Hide (Detective D.D. Warren, #2)(28)

She regarded him stony-eyed. He sighed and decided to get on with it. Russell Granger's deep love for law enforcement had apparently been passed on to his daughter. Bobby set down the water, flipped open his notepad.

"So, I learned some things about what happened in the fall of '82." He glanced up expectantly, thinking to find a glimmer of interest in her eyes, a small softening of her stance. Nothing. "Turns out some guy—an unidentified subject, UNSUB, we call him in official police speak—took an interest in you. Started delivering little gifts to the house. Was caught trespassing after dark. Went so far as to try to break into your bedroom.

"The police were called by your father several times. Third time out, they discovered the subject had been hiding in the neighbor's attic across the street, where apparently he had been watching you. They found stacks of Polaroids, notes containing your daily schedule, that sort of thing. Any of this sound familiar?"

"No." She still sounded belligerent, but her arms were down, her expression less certain. "What'd the police do?"

"Nothing. Back in '82, stalking a seven-year-old girl wasn't a crime. Creepy, yes. Criminal, no."

"That's ridiculous!"

"Apparently, your father thought so as well, because within weeks of the final episode, your family disappeared. And weeks after that," his voice grew quieter, "Dori Petracelli was snatched from her grandparents' yard in Lawrence, never to be seen again. You're sure you didn't know?"

"I looked it up online," she said curtly. "Last night. I figured you wouldn't help me. Detectives answer their own questions, not other people's. So I looked it up for myself."

He waited. It didn't take long.

"Have you seen her missing photo, you know, the portrait they posted all over town?"

He shook his head.

"Come here." She crossed the space abruptly brushing by him, into the family room. He saw a small notebook computer buried under a pile of papers. She swept the papers to the floor, flipped open the lid, and the computer screen came to life. It took only a few clicks of the mouse on the Internet and Dori Petracelli's missing photo filled the screen. He still didn't get it. Annabelle had to point it out to him.

"Look around her neck. It's the locket. She's wearing my necklace."

Bobby squinted, bent closer. The photo was fuzzy, black and white, but upon closer inspection… He sighed. If he'd had any doubts before, this took care of them.

"According to the blurb on the website," Annabelle spoke up quietly, "that photo was taken a week before Dori disappeared. Most recent photo, you know." Her voice changed, grew an edge. "I bet he liked that. I bet it turned him on. Watching all the news stories, flashing her picture, showing that locket, begging for her safe return. UNSUBs like to follow their own cases, right? Like to know how clever they have been. Bastard."

She turned away from him, taking several jerky steps across the room.

Bobby straightened more slowly, keeping his gaze on her face. "What do you remember, Annabelle—"

"Don't call me that! You can't use real names. I go by Tanya. Call me Tanya."

"Why? It's been twenty-five years. What do you still have to fear?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know? I've grown comfortable with the fact that my dad was dancing to the tune of a paranoid drummer. You're the one now saying his fears were genuine. What am I supposed to do with that? Some guy stalked me and I never even knew. Then I left and he… he snatched my best friend and he…"

She broke off, unable to continue. Her hand pressed hard over her mouth, her other arm curling protectively around her waist. From the dog bed, Bella looked up, wagged her tail, and whined.

"Sorry, girl," Annabelle whispered. "Sorry."

Bobby gave her a minute. She pulled it together. Chin coming up, shoulders squaring off. He didn't understand the father yet; he had a lot of questions about the father, actually But by all appearances, Russell Granger had raised his daughter right. Twenty-five years later, this girl was tough.

Then the buzzer for her apartment sounded and she jumped.

"What the…" she started nervously "I don't get many…" She crossed quickly to the bay windows overlooking the street, checking out who was ringing her unit. Bobby already had his hand tucked inside his jacket, fingers resting on the butt of his gun as he fed off her nervousness. Then just as quickly as the episode started, it ended. Annabelle looked out, spotted the UPS truck, and smiled self-consciously as her shoulders sagged in relief.

"Bella," she called, "it's your boyfriend."

Annabelle went to work on the door locks while Bella pawed frantically at the wood.

"Boyfriend?" Bobby asked.

"Ben, the UPS driver. He and Bella have a thing. I order, he delivers, she gets cookies. I know dogs are color-blind, but if Bella could see a rainbow, her favorite color would still be brown."

Annabelle had finally gotten the locks undone. She pushed open the door and nearly got mowed down by her dog.

"Be right back," Annabelle called over her shoulder to Bobby, then disappeared down the stairs in Bella's wake.

The interruption gave Bobby a moment to collect his thoughts. And add to his mental notes. He was getting a pretty good idea of the life Annabelle currently led. Isolated. Security conscious. Insular. Did her shopping by mail-order catalog or Internet. Best friend was her dog. Closest thing to human connection—signing for her daily delivery from the UPS man.