Purgatory Ridge by Krueger William Kent

Author:Krueger, William Kent [Krueger, William Kent]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Thrillers, thriller, Mystery, Fiction, Suspense, Crime, Adult, General
ISBN: 9781439157787
Amazon: 1439157782
Goodreads: 6882883
Publisher: Atria Books
Published: 2001-02-27T08:00:00+00:00

24

CORK PARKED HIS BRONCO IN THE GARAGE at ten-thirty P.M. He was surprised to see that Jo’s Toyota wasn’t there. Inside the house, everything was quiet. Lights were still on in the living room, and he heard the television turned down low. He found Annie asleep on the couch.

“Sweetheart.” He shook her gently. “Why don’t you go on up to bed.”

She nodded, her eyes still dreamy.

“Did your mom come home?”

“Unh-uh.” She shook her head. “Aunt Rose went to bed a while ago. Jenny’s still out with Sean.”

He watched her stumble up the stairs, then he sat on the sofa himself and stared at the television. MTV. A rap video. He wasn’t watching. He was thinking about the evening at the Quetico.

He’d sat next to Karl Lindstrom during dinner. The man had barely touched his food. But he’d had a drink to his lips nearly the whole time. Although he seemed to attend to the conversation at the table, his eyes were clearly scanning the room, checking to see if Death had an invitation. Despite the air conditioning, he was sweating heavily as he rose to make his way to the podium. When he spoke, however, his voice and manner betrayed not at all his concern. He appeared relaxed, very much in control, and he delivered a pretty good speech about balancing the need for growth and profit against the absolute duty to ensure the integrity of the earth for future generations. The only allusion he made to his own recent brush with death was to say at the outset, “It is, indeed, a pleasure to be here this evening, appearing before you in living color.”

Although he listened, Cork was carefully watching the large room. With Schanno’s men and the state patrol posted at every door, it would have been suicide for Eco-Warrior to try anything. Still, you never knew.

Nothing happened. Lindstrom finished his address to huge applause, rejoined the men at his table, and proceeded to further calm his nerves with a couple more scotch and sodas. He’d had enough alcohol by the end that Schanno insisted on having a deputy escort him home. Lindstrom didn’t argue.

Cork used the remote to kill the picture on the television. The house slid further into stillness. He looked at his watch. It was much too late. He went to the telephone table next to the stairs and pulled the address book from the drawer. Under Grace Fitzgerald, he found a number Jo had written. He reached for the phone and was startled when it rang just as he touched it.

“Cork O’Connor,” he said into the receiver.

“This is Wally Schanno.”

“Yeah, Wally. What’s up?”

“I’m at Karl Lindstrom’s place. Was Jo visiting Lindstrom’s wife this evening?”

“As far as I know. Why?”

“Cork,” Schanno said, his voice hesitant, guarded, “it appears that Grace Fitzgerald and her son have been kidnapped. They’re gone and somebody’s left a ransom note. Jo’s Toyota is still here, but there’s no sign of her.”

Cork’s mouth went dry. “Stevie was with her,” he said.

“I think you’d better get out here.

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