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Cole gave him a look.
“No, Cole. Seriously, what the hell is Angel gonna tell her? I don’t want her freaked out before I even bring her.”
“Angel’s not gonna freak her out.”
“What does she know about what goes on?”
“She can guess. Pretty accurately, too.”
Crash clenched his jaw.
Cole slugged him on the shoulder. “It’s gonna be fine.”
Crash glanced up and saw the two coming down the stairs. Cole followed his stare, turning to see them. “She looks fine. No freak out.”
“You don’t know her.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Never mind.” He moved toward her.
The girls reached the bottom of the stairs, and he stood waiting at the bottom step. Searching her eyes, he asked, “You okay?”
“Of course. Why?” she asked.
His eyes ran from her to Angel and back. “Because Cole told me what you were up there talking about.”
“Oh.” Her eyes moved past him to the bar.
Crash’s eyes slid to Angel. “Give us a minute, sweetheart.”
“Sure thing.” Angel moved off toward Cole.
Crash’s eyes returned to Shannon’s. “We need to talk.”
*****
Nicklaus Ralston sat behind the desk of his fortieth floor office in downtown San Francisco. A wall of glass behind him showcasing the bay and the Bay Bridge. Before him sat the private investigator he’d hired to hunt down Shannon. A task the man was not having much success with, apparently.
“I’ve got nothing,” the man sitting in the chair before him stated.
“Mr. Abbott, you came very highly recommended. I was assured you always got your man, as it were, or in this case, woman. An assurance that came with a very high price tag. I’m sure you’re not going to disappoint me at this early juncture.”
“Mr. Ralston, sir, I assure you I’ve turned this town upside down. I haven’t been able to find a single clue to her whereabouts. She covered her tracks well. I believe she had to have help.”
“And I can assure you that none of her friends or family are helping her. I’ve made sure of that.”
Abbott lifted his hands and dropped them. “Well, the only thing the least bit unusual that I’ve been able to uncover, and judging by her wealth, it’s probably not all that unusual, was a five million dollar transfer out of one of her accounts several years ago.”
Nicklaus straightened.
Abbott noticed his reaction. “Were you aware of that?”
“No. I was not.”
“Well, I don’t think even her father was aware of that.” He slid a file folder across the desk at Nicklaus, who picked it up.
Nicklaus flipped it open and studied the bank printout inside. A lot of it was encoded, but the amount and date were clear enough. “This transfer—where did it end up?”
