seriously. Or in her case, even nonseriously.
“All right,” she said. “It would be a nice break from this for a couple of hours.”
There. She’d put a time limit on it. That would make it…easier. Wouldn’t it?
“Thanks,” Stefan said, and he sounded relieved. “I just hope we can find something local. I’d as soon not drive all the way to Denver for this.”
“There’s a place over on Pine Peak Drive, where Fiona got some furniture for the twins. Maybe there?”
“Sounds like a good place to start.”
They left it at that and started back in on the videos. Unfortunately, they had as little success as last night in finding any sign of Bianca, or any man that could clearly be her Blue Eyes. She’d lost track of how many times they’d watched the woman come out of the elevator, walk across the lobby toward the hotel bar, but never appear in the video from inside the bar. And the only people who visibly left the bar during the next hour they scanned were a group of three giggling women and the bartender who had gotten off duty and who they had verified had gone straight home to his very pregnant wife.
Finally, Daria got up out of the chair; she simply couldn’t sit any longer, staring at that screen. “The phrase beating a dead horse comes to mind,” she muttered. “I think it’s time to focus on something else for while. Maybe then something new will bubble up.”
“Agreed. Time to back-burner this.”
She smiled at the phrase, since it was what she called it as well when she put something out of the forefront of her mind and let it percolate. Often the answer she’d been hunting for popped up after she’d ignored the problem for a while.
Has ignoring the fact that he makes you twitchy stopped the feelings?
“When does Sam get out of school?” she asked abruptly.
He glanced at his watch. “In about twenty minutes.”
“Why don’t we go pick him up, feed him lunch and go shopping early?”
The smile he gave her then was well worth the gamble that a five-year-old boy would serve as a sufficient distraction—and keep her mind off pathways it most certainly should not be following.
Stefan could almost see his son’s thought process even from this distance. Sam had come out of class with a small cluster of other boys who looked about the same age, although he was a bit taller than all but one of them. Sam had been talking animatedly with the other tall classmate, gesturing with the hand that wasn’t holding what looked like a drawing, but when that boy had apparently spotted a parent and headed that way, Sam’s entire body language changed. He slumped slightly and trudged toward the parking lot, where he was apparently used to finding Mrs. Crane waiting.
But then Sam spotted him, and Stefan’s jaw tightened a little at the boy’s sudden wariness. Things had been better between them this morning, but apparently that had been forgotten. But then Sam spotted Daria and instantly perked up. A smile forming on his face, he picked up speed.
“Hi, Daria,” he called out.
“Sam!” She waved at the boy, and a quick glance told Stefan she was smiling widely back at him. Sam broke into a run then and skidded to a stop in front of them. “What have you got there?”
Daria’s voice was full of an interest that made the boy practically shine. “We had to draw today.”
“Was it fun?”
“Kinda.”
“May I see?”
The boy hesitated, then held out the page of rough-textured paper. Stefan looked at it over Daria’s shoulder. It was recognizably a person in black, and a brown…creature of some sort, standing atop a long, wobbly green line he presumed was supposed to be grass. In the background was a gray scribble that went up and down across the page.
“Sam,” Daria said with a wide smile, “I was expecting stick figures, but this is so much better!”
Again the boy lit up. Was it really that simple? Was genuine praise that important? He tried to remember himself at that age. Remembered the first time he’d brought home a perfect spelling test and his mom had cooed over it and made him cookies. Maybe it was that simple.
Daria pointed to the gray scribble. “Are those the mountains?”
“Yes,” Sam said, clearly excited that she’d realized this.
“You’re not used to those, are you?”
“No. Just buildings.”
“Well, you did a good job showing them. And let’s see here…” She pointed at the brown creature. “Let me guess. A dog?”
Sam was practically dancing. “Yes! Like the one I want. We watched a movie about a dog.”
Stefan looked at the picture again. Okay, mountains he could buy. And the dog. The person…it definitely wasn’t completely a stick figure—the person was a long oval with stick arms and legs. And short, straight lines of dark hair applied to the slightly crooked head, almost like a cap.
Hair that resembled, in a five-year-old way, Daria’s.
“Well, I think it’s wonderful,” she said. “It should be on display at home.”
“What does that mean?” Sam asked.
“It means put up where everyone can see it.”
“Oh.”
Sam cast a doubtful eye at Stefan. That doubt stabbed at him, and it was an effort to say casually, “I think the refrigerator is the requisite location? We’ll have to pick up some magnets while we’re shopping this afternoon.”
“Shopping?” Sam asked.
“To find you some new bedroom furniture, remember?”
The boy’s eyes widened. “Really? All of us? Today?”
“Right now, if you’re ready.”
Sam let out an excited yelp. He was even more animated when Daria suggested a local burger joint, and it was a toss-up over whether he talked or ate more. She was so good for him.
And stop thinking she’s good for you, too.
And then Stefan found himself somewhere he’d never expected to be—a kids’ furnishings store at the south end of the shopping district downtown. They had sections labeled with signs overhead, divided by age, and they headed toward the 5–7 sign.
“Look at everything first,” Daria suggested, and Sam nodded eagerly.
The boy darted from piece to piece, first piqued by the
