Bannon Brothers by Janet Dailey

fill-in-the-blank reports. Or so said the master list.”
    â€œBig deal.” Bannon shrugged it off. “Kidnapping cases generate a ton of mail. Mostly from cranks.”
    â€œI know that. But the list specified a letter from someone calling herself Ann’s new mother, quote unquote, to Montgomery himself. So that got my attention.”
    New mother. The phrase opened up a whole other aspect to the case that he hadn’t previously considered. “There was never any ransom demand made, was there?” he recalled.
    â€œNot that I ever heard about, and there wasn’t any mention of one in the evidence master list.”
    Subconsciously he must have registered the lack of reference to one, Bannon realized. Without it, he had automatically jumped to the assumption that the little girl had been taken by some perverted child molester. In those instances, a child rarely lived longer than a matter of days. But if she had been taken by someone seeking to fill a void in his or her own life—for the first time Bannon thought there might be a real chance Ann Montgomery was still alive.
    â€œWas that letter dated, Doris?”
    â€œThe master list didn’t say. But what with the chief signing out the file and not returning it—and Montgomery trying to dissolve the trust—well, I don’t know about you but I want to know what’s in that letter.”
    â€œMe too.”
    â€œAnd I want to know why that file got sent to storage ahead of all the other M s.”
    â€œIt may not be in storage, Doris.” It crossed his mind that it could be smoke wafting out of an incinerator by now.
    â€œI’m going to call in sick and drive down to the warehouse where the first batch of cold case files were stored. I could be gone a couple of days.”
    â€œYou’re running the risk that somebody there could call Hoebel,” Bannon warned.
    â€œI’ve been to the place before. The staff sleeps sitting up when they’re not watching TV. It’s not like the files are trying to escape. In the meantime,” Doris added, “we have to keep Montgomery on a short leash. The best way to do that is by going public. He’s less likely to grab back that two million dollars if he thinks it will make him look bad.”
    â€œAgreed. That’s where Kelly comes in.”
    â€œ. . . I’m gone.”
    The connection was broken. With a smiling shake of his head, Bannon flipped the cell phone and returned it to his pocket. Seconds later he was back in the flow of traffic and headed for his “coincidental” rendezvous with Kelly Johns.
    Due in no small part to the green lights that met him at every intersection, Bannon pulled into the espresso bar’s parking lot in eight minutes flat. As he stepped out of the car he caught the back view of a slender blonde in a belted lightweight coat and high heels just entering the coffee shop. Though he couldn’t swear to it, he was certain it was Kelly Johns.
    Two steps inside the door and his suspicion was confirmed. It was Kelly there at the counter, standing in profile, still in television makeup, a pair of designer sunglasses resting atop her head.
    As luck would have it, there was no one in the line ahead of him and he walked up behind her. “Let me guess.” He peered over her left shoulder at the capped cup the attendant pushed across the counter toward her. “Double shot latte with skim milk and drizzles of caramel.”
    She turned with a small start, her dark eyes lighting up with recognition at the sight of him.
    â€œBannon. This is a surprise. And more of a surprise that you remembered this.” She picked up the cup and gave it an indicating lift.
    â€œRemembering details is my business,” Bannon reminded her and ordered a regular coffee. “Sometimes the seemingly minor ones turn out to be important.”
    â€œI’d ask how you are, but you look so strong and fit, the answer