Nepotism is not always a bad thing.

David’s vehicle, a yellow Hummer with all the chrome bells and whistles, squats in its space. I ease the Jag in next to it. Max gets the hungry look of a little boy on his face as he traces a finger along the Hummer’s door as he goes past.

He catches my eye and grins. “I’ve been thinking of getting one of these.”

Right.Just what you need in Southern California-a gas guzzling monster truck. I didn’t understand it when David bought his and I don’t understand it now. Men and big vehicles. Go figure.

Dad’s largesse did not extend to springing for new furniture, so the office is outfitted with stuff we brought from our old digs. There’s a big oak partner’s desk in the middle of the room, two oversize captains chairs perched one on either side. They have to be big. My partner is six foot six and weighs two hundred fifty pounds. He was a tight end for the Raiders and stays in shape.

We have a filing cabinet along one wall. Next to it is an old scarred credenza with a coffee maker and mugs on top, supplies underneath. We each have computers and telephones on our respective sides of the desk. A printer and fax sit on a small worktable near the slider that leads to the deck. The only other piece of furniture is a small refrigerator, just big enough for a couple of six packs. It’s not much, but it’s all we need.

The smell of brewing coffee greets us as we come in. David is busy at the credenza, his back to us. He’s dressed in jeans and a Hawaiian shirt that stretches across the muscles of his back as he moves. He has the kind of smooth, olive skin that retains a tan all year long. He has short-cropped brown hair and blue eyes that can either sparkle with pleasure or cut you dead with cold precision.

When he turns around, he’s got two mugs and he thrusts one out to me.

“Glad you’re here. Just got a call. We’ve got-”

He stops short when he spies Max coming in right behind me. The animation drains from his face just as the oxygen seems to drain from the room. The blue eyes become crystalline. David’s spine stiffens, his brows crease, his mouth thins with displeasure.

It happens every time. There’s a dynamic at work here that I’ll never understand. The two men have a lot in common. Both are big guys, both went to college on sports scholarships. David played football at Notre Dame. Max, baseball at USC. After college, David went into pro football. Max played baseball for a while until he blew out his shoulder. They’re both adrenaline junkies, which explains their job choices when the sports gigs wound down. Yet, with all that, they can’t stand to be in the same room.

I refuse to play their silly game. I pass the mug that David holds out to me back to Max and proceed to fill another one. “You were saying?” I prompt, ignoring the way David is ignoring Max.

David swallows a mouthful of coffee, eyes shifting back and forth from me to Max. Finally, he says, “It’s not important.” His eyes settle on Max. “So, Max, you’re back from Washington, huh? For good?”

It’s obvious from his tone what he wants the answer to be. I’m sure Max picks up on it, too, but he doesn’t show it as he shakes his head. “No. There’s more to be done.” He puts a hand around my waist. “I just wanted to spend some time with Anna.”

David looks at me. “So what are you doing here?”

That’s my cue. I motion for them to sit down. David takes his seat, Max, mine. I perch myself on the corner of the desk. In as short and concise a way as possible, I tell them what happened last night. There’s a moment of silence when I finish.

David speaks first. “I never met your brother. But I know what you’ve told me about him. To find out he had a child must have been quite a shock to your folks. How are they holding up?”

“As well as can be expected.”

“Do they believe the kid is Steve’s?” Max asks. “Are you sure this Carolyn isn’t running some kind of scam?”

David shoots me a look that says it figures Max would ask something like that. But it’s a fair question.

“Ididn’t believe it at first,” I reply. “Carolyn offered to run DNA tests. And we saw pictures. In fact,” I rummage in my handbag and pull out Trish’s picture along with one of my brother’s at the same age. “See for yourself.”

I lay the pictures side by side on the desk. David and Max lean forward.

“There is a resemblance,” Max says after a moment. “It doesn’t prove she’s Steve’s daughter.”

“No,” I admit. “It doesn’t. But if it turns out Carolyn is lying to us, there’s a murdered teenage girl, another who’s missing, and a teacher at my mom’s school that may be a pedophile, or worse. I think it’s worth looking into.”

Max is shaking his head. “This is a job for the authorities. If the girl has been kidnapped, the FBI should be called. They are far better equipped to handle this sort of thing than you and David.”

David frowns indignantly, but I speak before he has a chance. “You’re right. If we knew Trish had been kidnapped, I’d be the first to make the call. But maybe she’s hiding because she knows something about what happened to her friend. Her mother is afraid if the police find her first, they’ll assume she’s involved. If we find her first, we can make a deal with the authorities if we need to.”

David quickly nods in agreement. “What do you want me to do?”

I pick up a notepad and begin to jot down the names as I explain. “The murdered girl’s name is Barbara Franco. I don’t know anything about what happened to her except that her body was discovered yesterday. Could you call your contacts at SDPD and find out what you can? I brought the newspaper. There may be something there to get you started. I’ll be spending the day at Mom’s school. I want to see this Daniel Frey in action. Mom will give me access to his personnel records, but you could run a check on him, too. I plan to follow him after school. See what he does. Where he goes. We can meet back here, say at six?”

David takes the pad from my hand. “I’ll get started right away.”

“What can I do?” Max’s tone is resigned. He understands there is no point in arguing against our plan of action.

I’d actually forgotten for a moment that he’s in the room. “Thanks, Max,” I reply, smiling up at him. “I appreciate your wanting to help.” There’s a pause while I try to come up with something for him to do, but it’s an awkward moment.

Max puts the coffee mug down on the desk and stands up.

“Well, I should probably check in with the boys downtown. Maybe we can have dinner tonight.”

His eyes are guarded, but I catch the flash of disappointment. I walk him to the door. “I’m sorry I can’t spend the day with you,” I say, reaching up to hug him. “I mean it.”

His body relaxes against mine a minute before he straightens up and reaches for the doorknob. “I’ll be at my old office in the Federal Building if you need me,” he says. “Let me know about tonight.”

He nods over my head to David, and then he’s gone.

***

My mother’s school is in La Mesa, about fifteen miles east of San Diego. This is the first time a student at Valley Vista High School has been murdered. Combine that with Trish’s disappearance, and I have a feeling the media will be out in force.

And they are. I count four news vans in the visitor’s parking lot. Mom advised me to park in the faculty lot, so I make my away around a swarm of reporters and concerned parents to the back of the school. Most of the parking spaces are filled, leaving me to assume teachers, administrators and staff are already assembled at the meeting Mom had called for eight o’clock.

As I make my way on campus, I’m approached by a uniformed security guard. He asks for identification, which I produce. He ticks my name off a list on a clipboard and asks if I know my way to the administration building.

I assure him that I do. He doesn’t acknowledge that my last name is the same as the principal’s, which leads me to believe he’s been hired for temporary duty.