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she be? When Ted showed up at six, we sent him right back out to see if he could spot her car on the road.”
    “He didn’t have any luck?”
    “None. He traveled the route twice and didn’t see a thing. So I went out to look for her too. That’s when he called and said he’d found her car parked in a municipal lot not six blocks from here. It was locked. She was gone. Vanished.”
    I don’t care how immature she is, nobody abandons their car for no reason. 
    He went on, “And I know she didn’t take a trip or something because all her luggage and good clothes are still at home.” He dry washed his face with his hands. “We called back at her work number then. They hadn’t seen or heard from her. Then we contacted the Milford police as well as the state troopers again.  We told them we’d located her car. But we still didn’t get very far with them.” Fresh anguish twisted his countenance. “Please, Mr.  Brenner. We’re at the end of our rope. We know we can trust you. And …” His eyes grew moist. “I don’t know any other way to say it. You’re our only hope.”

Chapter Four

T he traffic was surprisingly light as I tooled down Pershing Avenue toward home. I used that time to mull over the events of the past few hours.
    After Jacob Cahill’s last remark, he’d then said, with an odd mix of sadness and desperation etched on his face, “The only salient question is, will you help us? Will you help us find our daughter?”
    And what do you know? Even as I opened my mouth to tell him thanks, but no thanks, round yourself up someone else, I found I couldn’t.
    “Mr. Cahill, I’ll do my best.”
    “Thank you.” He dropped both hands down on his thighs and nodded, his voice tinged with relief. “Thank you.”
    “You realize, of course, you’re getting shoddy goods here. In the missing persons department I’m batting oh-for-three.”
    “It doesn’t matter. I have complete and total faith that you’re the man.”
    I shook my head wryly. “Sir, you’re a piece of work, I’ll give you that.”
    “Call me Jacob.”
    “John. And Jacob, I hate to bring this up, but …”
    “But we need to talk about limiting your liability, of course.”
    I was glad I hadn’t had to draw him a map regarding this; business is business, after all. We spent the next few minutes going over my standard agreement, which stated I was doing this work as a favor, no money was changing hands, no promises made or implied, and so on. It went on to say that if required to in a court of law, Cahill would swear to this fact.
    It’s at this point some people go a little sideways. The idea of appearing before a magistrate and vowing that whatever work I was doing for them was being done solely at the other person’s request sometimes is more than they can bear. But Cahill seemed fine, and stated the document was satisfactory.
    We agreed on wording regarding time spent, saying the contract covered a week’s worth of work. I think the unsaid thing between us was we both knew that would tell the tale. In seven days Ms. Sarah Cahill would either be safe at home, or she’d never be. In today’s anything-goes climate, probably no one would ever know what had become of her, and that was simply unacceptable. After the things I’d suffered as a boy at the hands of my drunken father, I’ve never been able to tolerate the idea of the weak or helpless being abused. The thought of a girl like Sarah possibly undergoing unnamed horrors made my mouth go dry.
    We stood to shake hands to consummate the deal. “I’ll need a recent photo of her. The newer the better.”
    “A photo.” Cahill shook his head in frustration. “I knew I was forgetting something. I do have one, but I left it on my desk back at the office. It’s newer than the snapshot I keep in my wallet. She’s only fourteen in that one. If you’ll follow me over we can get it.”
    “Fine.” We both walked out my office door and down the long carpeted hall, taking