“They’ve searched the whole area. No sign of her.” He was silent for at least a mile. “She’s only seven, Moje. And it could have been Daisy.”

I moved to lay a hand on his thigh, then thought better of it. “But it wasn’t, Tucker.”

We zoomed on, zipped through Phoenix, up the 101, taking the Tatum Boulevard exit and continuing north. Tucker was in no mood to talk, at least, not to me. He had me dial a couple of different numbers on his cell phone, and he had plenty to say to the law enforcement agencies on the other end.

“I need to borrow your car,” he told me, whipping into the otherwise empty parking lot at Bad-Ass Bert’s. Tucker had left his own rig at the cemetery in Cactus Bend, so I wouldn’t have to drive home, and another agent had agreed to bring it as far as Scottsdale later.

Both of us had forgotten about Geoff by then.

Tucker was scared sick for little Gillian, and so was I.

I tried to concentrate on some kind of normal order of business. I needed a shower and clothing suitable for daytime, and so I focused on that, as much as I could. As I got out of the car, I recalled that Rotika had given me two boxes full of Lillian’s things.

“It’s yours as long as you need it,” I said, hopping a little because my bare feet were stinging as they made contact with the gravel. “But there’s some stuff in the trunk—”

Tucker popped the trunk and started to get out.

“I can do it,” I said.

“You’re not even wearing shoes,” he answered.

Tucker carried me piggyback to the stairs leading up to my apartment, then schlepped the boxes that far. His harried glance strayed once, up to the door. “Maybe you should come with me,” he said.

“You know that won’t fly,” I replied. “I’d only complicate matters between you and Allison and, besides, I’m not dressed for search-and-rescue. Guess I’d better get my house key before you leave, though.”

Tucker gave a reluctant nod of agreement and started past me, headed up the stairs.

I grabbed his arm. “Just give me the key, Tuck,” I said quietly. “You don’t have time for this.”

He stopped, looked up at the door again, sighed and pulled out the Volvo keys, which he’d automatically stuffed into the pocket of his jeans.

“The leopard skin one,” I told him.

“Figures,” he said, with a grin so faint and so full of despair that it twisted my heart. He worked the key off the ring, handed it over and kissed me quickly on the mouth. “Call your sisters,” he ordered. “Have them come and get you.”

Jolie and Greer knew my ETA. They’d be arriving any minute, and I told Tucker so.