Page 25
Story: Pirate (Fargo Adventures 8)
“It was,” Bree said, meeting her cousin’s gaze.
Larayne lowered her glass, seemingly surprised by that statement. “Oh, Bree . . . I’m sorry. Can you forgive me?”
“For what?”
“You’re the one who was kidnapped. It must have been horrible what happened to you.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m only glad that Mr. and Mrs. Fargo found me right away.”
“Yes. Very lucky.”
“The phone?” Remi asked Larayne. “We should probably call the sheriff’s office. They’re going to want to know if you’re okay.”
“There’s a couple of portable handsets around. Should be one in the hallway by the stairs.”
Sam left to find it. He was speaking with the dispatcher when he returned to the kitchen. “Yes,” he said into the phone. “I understand. We’ll be here.”
He disconnected, then set the phone on the counter. “They’re sending someone from investigations out here.”
Bree nodded, and Remi asked, “What about the suspects? Any word on if they caught them?”
“Maybe we’ll find out more when the investigator gets here.”
Larayne eyed the vodka bottle, then asked Sam, “Why are they sending them here?”
“The police? To take our statements and to gather evidence.”
She seemed shocked at his answer. “What sort of evidence?”
“Prints, I expect.”
Larayne downed her vodka, then set the glass on the counter. “What a nightmare this has turned out to be.”
Bree reached out and grasped her cousin’s hand. “They’ll find who did this. Maybe they even have them now.”
Her cousin’s response was to pour more vodka into her glass. Not that Remi could blame her. After all, she’d just lost her father, and now this. Remi pulled out a chair at the kitchen table, saying, “Maybe we should all sit down. Try to relax.”
“Good idea,” Larayne said, bringing the bottle with her. “Bree, get yourself a glass and join me.”
“I’m fine.”
“No you’re not. They almost killed you. Have a shot.”
Bree filled a glass with water instead, then took a seat next to her cousin. “I don’t know how you can drink that stuff.”
“It grows on you,” Larayne said, taking a long sip.
Remi, worried that the woman would be in no condition to speak to the police by the time they showed up, decided it couldn’t hurt to ask a few questions of her own. “I hope you don’t mind my prying, but what exactly is going on here?”
Larayne shook her head. “I wish I kne
w.”
“Something to do with your father’s map book?”
Larayne exchanged glances with Bree. “Maybe if my father had sold it to the buyer I found, none of this would have happened.”
Remi asked, “You found him a buyer?”
Larayne lowered her glass, seemingly surprised by that statement. “Oh, Bree . . . I’m sorry. Can you forgive me?”
“For what?”
“You’re the one who was kidnapped. It must have been horrible what happened to you.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m only glad that Mr. and Mrs. Fargo found me right away.”
“Yes. Very lucky.”
“The phone?” Remi asked Larayne. “We should probably call the sheriff’s office. They’re going to want to know if you’re okay.”
“There’s a couple of portable handsets around. Should be one in the hallway by the stairs.”
Sam left to find it. He was speaking with the dispatcher when he returned to the kitchen. “Yes,” he said into the phone. “I understand. We’ll be here.”
He disconnected, then set the phone on the counter. “They’re sending someone from investigations out here.”
Bree nodded, and Remi asked, “What about the suspects? Any word on if they caught them?”
“Maybe we’ll find out more when the investigator gets here.”
Larayne eyed the vodka bottle, then asked Sam, “Why are they sending them here?”
“The police? To take our statements and to gather evidence.”
She seemed shocked at his answer. “What sort of evidence?”
“Prints, I expect.”
Larayne downed her vodka, then set the glass on the counter. “What a nightmare this has turned out to be.”
Bree reached out and grasped her cousin’s hand. “They’ll find who did this. Maybe they even have them now.”
Her cousin’s response was to pour more vodka into her glass. Not that Remi could blame her. After all, she’d just lost her father, and now this. Remi pulled out a chair at the kitchen table, saying, “Maybe we should all sit down. Try to relax.”
“Good idea,” Larayne said, bringing the bottle with her. “Bree, get yourself a glass and join me.”
“I’m fine.”
“No you’re not. They almost killed you. Have a shot.”
Bree filled a glass with water instead, then took a seat next to her cousin. “I don’t know how you can drink that stuff.”
“It grows on you,” Larayne said, taking a long sip.
Remi, worried that the woman would be in no condition to speak to the police by the time they showed up, decided it couldn’t hurt to ask a few questions of her own. “I hope you don’t mind my prying, but what exactly is going on here?”
Larayne shook her head. “I wish I kne
w.”
“Something to do with your father’s map book?”
Larayne exchanged glances with Bree. “Maybe if my father had sold it to the buyer I found, none of this would have happened.”
Remi asked, “You found him a buyer?”
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