The Target
Page 31
"But we just got a ransom note last night. The kidnappers want $500,000."
"Don't let anyone pay it. I've got my daughter right here, Detective. Emma, say hello to the detective."
"Hello, Detective Mecklin. I'm with my mom and Ram-sey. He saved me and then my mommy found us. We're okay."
"Ramsey? Who the hell's this Ramsey?"
Molly pulled the phone back up. "That's not important for the moment, Detective Mecklin. Listen to me. I've got three names and addresses that go with these license plate letters and numbers. You need to see which of these fits with Emma's kidnappers. One of them does, count on it."
"I don't understand this, Mrs. Santera. You need to come back to Denver and talk to us. If you really have Emma, you need to bring her in to see us. We've got doctors here for her, a shrink trauma team, everything she'll need. Was that really Emma? Are you all right, Mrs. Santera? Where are you?"
"Will you do anything with the information if I give it to you, Detective Mecklin, or am I wasting my time?"
There was another long pause with very controlled breathing. "Give me the info," he said.
She read out the names and addresses very slowly, occasionally repeating. "I don't recognize any of these names myself, but one of them has to be involved with the kidnappers. Now maybe you've got a chance to catch them. Surely there's a drop site indicated on the note. Well, now you don't have to worry about Emma. You can forget the trauma team. Do your job, Detective. Nail the bad guys. Oh yeah, the guy who kidnapped Emma took her to a cabin not far from Dillinger. I'm sure he's not there anymore but you may find out something."
"Are you in Dillinger, Mrs. Santera?"
"No, Detective, I'm not, so please don't bother siccing any local cops on me."
"This sure puts a mighty different spin on things, Mrs. Santera."
"Sure does," she agreed. "You're sure you've got everything?"
"Yeah, I've got it. But you've got to tell me what's going
on. The FBI agents just walked in. They want to talk to you. They don't think-"
She spoke over him, slowly and clearly. "The license is on a dirty black pickup truck. It's fairly new. A Chevy. You've got that?"
"Yes, yes. Hold on. Don't hang up, Mrs. Santera. You need us. Here's Agent Anchor."
"I don't think so, Detective. Give them the information. They'll drool, if they bother to believe it."
"We would have gotten this information in a very short time. Now, I believe you, Mrs. Santera, but... well, you see, this is very irregular." It was Agent Anchor, a man with a great deal of experience with kidnappings. He was also a dictator who believed everyone except himself had a brain the size of a pea. He'd ordered the Denver cops around as if they were his personal chattel.
"No buts, Agent Anchor. Catch the men who took my daughter."
"You have no idea if any of these license plates has anything to do with the kidnappers, do you? Look, I don't understand any of this. Tell me where you are. Do you understand what I'm saying to you, Mrs. Santera? You may be in danger. Tell me where you found Emma. You can't just call in and order us around and-"
"Agent Anchor, go catch the kidnappers. Ah, that pickup truck was last seen just west of Rappahoe on Highway 70." Molly smiled as she pushed the Off button. "I hated to tell him that because he's not stupid and he'll know that's where we are, too. But I had to, otherwise, how could they catch them? I hope they can locate that cabin quickly, maybe find something helpful."
"No, you're right. You had to tell them. By the time they get themselves together, we'll be tucked safely away in Aspen. They really shouldn't care all that much about us, and where we are, but who knows? At least our perps don't know we got them tagged. They shouldn't be hiding out. Were the Fed agents a big pain?"
"Yes. If I hadn't been so terrified about Emma, I would have felt sorry for the local cops. The Feds treated them like gofers. Detective Mecklin isn't really all that much of a jerk, but he's also not what you'd call very flexible. He's got this big handlebar mustache, dyed really black, you know? It droops around his mouth, makes him look something like a basset hound. He's also very fat. I hope he doesn't have a heart attack." Then she just shook her head. "He didn't want to believe that I had Emma. He even asked me if that was really Emma who'd spoken to him. As for Agent Anchor, he has a God complex."
"Don't let anyone pay it. I've got my daughter right here, Detective. Emma, say hello to the detective."
"Hello, Detective Mecklin. I'm with my mom and Ram-sey. He saved me and then my mommy found us. We're okay."
"Ramsey? Who the hell's this Ramsey?"
Molly pulled the phone back up. "That's not important for the moment, Detective Mecklin. Listen to me. I've got three names and addresses that go with these license plate letters and numbers. You need to see which of these fits with Emma's kidnappers. One of them does, count on it."
"I don't understand this, Mrs. Santera. You need to come back to Denver and talk to us. If you really have Emma, you need to bring her in to see us. We've got doctors here for her, a shrink trauma team, everything she'll need. Was that really Emma? Are you all right, Mrs. Santera? Where are you?"
"Will you do anything with the information if I give it to you, Detective Mecklin, or am I wasting my time?"
There was another long pause with very controlled breathing. "Give me the info," he said.
She read out the names and addresses very slowly, occasionally repeating. "I don't recognize any of these names myself, but one of them has to be involved with the kidnappers. Now maybe you've got a chance to catch them. Surely there's a drop site indicated on the note. Well, now you don't have to worry about Emma. You can forget the trauma team. Do your job, Detective. Nail the bad guys. Oh yeah, the guy who kidnapped Emma took her to a cabin not far from Dillinger. I'm sure he's not there anymore but you may find out something."
"Are you in Dillinger, Mrs. Santera?"
"No, Detective, I'm not, so please don't bother siccing any local cops on me."
"This sure puts a mighty different spin on things, Mrs. Santera."
"Sure does," she agreed. "You're sure you've got everything?"
"Yeah, I've got it. But you've got to tell me what's going
on. The FBI agents just walked in. They want to talk to you. They don't think-"
She spoke over him, slowly and clearly. "The license is on a dirty black pickup truck. It's fairly new. A Chevy. You've got that?"
"Yes, yes. Hold on. Don't hang up, Mrs. Santera. You need us. Here's Agent Anchor."
"I don't think so, Detective. Give them the information. They'll drool, if they bother to believe it."
"We would have gotten this information in a very short time. Now, I believe you, Mrs. Santera, but... well, you see, this is very irregular." It was Agent Anchor, a man with a great deal of experience with kidnappings. He was also a dictator who believed everyone except himself had a brain the size of a pea. He'd ordered the Denver cops around as if they were his personal chattel.
"No buts, Agent Anchor. Catch the men who took my daughter."
"You have no idea if any of these license plates has anything to do with the kidnappers, do you? Look, I don't understand any of this. Tell me where you are. Do you understand what I'm saying to you, Mrs. Santera? You may be in danger. Tell me where you found Emma. You can't just call in and order us around and-"
"Agent Anchor, go catch the kidnappers. Ah, that pickup truck was last seen just west of Rappahoe on Highway 70." Molly smiled as she pushed the Off button. "I hated to tell him that because he's not stupid and he'll know that's where we are, too. But I had to, otherwise, how could they catch them? I hope they can locate that cabin quickly, maybe find something helpful."
"No, you're right. You had to tell them. By the time they get themselves together, we'll be tucked safely away in Aspen. They really shouldn't care all that much about us, and where we are, but who knows? At least our perps don't know we got them tagged. They shouldn't be hiding out. Were the Fed agents a big pain?"
"Yes. If I hadn't been so terrified about Emma, I would have felt sorry for the local cops. The Feds treated them like gofers. Detective Mecklin isn't really all that much of a jerk, but he's also not what you'd call very flexible. He's got this big handlebar mustache, dyed really black, you know? It droops around his mouth, makes him look something like a basset hound. He's also very fat. I hope he doesn't have a heart attack." Then she just shook her head. "He didn't want to believe that I had Emma. He even asked me if that was really Emma who'd spoken to him. As for Agent Anchor, he has a God complex."
