Al the far end of the long hallway, the housekeeper paused. "You wait," she said.

Before Joanna, set in an alcove that had clearly been designed for that specific purpose, sat an exquisite, two-foot-tall marble statue of the Madonna and Child. The baby was roly-poly and clung to his mother's waist with one chubby bare leg. The young mother's face seemed almost alive with a benevolent, welcoming smile. Her one free hand reached out in graceful, openhanded greeting to all who looked upon her. Beneath the statue sat a polished rosewood prie-dieu. On the prie-dieu lay an open Bible, an onyx-beaded rosary complete with a gold crucifix, and a single lit votive candle. The brown leather of the padded knee rest glowed with the patina of long and faithful use.

Feeling as though she were standing in a chapel, Joanna gazed up at the statue while running an admiring finger over the satin-smooth grain of the wood.

"Sheriff Brady?"

Like a child caught doing something she shouldn't, Joanna turned to face the lady of the house. The luxury automobiles parked under the covered portico, the spaciousness of the beautifully tiled hallway, the elegance of the artwork had all led Joanna to expect that Katherine O'Brien would be someone equally elegant-slender, fashionable, and maybe even a little on the delicate side.

Joanna was surprised to see before her a plain-faced and sturdy woman in her early to mid-fifties. She was dressed casually in a tank top, Bermuda shorts, and leather thongs. Her brunette hair, going gray around the temples, was drawn back in a casual, foot-long ponytail. As soon as Joanna saw the woman she realized she had seen her before-in the grocery store and post office on occasion-without having the smallest glimmer of who she was.

"I'm sorry," Joanna apologized. "The wood is so lovely I couldn't help touching it."

Katherine smiled sadly and nodded. "I know what you mean. I've spent the better part of the afternoon on my knees there, praying. Both pieces, the prie-dieu and the statue, came from a Sisters of Silence convent in upstate New York. When the Cistercian Order closed the place down, they asked Sotheby's to auction off all the contents. The prie-dieu and the statue had both been in the mother superior's private chapel. I was glad David was able to buy them so we could keep them together."

Katherine stopped abruptly, as though the customary graciousness of telling visiting guests about her objets d'art had somehow outdistanced the painful circumstances that had brought this particular visitor into her home. "Sorry," she said. "Detective Carpenter and my husband are out back by the pool. If you'll come this way."

Katherine O'Brien led Joanna past a formal dining room and through a large kitchen where the housekeeper was busy cooking something meaty that smelled absolutely wonderful. Beyond the kitchen was an informal dining room and a family room complete with a massive entertainment unit. French doors from the family room led to a fully enclosed patio complete with black wrought iron furniture, a permanently installed canopy, a hot tub, and a lap pool. The interior wall of the patio was lined with raised flower beds that held an astonishing assortment of vividly colored, dinner plate-sized dahlias.

An empty wheelchair sat parked next to the edge of the pool. In the pool itself, a silver-haired man Joanna recognized as David O'Brien swam back and forth. Meanwhile, Detective Ernie Carpenter, overdressed as usual in his customary double-breasted suit, sat sweltering under the canopy.

As soon as Joanna and Katherine came out onto the porch, O'Brien used two swift strokes to propel himself over to a stainless steel pole that stood next to the wheelchair. Turning his hack to the side of the pool, he did something that activated a whirring motor. Moments later, he emerged from the water seated on what was evidently a one-person lift. The lift stopped when David O'Brien was exactly level with the seat of the chair. Using the strong, well-defined muscles in his arms and shoulders, David swung himself from lift to chair.

A stack of terry cloth towels sat on the table. David O'Brien rolled his chair over to the table. Taking the top towel off the pile, he draped that over his deformed and useless legs. He used a second towel to dry his hair, face, and upper body.

"It's about time you got here, Sheriff Brady," he grumbled. "Maybe now you can get Detective Carpenter here to stop asking all these damn fool questions about Bree's friends and start doing something useful like actually looking for her."

"They are looking for her, David," Katherine reminded her husband gently. "Detective Carpenter already told us that they have deputies and the highway patrol searching all the roads between here and Playas...."

"But she didn't go to Playas!" David O'Brien exploded, pounding the table with his fist. The powerful blow sent Ernie's almost-empty glass of iced tea skipping across the surface of the table. The detective managed to catch it, but only just barely.

"What would you like us to do, Mr. O'Brien?" Joanna asked. "Call in the FBI. Get some manpower on this thing."

"The FBI?"

"Hello, Sheriff Brady," Ernie said, nodding in greeting. He was a solidly built, beetle-browed man in his early fifties. His tie and stiffly starched white shirt were wilting fast.

"Mr. O'Brien here is under the impression that his daughter has been kidnapped." He finished his tea and returned the emptied glass to the table.

"Kidnapped," Joanna repeated. "Why? Has there been a ransom demand?"

"Nothing like that," Ernie replied. ''Not so far."

"What about the pay phone call? If that wasn't an abortive tall for ransom ..." David O'Brien interjected.

"What phone call?" Joanna asked.

"The O'Briens have caller ID on their phones," Ernie said. "A call came in a few minutes ago, just about the time I got here. The monitor reported it as a pay phone call. I traced it to a location near the Kmart down in Douglas. The problem is, whoever it was hung up."

"So you didn't actually speak to anyone?" Joanna asked Katherine.

"No."

"And there was no request for ransom?" Joanna continued.

"'That's true," Katherine agreed.

"But that's where ransom calls usually come from, isn't it?" O'Brien interrupted. "From pay phones so the calls can't be traced back to the kidnapper's residence or place of business."

"It could have been nothing more ominous than a wrong number," Joanna suggested. "What makes you think otherwise? Have there been kidnapping threats in the past?"

"No. Not really. But look around," O'Brien said brusquely, with an expansive gesture that took in both the patio and the opulent home beyond it. "My wife and I have money, plenty of it. What better way for someone to lay hands on some of it than by kidnapping our only daughter? It's not as though her existence is some kind of secret. Her graduation picture was plastered all over the papers a few weeks back. It's no wonder-"

Joanna glanced back at Ernie. "Any sign of violence or foul play?"

The detective shook his head. "Not that I've found so far. In addition, Brianna has evidently taken off like this on at least two other occasions. According to Mrs. O'Brien here, there have been two other similar incidents in the last few months-times when Brianna has left for the weekend without arriving at her supposed destination. Each time it's been with the understanding that she was going to visit this same girl, this" -Ernie paused to consult his notes- "this Crystal Phillips over in Playas. The problem is, Crystal's father says Brianna hasn't ever been there."

"But she keeps pretending that's where she's gone," Joanna said.

Ernie nodded. "Right. Each time, she left home late in the day on a Friday and returned Sunday evening. As long as her folks here didn't call to check up on her, everything was peachy. My expectation is that she's pulled the same stunt this time, too. She isn't lost at all. Late Sunday she's going to show up thinking everything's all fine and dandy. Only this time, she'll find out the game's up. When she comes waltzing home on Sunday afternoon, she's going to be one mighty surprised young lady."

Ernie finished his speech by hauling out a hanky and mop-ping his sweat-drenched brow. His theory sounded reasonable enough, and Joanna wanted it to be right. She wanted to believe that an errant Brianna O'Brien would arrive home on Sunday night in time to be read the riot act by both her out-raged parents for having been AWOL all weekend long. Still, Joanna couldn't dodge the premonition that had come to her before she ever left the parking lot on Mount Lemmon one that left her believing that Brianna O'Brien was already dead.

Standing there fully clothed with the late afternoon sun blazing down on her, Joanna was already regretting having changed clothes. The O'Briens' flower-bordered patio might have been fine if you were dressed in shorts or if you had just stepped out of a swimming pool. For people dressed in business clothing and wearing body armor, though, it was like playing dress-up in the middle of a blast furnace.

David O'Brien glared across the table at the detective. "My daughter is an honor student," he announced. "She's never lied to me about anything in her life. I can't understand why she'd start now. But since we've done our jobs as parents, how about you starting to do yours as cops?"

CAPTEIZ SIX.

Joanna knew there were lots of people in town who were intimidated by David O'Brien. It was easy to see why. He was a craggy-faced man whose suntanned arms and chest glistened with silvery hair. He had a long, hawkish nose and piercing blue eyes. He was ruggedly handsome in an aging Marlboro man kind of way. In fact, at that very moment, he reached for a pack of cigarettes that lay on the table in front of him. Watching him light up, Joanna estimated that he had to be somewhere in his late seventies-of an age when he might be more likely to be a teenager's grandfather rather than her father.

"You'd say you're on good terms with your daughter, then?" Joanna asked.

"Absolutely!"

"David, please don't shout," Katherine said quietly, giving him a lingering look Joanna noticed but couldn't quite decipher. "That isn't necessary. And we're forgetting our manners. Won't you sit down, Sheriff Brady? This chair is still in the shade. Would you care for a glass of iced tea? And, it you don't mind, I'll switch on the mist cooler."

Accepting the offer of tea, Joanna sank into the chair Katherine had indicated. Meanwhile, Katherine herself walked over to the wall and flipped a switch. Instantly a fine spray of water Nettled over the patio. It was a cooling device Joanna had seen in Phoenix and Tucson at nicer restaurants with outdoor seating areas, but this was the first time she had seen that kind of setup in a private home. She would have loved to strip off her jacket, but that would have revealed that she was armed, twice over. Her Colt 2000 rested in a shoulder holster under her arm. Her backup weapon-a Glock 19-was hidden in a discreet small-of-the-back holster.

"Did you already tell Detective Carpenter what kind of vehicle your daughter is driving?" she asked.

"A red Toyota," Katherine said.

"It's a Tacoma," David added. "She could have had any kind of car, but what she wanted was a damned pickup. We gave it to her three months ago as a combination birthday/ graduation present."

"Do you happen to know the license number?"