“I didn’t see Mackenzie there at the time,” said Angela. “Hayley just said they were going to hang out, maybe go to a club-”
“What club?” I asked.
Angela stuttered, “Uh, I-I’m not sure…Teddy’s?”
“Did she say when they were going? Were they going that night?” I asked.
“Sh-she didn’t say. I-I’m sorry.”
“No worries, Angie,” I said, sorry myself for having pounced on her. “You’ve been very helpful.”
“You know how to reach Mackenzie?” Bailey asked. Angie and Raynie simultaneously confirmed they did. Bailey called a uniform, gave him the information, and told him to go get a statement from Mackenzie. Then she turned back to the group to ask the usual question about any possible enemies Russell might have. She got a less-than-usual response.
“You’re kidding, right?” Ian, the manager, gave us both an incredulous look. “He’s one of the biggest directors in the world. Every actor who didn’t get a part, every writer whose project he passed on, every production company he turned down-there’s probably thousands who’d love to skewer him.”
“And who are crazy enough to do it by kidnapping his daughter?” I asked.
Ian shrugged. “It’s a town full of narcissists and sociopaths. You do the math.”
Though true, the diagnosis wasn’t helpful. At that moment Jeeves, or whatever they called their butler, entered, followed by a uniformed police officer.
“Find anything?” Bailey asked him.
“Not so far.”
“Then let’s get rolling.” Bailey turned back to Russell. “You’re going to take us to the drop site.”
At nearly midnight there was no traffic to contend with. We flew up Benedict Canyon, headed east on Mulholland Highway to Laurel Canyon, and got to Fryman Road in record time. This ransom drop was as close to a crime scene as we could get at this point, and the fact that it was in a wooded canyon meant that any evidence it might yield was disappearing by the second.
“You took Fryman Road?” Bailey asked.
Russell, who was seated in front of me on the passenger side, nodded. He’d taken off his baseball cap and was kneading it between his hands. “Take Fryman to the end. We’ll have to walk from there.”
Fryman Canyon is beautiful during the day, but nightfall shows its other side. The towering trees blocked what little ambient light managed to reach the mouth of the canyon, and even the moon was barely visible between the dense mass of branches and leaves. Standing at the entrance to the park, I could see only a few feet of fire road. The rest was a deep, impenetrable darkness. I was glad to see the other patrol cars pull in behind us.
Russell led the way. The patrol cops fanned out and encircled us. The smell of damp earth and pungent growth filled my nostrils and we moved slowly, our flashlight beams illuminating the road ahead, but the path under our feet was left in shadow. Unwanted visions of a bloodied, battered, and possibly dead Hayley kept flashing through my mind. The moment I pushed one away, another took its place.
After a few minutes, Russell turned left on a path so narrow and overgrown I might have missed it even in daylight. The path took us straight uphill for another five minutes, and my wedge heels, comfortable enough in normal conditions, were starting to slip on the steep, grassy terrain. No one spoke as we made our way through the canyon, and every so often I could hear the rustling of creatures scurrying about in the brush just feet away. I told myself it was probably prairie dogs or rabbits, maybe a coyote, but I knew that mountain lions and bobcats had been sighted there. To say nothing of the more dangerous animals of the two-legged variety. Officers surrounded us, but I knew it would take only a second for man or animal to launch a surprise attack-too fast for any officer to be able to react in time. With each furtive sound, I could feel the skin on the back of my neck tighten and my heart beat a little faster. Finally Russell stopped at a small clearing to the right of the path.
“I left the duffel bag right there.” He pointed to a spot between two trees. As described in the ransom note, both had white string tied around their trunks.
