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Authors: Julie Garwood
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sympathetically.
Sophie’s own love life was a barren wasteland, but that was okay with her. She didn’t need the complication of a romance in her life right now.
THE CRANK CALLS STARTED early Monday morning. Sophie didn’t even have time to put her purse in her cubicle desk drawer before the first call came in.
“Sophie Rose?” A muffled voice hissed her name.
“Sophie Summerfield,” she corrected. “Who is this?”
“You can’t hide from me.”
“Who is this?” she repeated forcefully.
“Your father took my money, and he’s not going to get away with it.”
“Tell it to the police,” she suggested.
She was about to hang up when he said, “I’ve come up with a better idea.”
Don’t ask,
she told herself.
Don’t ask.
“What could that be?”
“I’m going to hurt you. Soon, Sophie. Real soon. And then your daddy will know what it’s like to lose.”
Slamming down the receiver in its cradle, she dropped into her chair. That was a new twist, she thought. Whenever her father was being blamed for something, the callers threatened to get even, and she was supposed to pass the message on to dear old dad. This call had sounded more sinister, and she wasn’t sure what she was going to do about it.
She decided to concentrate on work until her nerves settled. This creepy caller had scared her, and that hadn’t happened in a long time. Work would help her put things in perspective.
The first order of business was William Harrington. She headed to Bitterman’s office to report what had happened. But what couldhave been explained in five minutes took fifteen because, once she started, she couldn’t stop. The longer she talked, the angrier she got. Bitterman let her rant about her wasting her time while he enjoyed a frosty Kelly’s Root Beer, then gave her two more ideas to replace the Harrington story.
Bitterman wanted to discuss each one at length, so by the time she got back to her cubicle, there were three messages from the switchboard operator waiting for her. Two were from Regan, and one was from Cordie. All three were marked urgent.
Her friends had left messages on her cell phone as well, but she didn’t get a chance to listen to them because she was summoned to the production room to answer some questions. When she returned to her desk, Bitterman was shouting at her. This time he used her name, and that could mean only one thing: whatever he wanted was bad.
Gary tried to follow her, but Bitterman waved him back, pulled Sophie into his office, and shut the door in Gary’s face.
The television was blaring. He turned the volume down and said, “It just hit the noon news.”
“It?” she questioned.
Nodding to the television, he said, “There’s a press conference going on.”
Sophie knew what he was going to say before the next words were out of his mouth.
“The FBI has just named your father as a person of interest.”
Again.
JOURNAL ENTRY 45
ARCTIC CAMP
Ricky has become quite predictable. He sets out on foraging trips with the other males at the same time each day and returns at approximately the same time. Today, however, he was gone only an hour. When he returned to the den, he was agitated and roused the pups out of their naps. The other males circled the den in confusion. They knew something was wrong.
Ricky moved to stand in front of the den, his back to the pups, and stared off to the north. We could see nothing in the distance, but with binoculars we spotted a bear about half a mile away. As the bear drew closer, Ricky began to growl. The other males followed his lead. A hundred feet or so from the den, the bear stopped and raised up on his hind legs.
Ricky didn’t back down. The bear paced back and forth several times, but finally turned and headed to the east. Facing a formidable adversary like Ricky and his small army was probably not in his plans.
D ADDY WAS ON THE LAM AGAIN. Bobby Rose would never make the FBI’s Most Wanted List. He loved his country; he
Sophie’s own love life was a barren wasteland, but that was okay with her. She didn’t need the complication of a romance in her life right now.
THE CRANK CALLS STARTED early Monday morning. Sophie didn’t even have time to put her purse in her cubicle desk drawer before the first call came in.
“Sophie Rose?” A muffled voice hissed her name.
“Sophie Summerfield,” she corrected. “Who is this?”
“You can’t hide from me.”
“Who is this?” she repeated forcefully.
“Your father took my money, and he’s not going to get away with it.”
“Tell it to the police,” she suggested.
She was about to hang up when he said, “I’ve come up with a better idea.”
Don’t ask,
she told herself.
Don’t ask.
“What could that be?”
“I’m going to hurt you. Soon, Sophie. Real soon. And then your daddy will know what it’s like to lose.”
Slamming down the receiver in its cradle, she dropped into her chair. That was a new twist, she thought. Whenever her father was being blamed for something, the callers threatened to get even, and she was supposed to pass the message on to dear old dad. This call had sounded more sinister, and she wasn’t sure what she was going to do about it.
She decided to concentrate on work until her nerves settled. This creepy caller had scared her, and that hadn’t happened in a long time. Work would help her put things in perspective.
The first order of business was William Harrington. She headed to Bitterman’s office to report what had happened. But what couldhave been explained in five minutes took fifteen because, once she started, she couldn’t stop. The longer she talked, the angrier she got. Bitterman let her rant about her wasting her time while he enjoyed a frosty Kelly’s Root Beer, then gave her two more ideas to replace the Harrington story.
Bitterman wanted to discuss each one at length, so by the time she got back to her cubicle, there were three messages from the switchboard operator waiting for her. Two were from Regan, and one was from Cordie. All three were marked urgent.
Her friends had left messages on her cell phone as well, but she didn’t get a chance to listen to them because she was summoned to the production room to answer some questions. When she returned to her desk, Bitterman was shouting at her. This time he used her name, and that could mean only one thing: whatever he wanted was bad.
Gary tried to follow her, but Bitterman waved him back, pulled Sophie into his office, and shut the door in Gary’s face.
The television was blaring. He turned the volume down and said, “It just hit the noon news.”
“It?” she questioned.
Nodding to the television, he said, “There’s a press conference going on.”
Sophie knew what he was going to say before the next words were out of his mouth.
“The FBI has just named your father as a person of interest.”
Again.
JOURNAL ENTRY 45
ARCTIC CAMP
Ricky has become quite predictable. He sets out on foraging trips with the other males at the same time each day and returns at approximately the same time. Today, however, he was gone only an hour. When he returned to the den, he was agitated and roused the pups out of their naps. The other males circled the den in confusion. They knew something was wrong.
Ricky moved to stand in front of the den, his back to the pups, and stared off to the north. We could see nothing in the distance, but with binoculars we spotted a bear about half a mile away. As the bear drew closer, Ricky began to growl. The other males followed his lead. A hundred feet or so from the den, the bear stopped and raised up on his hind legs.
Ricky didn’t back down. The bear paced back and forth several times, but finally turned and headed to the east. Facing a formidable adversary like Ricky and his small army was probably not in his plans.
D ADDY WAS ON THE LAM AGAIN. Bobby Rose would never make the FBI’s Most Wanted List. He loved his country; he
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