Killer Ambition - [5]

“And that…?” I asked, pointing to a young man wearing jeans that sagged below sea level who was sitting on an ottoman at the other end of the room.

“Jeff, my runner. Assistant too, sometimes.”

And then there was the butler who’d answered the door, and all the others it would take to keep this place going. If we kept taking attendance, we wouldn’t get to the case until sometime next week. Bailey had apparently reached the same conclusion.

“I’ll need a list of everyone who’s been in the house today and who’s in the house now,” Bailey said.

“Right, got it, got it.”

“When did you first realize your daughter had been kidnapped?” Bailey asked.

Russell pulled off his baseball cap, which now showed me it was his substitute for hair. The hem of tight straw-colored curls just above his ears was all that remained. He rubbed his head and then his face. With the cap off, I could see the worry and fear etched in his features. Suddenly the celebrity director was just the frantic, distraught father of a child in danger. And in that moment, the picture of my father’s face filled my memory: the panic and confusion in his eyes, turning to frozen shock when, sobbing and hysterical, I told him of the stranger who’d taken Romy while we were playing in the woods near the house. I brought myself back to the present with a stiff jerk. That was Romy and my father. Not Hayley or Russell. This daughter still had a chance of a safe return.

“I got a text message with the photograph of Hayley. It came in before noon from Hayley’s phone. She was at my place in the hills-”

“Hollywood Hills?”

Russell nodded. “Sent it to my private cell phone. Only my family has it. But I didn’t see it till after I got home. Said that photo was proof of life and that the demand would come later. Warned me not to call the cops.”

“You still have that message and the photo?”

“Yeah, of course. Got ’em right here.” He pulled his cell phone out of his hip pocket and handed it to Bailey.

Bailey and I read the message on his phone: I’ve got your daughter. She’ll be safe if you do as I tell you. If you call the police she’ll be killed. I’ll be in touch with my demand.

“A little while later, I get an e-mail telling me to bring a million in cash to a place in Fryman Canyon.”

“Could you tell where the e-mail came from?”

“The e-mail address was Hayley’s, but-”

But all the kidnapper had to do was get her password to send from her e-mail address.

“Was there a photo of Hayley in the e-mail?” I asked.

“Yeah. A video of Hayley was attached, telling me just to do what he says.” Russell again rubbed his head and then his face. His next words tumbled over each other, half regretful, half defensive. “So I did. I know I should’ve called you guys, but I was afraid to take the chance. Thought if I did what they asked, Hayley’d be back and…”

“And I understand you’ve already delivered the ransom?” Bailey asked.

Russell tried to take a deep breath, but it caught in his throat. He dipped his head. “Yeah.” He could barely choke out the word.

“How did you get your hands on a million dollars that fast?” I asked.

At that, Russell looked up, his expression confused. “See, that’s the other thing. Only the family knows I keep that much cash around for emergencies. Hayley had to have told them-”

“And she was supposed to be released within an hour after that?” I asked.

Russell nodded.

“Where exactly?” I asked.

“At the mouth of Fryman Canyon, on the valley side. Told me to go back home and wait for the call.” Russell’s face bunched up and he blew out an exasperated huff. “Look, I already told all this to the captain, so why are you sitting here?”

“We have officers searching Fryman Canyon,” Bailey said. “Unless and until we find someone who can give us more to go on, everything that can be done is being done.”

Bailey turned back to Russell’s cell phone and pulled up the proof-of-life photo. A petite blonde girl with a feminine version of her father’s mouth, dressed in a pink-striped jersey blouse that exposed one fetchingly bare shoulder, stared back at us. Her expression was fixed, serious. I looked across the room at Russell’s wife, Dani. I saw no resemblance. Hayley seemed to be leaning against an iron fence, through which I vaguely made out a hillside thick with greenery.

“Let’s see the ransom demand,” Bailey said.

Russell held out his hand for the cell phone, then scrolled and handed it back to Bailey.

The ransom demand was short and clear:

One million dollars in cash in a duffel bag. Go to Fryman Canyon. Take the small path on the left for fifty yards, then turn right. Walk until you see two trees with white string tied around the trunks. Leave the bag between them. Go home and wait for the call. If you bring in the police, Hayley’s dead.

We watched the video. It was even shorter but no less clear. “Dad, just do what they say and everything will be okay. Please.” It was only a few seconds, and maybe it hit me as hard as it did because I hadn’t expected it, but it was enough to reveal a soulfulness, a pureness of heart in the young girl.