Page 69 of The Director's Daughter

“I’d like that very much,” she said softly, feeling a blush move across her face.

“Cool. I parked behind him, should I move into his space?”

“Yes,” she said emphatically. “That’s exactly what you should do. Move into his space.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

DRIVING HOME, ZACHfelt a twinge of sadness. Anna Lee had been right. They’d said goodbye. It was the end of something unique. Even he was experiencing a sense of loss.

When they’d met she’d been a neurotic, insecure girl putting on a brave front, but over time she’d blossomed. How much of that was due to his attention he didn’t know, but he guessed much of her self-doubt had come from a lack of encouragement and support. He had given that to her, but now she was free to find the man who could offer his heart as well as his shoulder, and a hard, authoritative hand.

By the time he pulled into his garage he had pushed past the emotion, and after taking a quick shower, he began preparing dinner. Dropping pre-packaged chopped romaine lettuce and croutons in a large wooden bowl, he set it aside, then filled a saucepan with water and placed it on the stove to boil. All he’d have to do was toss the salad with the dressing that came with the lettuce, and drop in the pasta when the water boiled.

Opening a bottle of Cabernet, he poured himself a glass, slowly tipped the remainder into a crystal decanter, then set it aside to breathe. Heading into his living room, swirling his wine as he walked, he turned on his big-screen television, dropped into his comfortable couch, channel surfed for a minute, then tuned into the local news.

He caught his breath.

The picture came from a hovering helicopter above a multi-car collision on Pacific Coast Highway north of Anna Lee’s beach house. The twisted mass of smashed cars sat in the middle of the road, traffic was backed up for miles, and emergency vehicles were too many to count. Realizing he must have arrived at Anna’s just after the accident and that’s why there’d been no traffic, he leaned forward and listened intently to the reporter standing in front of the chaos.

“The pile up happened around three o’clock this afternoon. We still don’t have word on fatalities, though several people have been taken by helicopter to local hospitals. The highway will remain closed through the night as investigators continue to determine the cause of the crash. The Sheriff’s department is asking commuters to expect delays and be patient as they take alternate routes. Police are also seeking the whereabouts of this man,” the journalist declared.

As a picture of Kurt popped up on the screen, Zach almost spilled his wine. Quickly placing his glass on the coffee table, he turned up the volume. “His name is Kurt Fielding,” the reporter continued. “He was driving one of the many vehicles involved in the multi-car accident, but he has disappeared from the scene. If you know his whereabouts, or happen to see him, please contact your local police station immediately. Reporting live from Pacific Coast Highway, this is Michael Walker.”

“Unbelievable,” Zach muttered under his breath.

The news helicopter zoomed in on the cars strewn across the lanes. Quickly freezing the picture, and hurrying forward to stand close to the screen, he stared at the black Corvette. Though the front of the vehicle was completely crunched, Zach could see the two red racing stripes running along the side of the car. He’d always thought they were pretentious, but so was Kurt, the man who drove the slick sports car. Grabbing his phone, he called Jerry, using the number reserved for emergencies.

“Zach? What’s up?” Jerry asked urgently.

“Are you aware of the accident on PCH?”

“No. I’ve been in meetings and I just got home. Why?”

“There’s no easy way to tell you this, but it looks like Kurt was in the middle of a multi-car crash, and he’s disappeared. Police are asking the public to report his whereabouts if they see him.”

“Crap! Are you sure?”

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