Swimsuit by James Patterson Read Free Book Online

said with a quavering voice. “And to everyone hearing us, please, we’re offering twenty-five thousand dollars
     for information leading to the return of our daughter. If we had a million, we’d offer that…”
    And then Barbara’s air seemed to run out. She turned, and Rollins saw her take a hit off an inhaler. And still, questions
     were fired at the supermodel’s parents:
Levon, Levon! Have you gotten a ransom demand? What was the last thing Kim said to you?
    Levon leaned toward the microphones, answered the questions very patiently, finally saying, “The hotel management has set
     up a hotline number,” and he read it to the crowd.
    Rollins watched the journalists jumping up like flying fish, calling out more questions even as the McDanielses were stepping
     down, moving toward the embrace of the hotel lobby.
    Rollins looked through his lens, zoomed in on the back of the McDanielses’ heads, saw someone coming through the crowd, a
     semicelebrity he’d seen on C-Span hawking his books.
    The subject of Rollins’s interest was a good-looking guy of about forty, a journalist and best-selling detective novelist,
     dressed in Dockers and a pink button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up. Kind of reminded him of Brian Williams reporting from
     Baghdad. Maybe a little more rough-and-ready.
    As Rollins watched, the writer reached out and touched Barbara McDaniels’s arm, and Barbara stopped to speak with him.
    Charlie Rollins saw an interview with the legitimate press in the making. He thought,
No kidding. The Peepers will love this. Kim McDaniels is going big-time. This is turning into a very big event, indeed.

Chapter 20
    THE JOURNALIST in the Dockers and pink shirt?
    That was me.
    I saw an opening as Levon and Barbara McDaniels stepped away from the lectern, the crowd closing in, circling them like a
     twister.
    I lunged forward, touched Barbara McDaniels’s arm, catching her attention before she disappeared into the lobby.
    I wanted the interview, but no matter how many times you see parents of lost or abducted children begging for their son or
     daughter’s safe return, you cannot fail to be moved.
    Barbara and Levon McDaniels had gotten to me as soon as I saw their faces. It killed me to see them in such pain.
    Now I had my hand gently on Barbara McDaniels’s arm. She turned, and I introduced myself, handed her my card, and lucky for
     me, she knew my name. “Are you the Ben Hawkins who wrote
Red
?
    “
Put It All on Red,
yes, that’s mine.”
    She said she liked the book, her mouth smiling, although her face was rigid with anguish. Right then, hotel security made
     a cordon with their arms, a path through the crowd, and I walked into the lobby with Barbara, who introduced me to Levon.
    “Ben’s a best-selling author, Levon. You remember, we read him for our book club last fall.”
    “I’m covering Kim’s story for the
L.A. Times,
” I told Mr. McDaniels.
    Levon said, “If you want an interview, I’m sorry. We’re out of steam, and it’s probably best that we don’t talk further until
     we meet with the police.”
    “You haven’t spoken with them yet?”
    Levon sighed, shook his head. “Ever talk to an answering machine?”
    “I might be able to help,” I said. “The
L.A. Times
has clout, even here. And I used to be a cop.”
    “Is that right?” Levon McDaniels’s eyelids were sagging, his voice ragged and raw. He walked like a man who’d just run his
     feet off in a marathon, but he was suddenly interested in me. He stopped walking and asked me to tell him more.
    “I was with the Portland PD. I was a detective, an investigator. Right now I cover the crime desk for the
Times.
”
    McDaniels winced at the word “crime,” said, “Okay, Ben. You think you can give us a hand with the police? We’re going out
     of our minds.”
    I walked with the McDanielses through the cool marble lobby with its high ceilings and ocean views until we found a semisecluded
     spot overlooking the pool. Palm