Ginger Collig watched pensively as her husband got dressed. The doctor had wanted to keep Ezra overnight, but he had insisted he was fine, and needed to get back to headquarters. She was a little worried about him - but only a little. Ezra was tough. Besides, she was too happy to be very worried.
Ezra sat down on the bed to pull on his socks, and caught Ginger staring at him with a silly grin on her face. "You're in a mighty good mood, for someone who got hauled down to the hospital and had to wait around for ages." he commented, his expression curious.
"Oh honey, I wanted to wait and tell you over a romantic dinner...but I'm just too excited!" Ginger gushed, jumping to her feet and wrapping her arms about Ezra's neck.
"What is it?" he demanded, completely at a loss to explain his wife's erratic behavior.
Ginger pulled back and gazed tenderly into his eyes. "You're going to be a daddy, darling - I'm going to have a baby!"
Ezra's eyes went wide, then he leaped to his feet, one sock on and one still lying on the bed. He grabbed Ginger tightly in his arms and spun her around. "YAHOO!" he shouted, his face one enormous grin. Ginger clung to him, laughing in delight.
A nurse rushed in, alerted by the commotion. "What's wrong?" she demanded.
"Nothing." Ezra assured her. "Things couldn't be more right!" he added, bending his head to kiss his wife.
Fenton had decided to check out the offices of Mortimer and Leif; the firm was located in Burnsville, not too far from the county line. Upon his arrival at the deserted, two-story building, Fenton parked his car in back, where it couldn't be seen from the road.
He expertly picked the lock on the back door and crept inside, pulling out his penlight and training it on the floor to avoid a glare in the window, not that he expected anyone to be out this way at this time of night. The building was off the highway by a good three hundred yards, but he wasn't going to take any chances!
The first floor consisted of two separate offices. The first held nothing more than a desk, a telephone, and a couple of chairs. The second held the requisite desk and chair...and three filing cabinets. A lamp and a calendar - unused, so far as Fenton could see - and a phone - sat on the otherwise-vacant desk.
Fenton headed for the file cabinets. The first one he reached was locked, but work with the lock picks soon had the top drawer open. To his intense disappointment, the drawer was empty. So was the second...and likewise the third and fourth.
He unlocked the second file cabinet and found more of the same. Shaking his head, he moved to the third cabinet and tried again. Three drawers were empty; the fourth held two file folders.
Fenton pulled the folders out and took them over to the desk. He sat down and began to scan the contents of the folders, documents, which appeared to be listings of company stocks which Mortimer and Leif dealt with. Fenton recognized part of the businesses listed as those belonging to Jim Wood.
Why would Wood have stock options on his own businesses? He remembered from dealing with Wood's correspondence earlier, that Wood's businesses were not obtainable as stock; each business was owned free and clear, by Wood himself.
"Hmmm...tax evasion?" Fenton murmured to himself, closing the files - proof of money laundering! - and putting them back into the file drawer. He was just making sure everything was locked back up when he heard the front entrance open, and footsteps enter the building!
Fenton doused his penlight and stood behind the door, listening to see if the footsteps drew nearer or receded. Worse luck, they were coming closer! On tiptoe, Fenton rushed over to the desk and crawled into the kneehole, and not a moment too soon! The office door opened, and Police Chief Greer poked his head in, flipped on the light, and looked around. Fenton held his breath, silently willing the man to go away...go away! After a moment, seeing no one, the chief exited the room and walked across the hall, where he repeated his actions, before heading upstairs to check the rooms above.
Fenton didn't wait around. He left the office soundlessly, heading back the way he had come, carefully relocking the back door behind him. Once outside, he started his car, keeping the lights off. He pulled out of the lot and drove back to the main highway before turning them on.
When Fenton arrived in Bayport, he drove straight to Sam Radley's place, and once inside, hurried to the fax machine. He then placed a call to the FBI, and asked to speak with Agent Mitch Dalrymple, a man with whom he had worked before. He mentally crossed his fingers, hoping the agent would be there. In less than two minutes, Dalrymple's voice came over the line, and Fenton breathed a sigh of relief.
Fenton quickly filled the FBI man in on the details of his case, and asked if he knew of someone named Milhouse who worked for another someone called Roberts. Dalrymple informed him that Milhouse was, in fact, one of the FBI's agents. He had been attempting to track down the whereabouts of an allegedly cursed diamond which had been stolen from a London museum, and smuggled into the United States.
"I'm pretty sure I know who has it." Fenton informed the agent.
"Who?" Dalrymple demanded. "We'll get a search warrant."
"No, Mitch, not yet!" Fenton begged. "Albert Sweeney and Jonathan Drecker are both guests at the house now," he explained. "But the owner - the man who actually has the diamond - isn't there right now. If we wait until he is, perhaps I can find out where he has hidden it."
"Sweeney?" Dalrymple gave a low whistle. "What I wouldn't give to get my hands on him!" he added.
"There's more." Fenton said. "My suspect is very wealthy - and he has the local law in his pocket. But I think I've latched onto something that might shut him down for good!" he went on, and proceeded to inform Mitch Dalrymple of the brokerage firm, the sham office, and his suspicions about the dubious 'relationship' with 'Uncle Sam' and the two lists he had found in Wood's safe.
"Can you get me those lists you mentioned?" Dalrymple requested.
"I can fax them to you right now." Fenton promised.
"Good." Dalrymple approved. "I'll get to work checking out the information. Be careful, Fenton!" he warned, before thanking the detective and hanging up.
Back at Ezra and Ginger's house, Laura was putting Frank and Joe to bed for the night.
"Is Chief Collig going to be all right?" Frank asked his mother, looking up at her from his pillow.
"He's going to be fine." Laura assured him. Ginger had called the hospital before leaving, to find out exactly how Ezra was doing, and had been assured that he had regained consciousness and was adamantly refusing to stay overnight for observation.
Laura kissed both boys goodnight and told them to go straight to sleep, then turned off the light and went into the living room to await Ginger's return.
"I'm glad he's going to be okay," Frank whispered. "I like Chief Collig."
Joe sniffled, and Frank turned his head to look at him. "What's wrong?"
"It's my fault he got hurt." Joe whispered.
"Nah." Frank scooted closer to Joe, put out an arm and pulled him onto it. "Just being a cop is dangerous." he told Joe. "Dad said that sometimes getting hurt just goes with the job."
"Was Dad ever hurt?" Joe asked, feeling somewhat comforted by Frank's nearness.
"A couple of times." Frank admitted. "I remember going to see him in the hospital, after he got shot one time. I thought he was going to die, but Mom said he was going to be okay, he just needed a lot of rest."
Joe went silent, and soon Frank knew he had fallen asleep. Still cuddling his new brother close, Frank shut his eyes, and it wasn't long before he had joined Joe in slumber.
Laura was sitting quietly in the living room, reading a book she'd found on an end table. She heard a sound from the kitchen, and assumed it was Ginger, returning from the hospital. She put down the book and went to meet her.
As Laura stepped through the kitchen door, someone seized her and placed something wet over her face. She struggled frantically, thoughts of the two boys lying oblivious in the bedroom down the hall flitting through her mind, but all too soon she succumbed to the heady smell, and slumped forward in the arms of her assailant. The attacker scooped her up and carried her into the living room, where she was placed on the couch, looking for all the world as if she had just fallen asleep.
The big man who had carried her stood upright, readjusting the ski mask he wore before returning to his companion, a man dressed in a black sweat suit and an identical ski mask, who waited at the entrance to the living room.
The two men crept down the hallway in search of their prey. Stopping in the open doorway of one room, they found it. Lying on a bed, his head resting on the shoulder of a dark-haired boy, lay Jeffrey Wood.
The big man started for the bed, but the other put a restraining hand on his shoulder. "No, Billy," Jim Wood murmured. "He's mine. I'll take him."
Ezra sat down on the bed to pull on his socks, and caught Ginger staring at him with a silly grin on her face. "You're in a mighty good mood, for someone who got hauled down to the hospital and had to wait around for ages." he commented, his expression curious.
"Oh honey, I wanted to wait and tell you over a romantic dinner...but I'm just too excited!" Ginger gushed, jumping to her feet and wrapping her arms about Ezra's neck.
"What is it?" he demanded, completely at a loss to explain his wife's erratic behavior.
Ginger pulled back and gazed tenderly into his eyes. "You're going to be a daddy, darling - I'm going to have a baby!"
Ezra's eyes went wide, then he leaped to his feet, one sock on and one still lying on the bed. He grabbed Ginger tightly in his arms and spun her around. "YAHOO!" he shouted, his face one enormous grin. Ginger clung to him, laughing in delight.
A nurse rushed in, alerted by the commotion. "What's wrong?" she demanded.
"Nothing." Ezra assured her. "Things couldn't be more right!" he added, bending his head to kiss his wife.
Fenton had decided to check out the offices of Mortimer and Leif; the firm was located in Burnsville, not too far from the county line. Upon his arrival at the deserted, two-story building, Fenton parked his car in back, where it couldn't be seen from the road.
He expertly picked the lock on the back door and crept inside, pulling out his penlight and training it on the floor to avoid a glare in the window, not that he expected anyone to be out this way at this time of night. The building was off the highway by a good three hundred yards, but he wasn't going to take any chances!
The first floor consisted of two separate offices. The first held nothing more than a desk, a telephone, and a couple of chairs. The second held the requisite desk and chair...and three filing cabinets. A lamp and a calendar - unused, so far as Fenton could see - and a phone - sat on the otherwise-vacant desk.
Fenton headed for the file cabinets. The first one he reached was locked, but work with the lock picks soon had the top drawer open. To his intense disappointment, the drawer was empty. So was the second...and likewise the third and fourth.
He unlocked the second file cabinet and found more of the same. Shaking his head, he moved to the third cabinet and tried again. Three drawers were empty; the fourth held two file folders.
Fenton pulled the folders out and took them over to the desk. He sat down and began to scan the contents of the folders, documents, which appeared to be listings of company stocks which Mortimer and Leif dealt with. Fenton recognized part of the businesses listed as those belonging to Jim Wood.
Why would Wood have stock options on his own businesses? He remembered from dealing with Wood's correspondence earlier, that Wood's businesses were not obtainable as stock; each business was owned free and clear, by Wood himself.
"Hmmm...tax evasion?" Fenton murmured to himself, closing the files - proof of money laundering! - and putting them back into the file drawer. He was just making sure everything was locked back up when he heard the front entrance open, and footsteps enter the building!
Fenton doused his penlight and stood behind the door, listening to see if the footsteps drew nearer or receded. Worse luck, they were coming closer! On tiptoe, Fenton rushed over to the desk and crawled into the kneehole, and not a moment too soon! The office door opened, and Police Chief Greer poked his head in, flipped on the light, and looked around. Fenton held his breath, silently willing the man to go away...go away! After a moment, seeing no one, the chief exited the room and walked across the hall, where he repeated his actions, before heading upstairs to check the rooms above.
Fenton didn't wait around. He left the office soundlessly, heading back the way he had come, carefully relocking the back door behind him. Once outside, he started his car, keeping the lights off. He pulled out of the lot and drove back to the main highway before turning them on.
When Fenton arrived in Bayport, he drove straight to Sam Radley's place, and once inside, hurried to the fax machine. He then placed a call to the FBI, and asked to speak with Agent Mitch Dalrymple, a man with whom he had worked before. He mentally crossed his fingers, hoping the agent would be there. In less than two minutes, Dalrymple's voice came over the line, and Fenton breathed a sigh of relief.
Fenton quickly filled the FBI man in on the details of his case, and asked if he knew of someone named Milhouse who worked for another someone called Roberts. Dalrymple informed him that Milhouse was, in fact, one of the FBI's agents. He had been attempting to track down the whereabouts of an allegedly cursed diamond which had been stolen from a London museum, and smuggled into the United States.
"I'm pretty sure I know who has it." Fenton informed the agent.
"Who?" Dalrymple demanded. "We'll get a search warrant."
"No, Mitch, not yet!" Fenton begged. "Albert Sweeney and Jonathan Drecker are both guests at the house now," he explained. "But the owner - the man who actually has the diamond - isn't there right now. If we wait until he is, perhaps I can find out where he has hidden it."
"Sweeney?" Dalrymple gave a low whistle. "What I wouldn't give to get my hands on him!" he added.
"There's more." Fenton said. "My suspect is very wealthy - and he has the local law in his pocket. But I think I've latched onto something that might shut him down for good!" he went on, and proceeded to inform Mitch Dalrymple of the brokerage firm, the sham office, and his suspicions about the dubious 'relationship' with 'Uncle Sam' and the two lists he had found in Wood's safe.
"Can you get me those lists you mentioned?" Dalrymple requested.
"I can fax them to you right now." Fenton promised.
"Good." Dalrymple approved. "I'll get to work checking out the information. Be careful, Fenton!" he warned, before thanking the detective and hanging up.
Back at Ezra and Ginger's house, Laura was putting Frank and Joe to bed for the night.
"Is Chief Collig going to be all right?" Frank asked his mother, looking up at her from his pillow.
"He's going to be fine." Laura assured him. Ginger had called the hospital before leaving, to find out exactly how Ezra was doing, and had been assured that he had regained consciousness and was adamantly refusing to stay overnight for observation.
Laura kissed both boys goodnight and told them to go straight to sleep, then turned off the light and went into the living room to await Ginger's return.
"I'm glad he's going to be okay," Frank whispered. "I like Chief Collig."
Joe sniffled, and Frank turned his head to look at him. "What's wrong?"
"It's my fault he got hurt." Joe whispered.
"Nah." Frank scooted closer to Joe, put out an arm and pulled him onto it. "Just being a cop is dangerous." he told Joe. "Dad said that sometimes getting hurt just goes with the job."
"Was Dad ever hurt?" Joe asked, feeling somewhat comforted by Frank's nearness.
"A couple of times." Frank admitted. "I remember going to see him in the hospital, after he got shot one time. I thought he was going to die, but Mom said he was going to be okay, he just needed a lot of rest."
Joe went silent, and soon Frank knew he had fallen asleep. Still cuddling his new brother close, Frank shut his eyes, and it wasn't long before he had joined Joe in slumber.
Laura was sitting quietly in the living room, reading a book she'd found on an end table. She heard a sound from the kitchen, and assumed it was Ginger, returning from the hospital. She put down the book and went to meet her.
As Laura stepped through the kitchen door, someone seized her and placed something wet over her face. She struggled frantically, thoughts of the two boys lying oblivious in the bedroom down the hall flitting through her mind, but all too soon she succumbed to the heady smell, and slumped forward in the arms of her assailant. The attacker scooped her up and carried her into the living room, where she was placed on the couch, looking for all the world as if she had just fallen asleep.
The big man who had carried her stood upright, readjusting the ski mask he wore before returning to his companion, a man dressed in a black sweat suit and an identical ski mask, who waited at the entrance to the living room.
The two men crept down the hallway in search of their prey. Stopping in the open doorway of one room, they found it. Lying on a bed, his head resting on the shoulder of a dark-haired boy, lay Jeffrey Wood.
The big man started for the bed, but the other put a restraining hand on his shoulder. "No, Billy," Jim Wood murmured. "He's mine. I'll take him."
