Trumped Up Charges - By Joanna Wayne Page 0,55
an arrest, we’ll look like buffoons.”
“I’m not completely sure Hadley is guilty,” Lane said. “I can’t rule out that Quinton either abducted the girls or masterminded the whole thing.”
“Do you have evidence to back that up?”
“Not a shred. Just a hunch that there are still some loose ends that can’t be tied up yet.”
“I understand, but the pressure is on me and the department. Give it until morning. If Hadley hasn’t heard from the kidnapper by then, get an arrest warrant and book her. In the meantime, I’ll give you all the manpower you need to do everything possible to find those girls. Dead or alive, we need answers. For everyone’s sake.”
Lane couldn’t argue with that.
* * *
SOMEHOW ADAM MADE it back to the ranch and spent the rest of the afternoon playing roulette ice packs. Hadley had practically gone into shock when he’d stepped through the door covered in bruises and still not standing completely straight.
She wanted to call for an ambulance, but he’d vetoed that. All he wanted was a clear path to the sofa.
After he’d downed a couple of pain pills, he explained to Hadley, R.J. and Fred how his outing had gone from bad to worse. Since then, they’d all pretty much left him to suffer in peace except for Hadley’s checking on a regular basis to make sure he didn’t need anything.
R.J. had presented him with steak cut from Dry Gulch beef for his left eye which was swollen almost closed earlier in the afternoon. He’d grilled four more steaks for their dinner. Hadley had baked potatoes and made a salad.
Surprisingly, Adam had eaten his fair share. His muscles were on fire, but he’d hurt worse. Much worse. Compared to the night of the ambush, today’s beating seemed like a pillow fight.
He was pretty sure there were no internal injuries and no concussion. All in all, he wasn’t in too bad a shape for a man who’d been treated like a soccer ball by men who could have played for any team in the North American League.
He’d retired to the family room after dinner, this time settling in the recliner. Fred joined him.
“Do you think we’re just wasting your time here?” Adam asked.
“Absolutely not. The kidnapper’s not going to turn his back on five million dollars. But since we haven’t heard from him yet, he may need some encouragement in taking this to the next step.”
“What kind of encouragement?”
“The knowledge that the police are closing in and about to make an arrest.”
“Have you heard something I haven’t?”
“No. But that doesn’t mean that the information can’t be leaked to the local media.”
“I don’t think they’d print something from an unnamed and unproven source.”
“They’d print it if the information came from the lead detective in the case.”
“And exactly how would we get Lane to agree to that?”
“You can always call and ask. It’s worked for me before. Just tell him what we’re trying to do. After all, it’s the lives of two little girls that are on the line.”
“Let’s run it by Hadley first.”
“Run what by me?” she said from the doorway.
Adam and Fred explained the proposal.
“Call him now,” Hadley said. “If he agrees and he acts on it quickly, it might make the ten o’clock news.”
Adam made the call. To all of their surprise, the detective agreed without an argument.
R.J. joined them in the family room and they talked for a while, mainly about Quinton. They were all in consensus that he was guilty as sin, but no one had a clue why he was dragging it out so long.
Hadley finally called it a night though Adam doubted she’d get much sleep. He followed soon after.
Once in his bedroom, he stripped and got under the hottest shower he could stand. He let the water sluice over his bruised, aching body.
His mind slipped back into the past, to three and a half years ago when life as he’d known it came to a painful end. He couldn’t stand in a shower that night or for many nights to follow. He hadn’t been able to even move his legs.
The doctors had said he might never walk again.
And he didn’t need to relive that tonight. He stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around his waist and went back to the bedroom. He was bending over to get an undershirt from the chest when his bedroom door squeaked open.
He spun around, but one look at Hadley’s face told him it hadn’t been quick enough. She’d seen the scars