Trumped Up Charges

by Joanna Wayne

  “I don’t know, Adam. I honestly don’t know. I was shocked to see you. I didn’t even know you were back in Dallas.”

  “I haven’t been here long.” But he’d been with her for over twenty-four hours. “Why didn’t you tell me this yesterday?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Is it because you don’t trust me?”

  “I think it’s more that I didn’t trust myself.”

  “And now?”

  “I trust you to help find the girls, but that doesn’t bridge the gulf between us. I don’t really know you anymore. You don’t know me. We both have new lives. We’ve moved on.”

  Only he hadn’t, or at least his heart hadn’t.

  “Are you married?” Hadley asked.

  “No. The military lifestyle doesn’t foster long-term commitments.”

  “So it appears. But don’t worry. I’m not planning on cramping your style. You can walk away when this is over. I can take care of the girls on my own.”

  Which would make him the same kind of father R.J. had been. Throw a little money in the pot to help support your children and then give them a call and invite them out for a beer when you know you won’t live long enough to get to really know them.

  He’d be damned if he let that happen.

  “I’d like to be a part of their lives,” he said.

  He meant that, even if it involved staying in touch with Hadley. Even if it meant a constant ache to hold her in his arms and take her to his bed knowing that he could never satisfy her.

  “We’ll work something out,” she said. “When this is over and the girls are safe at home with me.”

  Sadness crept into her voice where only fear and anxiety had been before. It cut him like a knife slicing into old wounds.

  “Let’s get out of here, Adam. I can’t deal with this right now. And I’ve basically said it all.”

  His phone rang as they started back to the truck. “Hello, Fred. Welcome to Dallas. And not a minute too soon.”

  Adam caught Fred up to speed on the video and gave him directions to the ranch. It’d be best for Adam and Hadley to beat him there so that Adam could let R.J. know he was about to get a lot more family trouble than he’d bargained for.

  * * *

  ADAM STOPPED AT the metal gate and the rusty metal sign that announced they were at the Dry Gulch Ranch. “This is it,” he said.

  “Where’s the house?” Hadley asked.

  “About a quarter of a mile down that dirt road you see in front of you.”

  “I’m not sure our coming here was the best option.”

  “I don’t see any media blocking the road.”

  “Give them time,” Hadley said.

  Time was the one thing they didn’t have much of—time and money. At least not five million dollars. He was eager to hear Fred’s plan for how to handle the ransom exchange without the cold, hard cash.

  Hadley opened her door. “I’ll get the gate.”

  He drove over the cattle guard and she closed and latched the gate and jumped back into the truck.

  “What’s the ranch house like?”

  He had a feeling she was making conversation, but that was okay with him and better than the awkward silence that had held most of the way to the ranch.

  “It’s your typical hundred-year-old raised cottage gone wild,” he said. “It’s been added on to so many times that it rambles like a patch of poison ivy that can’t decide which direction to spread.”

  “In that case it should be large enough that we won’t inconvenience your father. Does he live there alone?”

  “As far as I know. There was no mention of a wife the other day—at least not a current wife.”

  “How many times has he been married?”

  “I’m not sure. According to my mother he changes wives and family more often than she changes the sheets. Mother has been known to exaggerate.”

  Hadley stared out the side window. “I see lots of barbed-wire fencing, but I don’t see any cattle.”

  “They’re around somewhere.” Adam pulled up in front of the old ranch house where he’d spent the first four years of his life. There was a black pickup truck parked in front of the house. If R.J. was there, he should have heard them drive up.

  Adam climbed the stairs with Hadley at his side. He took a deep breath, exhaled slowly and rang the bell. No one answered. No one answered on the second ring or the third ring, either.

  He tried the door. It wasn’t locked. R.J. didn’t seem the type to stand on formality, so Adam opened the door and walked in.

  It felt a hell of a lot like he’d just entered the enemy camp.

  * * *

  MATILDA TOOK THE last pan of chocolate chip cookies from the oven and set the hot baking sheet on the cooling rack. She was in no mood for baking, but once she’d started preparing the dough, the familiar rhythm had a calming effect on her that let her think more clearly.

  She knew exactly what she had to do. She’d preached the importance of truthfulness to Alana and Sam all their lives. Now she had to admit to them that she hadn’t practiced what she’d preached.

  The uncle they’d practically worshipped wasn’t dead as she’d told them. He was alive and about to be arrested and possibly locked away for the rest of his life.

  She’d explained everything to Detective Lane this morning. The faked death, the missing key, the recent visit from Quinton. And then she’d given him the names of the thugs Quinton had hung out with before he left Dallas. Once the web of lies had started to unravel, it was as if a staggering weight had lifted from her heart.

  Her conscience was clear. But for the first time in her life, she was actually afraid of her brother.

  Even though Quinton was six years younger than she was, he’d been the one to run interference for her when she was a young, skinny teenager.

  Her little brother had thrown himself between her and her drunken father when he’d come at her with his belt for not having the house clean enough or not having his clothes washed or his dinner on the table. More than once, he’d ended up taking the beating that had been meant for her.

  But by the time he was sixteen, Quinton didn’t take a beating from anyone. And nobody crossed him without paying for it.

  Matilda had crossed him today.

  Alana strolled into the kitchen and pulled the earphones from her ears. “Sam said you wanted to talk to both of us. What’s that about?”

  “Go get your brother and I’ll tell you over cookies and milk.”

  “Cookies and milk? We’re not six, you know?”

  “Too bad. You weren’t nearly so sassy then. Go get Sam.”

  Alana tangled the ends of her long brown hair with her fingers. “It’s about the kidnapping, isn’t it?”

  “Just go get your brother.”

  “First, tell me they’re not dead. Tell me that creepy jerk that stole them didn’t kill them.”

  “They haven’t been found and there’s no evidence they’ve been killed. Now go and get you brother and I’ll tell both what’s going on with the investigation.”

  Alana returned a few minutes later with Sam. He grabbed a warm cookie and stuffed most of it in his mouth.

  “Any luck with the job interview?” she asked, as she poured three glasses of milk.

  “I didn’t go.”

  “Why not? I thought you were supposed to talk to the manager right after your class.”

  “Because I’m not gonna spend my life stocking groceries.” He finished that cookie and grabbed another.

  “A part-time summer job is not exactly your whole life.”

  “It’s not like I’m hanging around here all day doing nothing. I made forty dollars last week putting up new drapes for your boss. Man, those things were ugly. And summer school wastes half my day.”

  As if having to attend summer school wasn’t his fault for skipping the class so many times that he had to repeat it before they awarded him his high school diploma.

  Sam straddled
a chair and grabbed another cookie. “So what’s up?”

  “It’s about the kidnapping,” Alana said.

  Sam groaned. “Not that again. What’s the big deal? Janice O’Sullivan is filthy rich. She’ll pay the ransom for her granddaughters and never even miss the money.”

  “It’s not about the money,” Alana argued.

  He grabbed another cookie. “It’s always about the money.”

  “That’s enough,” Matilda said. “Will you both please just let me say what I need to say—without interruption?”

  They both stared at her as if she’d spouted a giant wart in the middle of her forehead. They weren’t used to seeing her rattled and irritable. She counted to ten silently, determined to at least sound in control.

  “There’s been a development in the case that I think you should both be aware of,” she said. “I hate having to tell you this, but...”

  Adam slammed his half-empty glass to the table. “Don’t tell me the cops think you had anything to do with it.”

  “No, but they do have a suspect.”

  Alana clapped her hands twice. “Thank goodness. I bet it’s that Adam guy they talked about on the news. He didn’t want to have to put up with another man’s kids so he just got rid of them. My friend Karen thinks the same thing.”

  “Don’t rush to judgment. The truth is...”

  The doorbell rang.

  Sam jumped up to get it.

  “Let me,” Matilda said. “Both of you stay put. It’s probably Leone from next door. I’ll get rid of her.”

  Lost in her thoughts, Matilda foolishly opened the door without looking through the peephole first.

  “Hello, sis. Why is it you don’t look glad to see me?”

  Panic choked her. She gulped in a breath of air. “You shouldn’t be here, Quinton.”

  “Why not? You’ve made no secret of the fact that I’m back in town.” He sniffed. “Is that fresh-baked cookies I smell? If it is, I know a couple of little girls who’d love a taste of those.”

  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.”