Racing Against Time. Marie Ferrarella

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      Callie looked up from the note she’d just made. “Excuse me?”

      Damn it, what was wrong with him? Rachel was the most important person in his world, how could he have just ignored her like that? What kind of father was he?

      Callie saw Brent square his shoulders like a man prepared to face a firing squad for his transgressions. “This morning when I left the house I was in a hurry. I didn’t kiss Rachel goodbye. It was the first time I didn’t kiss her goodbye.”

      As far as she was concerned, that placed him head and shoulders above a great many fathers she knew. “You’ll kiss her twice to make up for it when we bring her back.”

      “When,” he echoed. He wasn’t the kind of man who deluded himself. He wasn’t an optimist by nature. Yet he wanted to cling to the single word.

      “When,” Callie repeated firmly. As far as she was concerned, it was a promise. She couldn’t operate any other way. Every crime was to be solved, every missing person to be found. The thought of failure was impossible at this juncture. “We’re going to find your daughter, Judge. The success record for recovering children is getting better all the time.”

      “Better” meant that there were failures. But he already knew that.

      No, he couldn’t go there, couldn’t allow himself to think that he might never see Rachel again, never sit at a table again, cheating at Old Maid for the pleasure of seeing her laugh with glee because she’d won again. She was the only bright light in his life, and he would have gladly given up his own life to ensure that she would be returned, unharmed.

      “Judge, the photograph,” Callie prodded gently, nodding toward the frame.

      He took it from his desk and handed it to her. Callie quickly removed the photograph from its frame. She placed the empty frame on the desk, then looked at the photograph. It was a professional portrait, taken at a studio. Happiness radiated from the small face and intelligent eyes. She could almost hear the little girl giggling.

      “I’ll get this back to you as soon as possible,” Callie promised.

      She had nearly reached the door before the fact that she was leaving registered with Brent. He felt as if a vacuum had suddenly been created around him. He knew he couldn’t just stay here.

      “Wait.” He threw off his robes, tossing the black garment in the general direction of his chair. “I’m coming with you.”

      She stopped dead. The sympathy she felt for him did not interfere with her duty. “You know the rules, Judge. You can’t do that.”

      Yes he knew the rules, but he was in no-man’s-land now and rules didn’t work here, didn’t mean anything. “I’m not the judge right now.” Crossing to her, he looked down into her eyes. “I’m Rachel’s father. I’m Brent.”

      She’d called him that once, he recalled. Long ago when they had danced. When Rachel had been safe.

      He was making this hard for her, Callie thought. And though he’d just thrown the title aside, his being a judge might very well be the reason all this was happening. But it was still early and she didn’t want to heap theories on the man until she had a few more facts to work with.

      “I need you to go home,” she told him as gently as possible. “There might be a ransom call.”

      Ransom. Money.

      Bitterness rose up in his throat as he turned the words over in his head. Ever since he could remember, his wealth had always been more a burden than a joy. It had made him doubt who his friends were. Then he’d discovered that Jennifer had been far more attracted to his wealth and his potential prestige than she had been to him.

      And now was money the reason his daughter had been snatched?

      What other conclusion could there be? “Then you do think she’s been kidnapped.” It wasn’t a question, it was a resigned statement.

      Callie surprised him by shaking her head. “It’s far too early in the game to make a call, Jud—Brent,” she said. “But it’s always wise to keep all the options open. I’m still hoping your daughter just ran off. She witnessed a traumatic scene this morning. Anyone would have run off.”

      Another shaft went through his heart. That Rachel had gone through something like that by herself, without having him there to shield her, broke his heart. Rachel was just a baby. Babies were supposed to feel secure, to know nothing but simple, happy times, not see someone they loved killed right before their eyes.

      “She shouldn’t have seen that.”

      Callie heard the accusation in his voice and instinctively knew he was blaming himself. That wasn’t going to help either him or his daughter. “It’s a very hard world, Brent. We can’t protect our children forever.”

      He looked at her. “You have children?”

      “No. I was speaking figuratively.” She had to get going. Callie opened the door behind her. “Go home, Brent. Someone will be there to talk with you shortly—”

      “You,” Brent said firmly. He’d heard via the grapevine that she was an outstanding detective, very much a credit to her father and her family name. All the Cavanaughs were. He wanted, needed, the best right now. “I want you to be the one to come to the house and tell me what’s happening.”

      She was about to protest that she was going to be out in the field, but then stopped herself. She could stretch a minute here, borrow a quarter of an hour there and somehow find the time. He deserved that kind of consideration. Everyone going through what he was going through did.

      Besides, the most odious part of this investigation was still ahead of them. Like it or not, she was going to have to question Brent to make sure that he hadn’t choreographed his own daughter’s abduction for some macabre reason of his own. Of all the things she had to do while working a missing child case, she hated this part most of all. Hated pointing a veiled finger at a parent while their heart was already splintered in a thousand pieces over what might have happened to their child.

      These were the rules, she reminded herself. If they were going to make any headway, she had to follow the rules. It was all any of them had. And in times of turmoil, rules were what held them together when everything around them demanded that they fall apart. Rules and order had been what had kept her going after Kyle had been taken from her. Following rules, keeping to a schedule.

      Placing one foot in front of the other until somehow, paths from here to there were made.

      She was still placing one foot in front of the other, Callie thought. But now she was a little more clear on where she was going. And the place beneath her feet felt a little more like solid ground, a little less like clouds.

      She nodded in response to his request. Or maybe it wasn’t so much of a request as a mandate. Not that she could blame him.

      “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

      He looked at her. It would have to do. “Send in my aide on your way out, will you? He’s probably right outside, trying to hear what’s going on.”

      She nodded, offering him an encouraging smile as she left the chambers.

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