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“You want to know where my husband is, you show me those pictures yourself.” Dawn’s voice was as resolute as Woong’s whenever he was preparing to throw a full-fledged temper tantrum. It got softer for just a minute when she added, “It’s not you I don’t trust, Sandy. It’s the whole system. If that detective wants information, he’s got to show me those photographs, and then I’ll tell him anything he wants to know.”
The vein in Drisklay’s forearm bulged slightly as he picked up his cup. “No good. Every minute lost puts that kid at even more risk.”
“Sir, I don’t know you, and you sure as anything don’t know me, and that means we’ve got to trust each other. Trust goes both ways, see. My husband for all his faults is not a dangerous man. Not in the least. You ask Sandy, and she’ll tell you the exact same thing.”
Drisklay’s tone never changed. “I don’t know what dictionary you use over there at that church you work at, but in the one I use, a dangerous man is someone who lies and kidnaps a child. You talk about trust. Well I can talk about trust, too. For example, I want to trust that you’re not complicit in your husband’s crimes, but unless I get some evidence toward that end, well, we’ve got ourselves a problem.”
Sandy leaned toward the phone. “Dawn, love, do you have any idea where your husband might be fixing to take my son? I’m asking you mother to mother now, and I hope I might say friend to friend. Do you know where they might be going?” Sandy ignored Drisklay’s well-rehearsed glare of death.
“Yes, I do,” Dawn answered. “As soon as I overheard that detective — you’ll pardon me, sir, if I forget your name for the moment — but as soon as I heard him saying it was my Jackson in the photo, I knew where he was off to. I’m home now and just confirmed it.” Dawn ended as if that was all there was to say about it. Kennedy leaned forward, waiting to hear more.
Drisklay glowered at the phone for a silent moment before finally asking, “Well, care to enlighten the rest of us with that little bit of information?” Sandy clasped her hands in front of her and started to whisper a prayer. All Kennedy could make out was, “Please, sweet Jesus.”
On the other end of the line, Dawn let out a heavy sigh. “His cousin owns a place near Salisbury. A little cabin, way out in the woods. Lets us use it anytime we want. We’ve even got our own key. When you said you’d identified Jackson on the security cameras, I checked to see if my suspicions were right. The key’s gone. Now, I can’t promise you it was in its usual spot this morning when I woke up, but I’d say it’s a pretty reasonable guess that Jackson’s on his way there. I’m so sorry, Sandy. I never thought he’d do anything like this. I would have stopped him. God is my witness, I would have done anything to keep him from acting out like this if I had the smallest inkling of suspicion. And I will do everything in my power to help you get your son back safe and sound.”
Sandy nodded and wiped a tear off her cheek but didn’t say anything.
Drisklay cleared his throat. “I’m glad to see you’ve finally come to your senses and decided to cooperate. Where in Salisbury is this cabin you mentioned? How far away? How do we get there?”
Dawn sniffed loudly enough for it to carry over the speakerphone. Drisklay grimaced.
“It’s a little over an hour from here. I can meet you at the church and show you where to go.”
“No.” Drisklay pulled out his notebook with a scowl. “You tell me now, so I can relay directions to my men. Then you come with us in case we need you to talk some sense into that spouse of yours.”
He straightened his shirt and tossed his cup into the trash.
“Let’s get this woman her son back.”