you.” The monitor showed Colin climbing back in his car and driving around the corner to the media van. Opening the door, he climbed into the increasingly cramped space.
“Nice abs,” Isabel commented.
Colin looked at her, then at Emily. “Thanks.”
Special Agent Ellis stood at the front of the van, speaking to Captain Decker on his cell phone. He reported on the operation so far and directed him to get his SWAT team together and stand by, ready to raid the home at twenty-one hundred hours, assuring him they would be in close radio contact. The timing of the operation would hinge on what happened at the hotel.
“Nice work, Detective,” Ellis praised as he stuck his phone in his pocket and walked back toward Colin and the others. “Good legwork, so now Peter here has a better handle on his role.”
While the men discussed what they’d discovered so far and what the objective of Peter’s performance would be, Emily leaned over to speak quietly to Isabel. “How’s Jethro doing?”
“He’s pretty sick, pancreatic cancer.”
“I thought he looked different at lunch the other day, thinner than the first time I met him.”
“Funny thing, though. I saw Delia at the hospital, too. She’s got to be related to him in some way.”
Emily looked into Isabel’s deep brown eyes. “You think she’s his other daughter?”
“Could be. She’s probably too young to be one of his ex-wives.”
“I hadn’t thought of that. He did say he’d been married five times. When I read Delia Banderas McCall, I assumed Banderas was her maiden name, but it could have been a previous married name.”
“Maybe she was the Las Vegas party girl he was married to briefly.” Isabel covered her mouth to stifle a chuckle.
“Can you imagine sophisticated and demure Delia McCall as a party girl?”
“What are you girls laughing at?” Colin stood behind Emily’s chair.
“Just girl talk,” Isabel replied.
Emily rose and turned to him, lacing her hands around his waist. “Good job.” Standing on her tiptoes, she gave him a soft peck on the cheek. “Now, it’s Peter’s turn.”
Emily’s phone chimed in her pocket. Pulling it out, she saw it was Camille. “Hello,” she answered, glancing from Colin to Isabel.
“Emily, I’m so glad I reached you. Any word yet?” Camille pleaded in a tone filled with desperation.
“No, hon, sorry not yet.” Emily could hear the high anxiety behind each of Camille’s words and her chest felt heavy and tight at having to tell her no.
“But it’s been several hours. No word at all?”
“Camille, sweetie, listen to me. We are doing all we can to find Molly.” Emily couldn’t tell her she had seen her daughter’s bike and she was, in all probability, being held by sex traffickers. She fought against the desire to blurt out the truth, needing to keep that news from her for now. “It’ll take some time. I promise to call you as soon as we have anything at all to tell you.”
“Okay.” Camille backed off. Her voice was weak and shaky.
“Is Maggie still there with you?”
“Yes, she’s been here since we got back, but I haven’t seen Isabel.”
“Isabel’s helping Colin find Molly. She’ll be in touch. Can you put Maggie on the phone?”
“She wants to talk to you,” Emily overheard Camille say.
“Hello.”
“Maggie, I need you to listen carefully. I know Camille and Jonathan are beside themselves with fear. I’m counting on you to be strong for them and try to keep them calm.”
“I will.”
“When they start playing the blame game, and you know they will, make sure they know this was not their fault. Can you do that for me?”
“I’ll take care of them. They’ve taken care of me plenty of times. Don’t you worry yourself, I’m here for ’em.”
Emily couldn’t help but agree that Maggie was right about their having taken care of her. Camille and Jonathan had stepped up numerous times over the years to help Maggie and her son, Josh.
Maggie had grown up dirt-poor in Texas and had dragged her toddler to Hollywood seeking fame and fortune. When things didn’t turn out the way she had planned, she took her little boy and moved to Paradise Valley where her brother and his family lived.
Most recently, in the months previous, Maggie had endured a life-shattering event, and it was Camille, with Jonathan’s help, who became a regular fixture at Maggie’s house until she could get back on her feet. Though she appeared to be a soft and lovely Southern belle, she had forged a backbone of steel as she fought to leave poverty behind