A Mother's Secret. Pat Warren
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Meg swiped at her messy face. “I don’t have to answer your questions,” she bit off.
“Would you rather I call Lieutenant Anderson, because right now I’d like nothing better.” Sara’s voice was cold, accusatory.
Her face reddening, Meg shook her head. “I don’t know why he didn’t send the note here,” she murmured.
Sara’s shoulders slumped. “Go home, Meg.”
Rising, she stared at Sara. “What are you going to do?”
“Get Mike back,” was all Sara said, unable to look at her sister. Disappointment mingled with anger.
Looking beaten, Meg moved to the door, then swung back. “I really do miss Mike, Sara. Please, keep me informed.” With that, she left, clumping down the steps.
Sara lowered her head into her hands. After a moment she glanced at her watch and saw that it was three o’clock. “I have to get to the bank before it closes,” she said, jumping up.
“Wait, Sara!” Kincaid stood, turned her to face him. “I can help you with this.”
“The note said no cops,” she answered. “I’m afraid to take a chance. Lenny’s volatile and—”
“I didn’t mean we’d bring in the cavalry. Just me.” He gripped her upper arms. “First, there’s no way he’d know I’m a cop. Second, you don’t have to go to the bank. We have counterfeit money at my precinct that only an expert could detect, bills in all denominations that we use for things like this. Let’s stop there and pick up the right amount. Then we’ll go together. He said to pack for a hike, but you have no idea where he’s going to lead you. It’s too risky to go alone.”
Sara felt drained. “Look, I appreciate your offer, and I’m sorry I dragged you into this. But I was born in Arizona and I’ve hiked nearly every mountain trail there is. I’ll be all right.”
He felt he had to make her see. She was acting on emotion, not with a clear head. “Sara, it’s too damn easy to ambush a woman alone. Or a man alone for that matter. To overpower one person, take the money and run. Lenny sounds desperate. You can’t take that chance. Suppose those men who gave him a loan show up?”
Her eyes on his, she decided Kincaid was right. And she had asked him for help. Besides, finding lost or kidnapped children was his area of expertise. “But what if Lenny’s watching and sees you with me? He’s liable to hurt Mike and—”
“Not before he gets the money. Trust me on this.”
That made sense. Too exhausted to protest further, she nodded. “All right. I’ll go pack some things.”
After she disappeared into her room, Kincaid picked up the phone to call his precinct. Stanley Kisch was in charge of props. He got him on the line and quickly told him what he needed.
Kincaid had a sixth sense about these things. It had helped him in many cases and seldom let him down. Something wasn’t right here.
Meg Nelson seemed to be far more upset about having to confess their gambling habit to Sara than about her son being used as a hostage to blackmail her sister. Was it because she knew Lenny well enough to trust him not to hurt the boy? Was she perhaps in on the kidnapping scheme with her husband? Would she exploit her sister’s love for Mike to get money? Some pieces of the puzzle were missing.
Whatever they were, he meant to find them.
The police precinct where Kincaid worked was on a winding street in east Scottsdale, a low building shaded with eucalyptus trees and bordered by hibiscus in bloom. There was none of the hustle and bustle that she’d noted in Mesa, Sara thought as she followed Kincaid in. A sergeant at a raised desk on the left glanced up, then grinned.
“Hey, how you doin’, Kincaid?”
“Not bad, Riley.” He escorted Sara along a hallway that led to a large open room with a dozen or more desks, only a few were occupied. Indicating his desk near a window, he said, “Wait over there. I’ll be right back.”
Feeling conspicuous, Sara walked back and sat down in his chair. There were no others around the desk. Apparently Kincaid was neat as a pin. The desk held only a phone and a calendar turned to April. Had he been on leave that long?
Looking around, she noticed an officer in uniform using the hunt-and-peck method of typing, as an unkempt man in his twenties sat sullenly beside his desk. Another cop was on the phone and the only other officer in the precinct was a tall woman with jet-black hair pulled back into a secure twist at her nape. Sara swung the chair around and gazed out the window.
Had she made a mistake allowing Kincaid to get fake money and come with her? Truth be known, she felt better having him along, but what if Lenny had someone watching her? Why was he making her go so far to exchange the money? He’d likely taken Mike camping up one of the many trails around Flagstaff. Did the boy know what his father was up to? Probably not, because Mike had an innate sense of fair play and would give his father grief over blackmailing his aunt, no matter how sincerely Lenny explained his need for money. Had Mike been aware that his parents were gambling? If so, he’d never let on or seemed worried.
“Hello. I’m Trudy Wells,” a voice nearby said.
Sara swung around and found the female officer regarding her curiously. “Hello.” She saw no reason to introduce herself.
“Are you a friend of Kincaid’s?” Trudy asked, making herself at home by leaning a hip against the desk, her sharp gray eyes looking Sara up and down.
“Not exactly,” Sara answered. More like business associates, she supposed.
“I see.” Trudy wasn’t satisfied. “Are you working on a case with him?”
“You might say that.” Sara glanced down the hallway, wishing Kincaid would hurry back.
“He’s very good-looking, isn’t he?” Trudy asked, her manner unfriendly.
“I suppose.” Was this woman more than friends with Kincaid and letting Sara know it? “More importantly, I understand he’s very good at what he does.”
Trudy’s smile fell short of sincere. “Yes. We often work together. He’s the best. Are you…”
But she never finished her question as Kincaid approached, carrying a small leather satchel. He nodded to Trudy, then looked at Sara. “Ready to go when you are.”
“We were just getting acquainted,” Trudy purred as Sara walked around her. “Where are you two off to?”
“We’re in a hurry, Trudy.” Kincaid took Sara’s elbow and guided her outside and into his silver Explorer, leaving the annoyed officer staring after them.
As they pulled out of the police parking lot, Sara glanced back and saw Trudy at the door scowling in their direction. “Trudy seems a bit put out that you’re leaving with me.”
“Trudy’s often a bit put out,” he answered, dismissing the subject. “I’m driving to my place in Cave Creek to pick up some things and then we’ll head up north.