Trumped Up Charges (9 page)

Chapter Nine

“Uncle Quinton?”

“In the flesh.”

Alana squealed and came running toward him, hurling herself into his arms. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“Seeing is believing.”

“You’re supposed to be dead.”

“Just a bad rumor.” He whirled Alana around a few times and then set her back down.

Sam joined them. Unlike Alana, he was speechless for a minute. And suspicious. “Man, this is weird.” He turned to Matilda. “Mom?”

“It’s your uncle Quinton, all right. I was about to tell you when he rang the doorbell.”

“You knew,” Alana asked.

“She just found out,” Quinton said. “And I just got back to Dallas.”

Sam still looked a bit skeptical. “Where have you been for the past five years?”

“Laying low. I’d gotten into a little trouble and had to leave town fast. Didn’t want any of you getting dragged into it.”

“But Mom said there was a funeral in Vegas,” Sam said.

“It was a case of mistaken identity. But never fear, I’m back now. You’ll see lots of me from here on out.”

Matilda stood quietly, arms folded while Quinton made getting reacquainted with her children a celebratory occasion.

“How can you be so calm, Mom?” Alana asked. “It’s like your brother came back from the dead.”

Quinton threw an arm around Matilda’s shoulder. “Your mother’s a little upset with me because I haven’t been in touch for so long. But she’s plenty glad to see me, aren’t you, sis?”

“Elated.” Her attempt at enthusiasm fell flat.

“I love surprises,” Alana said. “And having you home is the best surprise of all. There’s warm chocolate chip cookies and milk waiting in the kitchen in your honor, Uncle Quinton. Just like a party.”

“Bet he’d rather have a cold beer,” Sam said.

“You know it.” Quinton laughed and he and Sam exchanged a couple of playful jabs. “But I can’t stay but a few minutes and I need to spend them talking to your mother in private.”

“You just got here,” Alana complained. “You can’t just turn around and leave.”

“We’ll have plenty of time to talk later. I’m going to be around so much that you’ll get sick and tired of me. Your mother and I are going to be teaming up in a little business venture.”

“You have to promise,” Alana said.

“It’s a definite promise.”

Matilda fought the dread as Alana went in for another hug and Quinton and Sam exchanged several playful arm punches.

Quinton waited until they could hear loud hip-hop coming from the back of the house before he reached over, grabbed Matilda’s wrists and pulled her close. The move was intimidating. His hold was so tight that spirals of pain radiated up her arms and to her shoulders.

“You’ve been busy, sis, talking to cops, doing your best to pin that kidnapping on me.”

“I didn’t go to the police. Detective Lane came to me. I had no choice but to answer his questions. But I swear I didn’t blame anything on you.”

“Tell that garbage to someone stupid enough to believe it. I’ve got friends who don’t lie to me, and they say cops are stalking them like rats after cheese, telling them they’ll be in big trouble if they don’t cooperate.” He threw in a few vile expressions that he’d never used around her before.

“Let the girls go, Quinton,” Matilda begged. “Tell me where they are and I’ll go get them. You can clear out of town and disappear again the way you did before. I have some money saved for Alana’s college. I’ll give it to you. It’s enough to get you out of the country and established somewhere south of the border.”

He let go of her arm. “Now aren’t you just the sweetest big sister ever. Of course, you can afford to be generous now. Only problem is I don’t have those girls and you know it.”

“But when you came to the door, you said...”

“Don’t take me for a fool, Matilda. There’s only one reason you’d sell me down the river. You’re doing it to save your own skin.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Then let me give you the simple version. You kidnapped those girls. I know it. The police know it. Probably your good friend Janice O’Sullivan even suspects it. Who else could just walk in the house and walk off with those girls without setting off the alarm?

“Only you were never very brave so you haven’t been able to pull off the ransom demand. When I showed up at your door, it was the perfect solution. You could sic the police on me while you figured out how to get the money and get away with it.”

“You think I kidnapped the girls?”

“I know you did.”

“That’s preposterous.”

“Is it? I’m surprised you didn’t get tired of playing obedient servant to that rich O’Sullivan broad years ago. After all, why should Janice O’Sullivan have it all while you scrimp by?”

“Her husband earned that money, that’s why. And I don’t have to scrimp by when I’m not constantly bailing you out of trouble.”

“I’m not here to judge you, Matilda. I’m just here to get my share of the deal. And to make sure you don’t screw this up. Where are you holding them? I know they’re still alive. You might kidnap them but you’re too much a wimp to ever hurt them.”

“I would never kidnap or hurt any child. You surely know that about me.”

“I’m not asking. I’m telling you. I want my share. Two can play this dangerous little game of yours. Either I get cut in or you’ll never see sweet little Alana again.” His grip tightened. “And we’re not talking some paltry ransom sum, either. You probably asked for a few thousand. But it’s two million. You got that?”

“I didn’t kidnap those girls.”

“Like hell you didn’t.” He flew into a tirade of curse words. “Alana for half of the ransom. That’s nonnegotiable. I’ll be in touch. Soon.”

He pushed her away and walked out the door without looking back. Once she heard his car back from the driveway, she stepped outside and leaned against the column that supported the overhang.

Her fingers shook as she pulled her cell phone from her pocket and called the number the detective had given her earlier that day. When he answered, she filled him in on the visit from Quinton.

“I’m glad you called immediately,” the detective said.

“But if he comes back, what do I do? How do I protect myself and my children?”

“Call 911 and don’t open your door. I’ll have the patrol cop in that area put on alert.”

That did little to relieve her fears.

“While I have you on the phone, I need you to clear up a detail or two about you conning Janice O’Sullivan out of five thousand dollars,” Lane said.

“Okay.”

“Have you ever asked Mrs. O’Sullivan for money under false pretenses before or after that occasion?”

“Absolutely not. I didn’t even ask when she gave me money for Sam’s braces or Alana’s cheerleading competition in California. Janice offered. No, she insisted. She’s always been very generous with me.”

“But you admit that you asked her to pay for a funeral that never took place for a brother who wasn’t dead?”

“I did,” she admitted for the second time that day. “But I told you, I tried to pay her back. She wouldn’t let me.”

“And he never told you why he needed the money?”

“No. I told you this morning, he just said he owed it to someone who’d kill him if he didn’t pay his debt. He was so bruised and battered when he showed up that I figured he had to be telling the truth.”

“Whose idea was the funeral?”

“Mine. I wanted him out of my life. I didn’t trust him not to hurt me or Alana or Sam.”

“Any particular reason?”

The old fears interacted with the new and gripped her so hard she could barely speak. “Quinton said that if I didn’t get him the money, he’d take Alana and sell her to a South American sex slavery ring. She was only eleven years old.”

“Kidnapping. The same thing he threatened tonight,” Lane said. “The only difference is that now she’s sixteen.”

“He didn’t mention a slavery ring tonight,” Matilda said. “But the implication was there. And he’d do it, too. I know he would. The brother I loved is gone. A demon took his place.”

She’d never stopped praying for Quinton. She’d never stopped loving him—until now. Love and hate. She wondered how many families fought that crippling mix and all the guilt and denial it created every day of their lives.

“It seems kidnapping has always been on the table for Quinton,” Lane said.

“Yes, but if he kidnapped Lacy and Lila, why is he threatening me if I don’t cut him in? Why is he coming around here at all?”

“To throw us off. To frighten you so that you don’t cooperate with the police. He could have any number of reasons.”

No doubt. He was smart in all the wrong ways.

When the conversation ended, Matilda stepped back inside. She locked the front door and tiptoed back to her bedroom. She wasn’t ready to field all the questions she was certain Alana and Sam would throw at her.

She pulled the locked metal safe from the top shelf of her closet and set it on her bed. The dread grew all-consuming as she unlocked it and took out the black pistol that her husband had bought for her when they were first married.

For her protection, he’d insisted. He’d made her learn to load it and shoot it. He hadn’t been able to make her like it. And instead of making her feel safe, it had frightened her. It hadn’t been out from under lock and key since he’d died.

She trailed a finger along the short barrel and then gingerly let the tip of her fingernail scratch along the trigger. The thought of aiming the gun and pulling that trigger made her chest constrict until she felt her heart might be squeezed from her chest.

Could she pull that trigger and kill Quinton if her life depended on it? She wasn’t sure.

Could she pull the trigger if Alana’s life depended on it? Without a second’s hesitation.

One by one, she slipped the bullets into the chamber. When she put the safe back into the closet, the gun was no longer inside it.

She took out her phone. There was one more call she needed to make tonight, this one to Hadley. She had to apologize for not telling her about the missing key the morning they discovered the girls were missing. She hadn’t gotten the chance to do that this morning.

And she wanted to warn Hadley that Quinton was most likely the kidnapper. Her daughters were in the hands of a demon.

* * *

R.J.
SPOTTED
THE
UNFAMILIAR
pickup truck parked in front of his house a yard or two before he reached the horse barn. One of his neighbors might have gotten a new truck. Not that he was expecting company.

He bypassed the horse barn and let Dooley trot on up to the house. Definitely not a neighbor, he decided as he caught a glimpse of the sweet young thing with the fiery mass of red hair sitting on his porch swing.

She waved and he smiled. He waved back and then climbed off his horse and left him standing there. Wouldn’t matter if he ran off. Dooley always found his way back to his stall before feeding time. Usually he just waited around on R.J., though.

“You lost?” he asked, as he climbed the steps.

The lady stood and walked toward him. “I’m Hadley O’Sullivan. I’m here with Adam.”

“So Adam brought you out to the Dry Gulch. Don’t that just paint a black dog blue?”

“Excuse me?”

“Pay my rattlin’ no mind. I’m R.J. I guess Adam told you about me before he drove you out here?”

“He told me that you’re his father, but that the two of you haven’t seen much of each other over the years.”

“Right on both counts. I’m sure sorry to hear your daughters have gone missing. I know you must be frantic.”

“To put it mildly. But the kidnapper has made contact with us. They’re alive and I’ll do whatever it takes to get them back.”

“My money’s on you,” he said.

The door opened and Adam and a rush of air-conditioned air came rushing out. For a minute or more, R.J. and Adam just sized each other up, neither saying anything.

He probably knew more about Adam than Adam did about him. His information had come from an unbiased source—private detective Meghan Lambert. Adam’s had come from R.J.’s third wife.

R.J. spit a stream of snuff juice over the railing and extended his hand. “Good to see you, son. Does this mean you’re taking me up on my offer to move to the ranch?”

“Not exactly.”

“I didn’t think so. That’s okay. I know you and Hadley here got trouble up to your eyeballs. Details of the kidnapping were all over the news.”

“Don’t believe everything you read or hear from the media,” Hadley said. “But the basic story is true.”

“If you mean the insinuations that you might be involved in the girls’ disappearance, I already disregarded that. You got that panicked-mom look stuck to you like chewing gum in a dog’s hair.”

R.J. turned back to Adam. “You’re both welcome to stay as long as you like. I sleep in the first bedroom on your right as you start down the hall off the family area. There are two more on the first floor and three on the second floor. You and Hadley can have your pick.”

“I appreciate that,” Adam said. “Hadley couldn’t step out the door at her mother’s house without being swamped by reporters and cameramen.”

“You can bring your mother out, too, if you like, Hadley,” R.J. said. “No use to leave her imprisoned by those vultures.”

“Mrs. O’Sullivan had surgery yesterday morning,” Adam said. “She’ll be in the hospital for at least another day. But there will be someone else joining us, a man named Fred Casey. He’s going to help us negotiate a ransom exchange with the abductor.”

“Local cop or an FBI agent?”

“Neither. He’s a private ransom negotiator. Normally he works with big companies that operate in unsafe parts of the world.”

“How did you a find man of that caliber so quickly?”

“He’s the brother of a friend I served with in Afghanistan. He’s on his way here from the airport now. I know I should have checked with you before barging in with an entourage, but time is of the essence.”

“No problem,” R.J. said. “Just make yourself at home. Literally. If you see anything you want to eat or drink, no need to ask. How about a cold beer now?” R.J. wiped his shirtsleeve across his sweaty brow. “I’m having one.”