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"Agent Thatcher, wait." A
Steven's heart sank. The last thing he wanted was to give their perp any more media coverage than he'd already received. If Samantha was still alive, it could force him to kill her. If she was dead, the surge of publicity could incite him to do it again.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Marvin demanded.
"I wanted to hear what Agent Thatcher had to say first," A
"Mrs. Eggleston, I don't think that's a good idea at this point."
Marvin Eggleston looked at Steven with challenge in his eyes. "If you're truly doing all you can, then you won't mind the public seeing you do it."
"That's not it at all. Our team psychologist believes whoever took Samantha may have done it to call attention to himself. If you talk to the media, he will have what he wants."
A
"I will consider your position, Agent Thatcher," was all she said.
"I need to talk with the names you've given me," Steven said evenly, controlling his frustration. "Please don't go to the media. In my experience, that would be the wrong thing to do."
"I understand, Agent Thatcher," she said quietly. "I understand."
So did Steven, all too well. He understood she was a desperate mother willing to do anything to get her child back and that even though she'd given him her full cooperation in his investigation this desperate mother needed to feel she was doing something. Something, anything was better than the helpless waiting.
He also understood he'd be seeing the Egglestons on the never-ending CNN loop before midnight. Dammit.
Chapter Nine
Saturday, October I, 6:00 P.M.
Je
Adam's memorial di
So move, Je
But still her feet didn't move. The dread of how it would be overpowered family traditions.
Je
And that would be the first bad moment-having to reach across Adam's place setting to grasp Seth's hand. It was such a physical reminder that Adam was no longer there.
Like she could ever forget. But somehow reaching across his not-to-be-used butter plate made it worse. It was stupid, she knew, but true. The next bad moment would come when they all toasted him. Je
Lifting her foot to take the first step, Je
She heard the door open behind her and caught the jingle of bangles-Allison's daughter Charlie-along with a whiff of what was to be di
The bangles jingled louder until eleven-year- old Charlie dropped down to sit on the step beside her. She crossed her arms, creating another jingle from the bracelets that hung from both wrists. "Hi, Aunt Je
"Why so glum?" Je
"I hate sloppy joes," Charlie grumbled. "Why did Uncle Adam pick that for his favorite?"
Je
Charlie puckered her lips. "If I knew I wouldn't be asking, would I?"
Je
Charlie brought her back to reality with an amused chuckle and the memory slipped away like a wave going back to the sea. Wait, Je
"He really said that about my mom's cooking?"
Je
"And I thought I was the only one."
She swallowed again, willing away the emotion that threatened to overwhelm. "You're not." She pulled herself to her feet. "But this means a lot to your mom, so let's go."
Saturday, October I, 7:00 P.M.
"You wanted to see me, Dad?"
Victor Lutz looked up from the ledgers he'd been reviewing. Rudy stood in the doorway of his home office, the breadth of his shoulders completely filling the opening. His son was a handsome boy. Dark hair, bronze skin, strong jaw. Got his looks from his side of the family, thank God. "Yes, Rudy, come in and sit down. Did I also hear your friends out in the hall?"
Rudy sat down in one of the rich wine leather chairs and slid into a slouch. "Yeah, we're going down to the Y to lift weights." He winked. "Gotta keep my throwing arm in shape for next week."
"Yes. That's a good idea. Rudy, we need to talk about this problem at the school."
Rudy's smile faded. "I thought you fixed it."
"Blackman promised you'd play next week. But I'm not certain he'll keep his word."