Trumped Up Charges - By Joanna Wayne Page 0,52
the café. He could easily see who came and went and had a view of some of the booths through the large, dirty windows that lined the front of the café.
Sam took the last empty booth along the row of windows. Adam moved a few steps to the right so that he had a better view. He pulled the bill of his Dallas Cowboys cap low over his forehead and slouched against the building.
He watched as Sam spoke to a waitress. She returned a few minutes later with what appeared to be a Coke over ice. Sam pushed a straw into the drink and sipped, but his gaze stayed focused on the front door as if he were waiting for someone.
Hopefully, Quinton.
Sam finished that drink and ordered another without ever looking at the menu.
Twenty minutes later, he still hadn’t ordered and no one had joined him. But there was no way Sam had driven fifteen miles to order a Coke and drink it by himself.
When the waitress brought Sam the tab, Adam decided he’d waited for Quinton to show up as long as he dared. He crossed the street, walked into the café and straight to the booth where Sam was leaving money to cover his tab.
Sam paid no attention to him until Adam was standing directly over him, blocking his way out of the booth.
He looked up at Adam. “You got a problem, man?”
“No, I’m just here to talk.”
Sam tried to push past him. Strength was on Sam’s side, but Adam had the advantage since Sam was hemmed in between the booth and the bench.
Adam shoved him back into his seat. “You’re a long way from home, Sam. What brings you to the hood?”
“None of your business. You’re not a cop.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“I saw your picture in the paper. You’re Hadley O’Sullivan’s boyfriend.”
“You just won round one.”
“My mother told you to follow me, didn’t she?”
“Oops. Lost round two. I’m here on my own. Now answer the question. What are you doing in this hellhole neighborhood?”
“Spreading the wealth.”
“Try again.”
Sam spread his hands in front of him, palms up. “Okay, you got me. I’m here to buy some crack like most everyone else in this greasy dive. But don’t run tattle to Mom. She doesn’t really want to know, plus she’s got enough worries right now. So do you.”
“Here’s the problem, Sam. I don’t think you’re here to buy crack or anything else. I think you’re here to meet your uncle Quinton.”
“What if I am? Is there a law against that?”
“There’s a law against stealing little girls from their beds and trying to collect a ransom for them.”
“You’re not pinning that on me. Man, I’m clean. I’m not crazy enough to get involved in a kidnapping.”
“Here’s a shocker, Sam. I don’t believe you. So let’s make a deal, man-to-man. You tell me where to find Quinton or the missing girls and I won’t call Detective Lane and tell him where you are right now. I won’t even mention that I’ve got evidence to prove you’re working with Quinton.”
“You’ve got no proof of anything. I’m not working with my uncle. No way. I know what you’re trying to do, but you’re not getting me to confess to kidnapping.”
“Too bad.” Adam took out his phone. “I guess we’ll just have to let Detective Lane work this out.”
Sam put his hand on top of Adam’s as he started to punch in the phone number. “I’ll tell you how to find my uncle, but I swear I don’t know anything about that kidnapping.”
That remained to be seen.
* * *
QUINTON STOOD HIDDEN behind a Chevy van, watching as Adam and Sam stepped out of the café and into the glaring sunlight.
He had no doubt that Adam had followed Sam here hoping that he’d lead him to Quinton. Fortunately Quinton was too smart for him. He’d expected and prepared for something exactly like this. He’d spotted Adam even before he’d finished his beer.
Quinton would catch up with Sam. He’d make damn sure that Adam didn’t, at least not in time to get in Quinton’s way. The man might be tough when he had his marine buddies to back him up, but he was on Quinton’s turf now.
All it would take was a phone call.
* * *
ADAM ROUNDED THE corner and started up the next block. The houses were old and run-down, paint peeling, shutters broken or missing, old cars and rusted toys and appliances scattered about the yards the way people in more expensive neighborhoods