“What do you want me to do?” He felt so damned helpless and he hated the feeling. He was always in command, the man in charge…

“Use your influence, for God’s sake. You’re the richest man in this city, so you shouldn’t sit around here waiting for the police to fumble all over themselves. Do something, Witt. I don’t care who you have to bribe or threaten. Call in the goddamned FBI! Just find my daughter!” Her hands shook as she took another drag on her cigarette.

“They’ve already called the feds-in case she’s been taken over state lines. And I’ll do anything I can to find London, you know that. Believe me, I’m trying.”

“Well, try harder!” She squashed out her half-smoked Virginia Slim in a glass tray. “She might be with Zach,” she said, not for the first time, though at one point she’d defended the boy. She’d been the first to suggest that Zachary was involved, then changed her mind as if the thought were too distasteful. “Maybe Zach’s got her somewhere and this is just a prank…” She must’ve noticed the skeptical expression on his face. “Well, he’s involved, then. You know him, Witt, always in trouble…walking on the wrong side of the law…like his father.”

Stung, Witt held his tongue. The crack about Zach’s paternity struck home, but he didn’t call her on it. He’d never believed, never let himself think for one minute, that Zach had been sired by Polidori. A bitter taste filled his mouth at the very thought. It was possible, but, no, he wouldn’t believe that the boy he’d considered his second son for all these years wasn’t his. But he wasn’t going to argue the point with Kat. There was no reasoning with her now and he had to keep a clam head, no matter what else.

Nelson, his youngest son, looked scared. Witt had never much cared for the boy; at fourteen he was still a scrawny kid who seemed to take after him, but always reminded Witt of his first wife, Eunice. There was something about Nelson that was…odd. Unsettling. “Why didn’t you tell me Zach didn’t come upstairs?” he asked the boy, and Nelson swallowed hard, avoiding his father’s eyes. “You were supposed to be sharing a room.”