Page 47 of John’s Yearning

“You can always count on a woman to help another woman if she believes a man is chasing her,” Savannah said and pressed the elevator button. The doors opened immediately.

Savannah stepped inside, while John pointed to the stairs. “Grayson and I will take the stairs. Give us about ten seconds before you press the button for the top floor, so we can get upstairs before you reach the top.”

She nodded.

John ran up the first flight with Grayson following him close behind. The building had only four floors, including the entry level, and since both he and Grayson used their vampire speed to ascend the stairs, they were just around the elevator shaft when it pinged, announcing that Savannah had reached the top floor.

A door opened right opposite the elevator just as Savannah stepped out of the cab.

“Come on in,” John heard the photographer say.

“Thank you so much, I’m really grateful.”

When he heard Savannah’s footfalls on the concrete floor, John charged around the corner and reached for the door, gripping it, so Ms. Young couldn’t slam it in his face.

She cried out in shock and stumbled backward. John followed her into the flat, Grayson behind him.

“Help!” the woman screamed, cold fear in her eyes.

John raised his hand and motioned Grayson to step back. “Easy, Ms. Young. We don’t mean you any harm. We’re just here to get answers to some questions.”

The woman edged farther back until her back hit the dining room table. “Get away from me.” She glanced past him and Grayson. “You! I was trying to help you!”

Savannah stopped between John and Grayson. “Ms. Young. It’s not what it looks like. I swear, nobody’s going to hurt you. But we have questions. Regarding the photos you took of my daughter, of Buffy. She was kidnapped five days ago. And the pictures you took are our only lead.”

The woman tossed a look between Savannah, Grayson, and John. “They’re not the police. Or they would have said so.”

“We’re private investigators,” John offered. “Unfortunately, most people don’t let us into their homes voluntarily, so we have to fall back on a ruse or two. My apologies.”

She still hesitated, still looked at them with doubt and fear. “I want you to leave now, and I won’t call the police.”

John shook his head. “We’ll leave—after you’ve answered our questions.”

“I don’t understand. I’m just a photographer.”

John reached into his jacket pocket. Ms. Young shrieked, as if she expected him to retrieve a gun. “Calm yourself, Ms. Young.” He pulled out Buffy’s picture and held it up so she could see it. “Did you take this picture?”

She stared at him for a moment, then diverted her gaze to the photo. Slowly, she nodded. “Yes, I remember her. She’s very photogenic. A pleasure to work with.” Then she looked at Savannah. “You said she was kidnapped? Is that true, or just another ruse so you could get in here?”

A sad expression on her face, Savannah shook her head. “She was taken five days ago. Just like a dozen other kids.”

Stunned, Ms. Young looked back at the photo, then at John. “What does this photo have to do with it?”

“Every single girl that disappeared came to you for a photo session before her disappearance,” John said calmly, even though he hadn’t received confirmation from Ryder yet.

The photographer’s eyes widened in shock. “No, that can’t be. B-b-but that’s impossible,” she stammered. She pressed her hand to her chest, her gaze bouncing back and forth between Savannah, Grayson, and John. “You think I’ve got something to do with it?” She shook her head and then pointed to Savannah. “But you were here with her. You know nothing happened here. You took her home with you.”

John cleared his throat. “We’re not saying that you were the one who took the girls. But you’re the common link. The only thing these girls have in common is that you took their pictures.”

“But that doesn’t have to mean anything,” she protested.

“It does,” John said. “That’s why we’re here. We need to know what you did with the digital files, who saw them, who could have copied them, who had access to them.”

“Nobody does. My files are secure.” She pointed to a desk in the corner, where two large computer monitors stood next to each other, a keyboard in front of them, and a docking station with a laptop in between. Various pictures were displayed on the screens.

John motioned to the desk. “Grayson.”

The hybrid walked to it and plopped into the chair, then touched the mouse.