flawless. Joe lumbered back to the table, looming above Hope with pencil and paper in hand as she savored the last bite of meat, allowing the tasty morsel to slide down her throat.
“Now write that note, girlie. We’ve waited long enough. We want five thousand dollars from Ferry by the fifth of next month.”
“Fifth of next month! That’s only two weeks away!” Hope protested. She set her fork on the table. “There isn’t time—”
“Write the note.”
Hope glanced at Grunt expectantly. He shrugged, draining the last of his coffee. “Write the note, Miss Ferry.”
Well. He was no help. Did she dare to hope that was compassion she had seen in his traitorous eyes? Of course not. He wanted money, just like the others. What she saw was desire—the urge to be rid of her, no matter who she was.
Grasping the piece of paper, she smoothed it against the table. She held her hand up for the pencil.
Big Joe slapped one into her open palm.
Venturing a last withering glance at Grunt, she prayed that he’d intervene, stop this nonsense. He didn’t. Instead, he got up for more coffee.
Sighing, she positioned the pencil. God forgive me, but I fear even your power isn’t enough right now.
Biting her lower lip, she wrote: Dear Daddy . . .
Chapter Four
“Senator, sir, your morning mail.”
The butler set the silver tray on the corner of the desk. Thomas Ferry reached for his coffee cup, eyes glued to the newspaper article he was reading. A moment later he laid his paper aside and glanced at the three letters on the tray.
“An unusually small offering this morning.”
“Yes, sir. Would there be anything else, sir?”
“No, thank you. Send Miss Finch in, will you?”
Thomas was a creature of habit. Rising early, he bathed, shaved, ate breakfast, and then finished reading the morning news in his office over a third cup of coffee. While reading the morning mail, he dictated responses as necessary, thus saving his secretary and himself valuable time.
Mardell Finch kept her employer on time. She was respected throughout the Ferry camp as efficient, loyal, and hardworking. A spinster of some forty-plus years, she was dedicated not only to Thomas but also to the office itself. Miss Finch was no slacker.
As Miss Finch entered the study, notebook in hand, Thomas opened the first letter. After ten minutes of dictation, he reached for the second envelope. Examining the missive, he frowned.
“Crude paper, but the writing is quite delicate. Hmmm, no return address.”
He slit open the envelope and removed the creased paper.
Then he blinked.
“Great day in the morning! Listen to this, Mardell: ‘Some very dangerous men are holding me captive. They demand a ransom of five thousand dollars, payable in paper money within ten days once you receive this note. The money should be placed in plain wrapping and addressed to Joe Smith in care of Louisville, Kentucky, Post Office. When the money has been received, I will be released unharmed. At that time I will travel back to you. Love, Anne.’”
Thomas glanced at Miss Finch. “What do you make of that?”
“It must be a joke,” Miss Finch responded.
“Bernard!”
The double study doors opened immediately. “You called, sir?”
“Go upstairs and make sure Anne is in her room.”
The elderly white-haired gentleman frowned. “In her room, sir? The doctor left not fifteen minutes ago—I’m quite sure she’s still abed with the sniffles.”
“Check on her anyway, Bernard. I want to be certain of my daughter’s whereabouts.”
“Yes, sir.” The door closed. Bernard’s footsteps could be heard receding down the hall.
Thomas drummed his fingers on the desk, checking his watch fob every few minutes. Snapping the face closed, he got up to pace.
Miss Finch shut her notebook, primly crossing her hands in her lap. “I’m sure it’s just someone’s idea of a cruel joke, Mr. Ferry.”
Footsteps once again sounded outside the door, and Bernard reappeared.
“Now write that note, girlie. We’ve waited long enough. We want five thousand dollars from Ferry by the fifth of next month.”
“Fifth of next month! That’s only two weeks away!” Hope protested. She set her fork on the table. “There isn’t time—”
“Write the note.”
Hope glanced at Grunt expectantly. He shrugged, draining the last of his coffee. “Write the note, Miss Ferry.”
Well. He was no help. Did she dare to hope that was compassion she had seen in his traitorous eyes? Of course not. He wanted money, just like the others. What she saw was desire—the urge to be rid of her, no matter who she was.
Grasping the piece of paper, she smoothed it against the table. She held her hand up for the pencil.
Big Joe slapped one into her open palm.
Venturing a last withering glance at Grunt, she prayed that he’d intervene, stop this nonsense. He didn’t. Instead, he got up for more coffee.
Sighing, she positioned the pencil. God forgive me, but I fear even your power isn’t enough right now.
Biting her lower lip, she wrote: Dear Daddy . . .
Chapter Four
“Senator, sir, your morning mail.”
The butler set the silver tray on the corner of the desk. Thomas Ferry reached for his coffee cup, eyes glued to the newspaper article he was reading. A moment later he laid his paper aside and glanced at the three letters on the tray.
“An unusually small offering this morning.”
“Yes, sir. Would there be anything else, sir?”
“No, thank you. Send Miss Finch in, will you?”
Thomas was a creature of habit. Rising early, he bathed, shaved, ate breakfast, and then finished reading the morning news in his office over a third cup of coffee. While reading the morning mail, he dictated responses as necessary, thus saving his secretary and himself valuable time.
Mardell Finch kept her employer on time. She was respected throughout the Ferry camp as efficient, loyal, and hardworking. A spinster of some forty-plus years, she was dedicated not only to Thomas but also to the office itself. Miss Finch was no slacker.
As Miss Finch entered the study, notebook in hand, Thomas opened the first letter. After ten minutes of dictation, he reached for the second envelope. Examining the missive, he frowned.
“Crude paper, but the writing is quite delicate. Hmmm, no return address.”
He slit open the envelope and removed the creased paper.
Then he blinked.
“Great day in the morning! Listen to this, Mardell: ‘Some very dangerous men are holding me captive. They demand a ransom of five thousand dollars, payable in paper money within ten days once you receive this note. The money should be placed in plain wrapping and addressed to Joe Smith in care of Louisville, Kentucky, Post Office. When the money has been received, I will be released unharmed. At that time I will travel back to you. Love, Anne.’”
Thomas glanced at Miss Finch. “What do you make of that?”
“It must be a joke,” Miss Finch responded.
“Bernard!”
The double study doors opened immediately. “You called, sir?”
“Go upstairs and make sure Anne is in her room.”
The elderly white-haired gentleman frowned. “In her room, sir? The doctor left not fifteen minutes ago—I’m quite sure she’s still abed with the sniffles.”
“Check on her anyway, Bernard. I want to be certain of my daughter’s whereabouts.”
“Yes, sir.” The door closed. Bernard’s footsteps could be heard receding down the hall.
Thomas drummed his fingers on the desk, checking his watch fob every few minutes. Snapping the face closed, he got up to pace.
Miss Finch shut her notebook, primly crossing her hands in her lap. “I’m sure it’s just someone’s idea of a cruel joke, Mr. Ferry.”
Footsteps once again sounded outside the door, and Bernard reappeared.
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