“My mother is innocent,” Aubrey said. “Star is behind everything. Like I told you earlier. Someone from my parents’ past is trying to get even. I was wrong about Linda Wilsen, but I was right about Star. Star very likely persuaded the janitor who worked at the mall in Buckhead to tell the FBI he was Jeffrey Schwartz. She knew all about Schwartz and the explosion because Star is Gertrude Morgenstern. Star Matin, Morgenstern. She even used the same name. Matin is French for ‘morning.’ Morgenstern is ‘morning star’ in German.”
“Go on,” Smolleck said.
“The time-share is owned by J. W. Hendrix of Atlanta.” She kept talking as her mother tried to drive through the crowd of people crossing Lincoln Road against the light. “That’s probably Janis Hendrix. Star has a daughter named Janis who lives in Atlanta.” She took a breath. “Janis is probably also the babysitter.”
Smolleck was quiet. Aubrey could hear a police radio in the background. “It’s a pretty big leap,” he said.
“Please,” Aubrey said. “Can you try to get a match between the photo of the babysitter and Janis or J. W. Hendrix with facial-recognition software? Then you’ll know I’m right.”
“We’ll check it out,” he said. “Until we have a confirmation, your mother remains a suspect.”
Their car made it past the crowd, crossed to the other side of Lincoln Road, and picked up speed.
“Park away from the apartment,” Smolleck said. “I’m right behind you. I’ll alert the police and the other teams in case Ethan is in there.” He disconnected from the call.
The neighborhood changed abruptly from crowded tourist destination to a quiet residential quarter. Large, overhanging trees and widely spaced streetlights made the street eerily dark. They rode along with the neighborhood park on their right until they came to a couple of “resident only” parking spots a half block from the time-share. Aubrey told her mother to park. A black sedan pulled in behind them. Smolleck and three agents got out of the car.
Mama was staring out the windshield, her hands clutching the wheel.
“We have to get out and talk to the FBI,” Aubrey said. “I don’t think they’ll arrest you.”
“I don’t care about that,” her mother said. “We need to get Ethan out safely.”
“We will, Mama.”
She and her mother left their car and approached Smolleck, who was on the phone, standing outside the glare of one of the few streetlights. Several police cars stopped at the corner behind them, blocking off the street. No sirens or flashing lights. Nothing to alert Star.
Smolleck finished his call and nodded at Aubrey and her mother. “We’re trying to develop a possible timeline for Star’s involvement with Judge Woodward and your father,” he said. “Can you help me out with a couple of things?”
He believed her?
“We’ve been considering her all along,” he continued, as though he could read the question on Aubrey’s face. “Star left the Ritz around eleven thirty, just after your mother called you and said she was going to Jonathan’s apartment. Did Star know about your conversation with your mother?”
“Yes,” Aubrey said. “Star was with me at the hotel when my mother called. She could have picked up from my side of the conversation that my mother was going to Jonathan’s.”
Smolleck nodded. “After Star left the Ritz, she took a taxi to a shopping mall where we lost track of her.”
“Maybe she changed into a wig and dark glasses,” Aubrey said. “Then she could have gone to Jonathan’s building from the mall and waited outside until she saw my mother leave.”
“I left a little after noon,” Mama said. “She could have called up to ask Jonathan to buzz her into the private elevator. He would have thought I’d come back.”
“Wouldn’t he have recognized it wasn’t your voice?” Smolleck asked.
Mama shook her head. “Back in college, she could walk like me, talk like me. She had a real gift of mimicry.”
“If she was disguised as my mother, Jonathan may not have realized who she was when she got up to the apartment. Star and my mom are about the same size. Once inside, if he recognized his mistake, she could have turned a gun or knife on him, forced him out to the balcony, and then pushed him over.”
“Possibly,” Smolleck said. “How would Star have known about his car?”
“Jonathan always left his car keys on the front foyer table,” Mama said. “She could have grabbed them and driven away.”
“Then returned to the time-share in Jonathan’s car and run over my father,” Aubrey said, thinking it through.
“It’s still circumstantial,” Smolleck said.
“Just like your case against my mother.”
He rubbed his eyebrow. “Well, the tactical teams have been alerted in the event Star is involved and has Ethan in the building with her. It may take a little while for the Hostage Rescue Team to get here, but we’re coordinating with the local police and have our own negotiator.”
He believed her. But relief was quickly replaced by fear of what was to come.
Aubrey looked down the half block at the time-share. Although it was dark outside, the lights in every window of the small residence were off. Was Star even in there? Was Ethan?
“You’ve met Special Agent McDonough.” Smolleck gestured toward one of the three agents that had gotten out of the car with him. He’d been at her mother’s house. A balding, middle-aged man with tortoise-framed glasses and a gentle face. “Special Agent McDonough is trained in hostage negotiation. He’ll try to start a dialogue with Ms. Matin to ascertain if she has Ethan and what she wants.”
“So you’re not convinced she kidnapped Ethan?”
“Convinced enough to request tactical-team backup.” Smolleck turned from her to take a call.
Aubrey watched as heavily armed officers emerged from vehicles, spreading out around several small buildings.
“Which one is the time-share?” her mother asked.
“The mustard-colored one with the hedges around it.”
Her mother shook her head. “I don’t like this. Star may be at a window watching all of this.”