Marcia Clark: Killer Ambition

“You still have that message and the photo?”

“Yeah, of course. Got ’em right here.” He pulled his cell phone out of his hip pocket and handed it to Bailey.

Bailey and I read the message on his phone: I’ve got your daughter. She’ll be safe if you do as I tell you. If you call the police she’ll be killed. I’ll be in touch with my demand.

“A little while later, I get an e-mail telling me to bring a million in cash to a place in Fryman Canyon.”

“Could you tell where the e-mail came from?”

“The e-mail address was Hayley’s, but-”

But all the kidnapper had to do was get her password to send from her e-mail address.

“Was there a photo of Hayley in the e-mail?” I asked.

“Yeah. A video of Hayley was attached, telling me just to do what he says.” Russell again rubbed his head and then his face. His next words tumbled over each other, half regretful, half defensive. “So I did. I know I should’ve called you guys, but I was afraid to take the chance. Thought if I did what they asked, Hayley’d be back and…”

“And I understand you’ve already delivered the ransom?” Bailey asked.

Russell tried to take a deep breath, but it caught in his throat. He dipped his head. “Yeah.” He could barely choke out the word.

“How did you get your hands on a million dollars that fast?” I asked.

At that, Russell looked up, his expression confused. “See, that’s the other thing. Only the family knows I keep that much cash around for emergencies. Hayley had to have told them-”

“And she was supposed to be released within an hour after that?” I asked.

Russell nodded.

“Where exactly?” I asked.

“At the mouth of Fryman Canyon, on the valley side. Told me to go back home and wait for the call.” Russell’s face bunched up and he blew out an exasperated huff. “Look, I already told all this to the captain, so why are you sitting here?”

“We have officers searching Fryman Canyon,” Bailey said. “Unless and until we find someone who can give us more to go on, everything that can be done is being done.”

Bailey turned back to Russell’s cell phone and pulled up the proof-of-life photo. A petite blonde girl with a feminine version of her father’s mouth, dressed in a pink-striped jersey blouse that exposed one fetchingly bare shoulder, stared back at us. Her expression was fixed, serious. I looked across the room at Russell’s wife, Dani. I saw no resemblance. Hayley seemed to be leaning against an iron fence, through which I vaguely made out a hillside thick with greenery.

“Let’s see the ransom demand,” Bailey said.

Russell held out his hand for the cell phone, then scrolled and handed it back to Bailey.

The ransom demand was short and clear:

One million dollars in cash in a duffel bag. Go to Fryman Canyon. Take the small path on the left for fifty yards, then turn right. Walk until you see two trees with white string tied around the trunks. Leave the bag between them. Go home and wait for the call. If you bring in the police, Hayley’s dead.

We watched the video. It was even shorter but no less clear. “Dad, just do what they say and everything will be okay. Please.” It was only a few seconds, and maybe it hit me as hard as it did because I hadn’t expected it, but it was enough to reveal a soulfulness, a pureness of heart in the young girl.

“When was the last time you saw Hayley?” I asked.

“Thursday. Or…was it Friday? Friday, I think. They didn’t have any classes on Friday, so she and Mackenzie wanted to hang out there.” He pointed to the photo of his house in the hills. “I dropped in to check on them, make sure they had food, whatnot.”

“How old is Hayley?” I asked.

“Sixteen.”

That seemed awfully young to be floating around a party house in the Hollywood Hills with a buddy and no supervision.

Russell read my expression. “Her mom doesn’t live far from there.”

Of course. Russell and the mother were divorced. That explained the lack of resemblance to Dani, who I assumed was Wife 3.0.

“So you let Hayley stay there on your custody nights?” I asked.

“We don’t really have custody nights per se anymore. Hayley pretty much stays where she wants.”

Unfortunately, not tonight.

“We’ll need alist of the names and numbers of all of Hayley’s friends, especially the girl she was supposed to hang out with, Mackenzie…?”

I prepared to memorize the name. She’d be number one on our interview list.

“Struthers,” Russell said. “Mackenzie Struthers-”

At that moment a woman came rushing into the room, blonde-gray hair flying, sweater hastily pulled on and hanging off her shoulders. Jeeves followed close behind her, shaking his head.

The woman cried out frantically, “Where’s Hayley? What’s happened to her? Russell!”

Having seen Hayley’s photo, I didn’t need an introduction to know that this was Raynie, Hayley’s mother. Russell hung his head and put his hands behind his neck, physically ducking the verbal assault. Bailey and I went over to her and introduced ourselves, then told her what we knew. Raynie covered her mouth as she repeated, “No, oh no, oh no.”

Her breathing was labored and she paled so suddenly I thought she might pass out, so I gently took her elbow and guided her to a nearby couch. She sank down, covered her eyes, and swallowed.

“When did you last see Hayley, ma’am?” I asked.

After a few moments she answered, “When she went to stay at Russell’s other house. That would’ve been Thursday. She said she was going to be with Mackenzie-”

“I assume Mackenzie’s a good friend?” I asked.

Raynie nodded. “One of her closest buddies.”

“Wait, now I remember,” Russell said. “I checked in with her on Friday. She was just fine.”

Raynie turned to Russell, and her expression hardened. “ You checked up on her? Or did you send your assistant?”

Russell looked away. Obviously this was a long-standing issue between them. A not uncommon one in the entertainment industry, where many more children are raised by nannies than by biological parents-though no one ever admits it.

“Look, if you did send an assistant who’s not on the premises, we’ll need his or her name,” I said, to cut off the feud before it became a real distraction. In my experience, family members often like to dwell on irrelevant beefs like this because it gives them an accessible target. Not that I blame them.

Russell, looking embarrassed, turned and called to Dani to come over. She and Raynie exchanged warm greetings. It was an interesting-and refreshing-change to have the ex and the current be so easy with each other.

Russell asked Dani, “Who checked in on Hayley? Was it Uma?”

Dani shook her head. “Angie.” She called out to Angela, who hurried over.

“I didn’t see Mackenzie there at the time,” said Angela. “Hayley just said they were going to hang out, maybe go to a club-”

“What club?” I asked.

Angela stuttered, “Uh, I-I’m not sure…Teddy’s?”

“Did she say when they were going? Were they going that night?” I asked.

“Sh-she didn’t say. I-I’m sorry.”

“No worries, Angie,” I said, sorry myself for having pounced on her. “You’ve been very helpful.”

“You know how to reach Mackenzie?” Bailey asked. Angie and Raynie simultaneously confirmed they did. Bailey called a uniform, gave him the information, and told him to go get a statement from Mackenzie. Then she turned back to the group to ask the usual question about any possible enemies Russell might have. She got a less-than-usual response.

“You’re kidding, right?” Ian, the manager, gave us both an incredulous look. “He’s one of the biggest directors in the world. Every actor who didn’t get a part, every writer whose project he passed on, every production company he turned down-there’s probably thousands who’d love to skewer him.”