The Target

in Europe, in great detail. I don't think you need to know any of that. He never mentioned Emma after the first time.

    "The policewoman listening with me just stared at me. She worshiped Louey, prayed he'd call so she could just hear his sexy voice. Or rather, she worshiped him until she heard what that sexy voice said. She patted my shoulder when I hung up.

    "I started crying and she kept patting. She thought I was sorry about Louey leaving me, sorry that he was bragging about all these women."

    "I remember now," he said after a moment. "There was press about the divorce, but never any details, no hints of infidelity or drugs or anything at all. Just a quiet announcement of irreconcilable differences, something like that. It was out of the public eye very quickly."

    "My father is powerful. In this instance it was a good thing. No one had much to say about anything. There were a couple of days of speculation in the tabloids, but even they dropped it. I was very grateful to my father." She looked down at her fingernails. There was mustard from the hot dogs on her index finger. She licked it off.

    "Molly?"

    "Louey, her biological father, didn't ever want her. After we split up, I think he was relieved to be out of the daddy business. A child didn't go with the sexy footloose image he had of himself. Funny thing is, she's probably just as talented musically as he is. Maybe more so."

    "How did Louey know Emma had been kidnapped? You said he called you before you called him."

    "I wondered later about that. One of his friends in Denver probably called him. Louey undoubtedly thought that if it hit the press, he should act the concerned papa so he wouldn't be seen in a bad light. Who knows?"

    "I wonder which friend in Denver bothered to call him."

    "He didn't say and I was too upset to ask. But you know, Louey is friends with a lot of folks in the media, from TV to newspapers. It was probably one of his newspaper buddies."

    "Is there a special buddy?"

    "Yes, his name is James Hicks and he's with the Denver Post. Why?"

    "No reason. I just like to gather information. Now, are you going to call your papa and tell him Emma's safe?"

    "Yes, I should. He's been very worried. I called him right away when Emma was kidnapped. I knew he'd have some of his people on it right away, and he did. A man and two women came by six hours after I'd called. It drove the local cops nuts. Lots of suspicion. I ignored the cops' bitching about outsiders. I told them everything I could, why not? They wanted to help; my father was paying them to find Emma. I don't know what his people actually did. I saw them several more times. We discussed leads, possibilities. If they found out anything, I don't know about it."

    "Did you tell them you were taking off to find Emma yourself?"

    "No, I didn't. I'll call him right now. At least he won't try to trace the call." She paused a moment, then said, turning to face him, "I wonder if my father suspected Emma's kidnapping had anything to do with him? I bet he has. I know one thing: If he found out who did this, he wouldn't hesitate to sanction a kill."

11

    SANCTION A KILL. She'd said it so easily, so naturally.

    How many times had she heard it said when she was a kid?

    "All right, I'm going to call. Hey, wait a minute. What if those men were there to rescue Emma and they thought you were the kidnapper? Of course they'd try to get rid of you. Of course they'd follow you. Oh goodness, there's no end to the possibilities. I've got a headache, Ramsey."

    "That goes really well with my leg ache. That theory could fly until you showed up. You think they haven't at least seen a photo of you? You think that there's any way they wouldn't know you're the boss's daughter? Call, Molly. I want to hear what he has to say. Use your cell phone. Come over here so I can hear."

    She sat down on the arm of the recliner and began dialing. Area code 312. Chicago and outlying residential areas, like Oak Park. Sure, that was where Mason Lord lived, only the best. He saw her hand tighten around the phone.

    Why hadn't she seen her father for three years?

    The phone rang twice, then a man answered, his voice deep and mellifluous.

    "Miles? It's me, Molly."

    "Yes, Molly. You've got news about Emma?"

    "She's fine, Miles. She's back with me. Thank you for asking. I want to give Dad the news."

    "Just a moment. Goodness, this is a relief. Mr. Lord's been on a real tear."

    "You heard that?" she asked Ramsey. Ramsey was