CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Flying back to D.C. in the agency jet, Bob dialed Jack Cole’s number at Langley. It was three in the morning, but he knew Jack was in his office.
“Bob, how’re things going?” Jack asked.
“So far, I’ve got conjecture, hypotheticals, and speculation, but no hard evidence. We think we just missed the guy who took Miriana. We don’t know if he’s still got her with him, if she’s dead, or what. I’d sure like to get at least a full name on the kidnapper.”
“Ask and ye shall receive,” Jack said. “I just got a response on that license plate. It’s a rental from Baltimore-Washington Airport. Rented by a Johann Schmidt. The guy used a VISA card.”
“Johann Schmidt – John Smith. Sounds like an alias.”
“I called the rental people and told them to contact us the minute the car shows up. And I told them not to clean it.” Jack paused, then added, “I was hoping you’d found the girl.”
Bob sighed. “Common sense says she’s dead. But . . . I don’t know.”
“I’ve got my fingers crossed,” Jack said.
“We are scheduled to land in D.C. in thirty minutes. I’m going home to get some sleep, but I’ll be in the office by noon.”
“Okay, Bob, see you then.”
Bob extinguished the overhead light and lowered his seat back. Maybe I can grab a few winks before we land, he thought. But sleep wouldn’t come. He’d seen the pictures of what the Serbs had done to Olga Madanovic. He didn’t want to find Miriana in the same condition. But his instincts told him this whole thing could end badly.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Danny Farrell’s mother, Emily, sat in a dilapidated wicker chair on her log cabin’s front porch, kneading her hands in her aproned lap while looking at her husband in the glow of a kerosene lamp. Jefferson Farrell, a scrawny, scarecrow—man sat on the steps below her, nursing a beer. Her fingers combed back the loose gray strands of hair hanging near her face. I hope he don’t drink more than a six-pack tonight, she thought. The craziness always seems to start with the seventh bottle.
Jefferson suddenly belched. Trying to move the fear away, she looked away from Jefferson, out at the dark woods. Where was Danny? She hated it when he disappeared like this. He’d been gone almost twenty-four hours this time. Here it was the middle of the night and he still wasn’t home. She could never sleep when Danny was out at night.
She imagined peaceful sights – deer foraging on the sweet new growth at the ends of tree branches, raccoons hunting for food. She smiled at the chirping sounds coming from the trees. Probably a possum, she thought.
“Where’s that damn fool son of yours, off playing Daniel Boone again?”
Emily merely sighed. She didn’t have a clue. Wherever Danny is, it’s gotta be a sight better than on this porch with a drunken stepfather and a dried out old woman. Danny was a wonder at woodsmanship. He knew the names of every plant in the forest, could imitate the calls of nearly every bird and mammal, and could move so quietly no man or animal could detect him.
“I asked you a question, woman,” Jefferson grunted. “Say something, you old sow.”
Emily hated him. She buried her disdain for her husband where she stored all her other emotions, in the knot at the bottom of her stomach. Sonofabitch, she thought. I gotta go clean other people’s houses so we can have some cash income, and the only thing he ever brings in is a Budweiser six-pack. Idiot! Goddam idiot! Emily rose to go into the cabin.
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EVIL DEEDS
Mystery / ThrillerEvil Deeds is the first in a 4-book series that follows the Danforth family from the kidnapping of their 2-year-old son in Greece in 1971 to present day. The book (and series) is a roller coaster ride of action and suspense. This book, as with all o...
