Midnight Rambler_ A Novel of Suspense - James Swain [40]
But I did look. Their daughter was sixteen going on twenty-five, with multiple rings in each ear, bee-stung lips, and a dazzling smile. She was as dark-skinned as her parents, but the sparkle in her eyes said all-American girl. I let the appropriate amount of time pass before handing the photograph back.
“Her name is Katrina,” her mother said.
“She's a very attractive young lady. How long has she been missing?”
“Three days,” her father said.
“Have either of you spoken to her?”
“I have,” Amrita said.
“Recently?”
“Last night. Actually, we didn't talk. My daughter posted a message for me on the National Runaway Hotline, and I responded and posted one for her.”
“So she wasn't abducted,” I said.
“Oh, no, this is nothing like that,” her father said.
“Her life is not endangered in any way?”
Both parents shook their heads.
“Did either of you ask her to leave?”
“No,” they said at the same time.
“Where is she staying? With friends?”
“She's staying at a hotel,” her mother said.
That told me a lot. Hotels don't take cash, only credit cards, which meant Katrina was staying on her parent's nickel. They could have forced their daughter's hand by cancelling the card and getting her thrown out, but they seemed divided on how to be handling this. I glanced at Kumar. He was sitting behind his desk with his hands steepled in front of his face. I gave him a look that said we needed some privacy.
“If you'll excuse me, I must go downstairs and check up on some things,” Kumar said.
The door clicked behind him. I pulled my chair closer to the parents. Waiting three days to take action was a serious mistake and could lead to more trouble. I didn't want to divide them by pointing fingers, so I tried a different tack.
“Did you consider calling the police?” I asked the father.
Sanji's eyes locked on to my face. “Yes.”
“Why didn't you?”
“I asked him not to,” his wife said.
“Why?”
“I assumed our daughter would return home.”
Sanji sat with his hands on his slacks, exposing his fingers. They were long and the nails were manicured, but without gloss. I pegged him as a surgeon.
“And when she didn't, you decided to get outside help,” I said.
“Yes,” Sanji said. “At first we considered hiring a private detective, but the ones we interviewed were too sleazy. Then Kumar told us about you. He said you were a good man, despite what the newspapers write about you.”
“Sanji! That was not necessary,” his wife scolded him.
Her husband looked at me.
“I'm sorry if I have offended you.”
I leaned back in my chair. I'd run into my share of Sanjis over the years. Like many wealthy people, he thought his problems could be solved by swiping a credit card through a machine, or hiring someone to fix them, instead of fixing the problems himself. I wondered how well Kumar knew them, and how badly I'd damage the relationship by what I was about to say.
I decided I didn't care, and said it anyway.
“You both should consider yourselves lucky.”
Amrita looked at me with surprise, Sanji with a deep frown.
“Are you trying to be sarcastic?” Sanji asked.
“Not at all.”
“Then explain yourself.”
“Your daughter isn't dead. She hasn't been sold into the sex trade, or been locked in some psycho's basement. She wasn't abducted by a neighbor or someone else that she knew, and my guess is, neither of you was physically or sexually abusing her.
Those are the kinds of cases I often deal with. They don't have happy endings.
“Your situation is different. Your daughter ran away, which is unfortunate, but not the worst that could happen. My guess is, you both know what the problem is and refuse to fix it.”
Sanji looked ready to explode. “I don't want to talk about this! Will you find our daughter, or won't you?”
“I can find your daughter, but what good will it do?” I asked. “If you don't