In Broad Daylight by Marie Ferrarella Read Free Book Online Page B

either parent. "The kidnapper seemed to know that neither of Annie's parents
    were home."

    Dax nodded. "They did their homework. This wasn't a random snatch, this was very well
    planned."

    The thought chilled her. Had she been observed as well? In the classroom, had someone
    been watching? For how long? The north side of her classroom was completely exposed
    with a large bay window that comprised half the wall. She pushed the thought away.

    She saw Nathan retrieve his notepad and then place it back into his pocket. "You know,"
    she told Dax, "you've got pretty lousy handwriting. You should do something about that."

    It was nothing he hadn't heard before. His sister Janelle had said his notes all looked as
    if they'd been done by a drunken spider whose legs had been dipped in ink. "You managed
    to read it, didn't you?"

    She laughed shortly. "Only because I'm versed in scribble."

    "Whatever it takes," he responded. Dax turned his attention to the housekeeper. Seeing
    him look at her, the woman tried to rally but rising from the sofa seemed to be more than
    she could manage at the moment. He crouched before her. "Have you noticed any strangers
    around here lately?"

    Martha didn't have to pause to reflect. "Mrs. Tyler's having the guest house remodeled."

    That meant that any number of people could be on the premises without having to justify
    themselves. Anyone could have passed himself off as a plumber, an electrician, a plasterer.

    Dax shook his head. "Plenty of opportunity for people to be coming and going." He looked at Brenda. "Where are the sketches you made?"

    She'd finished the second one on the way over. "In the car."

    He turned toward Nathan. Nothing more had to be said. "I'm on it," Nathan told him,
    leaving.

    "No, I can't be sure." Martha shook her head as she looked from one sketch to the other that Dax held before her. Her eyes returned to the one of the man. "Him, maybe, but…"
    Her voice trailed off as she looked up at Dax helplessly. "They do tend to blend in
    together. Mrs. Tyler is always having something remodeled."

    "Yeah, I got that problem, too," Nathan muttered, gathering the two sketches together.

    They were striking out when they should be forging forward. Brenda turned toward Dax.
    "Now what?"

    Her eyes were bright, he thought, as if she was barely harnessing the energy within her.
    He knew what she had to be feeling. Desire to do something was knotted up with the
    realization that everything was moving forward much too slowly.

    "Now some of the patrolmen and I get a canvas of the area around the school grounds, see
    if anyone might have noticed something." He glanced at his partner. "Nathan, see if we can get those sketches onto the local news stations—"

    At the suggestion, the housekeeper came to life. She rose to her feet, her expression
    utterly horrified: "Mr. Tyler wouldn't want the media alerted. He absolutely abhors
    publicity about his personal life."

    While he was sensitive to a parent's anguish, Dax could have cared less what an
    overpaidHollywooddirector did or didn't want.

    "I'm afraid this is out of Mr. Tyler's hands," Dax told the woman crisply, then because she still looked terrified, he relented. "The public is incredibly helpful, Ms. Danridge.
    Someone might have seen something." And that, he thought, was all the time he had to
    spare for hand-holding. He turned to his partner.

    "Nathan, we're going to need phone lines set up at the precinct for the calls that are
    going to start coming in."

    The notepad was out again. "You pulling together a task force?"

    "That's what I'm doing," Dax responded glibly.

    He looked as if he was about to walk out. Brenda shifted so that she was directly in his
    path. "What can I do?"

    Dax would have thought that by now, all she would have wanted to do was go home. "You've
    already done a great deal."

    He was putting her off, she could tell by the tone of his voice. She didn't want to be
    swept under the rug. "What can I do?" she