“So you think there may be some residual anger toward members of Stormdrain from that period?”
“I have no idea what to think. I don’t know what my parents had to do with Stormdrain. I’ve looked them both up on the Internet but found nothing on either of them.” She swallowed. “Tell me. The FBI knows things the public doesn’t. What did my mother or father have to do with the brownstone explosion in April 1970?”
He studied her for a long minute. “I’m sorry, Aubrey, but I’m not at liberty to say.”
And her parents refused to say.
She looked out toward the bay. A couple of boats were sailing into the wind, doing a graceful pas de deux.
So many secrets.
So much she didn’t know.
What she did know was that the FBI was trying to find Ethan and bring him home safely, but they were doing it with their hands tied. The note could help them. And the dark question she kept pushing away—what if her little nephew died because she hadn’t told them?
“There is a note,” she said softly, knowing she was going against her mother’s wishes, hoping she’d made the best decision for Ethan.
He sat up straighter. “You have it?”
She shook her head and took a sip of water. “No, but I saw it.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Someone slipped it into Monday’s mail after the FBI had checked everything. It was in a greeting card.”
“Did you see the envelope? The card?” He took out his phone and started tapping into it.
“I only saw the top of the envelope. It had a postage stamp that hadn’t been postmarked.”
“I see,” Smolleck said. “That’s why you were so interested in who’d been inside the house. Where is it now?”
“My mother has the envelope and card. I saw the front of the card when she showed me the note.”
“What can you tell me about it?”
“It was for a child. There was a drawing of a little boy on the front. And the card said, ‘Today is your special day.’”
“Printed as part of the card?”
“Yes.”
“Anything distinctive about the card? What did it say on the inside?”
“I didn’t see the inside. Just the front. The little boy was riding a red tricycle.”
Smolleck frowned. “If you didn’t see the inside, how do you know about the threat?”
“The note was separate.”
“And you saw that?”
“Yes. It was on a piece of paper, like from a small pad. The note was typed.” She had committed it to memory. Had recited it to herself over and over, as though chanting the message might change it, or reveal some inner secret. “On one side it said in caps: We have Ethan. He is safe. We will return him unharmed if you do one thing.”
She took another sip of water. Smolleck was waiting.
“On the back of the paper, it gave my mother until midnight tonight to do what they asked. They said if she told the authorities, Ethan would die.” Her abdomen convulsed. It was out and she couldn’t take it back. “Please say I did the right thing in telling you. That this will help get Ethan back safely.”
“And the one thing they want your mother to do?” he asked, his voice formal.
She looked down at the discarded shrimp tails on his plate.
“They want my mother to kill Jonathan Woodward.”
“Jesus.” Smolleck’s face got red. “And you kept this from us?”
Rage rose in her gorge. “Don’t you dare judge me or my mother. They threatened to kill Ethan if we told you about the note. What would you have done if your child’s life was at stake?”
He let out a breath. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Thank you for telling me now. It’s just, we’ve lost so much time.”
He reached into his wallet and took out a couple of bills, which he threw down on the table.
“This changes everything,” he said, standing up. “We need to get back.”
“You’ll be careful with what I told you, won’t you?” she said, following him out to the car. “Promise me you won’t do something that will endanger Ethan.”
“Of course we’ll be careful. But we’ll need the note. It could contain forensic evidence.”
“I told you, my mother has it.”
His phone rang as they reached his car. He took the call. Aubrey watched his face change to something like disbelief.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll head over in a minute.”
He put his phone in his pocket and looked at Aubrey, a cold, unreadable expression on his face. “Where’s your mother now?”
She didn’t like the hard edge to his voice. “She went to Jonathan’s apartment. Why?”
“Because Jonathan Woodward is dead.”
CHAPTER 28
“Dead?” Aubrey was stunned. It wasn’t possible. Then a more terrifying thought hit her. “Is my mother okay?”
“We don’t know where your mother is,” Smolleck said. “Her cell phone is off, so we can’t track her with GPS.”
Mama was okay, but Jonathan was dead. “What happened to him?”
“He apparently fell, or was pushed, from his balcony.”
Pushed from his balcony.
“I have to go.” Smolleck opened the car door.
“She didn’t do it.” Aubrey could hear the pleading in her own voice. “Agent Smolleck, my mother would never do such a thing.”
“Even to save her grandson?” he barked.
What was he saying? Had the kidnappers’ ultimatum been satisfied? She took a step toward him, hope pushing against fear. “Has someone been in touch about Ethan? Is he okay?”
The anger in Smolleck’s face evaporated. He shook his head. “No news on Ethan.”
“Nothing?”
“I’m sorry,” Smolleck said.
She began trembling all over. Jonathan was dead. Because of what Aubrey had just told Smolleck, her mother was likely a suspect in his murder. And Ethan was still missing.
Smolleck was saying something to her.
She blinked, trying to focus. “What?”
“Do you need a ride back to your house?” His voice was gentle.