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“But kidnapping and ransom are.” Jack stares me down. Direct, open, forthright. Qualities I remember from our Naval Academy days. Back then, he seemed older than his age. And that holds true today.
“You think she’s been kidnapped?”
“I honestly don’t know.” He shakes his head. “She could have run away. But I still need to find her. And I need discretion. I only want to work with people I trust.”
“Has anyone contacted you?” Jack Sullivan is a wealthy man. It’s reasonable he would suspect a kidnapping.
“No. Nothing.” He drops his head. “But she’s been gone less than twenty-four hours.” His chest lifts and his gaze zeroes in on the far right corner of the room. “Look. The police may be correct. She may be off with friends. I am strict. Maybe she tired of it. This could be rebellion. And if that’s the case, I don’t want this played out in the media. I want to find her and bring her home. But if it’s kidnapping, and they want a ransom, I want you locked and loaded, ready to go.”
Dr. Rolfe’s pen flies over the notebook as he speaks.Why is this woman here? And what the hell is she writing down?
“When did you last see Sophia?”
“Yesterday morning before school. I had a business dinner and got home around ten. A friend dropped her off after school at around four thirty. That’s the last time anyone has seen her.” I glance at my wrist. Sixteen hours since she’d last been seen. “Last night, when she wasn’t home, I tracked her location.”
“Using what?”
“An app I have on her phone.”
“And where was she?”
“The phone was in her bedroom.”
“Did you find any sign of struggle?”
“No.”
“And why do the cops believe it’s a runaway case?”
“Her age.” He stretches out his hands. “She’s fifteen. We live in a safe, gated community. The officer on duty last night said they see these cases all the time.”
Dr. Rolfe’s pen stills. She looks in my direction but not directly at me. “There’s no sign of struggle. Leaving the phone at home is the action of someone not wanting to be found. If someone had taken her against her will, you’d expect the phone to either be with her or tossed and destroyed.”
“Dr. Rolfe, what is your role here?”
Jack’s fingers tap the table, and his gaze remains locked off to the side. It’s as if he’s not entirely present.
“Oh, ah, I’m a family friend. Or, well, I was a friend of Sophia’s mother. Cassandra.” She looks to Jack. He slowly turns his head and glances between the two of us.
“I asked Dr. Rolfe to join us because she is a preeminent profiler. She is an expert in the criminal justice field. And, as she said, she’s a family friend. I trust her.” He rubs his hand through his hair and then pinches the bridge of his nose. “If the media gets wind of this, it has the potential to blow up. I have a nephew who lives in Houston. They’ve painted him to be a playboy. If she ran away, I don’t want it to be hitting gossip columns. It could impact her college chances. Or, like my nephew, she could play into the spotlight.” His jaw flexes. “I don’t want any of that. I just want to find her. And I want people I trust working with me.”
“I’m an associate professor at UCSB.” Dr. Rolfe points out the window in what she most likely presumes is the direction of the campus. “I also consult on criminal cases.”
At the elevator, I had registered her eyes as dark brown, yet I misjudged. Her dark green eyes remind me of a forest, a soothing, earthy shade easily mistaken for ordinary brown. The pale skin around those green eyes is noticeably smooth, her lips full, her cheekbones pronounced.
“And exactly how many cases have you consulted on?”
“Two cases for the Santa Barbara Police Department. I moved here last summer. Most of my experience stems from cases in Great Britain.”Stems from?
“Her father is Dr. Henry Rolfe.” Sullivan says it as if the name should mean something to me. It doesn’t, but I mentally store it for a background check.
A missing persons case.“And her mother hasn’t seen her?”
Alex’s gaze falls to her lap. Sullivan’s chest rises several inches. He swallows.
“Cassandra died almost three years ago. Sophia came to live with me after her mom’s death. Sophia and I…we’ve gone through a lot together. That’s why I don’t believe she would run away. But…” He stretches out his hands again, palms flat on the table. His chest rises on his inhale. “I don’t know. I’ve been told I can be hard to live with.”
“Why?”
