Both parents shook their heads.
“Did either of you ask her to leave?”
“No,” they said at the same time.
“Where is she staying? With friends?”
“She's staying at a hotel,” her mother said.
That told me a lot. Hotels don't take cash, only credit cards, which meant Katrina was staying on her parent's nickel. They could have forced their daughter's hand by cancelling the card and getting her thrown out, but they seemed divided on how to be handling this. I glanced at Kumar. He was sitting behind his desk with his hands steepled in front of his face. I gave him a look that said we needed some privacy.
“If you'll excuse me, I must go downstairs and check up on some things,” Kumar said.
The door clicked behind him. I pulled my chair closer to the parents. Waiting three days to take action was a serious mistake and could lead to more trouble. I didn't want to divide them by pointing fingers, so I tried a different tack.
“Did you consider calling the police?” I asked the father.
Sanji's eyes locked on to my face. “Yes.”
“Why didn't you?”
“I asked him not to,” his wife said.
“Why?”
“I assumed our daughter would return home.”
Sanji sat with his hands on his slacks, exposing his fingers. They were long and the nails were manicured, but without gloss. I pegged him as a surgeon.
“And when she didn't, you decided to get outside help,” I said.
“Yes,” Sanji said. “At first we considered hiring a private detective, but the ones we interviewed were too sleazy. Then Kumar told us about you. He said you were a good man, despite what the newspapers write about you.”
“Sanji! That was not necessary,” his wife scolded him.
Her husband looked at me.
“I'm sorry if I have offended you.”
I leaned back in my chair. I'd run into my share of Sanjis over the years. Like many wealthy people, he thought his problems could be solved by swiping a credit card through a machine, or hiring someone to fix them, instead of fixing the problems himself. I wondered how well Kumar knew them, and how badly I'd damage the relationship by what I was about to say.
I decided I didn't care, and said it anyway.
“You both should consider yourselves lucky.”
Amrita looked at me with surprise, Sanji with a deep frown.
“Are you trying to be sarcastic?” Sanji asked.
“Not at all.”
“Then explain yourself.”
“Your daughter isn't dead. She hasn't been sold into the sex trade, or been locked in some psycho's basement. She wasn't abducted by a neighbor or someone else that she knew, and my guess is, neither of you was physically or sexually abusing her.
Those are the kinds of cases I often deal with. They don't have happy endings.
“Your situation is different. Your daughter ran away, which is unfortunate, but not the worst that could happen. My guess is, you both know what the problem is and refuse to fix it.”
Sanji looked ready to explode. “I don't want to talk about this! Will you find our daughter, or won't you?”
“I can find your daughter, but what good will it do?” I asked. “If you don't fix the problem, she'll only run away again. Fix the problem.”
Amrita nodded her head like a metronome. I sensed she'd tried to reason with her husband, and hit a brick wall.
“This is about a boy, isn't it?” I asked.
“You are very perceptive,” she said.
Sanji jumped out of his chair and headed for the door.
“Come back here,” I said.
“Why should I listen to you?” he replied angrily.
“Because I'm trying to help you.”
Sanji stopped dead. He didn't return to his chair, but he didn't leave, either. Taking out my wallet, I removed a snapshot of Jessie and showed it to his wife. My baby looked enough like me that you didn't have to ask whose she was. Amrita smiled faintly.
“A lovely girl,” she said.
“Her name's Jessie,” I said. “When she was sixteen, she announced she was dating a nineteen-year-old boy she'd met. When I heard Jessie describe this boy, I knew that the relationship was serious, and my wife and I had a problem on our hands.”
Sanji came back to his chair and sat down.
“I was certain my daughter was sleeping with this boy,” I went on. “It made me so mad, I considered having him arrested for statutory rape. I saw my daughter as a victim. I also knew that the law was on my side. Only my wife talked me out of it.”
Amrita's hand found her husband's and clasped it.
“Please go on,” she said.
“My wife talked to my daughter and realized that my daughter didn't see herself as a victim. This boy was her best friend and confidant. He gave my daughter a level of attention that my wife and I could not. He
“But the boy was taking advantage of your daughter,” Sanji said.
“Yes, he was,” I replied. “But that wasn't the issue.”
“It wasn't?”
“No. The issue was pulling my daughter back into the fold. It was about maintaining our authority over her. And it was about controlling the situation without traumatizing her in the process.”
“Did you succeed?” Amrita asked hopefully.
“Yes, thanks to my wife.”
She looked at her husband. He swallowed hard.
“Will you share your solution with us?” he asked me.
“I'd be happy to. My wife asked the boy over for dinner. He ac cepted, and we spent the evening peppering him with questions. Was he going to college? How did he plan to make a living when he got out? What religion was he? When could we meet his parents? We made him realize that if he wanted to see our daughter, he was going to be part of the family, and with that came responsibilities. We treated him like a grown-up.”
Amrita's dark eyes were dancing.
“Did it work?”
“They broke up a few weeks later. I can't guarantee that will happen with your daughter, but it will at least give you the upper hand for a while.”
They shared a meaningful look. I know of no greater telepathy than the silent communion shared by husband and wife. I slapped my knees and rose from my chair.
“Good luck,” I said.
We went downstairs to the parking lot. They drove a white Mercedes with a bag of tennis rackets in the backseat. Sanji opened his wife's door, then came over to me. From his pocket he removed an envelope and stuffed it into my hand.
“Kumar said that you would prefer cash.”
The envelope was thick, and I felt my heart race. Sanji was an arrogant jerk, but most fathers were when it came to dealing with their teenage daughters. I know I was.
I offered my hand. He shook it warmly, and I decided that I liked the guy.
