Christmas with Daddy by C.J. Carmichael

Author:C.J. Carmichael [Carmichael, C.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Three Good Men, Category
ISBN: 9780373715251
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2008-11-11T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

ON TUESDAY MORNING Nick had a message waiting from Tara’s mother. Annabel Lang wanted to meet with him right away and suggested a coffee shop near Bushnell Park. Before leaving the department, Nick called Bridget. He caught her just before she was about to leave with Mandy and the dogs for a walk.

“Guess who wants to talk with me today?”“Sorry, Nick. I don’t predict the future and I can’t read minds, either.”

“Ouch. Guess I deserved that. It’s your client, Annabel Lang. I’m wondering if something you said to her last night resulted in her requesting this meeting today. Care to fill me in?”

After a pause, Bridget said carefully, “That’s for Annabel to tell you. Not me.”

Damn. “Don’t tell me numerologists worry about client confidentiality.” Maybe he’d gone too far that time. “That wasn’t called for. Sorry. I’m just—”

“You just can’t take me, or what I do, seriously. I get it, Nick. Good luck with Annabel. Go easy on her. She’s had a tough week.”

Bridget disconnected and Nick was left staring at his phone. He hadn’t handled that conversation very well, he decided. Pocketing the phone, he grabbed his notebook then headed for the café. He arrived ten minutes early and was able to snag a seat near the back with an unobstructed view of the front door.

The coffee shop teemed with people anxious for their morning fix. A constant lineup snaked between the counter and the tables at the front of the café. Mostly professional men and women in suits, though one young man in fluorescent biking attire stood out from the rest. He had a courier’s logo across the pack on his back.

Idly, Nick wondered what important documents were being delayed in their delivery so the cyclist could get his shot of caffeine.

At five minutes past the hour she’d arranged for their meeting, Annabel Lang entered the café. She was wearing a fitted black coat, with fur on the collar, and carried a large pink leather purse. Probably a big designer-name bag, Nick thought, though he didn’t recognize the initials stamped on the side.

He stood and waved her over. He had two coffees waiting on the table, but was prepared to get her something else if she wanted.

“The lineup is so long. This will do.” She perched on the second chair, keeping her purse on her lap.

Today she looked like a mother whose daughter was missing. The whites of her eyes were pink and lines etched around her mouth and forehead clearly broadcast her age, despite a modest application of makeup.

She let out her breath and her shoulders sank a few inches.

At their first meeting Nick had taken a slight dislike to the woman. Today all he could feel was sympathy.

“Seven days. An entire week.”

He had to ask, even though the answer was obvious. “You haven’t heard anything?”

“Not a word.”

He thought about his nephew, who was only a year younger than Tara. If Derrick had been missing for a week, he’d be going crazy. And Matt—he’d be a wild man, Nick was sure.

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