Читать книгу A Mother's Secret - Pat Warren, Pat Warren - Страница 11

Seated on her living room sofa, Sara held the single sheet of paper in her trembling hands as Kincaid read over her shoulder. It was the same white eight-by-ten paper as the previous note, the same large, uneven handwriting.

Sara—I didn’t want it to come to this, but things have gotten worse since last month when you turned me down for a loan. I had no choice but to force you to see that I need the money.

Mike won’t get hurt, I promise, but I need you to do as I ask. Go to your bank and get $230,000 in unmarked hundreds and fifties. Drive to Flagstaff tomorrow and go to the post office on Porter Street at 10 a.m. Use the enclosed key and open box 225 for more instructions.

Pack for a hike. Come alone. No cops. I know you have the money so don’t try to bargain with me. Mike’s fine, but if you want to see him again, you’d better follow my orders. Lenny.

Stunned, Sara looked into the envelope and found the post office box key. Her eyes slowly raised to her sister who was standing with her arms crossed over her bosom protectively.

“Don’t look at me!” Meg said, her voice shrill. “None of this would have happened if you’d loaned Lenny some money last month. And now…” She sniffed, removing a tissue from her pocket and dabbing at her eyes. “He’s snapped, and my little boy is in danger.”

“He told you about asking me for a loan?” Sara asked, surprised.

“Yes. You don’t understand. He…we owe somebody money. A lot of money. You refused Lenny, so he had no choice left.”

What utter nonsense, Kincaid thought, to turn it around and try to make the whole thing Sara’s fault. “You knew nothing about this?” he asked Meg, indicating the note.

“Of course not!” Meg’s voice rose as her agitation increased.

Desperately trying to remain calm and think clearly, Sara stared at her sister. “Why would Lenny need that much money, Meg? And if he does, why don’t you go into your trust fund and help him out?”

“Because my trust fund money’s all gone,” she wailed, sitting down heavily in the pale green easy chair. “I’ve got a mortgage on the house and…and the bank won’t give me a second mortgage because they say Lenny’s job history is unstable. You know I can’t work with my bad back.”

Frowning, Sara leaned forward as Kincaid quietly took the note and studied it. “Where did all that money go, Meg?”

Meg’s tearstained face turned angry. “Where? Where do you think? It costs a lot to raise a child these days. And upkeep on the house and—”

“Stop!” Sara was growing impatient. “You can’t tell me it’s cost you a quarter of a million to raise Mike to age twelve. What about all the things I buy him? As for the house, I’m not stupid, Meg. It was free and clear when Dad died and in good shape. It’s badly in need of paint, repairs, all sorts of things. So I’m asking you again, where did the money go?” Could it be that her sister had also gambled?

Meg turned her furious gaze to Kincaid. “I don’t want to say any more in front of him. Tell him to leave.”

Sara knew she had to take a stand. “No. He’s staying. If you don’t want me to turn this note over to Lenny’s superior officer right now, answer me.”

As if in slow motion, Meg’s face crumpled and she burst into loud sobs. “We were going to stop, but…but things got out of hand. We had a lucky streak for a while, and I thought we could pay off everything, put the money back. But then things started to go wrong.”

Her suspicions were right, Sara thought. The evidence of gambling had been in Lenny’s apartment. Sara was seeing her sister in a new light. “You gambled,” she said wearily.

Meg looked up, sniffing, beseeching. “Only a little at first. For recreation, you know. Then more to make up for the losses and…and, well, it got real bad.” Her damp eyes implored Sara. “You’ve got to help me. My little boy…he needs his mother.” With that, she resumed her wailing.

Sara shook her head, wondering how she’d stumbled into this nightmare. “Meg, if Lenny so much as harms a hair on Mike’s head, I’ll hunt him down and make him pay.”

“Oh, he wouldn’t, Sara. No, no. Nothing like that. Lenny loves Mike. I know he wouldn’t harm him. Please, just do as he says so he can pay the men off and Mike can come home.”

“What men?” Sara demanded.

Meg waved a dismissive hand. “Just some men he borrowed from. They’re…they’re getting impatient.”

Had Lenny, a police officer, been stupid enough to go to a loan shark? Kincaid wondered. “Why would Lenny send the note to your house instead of directly to Sara?” He was having trouble believing the woman. Even her sobs seemed phony.

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. Okay?”

“Yes. You got the money?”

He nodded as he swung onto the boulevard street. “Counted it twice.”

“Did you have to have authorization?”

“Minimal. I signed for it. After all this time, they pretty much trust me.” He glanced over at her. Earlier she’d changed into jeans and a man’s cotton shirt over a white tee. He couldn’t help but notice the telltale tension around her mouth, the worried look in her eyes. “Why don’t you lean back and relax? You’re wound as tight as a spring. We’re doing everything we can at the moment. We can’t do anything more until morning.”

Sara took in a deep breath. “I know, and I thank you. But I can’t help worrying. He’s a slight boy, you know. Not a tough kid. I…I just want him back.”

Kincaid’s big hand reached over to cover hers. “We’ll get him back, Sara.”

Even as he heard the words that he hoped reassured her, Kincaid felt a chill race up his spine. Yes, eventually they’d get Mike Nelson back. But would he still be alive and well? That was always the danger with a stressed-out, desperate kidnapper whose back was to the wall. Sometimes they killed accidentally and sometimes out of frustration. It was always a race against time, and the statistics weren’t in their favor.

Yet sometimes everything worked out and he got the kidnapped child back unharmed. He lived for those times.

Cave Creek was a laid-back, hilly town populated mostly by folks whose families had lived there for years. Kincaid turned off the main drag onto a dirt road that wound through the trees for more than a mile before reaching a large tan cinder-block ranch house. Sara noticed several outbuildings—a large aluminum horse barn and a smaller one farther down plus a big wooden building that looked to be a bunkhouse for his help. Two chestnut horses and a fawn-colored pony wandered about inside a fenced corral. A sleek yellow Labrador came bounding over to meet them, giving off a few welcoming barks as the Explorer stopped in front of a wide carport housing a white truck and a black Jeep.

“When you said you had a ranch, I had no idea it was such a big spread.”

“Only twenty acres. We sold off the rest. We breed some fine quarter horses, board others, train some for show.” Getting out, he greeted the big Lab. “Hey, Iago! How you doing, boy?” He stroked the big dog’s neck, then glanced over and saw that Sara was still inside. “It’s okay. He won’t bother you as long as I’m with you.”

Cautiously she got out and turned to see another yellow Lab come strolling forward, slowed by a very late pregnancy. She watched Kincaid bend to rub behind the dog’s ears.

“How’s it going, Juno?” he asked as the heavy dog offered her belly for a little scratching while Iago stood guard. They made quite a picture with the late-afternoon sun dappling shadows through the leafy trees.

Moving toward them, Sara hid her surprise. “I see someone likes Shakespeare and mythology.” She held out her hand tentatively, and Iago sniffed it, deciding she was acceptable.

Squinting up at her, Kincaid grinned. “Yeah, us old country boys read a book now and then.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Yeah, sure. You uppity Scottsdale folk think everyone up our way chews tobacco, listens to Willie Nelson and eats charbroiled steak every night.”

Angling her head, she saw he was trying to lighten her mood. “Well, don’t you?”

“Yeah, mostly.” He straightened and nodded toward the wide, shaded porch. “Come inside where it’s cooler while I throw a couple things in a bag.”