Here We Come (Aggie's Inheritance) (133 page)

He
dropped
the
sheets,
frustrated.
“I
can’t
shake
the
feeling
that
she’s
involved.
It
makes
no
sense,
everything
points
to
something
else,
but…”

“I
know.
It
was
my
first
thought.
I
can’t
shake
it
either,
but
I
think
that’s
why.
It’s
logical
and
as
t
he
first
thought,
i
t’s
had
more
time
to
grow.”

“I
suppose.”
William
stared
at
the
papers
in
front
of
him.
“Do
the
Stuarts
own
a
plane?”

“What!
What
would
it
matter?
The
guy
who
took
Ellie
was
a
man—not
an
elderly
woman!”

“True.
She
could
have
hired
him…”

“You’re
reaching,
Markenson.
Why
don’t
you
comb
through
the
pile
of
tips
we
got
today.
The
phone
has
been
ringing
off
the
hook,
so
John’s
forwarding
tips
to
the
FBI
and
calls
to
us.”

“Any
9-1-1
calls?”

Megan
shook
her
head
as
she
grabbed
her
jacket
from
its
peg.
“Nope.
Ian’s
been
a
good
baby.
I’m
going
to
get
pizza.
Want
some?”

“Yeah.
Get
me
a
salad
too,
will
you?
I
need
something
green.”

The
door
banged
shut,
but
William
hardly
noticed.
His
mind
was
already
on
the
tips.
Setting
aside
the
financial
records,
he
pulled
out
the
folder
of
tips
they’d
received.
Most
were
obviously
worthless.
People
who
saw
a
blue
truck
in
a
parking
lot,
in
front
of
a
house,
or
driving
down
the
freeway—all
too
old,
young,
light,
or
dark
to
be
the
one
that
took
Ellie.
One
woman
was
convinced
that
Ellie
was
living
next
door—had
been
for
six
weeks.

William
found
it
nearly
impossible
to
concentrate
on
them.
He
checked
item
after
item
off
the
lists,
with
only
one
in
twenty
being
the
remotest
possibility.
Those
he
left
alone.
They’d
get
around
to
those
tips
eventually.
The
idea
of
an
airplane
interjected
itself
into
nearly
every
tip
until
he
thought
he’d
go
crazy.
It
was
a
ridiculous
idea.
She’d
still
have
to
show
and
have
her
passport
stamped,
even
from
a
small
private
plane.
A
smaller
airport,
however…

Frustrated,
he
jerked
open
his
notebook
and
flipped
to
the
page
with
the
phone
number
of
Geraldine’s
hotel.
He’d
ask
if
they’d
seen
her
every
day.
It
wasn’t
a
solid
alibi,
but
flying
back
and
forth
to
Rockland
in
a
day
would
mean
she
likely
wouldn’t
have
been
seen.
He
needed
that
assurance
in
order
to
concentrate
on
something
that
might
actually
help.

Getting
a
manager
at
the
hotel
was
more
difficult
than
he’d
imagined.
At
last,
a
woman
with
a
cultured
tone
of
voice
came
on
the
line
and
asked
if
she
could
be
of
assistance.
That
she
spoke
English
was
a
relief
after
Geraldine’s
stressing
of
Dutch
in
her
tour-guide
description.
“I
need
information
about
a
guest
of
yours
—she
checked
out
early
this
morning—Geraldine
Stuart?”