Dead Letters: A Riveting International Police Procedural Mystery (Claudia Rose Forensic Handwriting Mysteries 8) by Sheila Lowe

Author:Sheila Lowe [Lowe, Sheila]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Write Choice Ink
Published: 2021-08-03T00:00:00+00:00

Twenty-five

Seeing her brother’s name on the screen, Claudia debated whether to answer the call. Her young niece had fallen for what was essentially a modern-day tomb robber. If Pete had more bad news, Claudia feared it might just send her over the edge. A wave of sorrow broke over her. Maybe it was being married to a homicide detective that had robbed her of hopefulness. Or maybe it was her own experiences that had shown her the worst side of humanity. It was getting harder to stay optimistic and picture Monica safe at home with them. Dreading what she was about to hear; dreading what she had to tell Pete, she clicked the Answer button.

“I just heard back from the Embassy.” He sounded keyed up. “They checked her passport usage.Sis, you won’t believe this.”

“What did they say?” Signaling to Frank Booth that she needed privacy, Claudia stepped outside as Pete dropped his shocker on her.

“The day after they flew to Morocco they were in Gibraltar.”

“Gibraltar?”

“You know as much as I do, Sis.”

“Did you checked her accounts?”

“She paid for a ferry ticket from Morocco to Spain, a week ago Friday. From there, you fly from Malaga, take a bus to La Linea, which is on the border of Spain, and Gibraltar, and you walk across the Gibraltar airport to the town.”

“What the hell is in Gibraltar?”

“Not a lot besides the Rock. The airport is so small, you have to cross the runway by foot when planes aren’t using it.”

Claudia raked a hand through her hair. Something was not adding up. “She’s been gone for over a week and that’s all she’s paid for—airfare and a ferry? What about food or—whatever?”

“Using cash? Or maybe Vine is paying for food and lodging. Or—“ An ominous note crept in. “Something’s happened to them.”

Claudia told him about the pharaoh’s ring. “It’s a very big deal, a really important artifact. Maybe Morocco was just a stop along the way and he’s fencing the ring in Gibraltar?”

“I don’t give a shit. All I know, is, my kid would never willingly leave us not knowing where she is. She’s got to know we’re going out of our minds. If it was something relatively simple went wrong, she would contact the American Embassy. In Gibraltar, it’s the Consulate. Since she hasn’t, in my mind it means she’s being prevented.”

It was the same thing Claudia had said to Frank Booth. The uneasy vibe she had been carrying around zoomed up to DEFCON 1.

Why Gibraltar, of all places? An idea was working its way forward. “That piece of paper I found in Colin’s jacket—we know it’s not a phone number in Egypt, but what about Morocco or Gibraltar? Can you check the calling codes for those countries?”

She could hear him tapping on his computer keyboard as she dashed upstairs to her room and got the paper from her bag.

“The calling code for Morocco is 212,” Pete said.

“That’s not it. What about Gibraltar?”

More tapping. “350.”

“Bingo. That’s the start of the number string. Check it as a phone number.

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