Chapter Twenty Eight

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Priscilla Young wasn't expecting any company that night in her and her husband Harvey's Georgetown town house. Most that knew them would never just pop by without calling at least twenty four hours ahead of time. How rude she found sudden pop ins !

She certainly wasn't expecting a soaked from the pouring rain Meg Rhodes to be outside standing on her front porch. The woman looked even more unpleasant and dour if that was possible. No wonder she had been divorced three times, Priscilla clucked in her head.

" Meg, dear ! Whatever are you doing here in this awful weather? You'll catch your death, child. What do you need? "

She was stunned when the younger woman pulled out her service weapon from her dripping wet trench coat pocket and pointed it at her. " I need the truth. Auntie, you need to come downtown with me. I need you to turn yourself in. You and Uncle Harvey. The police chief already knows. He's expecting us. So is Theodore. "

" Are you insane ? I'm not turning myself in. For what pray tell ? "

" For running an adoption agency that specialized in cross country uniting of forever families with their dream babies. Unfortunately these babies already had homes. Undoubtedly numerous counts of kidnapping that the statue of limitations have most likely expired on. But murder doesn't expire. You killed my father. Didn't you? Or Harvey did? Ran him down like a dog in the street? And Theo's husband was kidnapped tonight. Was that you too ? "

The old woman laughed. She was already plotting her way out of this one. Maybe she could blame it all on Harvey. Or even Maynard. That stupid old fool. Yes that would work. It had been Harvey's idea after all. She remembered that long ago summer afternoon when the two men complained about not having any luck and then Harvey came up with the scheme. They had had so much fun and made so much money. Even that fool Maynard. That money sent Meg to college for a criminal justice degree. She was so ungrateful.

" You can't prove a thing, girl. "

Meg smiled almost cruelly. " Maybe I can't but the dying words of my father in his own handwriting can. He left a journal! A journal Juan Ramirez has right now. Come along, auntie, and bring Uncle Harvey. Unless you want me to make a call. To Micah. I'll tell him what you stole from him all those years ago. "

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