"I'll call Marti's parents."
"Don't do it from work."
"For something like this? Why not?"
"I'll take care of it. If you're not careful, you'll lose your job. Then how will you feel when you learn this was just some typical teenage stunt?"
Samantha didn't pull stunts like this. But Zoe knew as soon as she launched that argument, Anton would bring up the time Sam had said she was going to band recital but went to a boy's house with her best friend instead. Teenagers are teenagers, Zoe. You have a lot more of this kind of stuff to look forward to, he'd said then.
Was she being too protective? "I wouldn't be so worried if she was well. But she's not supposed to exert herself."
It was a reasonable argument, one Anton would understand. But Zoe knew she'd be worried regardless. She'd had some pretty terrible experiences in her day, experiences she'd been working to protect Sam against. The rape that had resulted in her becoming pregnant at fifteen was one of them. Just imagining her daughter in the hands of a man like the one who'd forced her onto the floor of her own father's trailer made her body go clammy with sweat. Had someone spotted Sam when she sneaked out to the store, thought she was pretty, followed her home?
Zoe didn't realize she had her eyes shut until she heard Jan's voice again. "What's it going to take to keep you working today, Ms. Duncan?"
"I--" Swallowing hard, she looked up. "I'm having some personal problems."
"We don't have time for personal problems."
"I'm afraid this can't be helped. I know these...leases are important."
How? Why? They were nothing compared to what Zoe feared, but she didn't want to overreact. Maybe Anton was right and Sam was merely acting out.
"But could I...could I go home for an hour or so and come back tonight to finish up?"
"You want to leave in the middle of the afternoon, when you have a stack of work on your desk two feet high?"
"Yes." Desperately. Sam was all she could think about.
Jan shook her head. "Women like you are all alike."
"Women like me?" Zoe echoed.
"You come to the interview batting your eyelashes and showing that curvy figure off to best advantage in some short skirt--" she wiggled her flat-as-a-pancake behind as if imitating the way Zoe walked "--and then once you're hired you want to spend all your time on the phone or painting your fingernails."
"Meanwhile, more deserving but less attractive options languish at home, is that it, Jan? Options like your obese daughter-in-law?"
Zoe wasn't sure who was more surprised--Jan or the secretaries sitting close by. All three stopped typing, and their mouths formed perfect Os.
Jan's face went red and her eyes bulged. "What did you say?"
"You heard me," Zoe snapped. "And for your information, I didn't bat my eyelashes or interview in a short skirt. And I've never painted my nails at work."
"Neither have you done the job you were hired for!"
"That's not true! If it was, you would've fired me long ago. You've been looking for any excuse since the day I started," she said. Then she got her purse out of her desk, slammed the drawer and headed for the exit.
"Don't you walk out of here," Jan called after her. "If you do, you won't be allowed back."
Zoe turned at the door. "I won't be coming back."
She tried to appear calm and in control as she presented her back to the sprinkling of agents in the bullpen and the secretaries in the reception area. But inside she was quaking. Quitting her job would cause a major argument between her and Anton. If they broke up, she and Samantha would have to move out. Zoe couldn't afford a place in this area, not on her own, especially now that she was out of a job. That meant Samantha would have to transfer to a different school, and the cycle would start all over--the same cycle Zoe had been trying to break. She'd just climbed a little higher on the ladder of success before falling on her ass again.
"Why did I let that bitch get the best of me?" she asked herself over and over as she stalked to her car. It kept her from focusing on the real problem, the fact that she still hadn't heard from Anton. Why hadn't he called?
She tried him four times in as many minutes, but kept getting the beep that told her he was on another line.
Who was he talking to?
He probably had Sam with him but was caught up on a business call.
Otherwise, he would've switched over.
But when she got home, she discovered that wasn't the case at all. She found her fiance sitting on the front steps, his head bowed. As she drew closer, she could tell he was deep in conversation.
He was talking to someone at the police department, making a report.
Her hand went to her throat. "God, no!"
Concern etched deep grooves in his forehead as he looked up and covered the mouthpiece. "I can't find her, Zoe," he said. "She isn't anywhere."
Zoe fell to her knees on the rough cobblestone walk.
"But I'm getting help." His eyes pleaded with her to understand how badly he felt about taking the situation too lightly. "That's why I haven't tried to reach you. I wanted to...to have something positive to tell you. I wanted to get a detective on this as soon as possible."
"A detective?" she whispered, scarcely able to grasp that her daughter was missing.
"Don't panic." He asked whoever was on the phone to hold and set the cell on the ground. Then he hurried over and pulled her to her feet, supporting her until they were inside the house. "It'll be okay," he said, easing her onto the couch.
He returned to his call as if he could take care of it all. But if he couldn't take care of it, nothing would ever be okay again.
Chapter 4
Samantha tried to peer through the keyhole of the door, but it was useless. She couldn't see anything. She couldn't hear anything, either. Had Tiffany left?
She hoped not. She needed to pee. She'd had to go for a while, but she couldn't get Tiffany to respond. After helping her neighbor in from outside, she'd asked for a way to reach Colin, and Tiffany had said her cell phone was upstairs. Sam had gone up to look for it and Tiffany had followed, telling her it was in this room, the room over the garage. But there wasn't anything in here except a bare mattress. When Sam had turned to question Tiffany about it, Tiffany had shoved her in and locked the door.
Why, Sam couldn't imagine. Tiffany was obviously having some sort of mental breakdown. Maybe she'd actually gone crazy....
It was a chilling thought, perfect for the movies. Picturing herself at school, telling all her friends the dramatic story of how she'd been forced into a room by her neighbor who afterward had to be carted off to an asylum, had kept Sam intrigued for a while. At least the drama of the afternoon had broken up the monotony. But she'd been in here so long she was getting creeped out. Why wouldn't Tiffany let her go home? And where was Colin? Shouldn't he be back from work by now?