The Taking Of Carly Bradford. Ramona Richards
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СКАЧАТЬ his shoulders, as if to shake off the last of Jenna’s advances. “No. The kitchen and living room were clean, just the usual clutter of a house that’s actually used. Not a lot of light. She said she’d been cleaning, and the dishwasher was running. She went on about how expensive the heating oil had been this winter, and that she was having trouble with air in her pipes making them rattle. She talked about her daughter, told me she’d been following Carly’s story.”

      Tyler looked out the window at the passing suburban houses. They all looked so…normal…“Yeah. Elaine. Wayne and I discussed that might be why the kidnapper left the dress with her.”

      “She said any mother worth her salt would be watching around every corner.”

      “Like Dee.”

      “You think it was her mother’s instinct that made Dee fight for the sandals?”

      Tyler nodded. “She’s still a bit of a wounded bird, as you well know. Stronger, but the idea of losing a child resonates deeply with her.”

      Fletcher swung the car through a turn and headed for downtown Mercer. “You want me to drop you at the house or the station?”

      “The station. I’ll make sure Wayne doesn’t need anything else from me right now, then walk home. Patty’s been patient, so I’m sure she’d love a chance to stretch her legs.”

      Fletcher pulled into a parking spot in front of the storefront office, and Tyler got out, snapping his fingers for Patty, who bounded out of the car and halfway up the block and back before Tyler could reach the door. The Mercer police station, a converted storefront, had been both a dime store and a bank in years gone by. Now it held Mercer’s tiny force of five officers, a dispatcher, and Wayne, who did double duty as detective and crime scene specialist. One of their three dispatchers always sat behind the front desk to greet visitors and direct them to the proper officer for a complaint. A cheaply paneled wall separated the front from the bull pen area where the officers and Wayne had desks. The wall extended the width of the building, creating a front hall and waiting area.

      Two doors in the wall allowed access to the back. One led to the bull pen. The other opened onto a narrow hallway leading to the police chief’s office and two interrogation rooms.

      A bell clanged over Tyler’s head as he pulled the door open, and the third shift dispatcher, Sally, looked up. She acknowledged her boss with a nod of the head toward the bull pen door. “Wayne beat you back by about five minutes. Anything I can do?”

      “Thanks. Think we’re covered.” He entered the bull pen, Patty trotting behind him. Normally silent at this hour, the room echoed with Wayne’s shuffling evidence bags and paperwork. Tyler sat down next to his desk. “You going to stay long?”

      Wayne shook his head. “I’m going to lock everything in my desk, then e-mail the lab to let them know I’m sending the dress and shoes tomorrow.”

      “Take them.”

      Wayne paused in his work. “What?”

      “I want you to deliver them. I’ll call Rick before I leave and see if his folks can put a little pressure on the process.”

      “You sure?”

      “Yes. Tomorrow will mostly be spent with the Bradfords. I want to show them the shoes and dress first thing. Then you can take them.”

      Wayne hesitated. “Show them before—”

      “They’ll know whether they’re Carly’s.”

      “Tyler, I don’t—”

      “Tyler.” The sharp voice interrupted them, cutting through the deliberation. They turned toward the door, where Sally stood, distress on her face. She continued without pausing. “The security alarm at the retreat is going off.”

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