Killer Ambition

3

“We’ll need a list 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.”

“And who are crazy enough to do it by kidnapping his daughter?” I asked.

Ian shrugged. “It’s a town full of narcissists and sociopaths. You do the math.”

Though true, the diagnosis wasn’t helpful. At that moment Jeeves, or whatever they called their butler, entered, followed by a uniformed police officer.

“Find anything?” Bailey asked him.

“Not so far.”

“Then let’s get rolling.” Bailey turned back to Russell. “You’re going to take us to the drop site.”

At nearly midnight there was no traffic to contend with. We flew up Benedict Canyon, headed east on Mulholland Highway to Laurel Canyon, and got to Fryman Road in record time. This ransom drop was as close to a crime scene as we could get at this point, and the fact that it was in a wooded canyon meant that any evidence it might yield was disappearing by the second.

“You took Fryman Road?” Bailey asked.

Russell, who was seated in front of me on the passenger side, nodded. He’d taken off his baseball cap and was kneading it between his hands. “Take Fryman to the end. We’ll have to walk from there.”

Fryman Canyon is beautiful during the day, but nightfall shows its other side. The towering trees blocked what little ambient light managed to reach the mouth of the canyon, and even the moon was barely visible between the dense mass of branches and leaves. Standing at the entrance to the park, I could see only a few feet of fire road. The rest was a deep, impenetrable darkness. I was glad to see the other patrol cars pull in behind us.

Russell led the way. The patrol cops fanned out and encircled us. The smell of damp earth and pungent growth filled my nostrils and we moved slowly, our flashlight beams illuminating the road ahead, but the path under our feet was left in shadow. Unwanted visions of a bloodied, battered, and possibly dead Hayley kept flashing through my mind. The moment I pushed one away, another took its place.

After a few minutes, Russell turned left on a path so narrow and overgrown I might have missed it even in daylight. The path took us straight uphill for another five minutes, and my wedge heels, comfortable enough in normal conditions, were starting to slip on the steep, grassy terrain. No one spoke as we made our way through the canyon, and every so often I could hear the rustling of creatures scurrying about in the brush just feet away. I told myself it was probably prairie dogs or rabbits, maybe a coyote, but I knew that mountain lions and bobcats had been sighted there. To say nothing of the more dangerous animals of the two-legged variety. Officers surrounded us, but I knew it would take only a second for man or animal to launch a surprise attack-too fast for any officer to be able to react in time. With each furtive sound, I could feel the skin on the back of my neck tighten and my heart beat a little faster. Finally Russell stopped at a small clearing to the right of the path.

“I left the duffel bag right there.” He pointed to a spot between two trees. As described in the ransom note, both had white string tied around their trunks.

I had to admit it was a good hiding place. If you didn’t know where to look, you’d never find it. We moved forward and Bailey shined her flashlight where Russell had indicated.

There was nothing there. Russell lunged forward, but Bailey pulled him back.

“We’ll need to process this place for evidence, Russell. Please step back-”

Russell’s body sagged and he sank to his knees as though his spine had melted. He let out a harsh bark of a sob and cried out in anguish, “Hayley! Oh God, Hayley!”

But the canyon swallowed his words as quickly as they fell from his lips. We all stood rooted but unable to watch as he dropped his head and cried. The air was heavy with the weight of unspoken belief that Hayley would never be found alive. For reasons I couldn’t explain, the passive acceptance of doom made me clench my fists in anger. They might be right, but I refused to believe we were too late. At least, not yet.