Carillo and Wilkerson to join him in the far corner of the room.
Averly spoke in a quiet but certain tone. “Look, I’m satisfied it’s the girl’s handwriting. I’m going to call Sid Harrington. We need the FBI on this right away.”
“The FBI? Who’s Sid Harrington?” Wilkerson asked.
“Yes, the FBI,” Averly said, his volume rising slightly.
Averly saw Adam shoot a glare in the direction of their huddle. He lowered his voice again. “Sid Harrington heads the FBI office in Orlando,” he whispered. “I want his help. We need all we can get.”
“But—” Wilkerson began.
“But what do we have for the feds?” Carillo interrupted. “So far it’s a straight kidnapping, not even across state lines.”
Wilkerson’s face pruned up, frowning at Carillo.
Averly grimaced, his teeth gritted, but he kept his voice low. “I know that, but we don’t have a clue what’s happened to this girl. Face it, gentlemen, we may have a killer on our hands. He said he didn’t want ransom money, and the letter never mentioned it.”
“Okay,” Carillo conceded in a whisper.
Wilkerson stayed silent, breaking off from the group and shaking his head with disapproval.
13
AVERLY STEPPED outside the front door of the house, flipped open his cell phone, and keyed in Sid Harrington’s office number. It was a little before 8:00 am, and already the heat of the day felt heavy, hanging in the still air. A few birds chirped their approval of the clear blue sky. Harrington wasn’t in yet but his secretary expected him shortly, so Averly left his cell phone number.
When Averly reentered the house, both Carillo and Wilkerson were talking to the Rileys. They were trying to explain that the letter may not mean anything. Carillo reminded them that the abductor said Sara Ann would be returned, and the letter had to have been written before the phone call. Averly stood by patiently and listened.
Dawn leapt from the couch, firing back at Carillo. “But the letter my sister wrote said: My thoughts will always be with all of you . . . (it’s almost over),” she said. “What the hell does that tell you?”
“Dawn, stop,” Adam said.
She looked at her father. “No. I have the right to say what I think.” She turned her attention to Carillo again. “I’ll tell you what it means to me—she’s not coming back to us alive.”
“Don’t say that!” Valerie shouted.
“It doesn’t necessarily mean that,” Carillo offered.
“Stop it!” Adam shouted. “You aren’t helping the situation!”
Dawn’s eyes never left Carillo. “Okay, then what about: Please do not be afraid, Gabriel and God will watch over me?” she retorted, flailing her arms. “Why do you think she put that in the letter? It’s obvious to me. Why isn’t it to you?”
“Stop it now!” Adam bellowed.
Carillo was silent. This is going nowhere.
Dawn had finally had enough and stormed out of the room.
Averly’s cell phone rang. He glanced at Carillo and pointed in the direction of the front door with his thumb. Once outside he answered the call.
“This is Detective Averly.”
“This … Sid Harr … ton, how … you Rob …?”
Averly checked the signal-strength indicator on his phone. It was at its maximum.
“Sid, you’re cutting out really bad.”
“Okay, I’ll ca … you back.”
Within seconds Averly’s phone rang again.
“This better?” asked Harrington.
“Much.”
“Sorry ’bout that. I was on my cell phone. There are pockets in this building where my cell signal is horrible. Anyway, you called me. What’s up, buddy?”
“Have you followed the story about the missing girl in Cocoa Beach, Sara Ann Riley?”
“Ah, yes. I saw something about that last night. You’re on the case?”
“Yes. I’m in Cocoa Beach right now. In fact, I’m at the missing girl’s house with her parents. The case is … peculiar.”
“My favorite kind. How so?”
“Well, first of all the way she was
Averly spoke in a quiet but certain tone. “Look, I’m satisfied it’s the girl’s handwriting. I’m going to call Sid Harrington. We need the FBI on this right away.”
“The FBI? Who’s Sid Harrington?” Wilkerson asked.
“Yes, the FBI,” Averly said, his volume rising slightly.
Averly saw Adam shoot a glare in the direction of their huddle. He lowered his voice again. “Sid Harrington heads the FBI office in Orlando,” he whispered. “I want his help. We need all we can get.”
“But—” Wilkerson began.
“But what do we have for the feds?” Carillo interrupted. “So far it’s a straight kidnapping, not even across state lines.”
Wilkerson’s face pruned up, frowning at Carillo.
Averly grimaced, his teeth gritted, but he kept his voice low. “I know that, but we don’t have a clue what’s happened to this girl. Face it, gentlemen, we may have a killer on our hands. He said he didn’t want ransom money, and the letter never mentioned it.”
“Okay,” Carillo conceded in a whisper.
Wilkerson stayed silent, breaking off from the group and shaking his head with disapproval.
13
AVERLY STEPPED outside the front door of the house, flipped open his cell phone, and keyed in Sid Harrington’s office number. It was a little before 8:00 am, and already the heat of the day felt heavy, hanging in the still air. A few birds chirped their approval of the clear blue sky. Harrington wasn’t in yet but his secretary expected him shortly, so Averly left his cell phone number.
When Averly reentered the house, both Carillo and Wilkerson were talking to the Rileys. They were trying to explain that the letter may not mean anything. Carillo reminded them that the abductor said Sara Ann would be returned, and the letter had to have been written before the phone call. Averly stood by patiently and listened.
Dawn leapt from the couch, firing back at Carillo. “But the letter my sister wrote said: My thoughts will always be with all of you . . . (it’s almost over),” she said. “What the hell does that tell you?”
“Dawn, stop,” Adam said.
She looked at her father. “No. I have the right to say what I think.” She turned her attention to Carillo again. “I’ll tell you what it means to me—she’s not coming back to us alive.”
“Don’t say that!” Valerie shouted.
“It doesn’t necessarily mean that,” Carillo offered.
“Stop it!” Adam shouted. “You aren’t helping the situation!”
Dawn’s eyes never left Carillo. “Okay, then what about: Please do not be afraid, Gabriel and God will watch over me?” she retorted, flailing her arms. “Why do you think she put that in the letter? It’s obvious to me. Why isn’t it to you?”
“Stop it now!” Adam bellowed.
Carillo was silent. This is going nowhere.
Dawn had finally had enough and stormed out of the room.
Averly’s cell phone rang. He glanced at Carillo and pointed in the direction of the front door with his thumb. Once outside he answered the call.
“This is Detective Averly.”
“This … Sid Harr … ton, how … you Rob …?”
Averly checked the signal-strength indicator on his phone. It was at its maximum.
“Sid, you’re cutting out really bad.”
“Okay, I’ll ca … you back.”
Within seconds Averly’s phone rang again.
“This better?” asked Harrington.
“Much.”
“Sorry ’bout that. I was on my cell phone. There are pockets in this building where my cell signal is horrible. Anyway, you called me. What’s up, buddy?”
“Have you followed the story about the missing girl in Cocoa Beach, Sara Ann Riley?”
“Ah, yes. I saw something about that last night. You’re on the case?”
“Yes. I’m in Cocoa Beach right now. In fact, I’m at the missing girl’s house with her parents. The case is … peculiar.”
“My favorite kind. How so?”
“Well, first of all the way she was
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