history—four years and three ransom demands before cops had shot the two men and rescued her. Buried inside that crime lay another even deepertragedy and the death of a child. And that past was why Ann was here this afternoon. She hoped, though, their friendship could handle what she was going to ask. “I need to tell you about something that happened at the conference.”
“All right,” Charlotte said, looking both curious and a little guarded.
“Do you remember my mentioning Matthew Dane?”
“The guy from Boston you dated for a few months, back when his daughter was still missing?”
“That’s the one. Matthew was at the conference. I was able to introduce him to Paul. My husband has decided he likes the guy anyway.”
Charlotte laughed. “From those I’ve met whom you dated, you had good tastes. They all seem to share a streak of honor and . . . I guess chivalry, for want of a better word.”
“That probably describes Matthew better than most.”
“I hear a story coming. Let me get us something to drink,” Charlotte offered, getting to her feet.
“Ahead of you, honey,” Bryce said, stepping into the room carrying two glasses. “Ann, I wasn’t sure what you might like on a day like this, so I made it lemonade.”
“That’s perfect, Bryce,” Ann said. “My voice is still hoarse from trying to carry on conversations in crowded convention hallways.”
He handed her a glass and napkin, the other to his wife. “I’ll leave you two ladies to chat. Swing by my office before you leave so I can hand off some nonprofit information for Paul.”
“Actually, Bryce . . . would you mind staying for a few minutes? What I need to speak with Charlotte about she’ll want to run by you later. It might be easier if you both heard it now.”
Bryce’s gaze narrowed a bit at the careful but casual way shesaid it. He changed directions to take the chair beside Charlotte. “Of course.” If it affected Charlotte and referenced the past, Ann knew he was going to do everything he could to be the wall between his wife and that news. He ran his hand down Charlotte’s hair as he sat down, an affectionate gesture Ann had seen many times. “What’s the topic?”
“Matthew Dane’s from the Boston area—I’ve mentioned him to Charlotte in the past. He moved over from cop to private investigator when his daughter went missing at age eight so he’d have more time and resources for the search. Becky was recovered at age sixteen. She’s doing well, is in college this year. Anyway, he was one of the speakers at the conference this week, talking about best practices in the dialog between the police and victims’ families.”
Charlotte leaned over against her husband’s shoulder. “Ann used to date him, for a few months during the years his daughter was missing.”
“I see.”
Ann felt a faint blush. “You’d like him, Bryce. Paul does. You’re all of the same type. Men of integrity, for want of a better definition.”
He grinned. “Compliment appreciated.”
Ann pulled out a copy of the newspaper article Shannon had shown Matthew; she’d found the same AP story in the Chicago Tribune archives. “A woman is on her way back to Chicago today. She tracked down Matthew at the hotel in Atlanta last night. This lady.” She handed across the article for Charlotte and Bryce to read.
Charlotte’s smile faded, and her hand trembled a bit as she read. Then she wordlessly handed the clipping on to her husband. “Tell me the rest of it.”
“She’s asked Matthew to bring her home. She hasn’t said much about what happened yet.”
“How long has she been free?” Bryce asked.
“Seventeen days.”
Bryce flinched. Charlotte closed her eyes.
“Have you met her?” Bryce asked, his voice husky.
“Not yet. The timing worked better for Paul and me to return to Chicago on schedule and put some things in motion here in preparation for her arrival.”
“The last name Bliss,” Charlotte said,
“All right,” Charlotte said, looking both curious and a little guarded.
“Do you remember my mentioning Matthew Dane?”
“The guy from Boston you dated for a few months, back when his daughter was still missing?”
“That’s the one. Matthew was at the conference. I was able to introduce him to Paul. My husband has decided he likes the guy anyway.”
Charlotte laughed. “From those I’ve met whom you dated, you had good tastes. They all seem to share a streak of honor and . . . I guess chivalry, for want of a better word.”
“That probably describes Matthew better than most.”
“I hear a story coming. Let me get us something to drink,” Charlotte offered, getting to her feet.
“Ahead of you, honey,” Bryce said, stepping into the room carrying two glasses. “Ann, I wasn’t sure what you might like on a day like this, so I made it lemonade.”
“That’s perfect, Bryce,” Ann said. “My voice is still hoarse from trying to carry on conversations in crowded convention hallways.”
He handed her a glass and napkin, the other to his wife. “I’ll leave you two ladies to chat. Swing by my office before you leave so I can hand off some nonprofit information for Paul.”
“Actually, Bryce . . . would you mind staying for a few minutes? What I need to speak with Charlotte about she’ll want to run by you later. It might be easier if you both heard it now.”
Bryce’s gaze narrowed a bit at the careful but casual way shesaid it. He changed directions to take the chair beside Charlotte. “Of course.” If it affected Charlotte and referenced the past, Ann knew he was going to do everything he could to be the wall between his wife and that news. He ran his hand down Charlotte’s hair as he sat down, an affectionate gesture Ann had seen many times. “What’s the topic?”
“Matthew Dane’s from the Boston area—I’ve mentioned him to Charlotte in the past. He moved over from cop to private investigator when his daughter went missing at age eight so he’d have more time and resources for the search. Becky was recovered at age sixteen. She’s doing well, is in college this year. Anyway, he was one of the speakers at the conference this week, talking about best practices in the dialog between the police and victims’ families.”
Charlotte leaned over against her husband’s shoulder. “Ann used to date him, for a few months during the years his daughter was missing.”
“I see.”
Ann felt a faint blush. “You’d like him, Bryce. Paul does. You’re all of the same type. Men of integrity, for want of a better definition.”
He grinned. “Compliment appreciated.”
Ann pulled out a copy of the newspaper article Shannon had shown Matthew; she’d found the same AP story in the Chicago Tribune archives. “A woman is on her way back to Chicago today. She tracked down Matthew at the hotel in Atlanta last night. This lady.” She handed across the article for Charlotte and Bryce to read.
Charlotte’s smile faded, and her hand trembled a bit as she read. Then she wordlessly handed the clipping on to her husband. “Tell me the rest of it.”
“She’s asked Matthew to bring her home. She hasn’t said much about what happened yet.”
“How long has she been free?” Bryce asked.
“Seventeen days.”
Bryce flinched. Charlotte closed her eyes.
“Have you met her?” Bryce asked, his voice husky.
“Not yet. The timing worked better for Paul and me to return to Chicago on schedule and put some things in motion here in preparation for her arrival.”
“The last name Bliss,” Charlotte said,
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