Private L.A. (Private 6)

“That’s not—” Camilla Bronson began.

Terry Graves cut her off, said, “Listen to the woman and quit trying to spin things.”

The publicist was indignant. “I’m not spinning—”

“Yes, you are, Camilla, and it’s not helping,” Sanders said. “Go ahead, Ms. Smith.”

“The boy wets the bed regularly,” Justine went on. “Jin has several imaginary friends and believes her stuffed animals come to life at night.”

I said, “What about the Harlows? When was the last time they were in contact?”

Justine replied that Anita said she’d been in touch with the Harlows several times in the last month, trying to coordinate their arrival with the house staff’s. The original plan called for the three women to return to the ranch two days before the Harlows, but then, Anita said, she’d gotten a call from Cynthia Maines. A change of plans. The women were to return three days after the Harlows’ return.

“First I’ve heard of that,” Sanders said.

Camilla Bronson threw up her hands. “Which means what?” Justine said, “Changing the arrival date makes it possible for the Harlows to disappear. That way the caretaker is the only other person to deal with, which makes me think that Cynthia Maines is of interest to us, perhaps our insider.”

“My God,” Terry Graves protested. “I can’t believe that.”

Sanders shook his head. “Cynthia was devoted to the Harlows.”

The publicist, for once, said nothing.

I said, “I think there’s sufficient cause to bring in the FBI.”

That soured the Harlow team.

“Do you know the shitstorm you’ll cause?” Camilla Bronson demanded.

“For me? Or for you?”

Her jaw clamped shut, but she was staring bullets at me.

“I agree with Camilla,” Terry Graves said.

“I do too,” Sanders said. “At this moment, there’s insufficient evidence to bring in the FBI.”

“Dave, you called us in,” I began. “I think the missing two hours and the dog’s reaction are enough.”

“I don’t, and you work for us, and for the Harlows, Jack,” the attorney said firmly. “I, we, want Private to find them.”

“Yes,” Camilla Bronson said,

more sure of herself. “We don’t want this getting out unless it absolutely has to.”

“Anything you need to do, you do, Jack,” said Terry Graves. “Just keep this quiet for a few days to see if they show up or we get a ransom note. In the meantime, you keep your people working.”

“What’s this about?” I asked. “Money?”

“Damn right,” the producer retorted. “We have a lot riding on Saigon Falls. All of us have sacrificed for this project, and word of the Harlows’ disappearance could cause the entire project to collapse, taking tens of millions of dollars and our futures with it.”

Sanders and Camilla Bronson nodded.

I glanced at Justine, whose expression was hard. I could feel it too. These three had some other angle on this that we weren’t seeing. But they were paying, and I had to agree that other than the traumatized bulldog there was no sign of violent struggle anywhere inside the compound. Except for the power and security system issues, they could have just walked away. Hell, for all we knew, maybe Thom and Jennifer had screwed with the security system, wanting to disappear for one reason or another. Thom liked keeping secrets. It would not be entirely out of the question.

“I’ll give you two days,” I said.

“Three,” Sanders said.