“Payments,” Afton said. “Why do you think they relate to illegal adoptions?”
“Because it looks like that was Torbert’s specialty. Adoptions. Private adoptions.”
“No shit,” Max said.
“What else do we know about these payments?” Afton pressed.
“There’s receivables and payables,” Thacker said. “The receivables, those may have come from adoptive parents, since they’re all in the range of one hundred to two hundred thousand dollars. The payables are in far lesser amounts, but we don’t know what those are all about. We haven’t contacted Torbert’s bank yet or tried to run down any of the names.”
“Let us know when you do, okay?” Max said.
“Wait a minute,” Afton said, feeling jazzed. “The payables, the smaller amounts. Do we know who those went to?”
“Um . . . yeah,” Thacker said.
“What are the names?” Afton dug in her jacket pocket and pulled out the list Burdick had given her. She knew it was a long shot. “We got some names from that taxidermy distributor. Let’s at least see if we can cross-reference something.”
“We’re going to end up with a pile of names,” Max said. “Why don’t we let the computer sort it out, wait and see if we get any kind of match?”
“I realize that’s the protocol,” Afton said. “But couldn’t we at least get a jump start?”
“I guess it couldn’t hurt,” Max said.
“Okay,” Thacker said. “Whatever. It’s a short list.”
“First name?” Max asked.
“Monahan,” Thacker said. “Harold Monahan.”
Afton scanned the list as she drove, veering off slightly toward the center median.
“Don’t be doing that,” Max crabbed at her. “You can’t read and drive at the same time. Here, hand over that list before you slam this car in the ditch and cripple us both for life.”
“Sorry,” Afton said. She handed over the list.
Max scanned the list. “Mmn, Monahan’s not here. What’s the second name?”
“Adams,” Thacker said.
“Nope.”
It was the third name that sent the cherries spinning and the bells clanging like crazy.
“Sorenson,” Thacker said.
This time, even though Afton had both hands squarely on the steering wheel, she once again swerved toward the center median. Because she recognized the name from Thacker’s list. It was the name of the kid who’d stuffed the wolverine back at the Liberty Café.
42
WE have to turn around,” Afton said through gritted teeth.
“What?” Max’s head swiveled toward her. He clicked a button, taking the phone off speaker. “Hang on a minute,” he told Thacker. Then he stared at Afton as she slowed the car to barely a crawl. “Are you crazy? In case you hadn’t noticed, lady, we’re on I-94 smack dab in the middle of the blizzard of the century. Our tire tracks are filling in behind us. We’ve already passed six cars in the ditch. If we play our cards right, we could be the seventh.”
“Tell Thacker we have to go back. Insist on it.”
“Why?”
“Sorenson. It’s the same name. If this Sorenson guy has something to do with illegal adoptions and the wolverine taxidermy guy is named Sorenson, there could be a connection. No, there has to be a connection. Tell that to Thacker. Insist on it.”
“I don’t know,” Max said. Still, he held the phone up to his mouth and related Afton’s theory back to Thacker. Then he sat there and listened, his head bobbing silently. “I see,” he finally said.
“What?” Afton asked. She was looking ahead, trying to figure out where she could turn off and double back. There. Century Boulevard was dead ahead. “Is something wrong?”
“Sorenson’s not a guy,” Max said. “It’s a woman. Marjorie Sorenson.”
“That’s her then,” Afton said. “She’s the kidnapper, the doll lady who called herself Molly. She’s the one who took Elizabeth Ann.” She said it with an urgency and a solemn finality, as if she knew they’d finally arrived at the end stage of the hunt.
“You don’t know that,” Max said. “You’re just cobbling together a few wild ideas.”
“Is there a man living with her? A boy? Ask Thacker.”
Max did that.
“He doesn’t know,” Max said. “Thacker says we’ll have to contact Wisconsin State Revenue, see if she claimed any dependents.”
“There’s no time for that. We have to turn around and find that Sorenson woman right now. If we wait any longer, we risk not finding that baby. Ever again.”
“We can’t just go cowboying in there,” Max warned. “We have to have a warrant. At the very least we need to get Thacker’s approval.”
“Then talk to him,” Afton yelped. “Convince him.”
*