Trumped Up Charges

Chapter Five



Adam woke abruptly, his senses keen, his instincts sharp. That had been the means of survival in Afghanistan when he’d learned to sleep in short spurts and wake up ready to spring into action.

Back then his body was up to the task. The bullets and the burns he’d suffered when their patrol had been ambushed put a quietus on that. Even after two years of rehab, he didn’t have the raw strength or the agility he’d once taken for granted.

He stretched and sat up on the couch slowly, trying to overcome the stiffness that had settled into his muscles and joints.

Oddly thoughts of R.J. crept into his mind. Yesterday morning at this time he’d been dreading his trip to the Dry Gulch Ranch for the reading of the will.

But R.J. wasn’t dead. He’d decided years too late he wanted a chance at being a father. But where was Lila and Lacy’s father. Had he opted out of their lives? Or was he somehow involved in the abduction? And why was Hadley so determined to keep everything about him a secret?

Aches persisted as Adam stood and went in search of Hadley. He found her lying sideways across one of the twin beds in the room where she’d put her daughters to bed two nights ago.

Like him, she was fully clothed except for the sandals she’d kicked out of and left next to the bed. Even in sleep, she looked tormented. He doubted she’d slept an hour, though the first light of dawn crept into the room through the slatted blinds.

She’d paced most of the night, jumped every time her phone rang and then ignored the call when a friend’s name popped up on the caller ID screen.

Moving as silently as he could, Adam grabbed the lightweight quilt from the other bed and spread it across her bare feet and legs.

He started to walk away, but poignant images from their past stole into his mind. Nights when he’d slept beside her, their bodies entangled, still slick from their lovemaking. Who’d have ever thought they would end up like this? Together but yet worlds apart.

And he would never make love to her again. That might be the cruelest trick the war had played on him. Doctors had given him back his life but not his manhood.

One day, he might be able to examine the past with a degree of objectivity. But not now. The stakes were too high to get bogged down in what-ifs.

Getting Lila and Lacy back safely wasn’t only the top priority. It had to be the only priority.

Tiptoeing from the room, Adam walked to the kitchen, emptied the stale coffee and old grounds and started a fresh pot. The sound of hammering broke the early-morning silence.

Raking his fingers through his thick, mussed hair, he went toward the front lawn to check it out. He spotted two middle-aged women in jogging suits about halfway between him and the curb. One steadied a yard sign. The other pounded the stake that would anchor it in place.

“What’s with the racket? It’s barely dawn.”

The woman kept hammering.

“This is private property,” he called as he started walking in their direction. His socks became wet with dew as he hurried across the manicured grass.

The woman with the hammer waved it at him threateningly. “We don’t want murdering mothers in our neighborhood.” She stood back so that he got a good look at the sign.

CHILD KILLER

The words were printed in bright red spray paint that dripped from the letters like fresh blood.

Fury gripped him, bunching his muscles, knotting in his stomach. He rushed toward them and yanked the sign from the ground.

“Hadley O’Sullivan is going through hell right now. She hasn’t slept, hasn’t eaten, can barely breathe she’s so worried about her daughters.”

“Not according to what I read in the paper.”

“Get off this property now.”

One woman backed away a few steps. The other held on to the hammer and stood her ground. “If you’re here with her, you’re probably as guilty as she is. You’ll both burn in hell.”

There was no reasoning with her and Adam was in no mood to bother. “Set foot on this property again and I’ll have you and any other lunatics you bring with you arrested. Is that clear?”

“Don’t threaten me.”

“If you’re not gone in five seconds, the threat becomes reality. One. Two.”

Both women retreated to the curb. A passing car slowed to a crawl. Someone in the passenger side rolled down the window and stuck out a camera with a large telephoto lens. Adam resisted the urge to give a fitting one-finger salute.

The two women finally climbed into their station wagon and drove away, taking their sign and hammer with them. Adam picked up the morning paper and plodded back inside. Hopefully he’d seen the end of the two misinformed vigilantes, but he wouldn’t count on it. Even misdirected rage had a way of inciting more hatred.

He went to the kitchen, poured a cup of coffee and sat down to skim the morning’s headlines. His eyes zeroed in on an article at the bottom of the first page.

No Sign of Break-in at Home of Missing Twin Girls

* * *

THAT EXPLAINED THE SIGN.

He read the article. While it didn’t directly label Hadley a suspect in the twins’ disappearance, it definitely leaned in that direction.

“Is that this morning’s paper?”

He looked up. Hadley was standing in the doorway, her hair disheveled, her slacks and cotton shirt wrinkled and in disarray. There were dark shadows beneath her red-rimmed green eyes.

“Today’s Dallas Morning News,” he said, wishing he could shield her from the disturbing article, but knowing it wouldn’t help. If he didn’t show it to her, she’d hear about it from someone else.

“Sit down and I’ll get you some coffee,” he offered.

“Thanks. Did you get any sleep at all last night?”

“Very little. The same as you.”

“I’ll sleep when the girls are home again.”

Adam sat a mug of coffee next to her elbow. “Drink this and then I’ll make you some breakfast.”

“Didn’t I just force down a meal?”

“More like a couple of bites and that was hours ago.”

She took a few sips of coffee and then slid the newspaper over so that she could see the front page. Her expression grew pained as she read. As exhausted as she was, she understood that the bizarre facts surrounding the case were making her look guilty. At least now, she might consider getting an attorney.

Adam doubted if even that would be enough if this dragged on much longer.

If he were going to make any kind of stab at being a hero, it was time to act.

* * *

HADLEY DIDN’T NOTICE the hot coffee sloshing from her mug until Adam rushed forward with a paper towel to dab it from her arm.

“Did you get burned?”

“If I did, I’m too irritated to notice. This article deliberately makes it look as if what actually happened is too preposterous to be true.”

“Ignore it. You know reporters like to spice up a story.”

“Detective Lane is not a reporter and he also insinuated last night that I’m somehow implicated in everything that’s happened.”

“I don’t think he believes you’re guilty for a minute. Anyone can see how upset you are. He’s just doing his job and that means investigating this from every angle.”

“It’s his job to get my daughters back. They know all about me and Mom and even the housekeeper. They can’t even locate Quinton Larson, and this man who hasn’t been around this house in over a decade seems to be the only lead they have.”

“At least the only lead they’ve shared with us. They have more,” Adam reminded her. “They may have Quinton in custody by now.”

“If the Quinton they’re talking about is even Matilda’s supposedly dead brother. And they don’t have Lacy and Lila or we would have heard. We don’t even have a plan for what to do about the ransom. I can’t snap my fingers and have five million dollars drop from the sky.”

“All good points,” Adam agreed. “So maybe we should look at this from a new angle.”

“Why not? Do you have one?”

“I have a good marine buddy whose brother is one of the top hostage negotiators in the world.”

“This isn’t a hostage situation.”

“It’s not your typical hostage situation, but the kidnapper is holding the girls hostage. Besides, Chuck Casey’s brother was involved in at least one famous child abduction case.”

“What case was that?”

“Three years ago the son of a Houston shipping tycoon was taken from his private school following an after-school football game.”

“I remember that case,” Hadley said. “Wasn’t it a former chauffeur who abducted the kid?”

“Yes, and according to Chuck, his brother Fred is the main reason the family had a happy ending. I’m not sure Fred is available or even in the country, but we can ask.”

“Call your friend,” she said. This might be exactly the break they needed. Except... “Let Fred Casey know up front that I don’t want any risky heroics. I won’t take chances with my daughters’ lives.”

“I’ll make sure he knows that.”

“Perfect. I’ll get showered and dressed while you try to get in touch with him. I need to check on Mother in person and find out if she ever got in touch with Matilda.”

The last time Hadley had checked in with her mother and her private nurse had been at ten after nine last night. Her mother had left messages for Matilda to call her back but hadn’t heard from her. The nurse had suggested Hadley not call again until morning. She had just given Janice an injection to control the pain and felt her patient needed to rest undisturbed.

Adam dropped a couple of pieces of wheat bread into the toaster. “It could be that Matilda was dodging Janice’s calls.”

“I find that difficult to believe. But if she is, I’ll pay a call to Matilda and confront her about Quinton myself.”

“Mind if I tag along?”

Oddly, she’d just assumed that he would. In a matter of hours, she’d let him back in her life—an act that would have been unthinkable before.

Desperation had changed all the rules.

“You can come, but don’t expect a warm greeting or any thanks from Mother.”

“I won’t. That same warning might go for you when you call on Matilda.”

Hadley sincerely hoped he was wrong about that. But if Quinton wasn’t dead, and Matilda had conned Janice out of money for his funeral, then Hadley didn’t know Matilda at all.

“You’ll have to live with the whiskers until I get my hands on a razor, but if it’s okay with you, I’ll just throw what I’m wearing into the washing machine, dry it and wear it again,” Adam said. “That won’t take long and I’ll smell a lot better.”

“No problem. The downstairs laundry room is just past the walk-through pantry.”

Hadley pointed in the right direction. She could have offered him her razor, but for some weird reason she liked the edgy look of his whiskered chin. It fit better with her ragged appearance.

He grabbed the toast from the toaster and set one on a saucer. “Munch on that with your coffee,” he said. He took the other with him as he left.

Hadley stood and walked to the kitchen window. Her gaze fastened on the gingerbread-style playhouse her mother had gotten her handyman to build for the girls. They’d clapped their hands and started yelling when they saw it for the first time.

Lila had smelled the miniature pot of petunias and then peeked through the curtained windows, her eyes wide with wonder. Impetuous Lacy had opened the bright pink door and rushed inside.

Furnished with a child-size table and chairs, non-working refrigerator and range and a shelf full of plastic dishes and cooking paraphernalia, it was every little girl’s dream.

“You’ll play in it again,” she whispered to no one. “You’re coming home.”

She had to hang on to that hope or she’d never make it through the day. Already her body felt as if it had been used for a punching bag. The fear for Lacy and Lila was eating away at her like acid, corroding her nerves and brain and sucking her energy.

She was still staring out the window minutes later when Adam reappeared wearing one of her mother’s robes, his dirty clothes in hand. Even in pink silk, he looked virile, a man’s man. Tough but not arrogant or chauvinistic. That had been one of the first qualities that had attracted her to him.

“Chuck got hold of Fred and explained the situation to him. He said to count him in.”

“Is he in Texas?”

“He’s in D.C. now, but he’ll catch the first available flight to Dallas. He said he’ll call when he gets to town. He said to assure you that he never takes unnecessary risks with lives, but he also has a couple of requirements before he’ll agree to get involved.”

“Which are?”

“He expects complete honesty from you about every detail. He wants no surprises about the facts.”

“What else?”

“He needs you to trust him completely. Second-guessing him and veering from the plan will jeopardize the girls’ safety.”

Complete trust would mean everything was out of her hands. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I’m not sure I can promise that.”

“Then trust in me, Hadley. If I think Fred is making a mistake, I’ll step in and either take over or find someone who can. Someone who believes in you fully and doesn’t have to play by the rules.”

Trust Adam. She had once. He’d betrayed her. But this was different. This was about his abilities as a decision-maker and his hero qualities. They had never been in question.

“Okay, Adam. Tell Fred the girls are in his hands.” Now, if the kidnapper would just call back and give them a place and a time and five million dollars would fall like manna from heaven.

A lesser miracle would do just fine, too. As long as it brought Lacy and Lila home.

In the meantime, she’d call Detective Lane for an update. It had been almost twenty-four hours since she’d discovered their empty beds.

* * *

MATILDA’S SANDALS CLICKED against the concrete steps of the church. She’d slipped out of the Thursday morning mass early, not wanting to leave with the others and face the questions of friends and acquaintances. They’d all want to know about little Lacy and Lila and she was too upset to talk about the kidnapping.

She was frightened for herself as well as the girls. Keys to Janice O’Sullivan’s house had gone missing from her key ring sometime since Monday morning. That was the last time she remembered using a key to Janice’s house. When Janice was home, Matilda always rang the bell and Janice would let her in.

She hadn’t realized they were missing until the morning the girls had gone missing. If they turned up in the hands of the kidnapper, she could be in real trouble. Officer Grummet had made it clear from his questioning that he already thought she might be involved in the crime.

And now Janice had left a message asking about Quinton. Matilda had no choice but to tell her the truth. That would cost Matilda her job. That was no one’s fault but her own. Lying always led to more lies. The end result was never good.

Matilda should have never let Quinton back into her life. He’d talked a great story of redemption when he’d called last week and begged her to see him. He’d convinced her he’d finally found religion and turned his life around.

She probably hadn’t been that hard to convince. She’d prayed for it for so long. He was her only brother. She loved him. And she owed him. He’d saved her life more than once when their daddy had staggered home drunk and had come at her.

But if Quinton was behind this abduction, if he hurt those precious little girls, she’d turn him in to the cops herself without blinking an eye.

Quinton hadn’t stayed long when he’d dropped by Monday afternoon. They’d sipped iced tea at the kitchen table and he’d asked about Sam and Alana who were both out at the time. When he’d asked about her job, she’d told him about Janice’s upcoming operation.

Another major mistake. He might have gotten the idea right then and there to rob her house while she was in the hospital. Then when he’d discovered that Hadley and the girls were staying there, he’d decided to go for real money.

Those were only assumptions, but they would explain everything.

Admittedly, Quinton hadn’t had much of a chance to steal the keys to Janice’s house. The only time he’d been alone was the few minutes it had taken her to go to the bathroom and then to the bedroom to get the hundred dollars she’d lent him.

But the keys were in plain sight, on the hook in the kitchen where she always kept them. He could have tried the keys on her doors in a matter of seconds and known which ones didn’t fit. By the process of simple elimination he’d have realized the other two house keys were to the O’Sullivan home.

It pained her to think that Quinton could commit such a depraved and heartless act. But if he hadn’t taken the keys, where were they?

She whirled around at the sound of footsteps behind her. “Johnny. What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you. I figured you’d be at mass praying for the O’Sullivan girls.”

“You know me well.”

Far better than most mechanics knew their customers. Quinton had worked for Johnny Rouse years ago, before Johnny had fired him for stealing from the cash register. But she had kept taking her cars to Johnny for repairs. They’d started dating a couple of years ago after his wife left him.

“Do the police have any leads?” Johnny asked.

“None that I’ve been told about.”

“Hadley’s gotta be really upset. Her mother, too.”

“They are. We all are.”

“Hopefully they’ll find them today.”

“And find them alive and safe,” Matilda added.

She started walking again. Johnny kept pace.

“I heard you came by the shop yesterday looking for me,” he said.

“I did.”

“My workers said you were acting crazy. Said you insisted they waste an hour looking for some stupid keys.”

“I thought I might have lost them when I brought my car in for an oil change Tuesday afternoon.”

“You had to have your keys when you left, Matilda, or you couldn’t have driven your car home.”

“I lost house keys, not car keys.”

“Well, I didn’t see no loose keys of any kind lying about the shop after you left. I s’pect they’ll show up around your house in a day or two.”

“I s’pect so,” she agreed. “But keep an eye out for them, will you? If you find them, please call me.”

“Sure.”

In spite of Johnny’s prediction, there was an extremely slim chance they’d show up at her house. There wasn’t a square inch of space she hadn’t already searched.

But they could be at Janice’s house. The problem was she couldn’t get into the house unless Hadley was there. And she couldn’t very well turn the house upside down searching for the keys if Hadley was there without admitting she’d lost them.

She would admit it, if it came to that. She hoped it wouldn’t. She couldn’t afford a lawyer. And what would Alana and Sam do if she went to jail and couldn’t work and pay the bills?

“I guess you know Sam stopped in yesterday after you left.”

“He didn’t mention it to me.”

“Yeah, he asked me about a job.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I didn’t. By the time I finished what I was doing and had time to talk to him about it, he’d gone.”

“He’s not very motivated. Having to go to summer school when he thought he’d be graduated by now has really bummed him out.”

“Kids. Say, you wanna grab a bite to eat and catch a movie Saturday night? There’s a new James Bond flick out.”

“Another time, Johnny. I’m not really up to watching a movie.”

“You might be if those girls are safe and sound. I’ll keep in touch.”

“Okay.”

He took her hand and squeezed it. “You take care, Matilda.”

“I will.”

Johnny was a good guy. He liked her a lot but it was clear he wanted more than friendship. He wasn’t a bad catch. He owned his own mechanic shop. He didn’t curse much and when they went out he never drank more than a few beers.

Only problem was she’d had true love before with her husband. She knew how great it could be. She didn’t love Johnny.

Her cell phone rang. It was Janice again. She couldn’t dodge her forever, but she didn’t want to explain her lies over the phone, especially not when Janice was recovering from surgery and in such horrifying angst about her granddaughters.

She wanted to talk to Janice face-to-face. It was the Christian thing to do.

Officer Grummet she could do without.

* * *

ADAM COULDN’T WAIT to sit down with Fred Casey and come up with a plan of action for dealing with the kidnapper. He’d had a fairly lengthy conversation with him while Fred was waiting at the Dulles Airport and Adam’s clothes tumbled in the dryer. The man’s knowledge and expertise were impressive.

He’d shared with Fred the latest information Hadley had received from Detective Lane. There had been several reported sightings of Lacy and Lila. They were all being checked out, but Lane wasn’t convinced that any of them were credible at this point.

The police had not, as yet, located Quinton Larson, but they had reason to believe he was in the North Texas area.

Lacy’s and Lila’s pictures had gone out to every police agency in the country. Local police were currently making house calls on every child sex offender in the city. Apparently there were many.

Adam considered all the information as he dressed in jeans and a shirt still warm from the dryer. He had one shoe on when he heard the screech of brakes in front of the house.

He hobbled to the door. Hadley beat him to it. She opened it and an instant attack of flashbulbs left them both blinking and squinting.

When he could see again, he noted that the van in the driveway was unmarked, evidence they weren’t from one of the major local TV channels. They’d no doubt be next.

“Who are you and what do you want?” Hadley demanded.

“We’re from a national magazine and we’d like to help you get out the facts about your daughters’ kidnapping.”

“Ms. O’Sullivan is not doing any interviews,” Adam announced.

“Just a few questions,” a perky blonde with a microphone insisted. “Where is the father of your missing daughters?”

Adam would have liked to hear the answer to that himself. Instead he stepped in front of Hadley, sheltering her from the push of the reporter and cameramen. “Ms. O’Sullivan has no comment except that her daughters, Lacy and Lila, are missing and her only concern is their safe return.”

“Who are you?”

None of their damn business. “A longtime friend.” He forced the door shut.

“I wasn’t prepared for that,” Hadley admitted. “I felt like I was about to be mauled by a pack of wolves.”

“It will likely get a lot worse.”

“Then perhaps I should have answered their questions so they’d go away and not come back.”

“They’ll only be replaced by a new wolf pack.”

“So I’m forced to deal with vultures every time I open my door.”

Adam had a thousand reservations about what he was about to suggest. He couldn’t imagine how the idea had popped into his head. “I know a place that would make it a lot more difficult for the media wolf pack to get in your face.”

“Jail?”

“A little more comfortable than that.”

“What’s to keep them back?”

“Barbed wire. Possibly a few riled bulls. Fear of getting shot by a cantankerous old man.”

“And where would I find all of this?”

“At the Dry Gulch Ranch, home of the worst father I never had.”