Helen R. - While Others Sleep

“I’m just reminded that we need to hire new staff, that’s all.”

But they couldn’t afford to without new clients. Naturally, they couldn’t take on new clients without more employees, and for that they needed some interim financing. Right now, no bank was going to give them a loan until Yancy’s next physical certified a clean bill of health. Adding to their problems were 9/11 regulations to incorporate into their daily procedure—as was the case for everyone in the law enforcement and security business. They’d also lost a small bundle putting two employees on full-time debris search after the Columbia shuttle tragedy.

Campbell moistened her lips, preparing to broach a subject she’d been debating privately. “Have you considered taking on another partner, Dad?”

“I have the one I want, that’s enough.”

His tone left no room for discussion. As touched as she was, Campbell couldn’t help feeling that her father had made the legal changes to the corporation merely as a gesture to keep her psychologically afloat. For her part, she didn’t feel she brought enough to the company to warrant such pride and defense, aside from six years’ experience as a Longview police officer, which had yielded no savings, no legitimate investigative experience—just the academy training.

“Nothing has changed over at LPD that I know of,” she continued. “I’m still a greater liability than an asset to you. If you considered that offer from National—”

“Not today, Belle.”

The nation-wide security firm had approached him just before her resignation from the LPD and his surgery. Even then Yancy declared he would close before surrendering his company to them. But a person could change his perspective.

“Dad, I was pulled over again on Friday. There wasn’t any ticket or anything, but the officer took his damned time, especially after I told him I was on my way to a dental appointment. He just goaded me in the hopes that I’d do something foolish.”

“Bastard. Who was it this time?”

“That’s irrelevant. The point is, I’ll continue to be harassed until I physically make myself scarce, or they get the backbone to do that for me.”

The word “permanently” didn’t need to be spoken.

Yancy slapped his hand down on the desk blotter so hard that his coffee mug almost went flying. “Dammit! You’re moving in here. If you didn’t see the need before—”

“I’m not going to let a handful of ignorant bullies control me.”

“Bullies with badges. Come on, move in. You know this place feels like a museum half the time.”

“Invite Cheralyn to move in with you.” He’d ended his budding relationship with Cheralyn Eastman the same day he’d returned from the clinic with his diagnosis. When the suggestion earned her a glowering look, she countered it with a one-shouldered shrug. “You’re alive. You’re going to be around awhile. Why deny yourself good company?”

“Your love life is off-limits, but you get to give me advice?”

Campbell averted her gaze. “It’s only been a year.”

“Fourteen months, and that’s a lifetime when the guy proves to be a—”

“Dad.” In no shape to go three rounds with the champ, Campbell saluted him with her can of soda. “Message received. I’ll let you know what I learn from Maida’s family.”

7:30 a.m.

The Saunders lived in an upscale development, a spare mile northwest of Maple Trails. New roads framed by concrete curbing as white as fresh-squeezed toothpaste stretched around groves of dogwood, live oak and a relatively new planting of native pine. Safe ground for Campbell, since this area was also outside of LPD jurisdiction and private security systems were the fashion.

Locating the correct address, she parked in front of the two-story Tudor, badly designed in gray brick. As she approached the leaded glass and oak front door, she took special note of the teal-colored Ford compact with the battered front end tucked in the upper corner of the driveway. It reminded her of Maida’s concerns about her granddaughter’s poor driving record to date. Right now, though, all she cared about was that the senior Saunderes’s vehicles were still in the two-car garage.

A considerable amount of noise from inside the house reassured her. She rang the front doorbell, waited a good half a minute and rang again.

Suddenly she saw blurred movement beyond the thick glass, then the door swung open and Dwayne Saunders scowled at her. He was dressed in the uniform of an executive—starched white shirt, red tie, soft-leather gray loafers and belted gray slacks that did little to conceal a slight paunch momentarily sucked in. Campbell allowed that he cleaned up well. She was less impressed with his puffy face and unhealthy coloring.

“Yes?” he demanded.

Amazons weren’t his type; she could see it by the stiffness entering his features as he registered her uniform and that they stood eye to eye. In turn she schooled her expression into what she hoped was something less icy than her usual countenance of late. Maybe he remembered her from Maida’s last birthday party—or maybe not, since he’d behaved like a petulant teenager dragged to a family event against his will. She had not forgotten that sullen mouth and close-set eyes.

“Sorry to intrude, Mr. Saunders, but I’m—”

“Yes, yes. I remember.”

“Good. I need to ask you about your mother.”

“What? Why? Is she sick?”

“I hope not, sir. We’re being thorough, nonetheless. Are you aware that she left the estate late last night in a rush and hasn’t returned?”

“My mother? She never drives after dark. She has night blindness.”

Jerk, she thought. He clearly had forgotten about the cataracts. “I witnessed it myself, sir. And although it was quite stormy—”

He shook his head and began shifting, ready to close the door. “It didn’t get bad until late, what…midnight? She would have been asleep for hours. You must be mistaken.”

Campbell softened her tone. “There’s nothing wrong with my vision, Mr. Saunders. Have you been in touch with your mother?”

Before he could answer, a svelte blonde dressed in chilled-peach satin appeared at his side followed by a waft of Organza perfume. “What’s going on, Dwayne? You promised you’d take Debra and Marc to school so I can make my hair appointment. They have to leave. Now.”

“I said I’d do it, Patsy.”

Campbell pretended not to notice the rising notch of tension in his voice. “Hello again, Mrs. Saunders. I’m Campbell Cody with Cody Security. I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but we’re concerned about Maida.”

Despite the early hour, the woman looked fresh and fashionable even in a house robe. In contrast, Campbell was never more aware of her appearance—stained and torn uniform and frizzing hair. Whatever mascara and lip gloss she’d put on last night had been bitten off or washed away hours ago. Add to that, she was almost half a foot taller than the woman. No amount of slouching would improve that contrast, so she stood tall and let Maida’s son and daughter-in-law think what they would.

“What’s she done now?” Blue-eyed Patsy sighed.

Campbell was aware of Dwayne momentarily shutting his eyes.

“I swear, that woman should sell that house once and for all before we all go as loopy as she is.”

“She’s missing, Patsy.”

Bristling at the subtle rebuke from her husband, Patsy directed new disdain at Campbell. “Excuse me? How can she be missing in her own house with security all around her? You mean you’ve lost her.”

“She’s not ours to lose.” Campbell had met her type too often to be annoyed. “She is a free citizen, fully cognizant and deserving the respect due to anyone her age. That said, she left the estate under unusual circumstances last night and hasn’t returned. We’re hoping you might know something about the matter.”