"That's right, and this is John Riggs, another friend of Rachael's."

He flicked Amy a sideways glance and pasted on a smile that fortunately looked sincere. "Thank you for seeing us, Mrs. Zimmer."

"Please come in." The woman stepped back out of the way and they walked into the living room. It had olive-green s.h.a.g carpet, and a brown-and-olive-plaid, overstuffed sofa and chair, old but serviceable.

"I'm sorry about your friend," Mrs. Zimmer said. "I liked Rachael very much and Jimmy adored her. I hope you find her and everything turns out all right."

"That's what we're all hoping," Amy said.

"Would either of you like a cup of tea?" the older woman asked, giving Johnnie a quick once-over. The olive drab T-shirt he wore had U.S. Army Rangers stamped on the front. It nearly matched the carpet. Though he had shaved, a faint shadow already darkened his jaw.

Amy smiled. "It's nice of you to ask, but no thank you."

The woman turned to Johnnie, who looked like the ex-soldier he was, until he smiled at her sweetly and shook his head. "We're fine."

A noise came from the hallway. An instant later, the sound of a little boy zooming his miniature Tonka truck into the living room drew their attention. He raced it right up to Mrs. Zimmer's st.u.r.dy brown leather shoes.

"Jimmy, these are friends of Rachael's," the woman said, stepping a little away. "Mr. Riggs and Ms. Fontaine."

Jimmy's features turned solemn. He had his mother's red hair and pale, lightly freckled skin. At not quite four years old he was tall for his age. He slowly came to his feet. "Is Rachael coming back?"

Amy knelt in front of him, putting herself at eye level. "I don't know, sweetheart. Maybe she will."

"Why did she go away? I really miss her."

"I miss her, too," Amy said, a lump forming in her throat. "I think maybe Rachael had to leave on some really important business. Otherwise she would still be coming to see you."

"She didn't even say goodbye."

"I know. I'm sure she misses you, though, just like you miss her." She pulled the little stuffed bear she had bought at a souvenir shop out of the bag and held it out to him.

Jimmy took the bear from her hand and grinned.

"What do you say, Jimmy?" Mrs. Zimmer prodded.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." Amy leaned over and hugged him, then came to her feet. Mrs. Zimmer reached down and picked Jimmy up, propped him on her hip.

"Say goodbye, sweetie. It's time for your nap."

"Will you come back and see me?" Jimmy asked.

"I'll come back," Amy said, her eyes a little misty. Rachael must have loved the adorable little boy. "I promise."

"Bye." Jimmy waved as Mrs. Zimmer carried him out of the living room and disappeared down the hall. A few minutes later, the woman walked back into the living room.

"He's a darling little boy," Amy said.

"Yes, he is. I feel like he's my own. Still, he misses his mom. She doesn't come by very often."

"So Jimmy stays with you full-time?" Johnnie asked.

"That's right."

"I guess that's how Rachael got involved," Amy added. "She was kind of playing stand-in for Jimmy's mom. She's always loved children."

Mrs. Zimmer smiled. "That was clear the first time I saw the two of them together."

"Did Rachael ever bring anyone with her when she stopped by?" Johnnie asked.

"No. She always just came by herself."

"Did she mention any future plans she might have had?" Amy asked. "Anyplace she might have been going?"

"You know, now that I think of it Rachael said something about taking a vacation. Said she had met someone special and he was taking her on a trip to the Caribbean."

Amy's pulse kicked up. "Did she mention his name?"

"I'm afraid not. But I really don't think she ever went."

"Why is that?" Johnnie asked.

"Because at first, she seemed really excited about going. Then she kind of stopped talking about it. She didn't mention it at all the last time she came over. A few days later, Vicky said she had disappeared, said the police were worried something had happened to her."

Vicky. That was Honeybee's real name.

"Anything else you can think of?" Johnnie asked.

"I'm afraid not." The woman smiled sadly. "I like to think she ran off to some romantic island with her someone special and they were so happy they didn't come back."

Amy's throat closed up.

"Thank you, Mrs. Zimmer," Johnnie said.

Amy felt his hand settle gently at her waist as he guided her toward the door. "I'll stop by again, if that's okay," she said as they stepped out on the porch, and then Johnnie was leading her down the steps to Babs's car and urging her in behind the wheel.

She didn't realize she was crying until he pulled a folded white handkerchief out of his back pocket and handed it over.

Amy wiped her eyes. "I just...I wish it were true. I wish she had fallen in love with some wonderful man and they had run off to some romantic island."

Johnnie's big hand came to rest on her shoulder. "Maybe she did. We'll follow the lead, see if the information turns up anything new."

"How?"

"Find out if her name pops up on any airline pa.s.senger lists. If it does, we'll see who was traveling with her. These days, you have to use your real name when you fly."

She frowned. "Can you do that? Surely you can't just Google up pa.s.senger lists on the internet. How can you-"

"Believe me, you don't want to know."

Before she could make another comment, Johnnie closed the car door. "I'll call you if I come up with anything," he said through the closed window.

She had no choice but to nod. He waited until she started the car, then walked back and climbed into his Mustang. Maybe they'd found another piece of the puzzle. It was hard to know for sure, but she had a feeling the information Mrs. Zimmer had supplied was part of the overall picture.

It sounded as if Rachael had fallen in love.

But if she had, clearly she hadn't told anyone who she was in love with.

The question was, why not?

As Johnnie drove up the winding canyon road to the guesthouse, he tried not to think of Amy, of how sweet she had looked kneeling in front of the little boy. In that moment, there was no sign of Angel Fontaine, just Amy Brewer, kindergarten teacher.

He could tell she was good with kids. In those brief moments, she had fallen a little in love with Jimmy Thomas. She'd go back, he knew. She wouldn't abandon the little boy the way her sister had.

Not that he believed Rachael had any choice in the matter. The girl had been missing for nearly two months. The odds of her being alive were slim at best. Still, it could happen.

He pulled the Mustang into the garage. On the front porch, he wiped his heavy boots on the mat, opened the door, and started down the hall, heading straight for the stairs leading to his lower-floor office.

It was a walk-out the size of the entire upstairs and, like the living room, had a wall of windows that looked out over the city. At one end of the room, there was a desk that housed his computer, a row of file cabinets and a round chrome table with four black leather chairs. At the opposite end, a first-cla.s.s home gym.

He liked to stay in shape. And it was handy having the equipment he needed right there in his house. He sat down at the desk and pulled out his cell phone, dialed his ex-Ranger friend in Houston, Trace Rawlins.

"Hey, Ghost, how's married life treating you?" Ghost was Trace's Ranger name for how silently he could move. A longtime bachelor, the Texas cowboy had finally met the woman of his dreams. Maggie O'Connell Rawlins was a well-known photographer. Trace had always had a weak spot for hot-tempered redheads, though over the years they had caused him nothing but trouble.

This time, Johnnie believed, his friend had finally found just the right one.

"Hey, Hambone," Trace replied, the name Johnnie had acquired because he could eat his weight in food and never gain a pound. "Married life is great. You need to find yourself a woman and give it a try."

"I've found myself a woman. Not interested in wedding bells-I'd be happy just to get her in bed."

"That so? Not the kind of problem you usually have."

A muscle tightened in his jaw. "Yeah, well, s.h.i.t happens."

Trace chuckled. "So what can I do for you?"

"You know that computer whiz kid you got working for you?"

"Sol Greenway? What about him?"

"I need him to do a little digging, see if he can find the name Rachael Carolyn Brewer on a pa.s.senger list somewhere. Probably a flight out of L.A., possibly to the Caribbean, around the first of May. If he gets a hit, I need to know who she was traveling with."

"Not a small order, especially with the TSA and security the way it is these days."

"No small order, but he can do it, right? I'm working a missing persons case for the missing girl's younger sister. There's still some hope Rachael might be alive."

"I see. And this sister...she wouldn't be the one you're trying to get in bed?"

Johnnie grunted, trying not to see the image of Angel Fontaine dancing in her miniscule G-string. "That would be the one."

Trace's smile reached him through the phone. "Let me talk to Sol, see what he can do. I'll be in touch."

"Thanks, buddy." Johnnie signed off and went to work on the files on top of his desk, an insurance fraud case and an irate husband. He'd call the husband, see if he could talk some sense into him; and put his part-time employee, Tyler Brodie, on the insurance fraud watching the guy who was supposed to be disabled but was looking a lot like he wasn't.

He made the call to Martin Lewis, the husband. Since he was busy with Amy and hated spying on errant spouses, he told Lewis the truth-he would be better off trusting his wife or divorcing her. Lewis, calmer than when he'd initially called, said he'd give it some thought.

Johnnie ended the call and looked up at the sound of a familiar male voice.

"Hey, Johnnie." Tyler Brodie worked freelance whenever Johnnie needed him. On his last job, he had uncovered a possible drug deal, the info Johnnie had reported to Special Agent Kent Wheeler. He wondered if the deal had ever gone down.

"Hey, Ty, what's up?"

"Hadn't heard from you in a while," Ty said. "Thought I'd drop by, see if you had any work for me." Tall, lean and solidly built, with dark brown hair and hazel eyes, Ty had spent four years in the marines, serving in Iraq. The kid had worked for Trace Rawlins in Texas, wore beat-up cowboy boots and had a slight Texas drawl.

Ty was capable and tough, but young, and he didn't have much street savvy. Still, he was great at surveillance and good at gathering information.

Johnnie leaned back in his chair. "I was just getting ready to call you. Got an insurance fraud case, a fireman who put in a claim for early retirement after a work-related disability. The company thinks he's faking it and they want evidence to prove it." He handed the file to Ty, who opened it and thumbed through the pages.

"Doesn't look too tough."

"If the guy is guilty, it should be a walk in the park."

Ty smiled. "Thanks."

"There's something else you might be able to do."

Ty sank down in the chair beside the desk. "I'm all ears."

"I'm working a missing persons case. Rachael Brewer, a dancer down at the Kitty Cat Club. She disappeared the first of May. She was a regular at Rembrandt's. I'm not sure where else she might have hung out. Maybe you can find out."

Confident as always, Ty nodded. "Hey, no problem."

Johnnie filled him in on what they had so far and gave him one of the photos he'd had made from the one Amy had given him.

"Wow," Ty said, staring down at the picture. "She's a beauty."

Her sister's not bad, either, Johnnie thought but didn't say it.

Ty stood up from the chair. "I'll get on this right away. I'll let you know if I come up with anything on the girl." Ty headed out and Johnnie went back to work, only to have another visitor a few minutes later.

"Johnnie? Johnnie, are you down there?" His landlady's voice floated down from the top of the stairs. Eleanor Stiles had a key and didn't hesitate to let herself in-as long as she was sure he didn't have an overnight guest. Which was rare, since he didn't like to wake up with a woman in his bed. He didn't like having to worry about what to say the morning after when he was beyond ready for her leave.

"I'm here, Ellie. Come on down."

She descended the stairs and walked toward him, a tall, slim woman with short, wavy silver hair. She was wearing jeans and a lightweight sweatshirt. Sometimes she used his workout equipment, but usually when he wasn't there.

"What's going on?" he asked as she moved gracefully toward him.