Ellen licked the chocolate off her fingers and threw another Hershey wrapper in the waste can. Did anyone understand her frustration? She glanced at the clock … 7:20! Where had the day gone? She put some things in her briefcase and walked downstairs to the main door. She looked through the glass and was surprised to see the snow had melted and the pavement was dry.
When Ellen reached the parking lot, her heart started to pound. She stopped and looked in all directions, but saw no one. An eerie feeling made her skin crawl. She fumbled around in her purse. Where was the mace? Why hadn’t she tested it? Her fingers found the tiny canister and she clutched it in her hand. She hurried to her white Riviera and started to get inside when she spotted an envelope under the wiper.
She snatched the envelope, got into the car, and locked the door. She sat for a moment and took slow, deliberate breaths. She opened the envelope with her thumbnail and pulled out a note. Two locks of hair fell into her lap—one soft blond curl and a straight brown one. Blood was spattered on the white paper. Her hands shook as she read:
Your job is to report the news.
Instead, you left out all my clues.
Just to prove I’m still a threat,
I’ll show you something cold and wet.
In Heron Lake, near boat ramp five,
Something missing took a dive.
Get your facts straight, Mrs. Jones,
Or all you’ll find next time are bones.
Report the facts, including props,
and I mean business—tell the cops!
Ellen double-checked to be sure the car was locked. Her eyes searched the dark night around her as she picked up her cell phone and dialed.
“Hello.”
“Guy, it’s me. I’ve got a situation. Uh—more than a situation, a mess. Well, it’s worse than a mess. I need you. I’m really not sure what to do.”
“Honey, talk louder, I can hardly hear you. Tell me where you are. I’ll be right there. Are you hurt?”
“No. But I’m scared—really scared. I—I’m leaving my office now. Stay on the line and talk to me while I drive home.”
“Ellen, your voice is shaking.”
“I just need to feel your arms around me.”
“Should I call the police?”
“No! Don’t hang up! Please don’t hang up!”
“Honey, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. Are you driving yet? Have you left the office?”
“Yes, I’m turning onto Second Street. I’ll be home in just a couple of minutes.” Ellen looked in her rearview mirror at the headlights behind her.
“You weren’t assaulted, were you? I mean, you said you weren’t hurt. Did—”
“No one physically harmed me. I’ll tell you about it in two minutes. You can help me decide what I need to do. Just keep talking, Guy. Don’t hang up.”
Wayne went in the house, flipped on the light, and slammed the door. He walked through the living room and into the kitchen. Maybe Ellen Jones would print the whole story now. Maybe not. But he wasn’t leaving anything to chance.
She had ruined everything! He had waited five years for this day and it was a dud—a zero! No one seemed up in arms about the kidnapping. Why should they be? The front-page story was a joke. He picked up an empty Coke can, crushed it, and threw it against the wall.
Wayne pulled out a drawer and dumped the contents on the floor. Where was the key to the shed? He got down on the floor and sifted through the mess until he found what he was looking for.
He got up and hurried toward the back door. He’d make sure they paid attention this time.