Authors: Fern Michaels
Sara's Song (33 page)
Feeling sheepish, Adam lit a cigarette. He rolled down the window a little, ignoring the rain as it shot through the opening in swift, stinging pellets. He lowered the window more to try to read the upcoming street sign. Good, he was in Sara's neighborhood now. All he had to do was go two more blocks, make a right on the road that would take him to the complex to which Sara had fled. He wondered what the strange things were that she'd mentioned when she left the message. Whatever it was, it must have scared her to make her bolt. Aside from last night's irrational behavior, he thought Sara Killian was a levelheaded woman. He corrected the thought. Dr. Killian was an intelligent, levelheaded woman. She wouldn't get spooked for no reason. Doctors couldn't afford to panic. From what he'd seen and observed, they usually had nerves of steel to go with their bedside manners. Whatever the strange thing was, it must have been serious to make someone like Sara leave everything behind.
The car in front of Adam slowed, allowing him to see the rain-swept sign swaying in the windâOxford Garden. Now all he had to do was find the ancient truck and a parking space. He used up twenty minutes looking for the truck and Sara's sister's Jeep. A bolt of lightning, rare at this time of year, ripped across the sky illuminating the buildings signs with arrows pointing in all directions.
Adam hopped from the car and raced to the building. He hoped there was a clothes dryer in there. He had no idea what he could do for his waterlogged deck shoes. He rang the bell once, twice, and then a third time. When there was no response, he turned the door handle. It opened easily to his touch. From the doorway, the fine hairs on his arm prickling, Adam called out. “Sara, it's Adam! Is it okay to come in?” When there was still no answer, he moved cautiously, his heart taking on an extra beat. He kept calling Sara's name as he walked through the living room across to the dining room and then to the small hallway that led to the bedrooms. Obviously his earlier assessment of Sara had been wrong. It was clear she had panicked a second time and was no longer in the apartment. Clothes were everywhere, the closet doors pushed to the side. There was no sign of the heavy black bag Sara always carried with her, confirmation that she was gone.
The bright lights over the vanity were on, but the bathroom was dark. He pushed at the door to shed light from the hallway as he called Sara's name again. He sucked in his breath with a hard swallow when he saw the filled tub and the cord from the blow-dryer that led to the tub. “Son of a bitch!” Stepping backward to the vanity area, he pulled the plug. He moved then, faster than he'd ever moved in his life to try to find the circuit breaker box. He ran his finger down the hard black panel until he found the square he wanted. He shoved it back into place before he raced back to the bathroom. For one brief moment he thought his head was going to rocket right off his shoulders at the sight of the blow-dryer in the water. The floor was soaking wet, a wet towel in the open doorway. What he surmised were Sara's clothes were on the floor in a heap next to the bed. This certainly explained the absence of what Tom called the kick-ass truck. Afraid for her life, Sara had run yet again. Where was the sister? Where was the owner of the apartment? The little he knew about Sara led him to believe she had arranged for them to go somewhere else, somewhere she thought they would be safe. She was willing to take the hit for whatever was going to happen. Now she was on the run. Where would she go? Was anyone helping her? Was she out there in this weird storm, just driving aimlessly, or did she have a destination in mind? He had to admit he didn't know. What he did know was that Sara Killian was in mortal danger.
His deck shoes sloshing on the carpet, Adam looked around for a phone. When he saw it, he sat down on the edge of the bed, and he dialed the number at the house in the canyon. While he waited for Tom to pick up the phone, he cataloged the things on the bed. Aware of the scent of gardenias, he picked up a frothy slip and sniffed. He noticed the tags on the garments laid out across the pillow. Even with so much on her mind, Sara had managed to find the time to buy a new outfit for their date. His eyes started to burn as he looked at what he surmised was debris from the bottom of a purse or bag. A half stick of chewing gum still in the wrapper, a tattered roll of mints, little bits of foil, and what looked like tobacco granules. Either someone had cleaned out her bag or Sara had done it herself. “Tom, it's me. Has Sara called? All right, listen to me. I want you to settle the dogs, leave plenty of food and water for them, and drive down here. Bring my briefcase, some money, and my gun. It's in the top dresser drawer. There is an envelope with cash in the freezer. Dallas always hid cash there under the ice-cube trays. I guess it rubbed off on me. We'll talk when you get here?”
Adam looked at the clock before he walked back to the bathroom to stick his hand in the tub water. It was still warm, which meant Sara hadn't been gone that long. An hour, possibly a little longer. He didn't even want to think about how Sara got out of the tub in time. The water on the floor had to mean she had leapt out, splashing and dripping in the nick of time. His heart started to pound in his chest at the thought.
His eyes wild, Adam looked around.
All of this for a fucking song.
All of this for a fucking song.
At eighteen minutes past seven the doorbell rang. Adam opened it to admit Tom Silk. “I think I got everything,” Tom said. “Do you have any towels?”
Adam was busy shuffling through the papers in his briefcase. He jerked his head in the direction of the bathroom.
“Yow!”
“Yeah, yow. Someone tried to kill Sara Killian. She must have the reflexes of a cat to have gotten out of that tub in time. She's on the run, and we have to find her before that whacko finds her.”
Toweling his hair, Tom said, “My money is on that skinny singer. You said yourself the band was all present and accounted for yesterday. They're all home with their families for the holidays. The singer is single, with only sugar daddies for company. Do you think it's a good idea if I call around to see if I can locate her? I brought her file with me. She has parents here in California.”
“Good idea, but don't alarm the parents. Make up some excuse about delivering a Christmas present or something. Were the dogs okay?”
“Of course. Izzie did something kind of strange this morning. You were still asleep. She had just come down the staircase off the kitchen when she stopped in her tracks, looked around, then beelined to the staircase in the foyer. I don't think her feet touched those front steps. She whined, but she didn't bark. She ran up and down the hall, sniffing and whining. I bet you have yourself a nest of mice somewhere.”
“Thanks for sharing that, Tom. Listen, I feel that time is of the essence. Whoever is after Sara could be following her as we speak. We have to find her.”
“In the city of Los Angeles? Get real, Adam. There is no way. The weather is still as bad as it was when you came down from the canyon. I'll make my calls from the kitchen so we don't get in each other's way.”
“The detective agency is closed for the holidays, so I'm going to try to locate someone from that racetrack where Sandi used to hang out. We don't have much else to go on except that short list of names of Sara's friends the detective provided. I'm going to work on that first. I rather think Dr. Killian is a private person who has little time for friends and socializing. Cross your fingers that we come up with something.”
“Good luck,” Tom muttered as he made his way to the kitchen.
Adam stared at the six names on the investigative report. He mentally erased Nellie Pulaski's name and moved on to Harriet Willowby whose answering machine said she was in New York for the holidays. Janice Baker's husband said she had delivered a seven-pound baby earlier in the day and wasn't available. Nor did he know where Dr. Killian could be reached. The third name was Jack Drake. His answering machine said he was in Hong Kong until January 18. The fifth name was Sara's CPA. Screaming kids and a shrill wife could be heard in the background when the accountant came on the line to say he hadn't seen or heard from Sara since before Thanksgiving. “We have an appointment to do her taxes January 10.” The sixth and last name on the list was Judge Ronald Iverson. The report said the judge was a family friend. Family friends were the kind of people Sara might rely on. It was worth the try. He dialed the number and waited while the phone rang nine times before being picked up. The voice was older-sounding, but cheerful. Adam went into his spiel.
“The judge was here earlier but he went out. Then he came back to take something out of the safe. Sometime's he's forgetful. Someone was waiting outside for him. I saw the headlights. He did say he probably wouldn't be back until tomorrow.”
“This is very important, ma'am. Did the judge say where he was going?”
“No. Even if he did, I wouldn't be at liberty to discuss that with you.”
“Can you tell me this? Has Dr. Sara Killian been to see the judge? I'm afraid something might have happened to her. She's missing. I thought she might have gone to the judge if she thought she was in some sort of trouble.”
“Sara! Sara would never get into trouble. She's too levelheaded. Somebody was here earlier. The judge met them out by the gate and left. Let me look in his appointment book. I'll just be a minute.” Adam tapped his fingers on the end table. He felt his heart start to pound in his chest. “Mr. Lord, is it?”
“Yes. Adam Lord.”
“Sara met with the judge earlier this morning at the courthouse. He entered it in his logbook. He always brings it home at night and makes notes. He didn't make any entries tonight that I can see. What kind of trouble is Sara in?”
“She's missing, ma'am. We don't know where she might have gone. Can you think of anything? I was hoping she went to the judge for help.”
“The judge has a cabin in Alpine Forest, way way up there in the mountains. I suppose it's possible he took her up there if what you say is true. He watched over Sara and her sister because he was such good friends with their father.”
“Is there a phone in the cabin?”
“Mercy no. It's very rustic. I go up once a year to clear away the cobwebs and do a general cleaning. There's no central heat. The cabin is winterized but you have to be a hardy individual to stay there at this time of year. I heard on the radio that heavy snow in the higher elevations was predicted for today as well as the next few days.”
“Can you tell me how to get there, maâam?” Adam carefully wrote down the directions. “Ma'am?” It was a long shot and a wild one at that. His brain whirled as he tried to figure how best to phrase his next question. “Did Sara ever bring Sandi Sims to the house?”
The housekeeper's voice was indignant when she said, “That young woman is no friend of Sara or her sister, Mr. Lord. She's a pest. She used to call here sometimes seven or eight times a day. The judge took an interest in her, and he watches her probation schedule as a personal favor to one of his lawyer friends.”
Adam's fist shot in the air. “Well, thank you very much. If the judge returns this evening, will you tell him I called. I'd like to leave my phone number as well as my cell-phone number.” He repeated the numbers twice to make sure the housekeeper copied them down accurately.
“Bingo, Tom! Did you get anything?”
“Sandi's parents say they haven't seen her in a couple of months. They said she calls every Sunday afternoon. She gave them tickets for a trip to New York after the new year because the mother likes Broadway shows. They said she lives in a very pricey condo in Santa Monica. The father worries about how she pays the mortgage. They sounded like normal parents. What did you get?”
Adam told him. “Do you agree that maybe, just maybe, the judge is one of Sandi's sugar daddies?”
“I'd bet the rent. How about you?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I would, too. Do you think the judge took Sara up to his cabin, or do we think Sara went alone? Would she have given the judge the tape to keep for her. What other reason would she have for going to the courthouse this morning?”
“Maybe she went there to drop off a Christmas present. People do that, Adam. The judge is supposed to be a family friend. It's obvious Sara trusts him.”
“True. But and this is a big âbut' ... Sara probably doesn't know the judge knows Sandi Sims. It's a damn triangle is what it is. I don't know anyone in this town I can call to get a fix on the judge. You're as much of a stranger as I am. Wait a minute, I do know someone. Call Benton Memorial and ask for Harry Heinrick. He probably isn't there at this time of night, so try and weasel his home phone number if you can from the operator. I'll call the CPA back to see if he knows anything.”
The CPA's line was busy. A moment later, Tom chortled. “Got it!”
Adam dialed the number. He didn't realize he was holding his breath until he heard the Hawk's voice on the other end of the line. He identified himself. “I need some help, Mr. Heinrick, and I need it right away. I'm willing to reconsider my decision in regard to the hospital. I think Sara might be in grave danger. No, no, I'm not blaming you or the hospital. I need information. Since you live in the area, I thought you might know or might have heard . . . I need to know what kind of a judge Ronald Iverson is. Not so much in court but in his private life. Do you know? Is there any way you can find out?”
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