“Hello?”
Adam looked up and saw Dawn in the doorway. He motioned for her to leave the room.
Adam heard a metallic-sounding voice. “Let me speak to Valerie.”
“Who’s this?”
“I said, let me speak to Valerie,” the distorted voice snapped back.
Adam shook Valerie’s shoulder. She gradually sat up, rubbing her eyes. He put his hand over the phone.
“It’s for you,” he whispered.
“Who is it?” she asked in an undertone.
“I don’t know, but his voice sounds strange. Remember, stay calm.”
Still groggy, Valerie looked in Adam’s direction and slowly reached for the phone. He handed over the receiver reluctantly.
“He—llo?” Valerie said, struggling with the single word.
“I have your daughter,” the man said. His voice was peculiar, like he was gargling and talking at the same time.
Valerie’s hands began trembling, almost dropping the phone. “Where is she?”
“I’m sorry I had to take her.”
“But—but why? Where is she?” Valerie’s voice wavered and became louder.
Adam whispered, “No, Val, settle down.”
“Valerie, my dear, I don’t have much time.”
“Is she all right?” she blurted out.
“Val—settle—down,” Adam breathed.
“I want you to know that this is not a ransom call.” There was a pause. “Sara Ann will be returned to you.”
The words sent an instant wave of calm through her. “Then what do you want? Tell us what you want.”
“You will get a letter. Today. I will call again.” There was a click, and then silence.
Valerie sat on the bed, momentarily staring down at the receiver resting in her hand.
“What?” Adam asked.
“He hung up.”
“What did he say?”
Suddenly she threw the phone across the room then pounded both fists on the bed. “My baby! Someone has my baby!”
“Stop it, Val! Get your robe on. We need to go downstairs and see Detective Carillo.”
Valerie stumbled through a confusing description of the phone call as they made their way downstairs. Adam helped stabilize her, holding her arm as they descended the staircase.
After her convoluted account of the phone call, she could concentrate on only one thing that was said: Sara Ann will be returned to you.
Dawn followed her parents, not uttering a single word.
In the living room Peter Carillo was on speakerphone.
“Yes, he beat the trace. Another thirty seconds and we’d have had the bastard.”
He stroked his thick mustache as he talked and motioned the Rileys to sit. His shiny head reflected the light from his table lamp.
“I have the Rileys here now.”
Averly’s voice crackled through the speaker. “Could you hear anything in the background?”
“Not really,” Carillo answered.
“Something that might indicate where he was calling from?”
“No. There’s nothing I could hear. But we can have the tape run through analysis.”
“We may do just that.”
“You should hear his voice though.”
“Why?”
“He had to be using a distortion device.”
“So he was masking his voice.”
“Yeah, and he told Mrs. Riley he sent a letter. They’re supposed to receive it today.”
“A letter?”
“Yes, he said: You will get a letter. Today. Then: I will call again.”
“Okay, listen, there are several things we need to do.”
“I’m listening.”
“First of all, it’s almost three and I’m not going to get any more sleep, so I’ll be on the road in about an hour and should be there around five. I want you to call Glenn Wilkerson.”
“Now?” asked Carillo.
“Yes, now. When you hang up, call him. Tell him he needs to contact the town’s postmaster immediately.”
“Okay.”
“And then get him and a few officers into the post office and find that letter.”
“What if it hasn’t arrived at the post office yet?”
“We’ll never know if we don’t look.”
Carillo sighed. “I suppose.”
“I want that letter. Another thing, I’m going to try to get help from the FBI.”
Carillo slowly sat back in his metal