Pitfall Read Online Free PDF Page A

him.
    He swallowed. “Since then I’ve called the authorities every day, but I just keep getting the runaround. It’s like—” His words hung as he looked past me. “Like she’s ceased to exist.”
    I leaned forward and placed my hands on the desk. “So now you’re here.”
    He met my eyes. “And now I’m here.”
    My tone was even. “Mr. Cahill, I’m not sure I’m the one who can help you with this. After all, as you said, your daughter’s an adult.”
    “Yes, but—” A hint of panic colored his tone. “If it’s a matter of money—”
    “Money’s not the issue. I think you’re confusing what I do with what a private investigator does. But I’m not a PI.”
    Cahill didn’t respond, and I could see the burgeoning hope leaving his sunken, bloodshot eyes.
    I went on, “Staying with the authorities might give you faster results than you could get with me. They have the resources and the manpower.” Of course Cahill couldn’t know that over the years I’ve developed my own network of discreet resources I can call on if the need arises, but I try to play those cards infrequently.
    Because some of them I can only play once.
    He shook his head, his reply a rasp. “That won’t work.”
    My patience was running out. “Why not?”
    “Because I don’t trust them to give it their best effort. And … well, I’ve heard you get results when no one else can.”
    “That’s the second time you said that. Who told you this?”
    He paused for a moment, then said, “You recall two years ago, when you rescued that old, Japanese man the Yakuza had targeted?” I course I remembered . “I met that man, last year when I had to go to Kyoto on business. He told me what you did. How you saved his life because you wouldn’t give up. That’s what we need now, someone who simply won’t quit. Someone who … can help our daughter …”
    He hung up then, his face gone gray with despair. Wearily Cahill slumped back in his chair, like all this was putting him through uncounted misery.
    I felt terrible for him, and softened my tone. “Okay, before we get too deep in the weeds here, give me a little background on her.” I pulled over a five by seven pad of paper and a pen. I waited for a moment while Cahill composed himself.
    “Yes, of course,” he said at last. “Her full name is Sarah Michelle Cahill.”
    I wrote that down. “Pretty.”
    “Yes. My wife Ruth named her, after her grandmother. Ruth’s I mean. Not Sarah’s.”
    “What’s her height, weight, eye and hair color?”
    “Five two, brunette, brown eyes I don’t know, maybe a hundred pounds?”
    I was writing as he spoke. “Go on.”
    He smiled a little now, his heart not in it. “She still lives with us, until this fall that is, when she starts classes at the University of Cincinnati. This whole thing is killing her by inches … Ruth, I mean. And Billy’s really too young to know what’s going on; we just told him Sarah’s with friends.”
    “Are he and his sister close?”
    “Very. We—” He stopped and leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees, and dropped his face into his hands. “I’m really jumbling this up, aren’t I?” he mumbled.
    “Take your time.” I felt increasingly worse for him. I’d seen pain like his before. Every day, in the mirror. “Are you sure I can’t get you some coffee? I always keep a pot going.”
    “No thanks.” Pulling his hands away from his face, he stared at the floor. “I guess I’m kind of a mess.”
    “You’re doing fine. So about Sarah. Has she been acting differently than normal?”
    Looking up, he shook his head. “Not really.”
    “How about her private life? Is she open with you and your wife? Does she keep secrets?”
    He spread his hands. “How would I know?”
    He had a point.
    “Our daughter has always been headstrong. Somewhat immature. Even rebellious at times.” He rushed on, “Not in a bad way, you understand, but Sarah has her own way of looking at things. And