Little Girl Gone (An Afton Tangler Thriller #1)(18)

“Oh no!” Afton gasped as Susan Darden’s face suddenly appeared, a pale oval, looking scared and strained amid the too-bright lights.

“Is it my baby?” Susan pleaded. Her voice was high and tremulous. “Dear God, will someone please tell me what’s going on?”

“They found Elizabeth Ann?” a frantic Richard Darden asked. They were standing on the sidewalk at the top of the hill, clinging desperately to each other.

“Somebody’s got to set those poor people straight,” Afton said.

“I’ll do it,” Max said. “You’ve got your hands full with the dog.”

Max nodded and hastily scrambled up the slope, desperate to head them off. But Portia Bourgoyne, who was already up top with her camera crew, knew a heart-wrenching sound bite when she saw one and immediately sprang into action. Bright TV lights flashed on again as Portia stuck her microphone in the Dardens’ startled faces before they knew what was happening.

“My baby, my baby!” Susan shrilled. “Is she here?” She was in the throes of a full-blown panic attack.

“We’re standing on a rocky precipice overlooking the Mississippi River in Saint Paul,” Portia Bourgoyne began. “Waiting to see if the plaintive cries coming from below this steep embankment could possibly belong to Elizabeth Ann, the three-month-old baby girl who was snatched from the Kenwood home of Susan and Richard Darden as she slept in her crib last night.”

“Oh shit,” Afton said as disgust rose up inside her. “Portia’s running a con on the Dardens,” she said to one of the paramedics. “She knows damn well that we hauled up a dog.”

Max was already up top now, trying to break up Portia’s phony, highly staged interview. Afton heard a babble of angry, high-pitched voices, heard Portia scream something about first amendment rights. Then the gaffer, the kid who was wearing a battery pack around his waist and muscling a rack of heavy TV lights, was shoved out of the way and the lights flickered off.

“It’s not her,” Max tried to explain to them in a soothing voice. “It’s a mistake, there’s no need for you to be here. Please, go home. We’ll call you as soon as we know something.”

Susan Darden’s face collapsed. “This is all your fault!” she screamed at her husband. “It was your idea to drive over here!”

Richard Darden looked stunned. “I thought for sure it was Elizabeth Ann,” he said. “I wanted to be here, to be able to put her back in your arms where she belongs!”

“Please,” Max said, trying to interject himself in their conversation. “Everybody just calm down.”

But Susan Darden continued to rail against her husband. “You told me it was her! You promised me.”

“This is bad,” Afton muttered. “We need to have these people working with us, not against each other.” She scurried up the hillside as fast as she could, still carrying the dog wrapped in a blanket.

“Oh my God!” Susan Darden cried when she caught sight of Afton. “Is that her? Did you find her? Is that my Elizabeth Ann?” Hope flooded Susan’s face as she rushed up to Afton and clawed frantically at the blankets before Afton was able to stop her. Then the little dog’s head popped out and he gave a sharp yip.

Susan Darden reacted as if she’d been slugged. Her jaw went slack, her eyes flooded with pain, and she staggered backward. Flailing and stumbling, she nearly fell down. But when Max shot out a hand to steady her, she frantically batted him away.

“A dog?” Susan cried. “A filthy mutt?” Her face had become a mask of horror and rage. “How cruel can you be? Is this some kind of sick joke, taunting me like this?”

Afton knew the situation had suddenly turned bad. She’d had no intention of upsetting Mrs. Darden. She couldn’t believe someone would have even told the Dardens to come here. But now it had turned into an absolute fiasco, and there didn’t seem to be any way to back out delicately. Unless she . . .

Richard Darden suddenly stepped in front of his wife to accost a stunned Afton. He thrust his arms out, punched her hard on both shoulders, and shoved her backward.

“Get away from us,” Darden said, his voice a mixture of cold rage and despair. “Do you see how much you’ve upset my wife?” He licked his lips and then came at her again. “This will be the end of your career. I’ll see to that. No matter how long it takes, I’ll make sure you pay for this ridiculous stunt.”

Susan Darden darted in to land a final punch. “We don’t need your kind of help,” she cried. “In fact, we don’t ever want to see you again!”





10


SOMETIMES the night is never long enough. Morning comes crashing in like an unwelcome guest that shows up at a party two hours early—and doesn’t even bring a decent bottle of wine.

When the alarm did its 7:00 A.M. briiiing, Afton fought her way to consciousness. And as the fog lifted, tried to remember why she was feeling so tense and worried.

Then she remembered. The Dardens. The dog. Definitely not her finest hour. Would there be repercussions? Oh yeah, probably.

Stumbling out of bed, she slowly made her way to the kids’ room. Tess was curled up in Poppy’s bed, their identical blond hair tousled together on a single pillow. The little French bulldog, Bonaparte, lay snoozing at the foot of the bed in a pile of old blankets the girls had arranged as a cozy dog nest.