Free One Week To Live by Joan Beth Erickson Page B

around her face. But to Brian she’d never looked more beautiful. He wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her into surrender.
    “Dunning, just because you’re an FBI agent, doesn’t mean you know everything!” she pointed out, impatiently pushing her wet hair back from her face. “Psychics can give a new direction to an investigation. I might not possess a fancy degree in criminal law and FBI training, but that doesn’t mean I can’t provide you with useful information.”
    “That a girl, you tell him.” From the expression on the special agent’s face, the man didn’t approve of her outburst. Too bad, Brian thought. She was finally owning up to her abilities and he couldn’t be more proud of her.
    She didn’t say anything more. Instead she glared at both of them.
    “Angie?”
    “What?” she snarled.
    “Where the hell have you been? I went to your office. You weren’t there. They said you’d left early.”
    ****
    “Where I’ve been is none of your business,” she snapped, fumbling in her purse for her mailbox key. After what she’d been through, both men could go to hell. She was pissed at herself for letting the kidnapper get the best of her. She should have stayed on the bus and tried to figure out who it was, but she’d fled. It took all her courage to get back on a bus to continue her journey home, but she had.
    She was tired of Brian questioning her whereabouts, and she’d had enough of Dunning’s superior attitude. She hated being talked down to like some kind of idiot. She wasn’t certain of her ability to help find Polly, but she wasn’t going to tell Mr. Know-It-All that.
    Yanking her keys out, she dropped them. The clumsiness irritated her further. Retrieving the keys, she inserted the proper one into her mailbox lock. A corner of a white envelope stuck out of the box’s side slit. The box must be packed with bills and catalogs.
    Opening it, she saw it wasn’t as full as she first thought. She removed the few pieces of mail including the slim white envelope. Curious about the contents, she studied it. Besides her name written neatly in the center, there was nothing, no mailing address, no return address, no postage.
    Without a mailing address or stamp, it must be from the manager. Probably a raise in the rent, something she could ill afford. Both men continued to stare at her.
    Deciding to get the bad news over with, she put her purse and other mail down at her feet. She then tore the envelope open and pulled out the single sheet of white paper inside. Unfolding it, she read the contents.
    Hello, Angie . Rub-a-dub, dub, three men in a tub or are there more? Brian got the clue. Now you do, too.
    “What’s wrong?” Brian asked.
    She just shook her head. “It’s the same clue you got last night.”
    “I’ll take that.” Dunning reached in his coat pocket and pulled out a pair of gloves.
    “He’s been here again,” she whispered, letting go of the note before the special agent could grab it.
    The piece of paper sailed to the ground. He quickly retrieved it along with the envelope she clutched. Fishing an evidence bag from his coat pocket, he placed them inside.
    “How many of those will it take,” she asked, her voice tinged with bitterness and growing fear, “before you collect the child in one of them? Tell me, Agent Dunning, do you have a bag big enough for her, too?” She thought of Tucker’s son and shivered. This time her granddaughter would be shoved in a body bag.
    “Ms. Martin, calm down. We’re on the case. We’ll catch the guy.”
    “Catch the guy,” she cried out, unable to control her emotions anymore. “You keep talking about the kidnapper, but you never mention the…the little girl.” She’d almost said my grandchild.
    Seeing Dunning’s facial expression, a horrible thought struck. “You think she’s already dead, don’t you?”
    “Ms. Martin, we need to find the abductor before he can harm his victim.”
    He’d never referred to Polly by