Page 41 of In the Dead of Night

Sara bent and read the report. “Jenna Sherwood. Twenty-four years old. Reported missing. Status: unresolved.”

“She was reported missing and never found,” Nick said.

Sara didn’t know anything about the young woman, but the fact that she’d never been found saddened her. “Do you think she’s dead?”

“No way to tell at this point. I’ll forward the stills and see if the techies at the Unit can match them.” Nick logged out of the database, then pulled up a search engine and typed in the name Blaine Stocker.

The inquiry returned several dozen hits. “Popular guy,” he muttered and clicked on the first link.

Sara leaned over his shoulder as he read the headline from the Los Angeles Times newspaper dated just over a year ago.

Former Hollywood Director Suffers Massive Stroke.

In his heyday, Blaine Stocker was one of the hottest and most controversial moviemakers in the business. The director of over a dozen films, including The Dread and Come Hither the Night, Stocker’s talents invariably leaned toward the dark and artistic side of filmmaking. After suffering a minor stroke two years ago, however, he retired to his home in San Francisco with his wife, Channing, and virtually disappeared from the Hollywood scene. Rumor had it he was working on another movie when a second stroke rendered him unable to work just six weeks ago….

“A Hollywood director?” Taking the chair next to him, Sara shot Nick a puzzled look. “I don’t get it. How does he tie in to all of this?”

“Maybe there’s a Hollywood connection,” Nick answered.

Her eyes widened. “My God. Snuff?”

“Could be.”

“And my parents? Your father? How do they tie in?”

“Your parents were Hollywood insiders.”

“Maybe it’s like we said. A book. Your father and my parents were trying to expose him.”

“Some proof would be nice.”

She nibbled on a nail, her eyes never leaving the laptop screen. “If this Stocker dude suffered a stroke, he’s probably feeble. There’s no way he stole those notes or pushed me today.”

“Yeah, but he’s got enough money to pay people to do his dirty work for him.” Nick clicked on the second link. The story focused on the former director’s slow recovery from a series of strokes that had left him partially paralyzed.

One by one, they went through each link. Sara jotted notes while Nick maneuvered the mouse. It took almost an hour to get through all the links. Afterward, Nick knew a lot more about Blaine Stocker. But he had no idea how any of it tied in to what happened twenty years ago.

“Any word from the lab?” Sara asked.

Nick shook his head. “Might take a couple of days.”

“There’s no link between Stocker and my parents,” Sara said.

Hearing the frustration in her voice, Nick glanced over at her. “San Francisco isn’t that far.”

Her eyes widened, her hand already reaching for the laptop. “I’ll make myself a reservation tonight—”

Nick set his hand over hers. “If you go, I go with you.”

That silenced her, but only for a moment. “You’d do that?”

He knew accompanying her to San Francisco would probably be a mistake. She was already messing with his head, making him want her. Making him want things that would only complicate his life. But looking into her eyes, he thought he’d probably jump through a flaming hoop just to see her smile.

“There’s a commuter flight that leaves the Shelter Cove Airport first thing in the morning,” he heard himself say. “The return is late, so it would only be a day trip.”

“We won’t need much time.” She glanced at her watch. “Maybe I should see if I can find Blaine Stocker’s phone number, give him a call and set up an appointment.”

Nick shook his head. “This might be one of those times when it’s better to surprise him. Catch him off guard.”