The Spoilsport Knock at the Door, Mind Control Run Amok

"Their missing daughter," Slottman said, a flash of worry in her eyes.

"She might not be missing. Hope calls us every week."

"What do you mean?" Aaron asked in confusion. "Isn't she missing?"

"Hope attended New York University on an athletic scholarship and was the captain of the Track Team.

"A month ago, she called and said she needed to take some time off. Then she moved out of her apartment."

"Young people," Aaron said with a shrug. "Sometimes you can understand them going crazy for love."

"But our daughter has always been sensible. Even if she moved, she wouldn't make it impossible for us to find her.

"And she's very disciplined, yet she hasn't returned to the Track Team in a month.

"Something must have happened to her. A cult, kidnapping—anything is possible."

"Okay, I more or less understand the situation," Aaron said. "Please give me a photo of her."

Slottman exchanged a glance with her husband, then took a photograph from her bag. It showed a smiling blonde girl running on a track.

Aaron glanced over the track athletes in the photo, then took a contract from his drawer. "You can sign the contract now, and pay while you're at it."

"How long will it take you to find Hope?" Slottman asked solemnly.

"Seven days." Aaron held up seven fingers. "I can find her within seven days. If I can't, you get a full refund."

Bob hesitated before taking the pen and signing his name. Then he paid with his card.

"All right. Leave your contact information, then go home and wait for news."

"Don't you need us to provide any other clues?" Bob asked, somewhat puzzled. "The detective we hired before asked for our daughter's spending records from the past six months and information about her friends."