the last person I could find that had spoken to Chris.
He tapped his fingers against his notepad. “Are you often late coming home from your store?”
“No, I usually promptly close. Occasionally, I’ll get a last minute customer drop in right before closing time. This woman called tonight, rambling on and on and I couldn’t get rid of her.” If I had arrived home on time that night, could I have stopped what happened? Or, would there be another spot of blood on the driveway?
“So no one would have known you would be late tonight?” the sheriff asked.
“I don’t see how,” I replied. “You think this was planned?”
“Hard to say. Anything strike you as unusual about your caller?” He continued to tap the notepad.
“No, not really. The connection was bad so I thought it might be a cell phone but I just got the impression she was naturally talkative.”
“Hmm,” he closed the notebook. “That will do for now.” He handed me a card. “If you remember or find out anything new, call me.”
“What happens now?” I asked, worriedly. Surely, there was more to be done.
“We’re organizing a search party to canvass the area. The APB and Amber Alert should be out by now. We’ll search the pond below your house and the lake outside town.”
I swallowed hard at the last words.
“Try not to think about that. I don’t think that we’ll find them there,” the sheriff continued.
I could see he still thought my husband had decided to leave unannounced. “He wouldn’t do that to me and he definitely wouldn’t hurt Daniel.”
“Listen, ma’am, I’m not saying he did. It’s a very small amount of blood. Maybe the boy banged his nose on the concrete if he was struggling with your husband if he didn’t want to go with him.”
“You really think that’s what happened?” I asked in disbelief.
“I don’t care to speculate too much,” the sheriff retreated. “The FBI will send someone soon.”
“Who would have kidnapped them?” I wondered aloud. “We’re not rich.”
“Someone might think you are,” the sheriff countered. “Your store sells some pretty expensive pieces.” next page
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Sydney Lawrence 