really concern for Annie and how much was

anger because something of Simon Tyler's had been taken.

"We're already doing that, Mr. Tyler," Dax told the man as he entered the room.

Simon swung around to face Dax and Brenda. His eyes narrowed, as if he was trying to

deduce her identity as he looked at her.

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded.

Rebecca turned her head from the cushion. She'd been lying on the sofa the entire time.

Her eyes were bloodshot, as if she had spent the night crying. Brenda felt guilty over the

condemning thoughts she'd had about the woman. Maybe, beneath all her carelessness,

Rebecca Allen-Tyler actually cared about her daughter.

Sitting up from her reclining position, she swung her legs down to the floor, her hands

gripping either side of the sofa. Her eyes were accusing as she looked at the person her

husband was addressing.

Rebecca's attractive face tightened into a scowl. "That's Brianne something-or-other.

The woman who lost Annie."

«^»

"
B
rendaYork,"Brenda correctedthe woman without missing a beat. Despite her efforts to the contrary, she'd never met Annie's father before. "My name is Brenda York, not

Brianne and I'm your daughter's teacher, Mr. Tyler."

Simon glared at her before turning to Dax. "What is she doing in my house?" he

demanded.

"She ran off flyers to help find your daughter." Dax set the boxes down on the coffee

table, then took off the lid from the one on the top.

Simon barely glanced at the exposed flyers. "I can have someone at my studio run off ten

thousand of those," he snapped dismissively.

It was evident that Simon Tyler was accustomed to instilling fear into those around them.

Equally evident was that Dax was far from intimidated, or impressed. If anything, he was

struggling to hold his annoyance in check.

"The point is, Mr. Tyler, it's already done." Brenda had the distinct impression that Dax was being protective of her. It left her a little in awe as well as striking a receptive chord

within her. She couldn't recall the last time someone had been protective of her. "She's

also the one who spoke to the kidnapper yesterday when they called."

Simon turned toward his wife. It was well known that he didn't like being caught

unprepared and this piece of news had done just that. "I thought you said that Martha

spoke to them."

Rebecca looked bewildered as she shook her head. "I told her to."

Dax cut in before they could get sidetracked. "Your housekeeper was afraid she'd say

something wrong." He nodded toward Brenda. "Mrs. York stepped in and pretended to be

her. It's because of her quick thinking that we got the kidnapper to agree to give us proof

of life."

"Proof of life?" Rebecca repeated numbly, her eyes widening with barely controlled fear.

"It means they have to give us proof that your daughter is still alive," Nathan explained.

"Like a photograph with her holding up a current newspaper with the date exposed."

"You mean you think she might be—" Unable to finish, Rebecca covered her mouth with

her trembling hands and began to sob. "Oh God, Simon, what if she's—she's—" The sobs

grew louder.

After a beat, her husband went to her, putting his arm around her shoulders. They looked

like any two parents, caught in the vice of a terrible tragedy, not the golden couple envied

by so many.

Brenda looked at Dax. The photograph had been his idea, not hers. Why was he telling

them that she was the one who'd thought of it? Was he trying to make them bury their

initial animosity against her? Strictly speaking, she knew that the kidnapping wasn't her

fault, but theTylerscertainly thought so.

The detective was going above and beyond the call of duty, she thought. Her eyes

conveyed as much to him. As they met his, Dax merely lifted one shoulder in a slight,

dismissive gesture.

Commiserating with the woman's anguish, Brenda was quick to tell her, "He's calling today

with details where we can find the photograph. That means Annie's still alive."

Still sitting beside his wife, Simon looked up sharply at Brenda. "He?" he echoed. "Then the kidnapper is a man?"

Dax took over. "We're not sure. The voice was filtered through a synthesizer."

Impatience stamped Simon's handsome features. His scowl deepened. "Do you have any

leads at all?"

"We're pretty sure it's a couple who came to your daughter's school yesterday morning,"

Dax told them. "Asking for a tour of the place."

"'Pretty sure.'" Simon spat out the words mockingly. "But you don't know."

Dax struggled to hold on to his temper. It wasn't the first time angry victims jumped all

over him. But it did make his job harder. "The address the couple gave the headmaster

turned out to belong to a recycling plant, so I'd say right now they're our best bet."

The director looked unimpressed and frustrated. "And just where is this 'best bet' right

now?"

Dax measured out each word, knowing ahead of time how it would be received. "We don't

know."

Simon got into his face. "Well, damn it, find them! Find them before—"

The ringing telephone made the rest of his tirade disappear.

Everyone froze, all staring at the telephone. Simon moved to pick up the receiver, but Dax

caught his wrist before he could lift it from the cradle. "What the—"

Dax waved his hand at him, looking toward the technician closest to him. The latter was

set up next to the phone with a portable telephone that had been brought in and hooked

up. The man nodded and Dax released Simon's hand.

The instant he did, Simon yanked the receiver up, pressing it to his ear. The technician