Held for Ransom by Layla M. Wier

Author:Layla M. Wier [Wier, Layla M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Published: 2014-11-04T00:00:00+00:00

AMBER EXPLAINED on the drive that the main pieces for the carnival booths were stored in the Reardons’ barn most of the year.

“Lon and May Reardon have an old farm on the river. Most of the fields and so forth have been sold off over the years. It’s mainly big agribusiness around here, not small farms. But the Reardons still have several acres with old outbuildings on them. They used to breed and train retrievers until Lon’s health got bad.”

With a sudden sting of memory, like a deerfly bite, Ransom remembered DJ talking about that at the ball field. “The dogs fish baseballs out of the water.”

Amber gave him a strange look. “Yes, that’s right. The Reardon place is downstream from the ball field. Are you sure you haven’t been here before?”

“No, just… guessing.”

“Hmmm. Good guess. In any case, the Reardons are involved with a little bit of everything around town. They own the gas station and a towing company. Lon used to operate a service garage, but his heart went bad and none of his kids really has the aptitude for it. Now you have to either get light repair work done at the Goodyear or go over to Aldona.”

Amber continued to chatter cheerfully about local affairs as she pulled into the Reardons’ long driveway. They had a mailbox shaped like a trout and a row of pine trees on either side of their driveway—a rarity in tree-starved central Illinois. All the trees were thoroughly decked with blue and silver Christmas lights.

Ransom expected a turn-of-the-century farmhouse, but instead found an attractive modern ranch with tasteful brickwork and ornamental shrubbery. The sweeping expanse of snow-covered lawn boasted an illuminated Santa with a whole herd of reindeer. There was also a gazebo—the cheap prefab kind, but still attractive under the snow—and a dock on the river with a little shed beside it.

The Reardons had clearly done quite well with their service garage and retriever school.

The driveway had been recently cleared of snow, and a figure muffled in a scarf and plaid jacket was working its way around the side of the house with a snowblower. When Amber stopped the car, three sleek black Labs appeared out of nowhere and came running to greet the visitors. After fending off the initial rush of damp muzzles and muddy paws, Ransom leaned down to pet the delighted dogs.

The drone of the snowblower stopped, and the plaid-jacketed figure limped down the driveway toward them, pulling down the scarf to reveal a flushed male face with sparse white whiskers. “Sorry about the kids. You’d think we keep them locked in the shed and never feed them, the way these three carry on.”

“Mr. Reardon,” Amber said in a voice that blended amusement with half-playful scolding. “As a licensed EMT, do I really have to tell you how many calls we get every year—”

“—from old farts having heart attacks while shoveling snow, yes ma’am, and I’ve been clearing my own driveway for fifty years and will carry on doing it until I keel over.

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