"Great. See you then."
The Wheatley house was even more impressive than Andie had expected. The brick Tudor-style estate was set well back from the street, hidden behind an eight-foot hedge that lined the imposing stone fence and decorative iron gate. A long, curved driveway sloped up toward the house. It was set on the highest point on the heavily wooded lot, perched just above the neighbors' trees for unobstructed views of Puget Sound.
Andie parked beneath the portico and rang the doorbell. Gus answered. He looked tired, as though he'd barely slept all night.
"Come in," he said, letting her pass. The double doors closed behind her. She stood beneath the crystal chandelier in the foyer, facing the living room. It was a dramatic room with vaulted ceilings that followed the steep lines of the Tudor design. The floor was oak with inlaid borders of teak and rosewood. A huge stone fireplace covered one wall. Museum-quality artwork covered another. The furnishings were expensive European designs she had admired only in storefront windows. In the center was a silk oriental rug big enough to carpet her entire town house.
"Nice place:' she said as Gus took her coat.
"It's cozy."
Right. . My Subaru is "cozy."
He asked, "Can I get you something? Coffee?"
"That would be perfect."
He directed her toward the kitchen, but they were practically ambushed halfway down the hall as Morgan emerged from her bedroom.
Gus said, "This is my daughter, Morgan."
Andie leaned forward to extend her hand. "I'm Andie." "Andie? That's a boy's name."
"No more than Morgan," she said, smiling thinly.
That seemed to break the ice, as if they had a kinship. "I lost a tooth," she said as she pointed at the gap.
"Oh, my. Does it hurt?"
"A little. Enough to keep me out of school today." "I see," said Andie, smiling with her eyes.
"Are you going to find my mommy?"
Andie and Gus exchanged glances. She sensed the FBI was as yet an unsettled matter between father and daughter. "I'm here to help your dad."
A phone rang. Morgan pulled a cordless receiver from her Barbie shoulder bag and answered, "Hi, Hannah."
"Sounds like somebody found a friend to play hooky with her," Andie said with a wink.
Morgan blushed, guilty as charged. She waved a quick good-bye and started down the hall, then stopped and glanced back. "You can come see my room sometime, Andie. If you want."
"I'd like that."
Morgan seemed to smile as she ducked into her room. Gus watched, bewildered. "How the heck did you do that?"
"It's a girl thing."
"Works better than the lousy dad thing, I guess." "Come on. Any dad who gets his little girl a pink phone can't be all bad."
She followed Gus into a kitchen that rivaled those dream spreads in magazines. Solid cherrywood cabinets. Lots of granite and stainless steel. An island the size of Hawaii. Andie pulled up a stool at the counter. Gus remained standing, too nervous to sit. A beam of welcome sunlight streamed down through the skylight, almost drawing a line between them.
"You haven't told Morgan the FBI's looking for her mother, have you?" It was a question, but her tone was judgmental.
"Not specifically. I was afraid the mere mention of something like the FBI would only make it more scary to her."
"You need to be honest. Kids are more intuitive than you think."
"Especially this one. If she's this self-aware at six, I'm dreading sixteen."
"A little extra maturity isn't at all unusual in an only child."
Gus poured two coffees, then came to the opposite side of the counter. "Morgan certainly has some adult-sized proclivities," he said, thinking of the little wooden horse that had disappeared from his office.
"How do you mean?"
"Nothing. Have you given any more thought to what I told you about Beth?"
"For the past hour that's all I've thought about." "And?"
"The eating disorder, shoplifting. I'd say they're related manifestations of the same problem. Lack of self-esteem, purpose, identity. Sounds like a troubled woman crying out for help."
"I've heard of eating disorders. Even self-mutilation. But shoplifting?"
Andie sipped her coffee, then glanced at the surroundings. "She lived in a world where no material need went unfilled. Stealing a basic necessity like clothing was the ultimate way for her to break from what she was. Has she ever done anything like that before?"
"Stealing?"
"No. Has she ever shown any resentment for the kind of life you've given her?"
"Not that I know of."
"You have any idea why she would be so unhappy with what she was?"
"That's a more complicated question."
"Let me try to simplify it. Your wife did accuse you of spouse abuse some years ago."
"Yes, she did."
"Abuse has a way of making a woman do strange things. Especially if it occurs over many. years. I've seen more than one abused wife snap and do some pretty strange things."