Two Little Girls in Blue by Mary Higgins Clark Page A

they’d seen the program. But when they tried to get the kids to talk into the cell phone, Kelly, the bratty one, put up a squawk.
    â€œWe didn’t see him and we didn’t see Mommy and Daddy on TV and we want to go home,” she’d insisted. Then Kathy started coughing every time she tried to say, “Hello, Mr. Bailey.”
    We finally got Kelly to say what the Pied Piper wanted by promising to take her home, Angie thought. When Clint played it back for him, the Pied Piper said it was okay that Kathy only said a few words. He liked that deep cough of hers. He recorded it on his own phone.
    She pushed the cart into the pharmacy section, then felt her mouth go dry. A life-sized picture of the twins was displayed next to the counter. In bold letters, the headline read, MISSING. REWARD FOR ANY INFORMATION AS TO THEIR WHEREABOUTS.
    There was no one waiting, and Julio beckoned to her. “Hi, Angie,” he said, then pointed to the picture. “Pretty awful, that kidnapping. You have to wonder who could do anything like that.”
    â€œYeah, it’s awful,” Angie agreed.
    â€œMakes me glad that Connecticut still has the death penalty on the books. If anything happens to those kids, I’ll volunteer to personally prepare the lethal injection for the rats who took them.” He shook his head. “Guess we can only pray they’ll get home safe. Angie, what can I do for you?”
    Aware of the nervous perspiration gathering on herforehead, Angie made a show of fishing through her pocketbook, then shrugged her shoulders. “Can’t do much. I guess I forgot my prescription.” Even to her ears, the explanation sounded lame.
    â€œI can call your doctor.”
    â€œOh thanks, but he’s in New York. I know he won’t be there now. I’ll come back later.”
    She thought back to the time she’d gotten the liniment for Clint’s shoulder. She had talked with Julio for a couple of minutes and had happened to mention that she lived with Clint in the caretaker cottage of the country club. That had been at least six months ago, yet Julio had remembered her name the minute he saw her. Would he remember where she lived as well? Sure he would!
    Julio was a tall Latin type, about her age. He wore glasses with really sexy frames that enhanced his eyes. She watched as his gaze flickered over the contents of her cart.
    It was all out there for him to see. Baby aspirin. Children’s nose drops. Rubbing alcohol. The vaporizer.
    Will he get to wondering why I was buying stuff for a sick kid? Angie wondered as she struggled to push back the frightening possibility. She didn’t want to think about it. She was there on a mission. I’ll buy a jar of Vick’s and stick some of it in the vaporizer, she decided. It worked good enough when I was a kid.
    She hurried back to aisle 3, grabbed the jar of Vick’s, and rushed to the checkout. One register was closed, the other one already had six people on line. Three ofthem were taken care of fairly quickly, but then the clerk called out, “I’m off duty. It will be just a minute.”
    Stupid dope, Angie thought, as the new clerk proceeded to take forever to set up at the register.
    Hurry up, Angie thought, giving the shopping cart an impatient push.
    The guy in front of her, a heavyset man with a loaded cart, turned around. His look of annoyance changed to a broad grin. “Hi, Angie, what are you trying to do, cut my feet off?”
    â€œHi, Gus,” Angie said, attempting a smile. Gus Svenson was a pesky guy they sometimes ran into when she and Clint ate at the Danbury Pub, the kind of jerk who was always trying to start a conversation with other people at the bar. A plumber with his own business, he often did work at the golf club during the season. So the fact that she and Clint lived in the caretaker cottage when the club was closed made Gus act as if they had something big in common. Blood