Trumped Up Charges. Joanna WayneЧитать онлайн книгу.
His touch was no doubt meant to calm her, but it had the opposite effect. She blinked hard, trying to stop the tears that burned in the corners of her eyes from escaping and starting an avalanche she wouldn’t be able to stop.
She lingered near the back door as Adam stepped onto the spacious, covered deck. For the first time since he’d arrived, she took a good look at him.
He’d changed in three years. He was leaner than before with an edge of hardness to the angles and planes of his face that made him look every one of his thirty-one years. That took nothing away from his rugged good looks.
But he was far more than outward appearance. He was his own man, a hero who’d won medals for his courage under fire. He never walked away from danger or risk.
But he was only a man. She turned and walked away, before she started expecting too much.
She filled a mug with strong, black coffee and rummaged the drawer next to the sink for a pad and pencil. Dropping them onto the island, she slid onto a kitchen barstool.
After a few sips of coffee, she jotted down a title for her list.
People Who Had Keys to the House.
Hadley couldn’t make a definitive list before her mother recovered from the anesthetics and could think clearly, but she could have some prospects ready that might jar her mother’s memory.
The first name she wrote was Matilda Bastion. She had a key, but she would never do anything to hurt Lila or Lacy.
Neighbors made the number-two spot. Hadley couldn’t possibly list all of them by name, but her very social mother knew everyone on the block and might have given any one of them a key to check on the house when she was away.
The third spot fell to Ally Fritz. Ally was a decorator who’d overseen the kitchen remodeling last year and kept a close eye on the construction workers. There was a good chance she’d been given a key. She was trustworthy, but the key might have been left lying around her shop.
And who knew how many unnamed others Hadley might have never met? Her mother had frequent guests and often hired caterers for her social functions.
Someone with a key who knew Hadley and the girls were spending the night last night. Someone who was in desperate need of money.
She had to believe the abduction was about collecting a ransom. Any other motive was too frightening to bear.
But why didn’t the kidnapper call?
A coughing noise startled her. She looked up, expecting Adam but seeing the detective instead.
“The wiretap is in place,” Lane said, “just as we talked about. If the kidnapper calls, I’ll get it simultaneously. Agree to anything, but demand to talk to both Lacy and Lila. Stay as calm as you can and keep him on the phone as long as you can. Once he breaks the connection, I’ll get in touch with you immediately.”
“Are both my cell phone and the house phone tapped?”
“Yes, but I took the liberty of having the house calls forwarded to your cell phone so that you won’t miss a call when you’re at the hospital.”
“Thanks. I was going to ask you about that.”
“I assume you’ll be leaving for the hospital soon.”
“Within the next fifteen minutes. I hate to leave here, yet I need to be there when Mother comes out of recovery. I can’t take a chance on someone else telling her about the kidnapping.”
“You do realize that I’ll have to question her as soon as the doctor agrees to it.”
“Can’t you just give me the questions you have and let me ask her? Talking to the police is only going to upset her more.”
“I’m sorry. Investigations don’t work that way.”
“They work however you say they work.”
“Is there a problem in here?” This time the voice was Adam’s.
“I don’t have one,” Lane said, his stare leveled at Hadley.
“I’ll do my best not to upset your mother, Ms. O’Sullivan, but right now she’s our best hope for identifying the kidnapper quickly.”
“I understand.”
Only she didn’t. She didn’t understand any of this. She should be at the hospital with her mother. Lacy and Lila should be here with Matilda, playing with their toys or watching one of their favorite animated movies.
This nightmare should not be happening.
Lane let himself out and Adam helped himself to coffee. “Did Lane say something to upset you?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Your eyes were shooting daggers at him when I interrupted your conversation.”
“I don’t like his attitude at times. I want to believe he’s doing everything he can to find Lacy and Lila, but he talks of rules and procedures. My girls’ lives are at stake and he can’t give an inch.”
Adam walked over and sidled onto the stool next to hers. “I’m sure he’s aware of what you’re going through. I’ll wager the whole department is using every weapon in their arsenal to find Lacy and Lila. Missing kids are always top priority for the police.”
“So you think I’m being unreasonable?”
“Actually, I think you’re doing an amazing job of handling this.”
“Well, you’re wrong. I’m crazy inside. I want to scream and kick and beat my fists against the wall.”
“Go ahead if it helps. You can even use me for a punching bag.”
“Careful what you offer.”
“I always am.”
And she’d never been careful enough. She downed the last few sips of her coffee and then slid the mug away. “I can’t just sit here and do nothing. I’m going to the hospital.”
“Do you want company?”
She wanted to shout no. She didn’t want to need him. The refusal wouldn’t come.
“It’s up to you,” she said.
“Then I’d like to tag along, but I have one question first.”
“I’m sick of being interrogated. All I’ve done all morning is answer the same questions over and over as if they expect my answers to change.”
“I need to ask anyway.”
“Then get it over with.”
“Where is the twins’ father?”
The silence lasted so long that Adam thought Hadley might not answer at all. He saw no reason why she’d object. Under the circumstances, it was a legitimate concern and required only a simple, direct response.
Adam rephrased the question. “Is your husband on his way to Dallas?”
“No.” Hadley picked up her mug, took it to the sink and held it under the spray. “He won’t be coming,” she said, without looking at Adam.
The answer stunned him. “Why not?”
“Does it matter?” She picked up a sponge and began to buff the impeccably clean and shining granite countertop. She worked strenuously, her fear and frustration fueling the task.
He’d pushed too far. She was vulnerable, too emotionally fragile to be pushed on a subject she clearly didn’t want to talk about.
He carried his cup to the sink. “Enough said. I was out of line in putting you on the