The story was right there on page one, just below the fold. The headline said, INFANT KIDNAPPED FROM KENWOOD HOME. He read the story slowly, his lips moving along as he read. When he got to the fourth paragraph, he smiled to himself. Ashley. The hot little babysitter chick’s name was Ashley. And the story said that she’d been taken to a hospital, some place called HCMC.
Setting down the paper, Ronnie took a long sip of beer. He liked that her name was Ashley. It sounded classy and reminded him of a character on one of those teen reality shows. He dug his hand into a bowl of popcorn that sat on the bar. Popped a handful into his mouth, chewed, and hawked the hulls out onto the floor. Hadn’t he and Ashley shared a moment together last night? Hadn’t she stared into his eyes and given him a glimmer of encouragement? Sure, she had. Like most girls, she’d wanted it pretty bad. Needed it. He could tell.
Ronnie took another sip of beer and the liquid slid down his throat, cool and malty. “Ashley,” he murmured. “Ashley baby.”
7
I’M sorry you had to cut your climbing trip short,” Lish said. Not ten seconds earlier, Afton had pushed open the back door of her home and tromped into the kitchen. Lish, Alisha Larkin, was stirring a pot of bubbling spaghetti sauce, steaming up their little kitchen in a nice, homey way. Afton had called her sister earlier in the day and told her about the change in plans. Told her she was back in town and would probably be home for supper.
“Mommy, Mommy!” Two eager voices blended into one as Poppy and Tess, Afton’s two daughters, came careening around a corner to greet her. Poppy was six and serious, dressed in an oversized Sponge Bob sweatshirt. Tess was ten going on fifteen, already into lip gloss and celebrity gossip, lobbying for her very own cell phone.
“I’m glad you came home, Mommy,” Poppy said. She pattered across the kitchen floor and favored Afton with an enormous bear hug. “Even if it was because of that kidnapping.”
Afton’s and Lish’s eyes met and Lish gave a little shrug that said, Who knows?
“How did you hear about the kidnapping, honey?” Afton asked. She made no secret of the fact that she was employed by the Minneapolis Police Department, but had always tried to spare the girls from any grisly details of the cases she worked. It was better, she’d decided, to focus on the positive role she played.
“It was on the five o’clock news,” Poppy told her. “The lady was crying. A lot,” she added with emphasis.
“Is the baby dead?” Tess asked. She sounded blasé but looked a little scared.
“No, of course not,” Afton said. “The police and the FBI are working very hard to find her and bring her home.”
“That’s good,” Tess said. She edged over to the counter, where Lish was busy grating a hunk of Parmesan cheese, and smiled at her impishly through masses of tangled blond hair. “Want me to set the table?”
“More than anything,” Lish said.
“Mommy,” Poppy said as Tess stood on tiptoe to gather plates and glasses from the cupboard. “How come you changed your name? How come you have a different name than Daddy?” It was sweet that she still referred to Mickey as her daddy, even though they’d only been together as a family for little more than a year.
“It’s all about identity, honey,” Afton said. “When you’re a little older, you’ll understand.”
But Poppy wasn’t about to drop the subject. “What if I want to change my name someday?”
“Honey,” Afton said, bending down. “Do you want to change your name?”
A grin split Poppy’s mischievous face. “I want to be Rapunzel!” she declared.
“Poppy Rapunzel,” Afton said, gathering her daughter up in her arms. “It has a nice ring to it. Presidential even.”
*
BY eight o’clock the kids’ eyes were growing heavy as they sprawled on the sectional sofa eating popcorn and watching a DVD of Finding Nemo. Lish was upstairs, trying out Clairol’s Ravenous Red hair color and singing along to an old Van Halen album. Afton was planted firmly in front of her computer.
She’d been curious about what Thacker had told them about Richard Darden, the missing baby’s father. Wanted to see if there was anything in the business section of the newspaper that might shed some light on the lawsuit against him. She didn’t think it possible that a reputable company would get so outraged about pilfered business secrets and that they’d retaliate by kidnapping a man’s child. Then again, you never knew. In more than a few countries, kidnapping was commonplace.
Afton found two archived articles on the Tribune website. One was a short sidebar detailing Richard’s move to Synthotech. The second was a lengthier article in which the Tribune business reporter, B. L. Aiken, interviewed Bruce Cutler, the CEO of Novamed, Richard Darden’s former company, as well as Richard Darden himself, and Gordon Conseco, the CEO of Synthotech, Richard’s new place of employment.
Cutler had only harsh words about Richard’s defection; Conseco had only praise for his new employee.
But Conseco can’t be that happy, Afton decided, especially if Richard Darden was bringing questions of impropriety down on their heads.