The Abduction by James Grippando Read Free Book Online

the whole thing had started so long ago, and she couldn’t explain why she hadn’t told him everything from the beginning. For the tenth time tonight, her mind took her back to that evening in August, almost two months ago—analyzing it, dissecting it, and wondering what made it so difficult to tell her husband about a chance reunion with Mitch O’Brien in Miami Beach…
    Humid breezes rolled off the warm Atlantic, rustling through palm trees at Hotel Fountainbleu. A boardwalk, rolling dunes covered with sea oats, and a wide stretch of open beach separated the ocean from the poolside café. Still, the soothing sounds of gentle waves lapping the shore could be heard in the darkness. Allison sat across from Mitch at a round Cinzano table, sipping a nightcap of Cointreau, straight up.
    Allison had just delivered the keynote address at the annual meeting of the National Association of Attorneys General, a large gathering of attorneys general and their staffs from all fifty states. It was a good chance to talk tough on crime as her presidential campaign was turning toward the big autumn push. Mitch surprised her in the lobby as she was heading for the elevator. They hadn’t spoken in eight years. After Emily’s abduction, she’d broken things off with Mitch completely. He left Chicago and moved to Miami. She’d never felt any animosity toward him, however, and his offer to buy her a drink and catch up on lost time seemed harmless enough, preferable in any event to yet another hotel dinner with her aide.
    “So,” asked Mitch, “how are things among the National Association of Aspiring Governors?”
    Allison smiled. “That’s National Association of Attorneys General. And do you really want to know?”
    “No.” He was smiling with his eyes. Mitch had warm, engaging eyes, an asset that this skilled criminal defense lawyer had used to his advantage on many a woman juror. What Allison remembered most about him were his eyes. That, and the irreverent sense of humor that used to make her laugh as she hadn’t laughed in years,since the disappearance of her daughter.
    “I feel like we’ve been talking about me all night,” she said. “What’s new with you?”
    “The usual crazy South Florida stuff that makes me glad I left Chicago. I’ve been offered a criminal case in Key West that I might actually take.”
    “You’re kidding? I thought you’d given up practicing law for good.”
    “I said I might take it. Just for grins. One of my sailing buddies got into a little trouble at the annual Ernest Hemingway look-alike contest.”
    “Hemingway used to live in Key West, didn’t he?”
    “Right. This year, they had the usual parade of gray-bearded macho men in bulky turtleneck sweaters—like the Hemingway postage stamp. Then the last contestant walks out looking every bit as much like the real Ernest Hemingway, but with an added touch: He’s sucking on the business end of a double-barrel shotgun.”
    “That’s what you Miamians love about Key West. The rest of the world gets to snicker at your bizarre crimes and say, ‘Only in Miami.’ But every now and then you can look south and say, ‘Only in Key West.’”
    “Well, it seems the other Hemingway contestants didn’t see the humor. They grabbed the shotgun, threw the guy in the trunk of an old convertible, and were zipping north on U.S. 1 at ninety miles an hour when a state trooper stopped them. Imagine the look on this trooper’s face when he pulls over a flaming red Cadillac packed full of Hemingways hauling ass up the highway. It’s not clear what their intentions were, but the trooper claims he heard the driver shouting, ‘Death in the afternoon!’ Mister big mouth nowwants me to come out of early retirement and represent him. They charged him with kidnapping. Can you believe they’re prosecuting?” He laughed, then finished his sparkling water.
    Allison forced a smile, but she didn’t laugh.
    He looked up from his empty glass, alarmed by the