Christmas with Daddy

Bridget’s face softened. “You didn’t find her?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry. I hope she’s all right.” She stepped back from the door. “Come on in. Mandy’s just had her bottle and now she’s playing with my yarn basket.”

The house smelled…tantalizing. Like oatmeal cookies, he decided as he removed his boots and looked around. The rooms were laid out the same as his, but the similarity between the two homes ended there.

Bridget had put her stamp on this place, made it warm and inviting. The living room was alive with colors and textures, including a fluffy white rug. Mandy sat plum in the center of it, surrounded by dozens of balls of yarn, each one a different color.

He didn’t need to see Mandy’s smile to know that she was loving this. “She’s discovering the world.”

Bridget looked at him as if he’d said something clever. “That’s right. She is.”

As soon as she spotted him, Mandy held out her arms and smiled. In his mind, he imagined her one year older saying “Daddy! Daddy!” the way he remembered his nieces doing for his brother Gavin when he came home from work.

He swung her up, then hugged her. He was surprised by the feelings that swamped him, even though he’d last seen her only a few hours ago. It was almost as if he were choking on one of those balls of yarn. He swallowed, then turned to Bridget. “I’m really sorry I was late. I didn’t want to leave the mall until I was sure the runaway wasn’t there.”

Bridget didn’t seem angry anymore. “Tell me about this girl. You said she was a good kid from a nice family. Why did she run away?”

Mandy reached for the yarn and he set her back down amid the colored balls. “According to her father, there were some typical teenage rebellion issues. Unfair curfews, too many family functions, not enough time for friends. He said they had a big argument on Tuesday night. Wednesday morning, when she didn’t come down for breakfast, his wife checked her room and found her gone.”

“Did she go to a friend’s house? That’s what I would have done.”

Nick felt a flash of curiosity. Had Bridget suffered from rebellion issues in her youth? Surely not. She didn’t look the type. “That’s exactly what her parents assumed she’d done. But when they hadn’t heard anything by the next morning they became worried. Yesterday the mother questioned all of her daughter’s friends, but no one had seen her.”

“Could they be covering for their friend?”

“It’s certainly possible. In fact, I hope that’s what’s happened. It beats the alternatives.”

“An abduction…”

He nodded. “Her father is an important political official here in Hartford. So kidnapping is a possibility. Though we aren’t considering it likely since the girl’s warmest coat, her backpack, wallet, iPod and cell phone are all missing.”

“So she probably ran away.”

“It definitely looks that way. What happened after she hit the streets though…” He shrugged. “Hartford isn’t Detroit, but every city has its criminal elements. A girl on her own could get into trouble pretty quickly.” Especially a girl with no street smarts.

“Maybe she left Hartford?”

“We don’t think so. She’s too young to drive, and we’re keeping tabs on the bus station and airport. It’s possible she hitched a ride from a stranger, but again, that doesn’t seem likely.”

“Her poor family.” She tilted her head and eyed him speculatively. “I’d be happy to try and help you. All you’d need to do is tell me this girl’s full name and birth date.”

He didn’t understand the reason for her question at first. Then he scowled. “Are you talking about numerology?”

“Don’t sound so skeptical. Numbers are all around us, and they have power and meaning.”

“Get real. This kid’s name and birth date isn’t going to tell us where she is.”

“Did I say they would? What numerology will do is give us some insight into what’s in this girl’s head right now. Where her life is leading her.”

“Yeah, well, thanks for the offer. But I think I’ll conduct this investigation the traditional way.”

“Lots of intelligent, educated people believe in numerology, Nick. It’s not that strange. If you’d like a demonstration, I’d be happy to show you. Give me your birth date.”

He looked at her suspiciously.

“Let me calculate your life path number.”

“What the heck is a life path number?”

“It’s like a road map for your life, highlighting the opportunities and challenges that you’ll face in your journey through this world. The life path number is the cornerstone of numerology.”

Did she have any idea how wacko she sounded? “Look, I’m sure this is interesting to a lot of people. I just happen to put my faith in things that are more objective. Like the size of bullets, the patterns of fingerprints and the results of DNA testing.”

“Okay. Fine. Forget it. Clearly you haven’t evolved to this level yet.”

Evolved. Right. That was one way of putting it. Still, nutty as he thought this numerology stuff was, he didn’t want to insult her.

He inhaled deeply. “Look, I realize lots of people check their horoscopes every day. I’m just not one of them. And I don’t base my police work on the stars—or numbers, either.”

“Maybe so far you haven’t. But later, if it turns out you do need my help, don’t let pride stand in the way of asking for it.”

He almost laughed. Fat chance of that happening.

CHAPTER FOUR

BECAUSE BRIDGET’S DAYS were busy with the dogs, she saw most of her numerology clients during the evening. This worked well for her clients, too, who juggled their timetables around the demands of work and family life.

Bridget ate a tofu stir-fry for dinner, then went to her office and spent an hour charting. At ten minutes to eight, she put water on to boil. She had tea steeping in an antique pot and two cups at the ready in her office when the doorbell rang.

Annabel Lang was a beautiful woman in her late thirties. Today she wore a trendy sweat suit, the kind that only looked good if you were a size six or smaller.

“Hi, Annabel. Come in.”

Annabel managed only a brief, tense smile. She’d sounded upset on the phone and Bridget led her to the office, concerned that something serious must be wrong.

“Sit down and make yourself comfortable. Would you like tea?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Annabel had been coming to Bridget for numerological readings ever since she’d heard Bridget speak at a workshop on goal-setting two years ago. Like many of her clients, Annabel was a planner. Someone who thought about her future and wanted as much information as she could get in order to make the best decisions for herself and her family.

She was also struggling with a marriage that was far from ideal. With the help of numerology she was trying to see the bigger patterns in her life as a way to guide her through these rough patches.

“Last night you said you wanted to talk about your daughter.”

“Yes.”