Free The Ransom by Chris Taylor Page A

together so fast. Too bad the three Redbacks look so much alike. Skin heads with muscle. All we can do is hope Brittany recognizes one of them.”
    Lane swung the car into Dowton’s street, keeping his foot on the accelerator. The tires squealed in protest. He turned into the paved driveway that led to the Attorney General’s residence and pressed the intercom button. Before he could announce his presence, the imposing double gates opened inward. The two gardeners he’d spotted earlier were no longer in sight. The huge fig trees now cast long afternoon shadows across the driveway. Lane’s gut tightened at the sight, acutely conscious of how much time had elapsed since Olivia disappeared.
    “Wow, this is some kind of hacienda.” Jett’s voice was full of the same surprise and admiration that had filled Lane on his initial visit.
    “Wait until you see inside. The place is full of expensive artwork. The AG told me his old man left him most of the paintings. His father was some hotshot lawyer from the old days. He must have been worth a fortune.”
    Jett whistled low under his breath and continued to take in the impressive property. “I’d like to be able to afford something like this on a government salary.”
    “That makes two of us.” Lane parked the car where he’d left it a few hours earlier and tried to shrug off the feeling of déjà vu. Returning here so soon was a good thing. It meant they were making progress. Besides, a part of him also hoped he’d catch another glimpse of the AG’s beautifully exotic daughter.
    His gut tightened at the thought and blood rushed to his groin. Annoyed at his body’s reaction and the path of his thoughts, he impatiently fixed his attention on serious police business. He had to remain focused on the case.
    Bracing for another bout of sneezing, he rapped twice on the door. His knock was answered in less than a minute. The same housekeeper greeted him, but this time there was no smile. She stood back for them to enter.“No hay fever this time, Detective?”
    Lane shook his head. “Not yet, anyway. I must be getting acclimatized.” He turned to indicate Jett behind him. “This is Detective Jett Craigdon.”
    The housekeeper took the proffered hand. “I’m Mrs Harrow. It’s nice to meet you.” She looked back at Lane. “Please, let me take you through to Mr Dowton. He’s waiting for you.”
    “Has Mrs Dowton arrived yet?” Lane enquired.
    “No, but Mr Dowton’s expecting her later this afternoon. She’s flying home from Queensland.”
    Lane nodded and in silence, they followed the woman across the room and headed in the direction of the Attorney General’s office. Even with Lane’s heads-up, Jett gaped at the opulence around them.
    The AG met them at the door, his face waxen and drawn. Without a word, he handed Lane a single sheet of folded paper.
    “It was delivered about an hour ago.”
    Lane tugged out a pair of latex gloves from the back pocket of his suit pants and slipped them on. Handling the note with care, he scanned its contents. It was typed in twelve point courier font, a commonly used font that was available on any computer.

    I want my money. One million by midnight tomorrow or the girl dies.

    Lane’s gut filled with dread, along with a disquieting suspicion: The note didn’t contain any details for the drop or even how the kidnapper could be contacted. It was almost as if the author of the note and the AG knew each other. As if certain details didn’t need to be explained because they shared some unwritten information. His misgivings ratcheted up another notch, even while he tried to remain outwardly calm.
    Folding the single sheet of paper, he placed it in a plastic evidence bag. His gaze drilled into Dowton’s. “How did it arrive?”
    The Attorney General swiped at the perspiration on his forehead. “M-my housekeeper answered the door to a young boy. I-I’m not sure who he is. I assume he lives in the neighborhood. Mrs Harrow thinks he