partner.
The FBI agents strolled the perimeter of the property, discussing the case.
“Of course, we have to consider the fact that she is in on this.”
“Come on, Barbara, really. I know we should look at the nearest and dearest first, but are you going to tell me that Eliza Blake would actually have her own daughter kidnapped?”
“This world is full of sick stuff, Trevor. You know that. I was stationed at the Columbia, South Carolina, field office when Susan Smith got on TV, sobbing and pleading for the return of her two little boys. Then it turned out she’d strapped those babies into their car seats and let her vehicle sink into the lake. I was there the day they dragged their tiny bodies out of the water. I’ll never forget it.” Despite the hot July air, Agent Gebhardt rubbed her arms to warm herself.
“Still, Barbara, I don’t buy it that Eliza Blake would have anything todo with having her own daughter abducted,” said Agent Laggie, “or stage a kidnapping to cover up something even worse.”
“I’m just saying,” said Agent Gebhardt, “all we know for certain is that Mrs. Garcia took Janie from camp yesterday morning. We don’t know if she was forced to do it. We have to look at the possibility that Garcia did it on her own or that Eliza told Garcia to take Janie and knows where they are.”
“Then why offer a huge reward? Why would she want people trying to find Janie?”
Agent Gebhardt shrugged. “Offering a reward looks good.”
“Well, what about the ‘Call police’ notation in the camp log? That sounds to me like Mrs. Garcia was trying to get help. She wouldn’t do that if she and Eliza had planned it.”
“Maybe,” said Agent Gebhardt. “Or, as I said before, maybe Garcia just wrote it to throw us off, to make it look like she was under duress. We have to look at every possibility, Trevor.”
Agent Laggie shook his head, unconvinced that Eliza Blake should be considered a suspect.
They walked back into the house, not realizing that a sound technician hired by the Mole stood on the other side of the hedges aiming a very sensitive parabolic microphone to record every word they said.
CHAPTER 39
P opeye the sailor pulled the ropes so tight around Mrs. Garcia’s wrists that she cried out in pain.
“Shut up, mamacita. You’re lucky I don’t beat the hell out of you. Try something like that again and I’ll make you wish you’d never been born.”
Blindfolded again, Mrs. Garcia could hear Janie hiccupping in between sobs. “My legs hurt,” the little girl cried.
“Let me help her,” Mrs. Garcia begged as she thought of the glimpse of Janie’s legs she had caught before the kidnapper covered her eyes. “Let me wash those cuts out and put some bandages on them.”
“Uh-uh. It’ll teach the kid a lesson. If she tries to run away, she gets hurt.”
“But the cuts could get infected,” insisted Mrs. Garcia.
“Nice try,” he said. “But now I don’t trust you. And besides, I skinned my knees plenty of times when I was a kid and they healed up just fine without anybody fussing over them.”
Once he was certain there was absolutely no way either Mrs. Garcia or Janie would be able to free themselves, he left the room, walked outside, and got some plywood from the shed. He covered the bedroom andbathroom windows, pounding in the nails. He then lit a cigarette. After he took a few drags to calm himself, he went back inside the house and made a phone call.
“We’ve got a problem,” he said.
“What is it?”
“It’s the damn housekeeper. She helped the kid crawl out of the bathroom window. The brat was halfway down the road before I caught up with her.”
“Did anyone see her? Did anyone see you?”
“No,” he said. “Fortunately, nobody did. But it was a warning. I’ve boarded up the windows, but we can’t trust the woman. We have to get rid of her.”
She wasn’t really surprised by how easily his instructions came. “You aren’t going to kill
The FBI agents strolled the perimeter of the property, discussing the case.
“Of course, we have to consider the fact that she is in on this.”
“Come on, Barbara, really. I know we should look at the nearest and dearest first, but are you going to tell me that Eliza Blake would actually have her own daughter kidnapped?”
“This world is full of sick stuff, Trevor. You know that. I was stationed at the Columbia, South Carolina, field office when Susan Smith got on TV, sobbing and pleading for the return of her two little boys. Then it turned out she’d strapped those babies into their car seats and let her vehicle sink into the lake. I was there the day they dragged their tiny bodies out of the water. I’ll never forget it.” Despite the hot July air, Agent Gebhardt rubbed her arms to warm herself.
“Still, Barbara, I don’t buy it that Eliza Blake would have anything todo with having her own daughter abducted,” said Agent Laggie, “or stage a kidnapping to cover up something even worse.”
“I’m just saying,” said Agent Gebhardt, “all we know for certain is that Mrs. Garcia took Janie from camp yesterday morning. We don’t know if she was forced to do it. We have to look at the possibility that Garcia did it on her own or that Eliza told Garcia to take Janie and knows where they are.”
“Then why offer a huge reward? Why would she want people trying to find Janie?”
Agent Gebhardt shrugged. “Offering a reward looks good.”
“Well, what about the ‘Call police’ notation in the camp log? That sounds to me like Mrs. Garcia was trying to get help. She wouldn’t do that if she and Eliza had planned it.”
“Maybe,” said Agent Gebhardt. “Or, as I said before, maybe Garcia just wrote it to throw us off, to make it look like she was under duress. We have to look at every possibility, Trevor.”
Agent Laggie shook his head, unconvinced that Eliza Blake should be considered a suspect.
They walked back into the house, not realizing that a sound technician hired by the Mole stood on the other side of the hedges aiming a very sensitive parabolic microphone to record every word they said.
CHAPTER 39
P opeye the sailor pulled the ropes so tight around Mrs. Garcia’s wrists that she cried out in pain.
“Shut up, mamacita. You’re lucky I don’t beat the hell out of you. Try something like that again and I’ll make you wish you’d never been born.”
Blindfolded again, Mrs. Garcia could hear Janie hiccupping in between sobs. “My legs hurt,” the little girl cried.
“Let me help her,” Mrs. Garcia begged as she thought of the glimpse of Janie’s legs she had caught before the kidnapper covered her eyes. “Let me wash those cuts out and put some bandages on them.”
“Uh-uh. It’ll teach the kid a lesson. If she tries to run away, she gets hurt.”
“But the cuts could get infected,” insisted Mrs. Garcia.
“Nice try,” he said. “But now I don’t trust you. And besides, I skinned my knees plenty of times when I was a kid and they healed up just fine without anybody fussing over them.”
Once he was certain there was absolutely no way either Mrs. Garcia or Janie would be able to free themselves, he left the room, walked outside, and got some plywood from the shed. He covered the bedroom andbathroom windows, pounding in the nails. He then lit a cigarette. After he took a few drags to calm himself, he went back inside the house and made a phone call.
“We’ve got a problem,” he said.
“What is it?”
“It’s the damn housekeeper. She helped the kid crawl out of the bathroom window. The brat was halfway down the road before I caught up with her.”
“Did anyone see her? Did anyone see you?”
“No,” he said. “Fortunately, nobody did. But it was a warning. I’ve boarded up the windows, but we can’t trust the woman. We have to get rid of her.”
She wasn’t really surprised by how easily his instructions came. “You aren’t going to kill
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