Read Online Snowjob by Ted Wood - Free Book Online

and blow security. I asked her if she had a choice of places to go and she did. Her sister lived in Chicago and Doug’s mother, who had been widowed and remarried, was living in South Carolina. None of the neighbors knew the name of either family, so there could be no follow-up. She agreed with me that double protection would be best, so she called the head of the library board and told him she had a family emergency in Chicago. With Doug out of circulation, she was taking the children with her for a few days.
    That was part one of the plan. Part two, which would be revealed to the children later, was that they would switch planes in New York and head south to Doug’s mother. Organized crime is not well enough organized to have its tentacles down into rural Dixie and she would be safe there while I finished what I had to do.
    Angie was excited about getting away so that was fine. Ben was the only one to show any reluctance. With fourteen-year-old machismo he wanted to stay where he was and fight. But he listened to me and agreed finally. So by nine o’clock the neighbors had been told the Chicago story and I was driving the family to the airport in Burlington, me with Doug’s .38 in the right-hand pocket of my parka.
    I sat with them until they were called through security to board their flight. Melody gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and said, “Explain to Doug. Don’t let him think we’re running out on him.”
    “No fears,” I said and squeezed her hand. “Have a holiday, if you can. I’m going to do some heavy-duty digging. Doug’s innocent and what happened tonight proves it. Now I just have to make it stick.”
    I waited in the concourse until their flight left for New York, then phoned home and talked to Fred for half an hour, giving her a quick rundown of what was happening, but leaving out the bit about Angie’s being abducted. With a brand-new daughter of our own, I knew she would take that to heart too much. When I hung up I made a second call, to Peter Horn, the special constable I had left in charge at Murphy’s Harbour. He’s Ojibway—a Native North American—they don’t call themselves Indians anymore. He’s wise and tough. I explained what I wanted done and he told me he’d get some of his buddies on it right away.
    The call put fresh heart into me and afterward I went back out to the car and headed for Chambers, the Fords’ hometown. But I’m a man of my word, even when I’m dealing with criminals, so I didn’t go back to town. Instead I stopped ten miles out at a crummy motel and checked in under the name Collins. From the look of the place they’d had their quota of John Smiths registered there over the years.
    I didn’t mention Sam but it was a cold night and I wanted security, so I brought him in to sleep beside the bed. Then I took a slow hour or so going over all the things I’d learned that day and putting together a case in my mind. It wasn’t until midnight that I realized I hadn’t phoned Irv Goodman in Toronto. Never mind, I thought, I would speak to him the next morning. It was Saturday and he would be at home.
    Except for traffic noise the night passed peacefully and I was up at seven to let Sam out and get ready for the day. After I’d showered I took Sam and headed out to find a restaurant. There was a simple country place on the highway and I had a big breakfast with enough cholesterol to last a week and then drove into town.
    It was nine o’clock and the main square was lined with cars, most of them with ski racks on the roof. I found a spot and left the window down while I went in to visit Doug.
    There was a different official on duty this morning, a young woman who seemed to have some sympathy for Doug as a member of a minority group. She told me I could have fifteen minutes with him and this time there was a different guard, a bored, older man who lounged against the wall and didn’t act officious.
    I filled Doug in on what had happened. He gritted his teeth