Trumped Up Charges. Joanna Wayne
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“Or taken when the girls were kidnapped.” Adam shifted and sat straighter, meeting the detective’s questioning stare head-on.
“Possibly,” Lane agreed.
“How about just saying what you have to say, Detective, instead of playing games?” Adam said.
“The ransom note was dropped off at a downtown FedEx location at five minutes past nine last night,” Lane said. “12:00 a.m. is the last pickup from that station for next-day delivery in the Dallas/Fort Worth area.”
“That can’t be right,” Hadley said. “The girls were here and asleep at eleven after one. I checked on them myself.”
“Maybe the clock you checked has the wrong time,” Adam said.
“I don’t think so,” Hadley said. “But there’s a quick way to find out.” She bolted to the bedroom with Adam and the detective at her heels.
The clock was to the minute with her watch. “I don’t see how this could be,” she said. “If the FedEx timing is accurate, it means the ribbon had to be taken and the ransom note written before the girls were abducted.”
“Looks that way,” Lane agreed.
Hadley wrapped her fingers around the bedpost. “There must be some mistake.”
“Who mailed the note?” Adam asked.
“John Doe from a nonexistent address. The charges were paid with cash.”
“So impossible to track,” Adam said as they walked back to the small, formal living area. “That figures.”
“But we do know the man will get in touch with us again,” Hadley said. “He won’t walk away from the chance to pick up five million dollars.”
Five million dollars she didn’t have and had little chance of coming up with on her own. Her mother lived well, but Hadley was almost certain she couldn’t get her hands on that much money—not even if she sold the house. And selling the house would take far too much time.
“Is there some organization that lends money in abduction situations like this?” she asked.
“We’ll deal with the ransom later,” Lane said. “For now, let’s concentrate on what we know. Someone had access to the house both before and at the time of the abduction. Apparently they come and go at will. That significantly narrows down our suspects.”
He put up his hand and counted off on his fingers. “Your mother. You. Am I missing anyone?”
“Matilda,” Hadley said, knowing exactly whom he was referring to.
Lane crossed an ankle over the opposite knee. “Do you know that she has a younger brother with a criminal record?”
“Quinton.”
“So you do know him?”
“I know his first name and that he exists. I didn’t know he had a criminal record.”
“His last name is Larson,” Lane said. “Exactly what do you know about him?”
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