Little Girl Gone (An Afton Tangler Thriller #1)(97)

“This is really something,” Afton said. “Who did this?”

Janelle gazed at her across the top of an old brass cash register. “A local kid by the name of Sorenson. He’s pretty good.”

“Yes, he is,” Afton said.

“Is Sorenson on our list?” Max asked.

Afton pulled out her sheet of paper and checked. “Yup. And so are twenty-five other guys.”

“Add that to the fifty-three taxidermy guys in Minnesota and that’s a lot of ground to cover.”

“Gonna take a while,” Afton said.


*

A half mile out of town, when they slid down the entry ramp onto the Interstate, the situation had worsened.

“Has this even been plowed?” Afton asked. “I thought for sure they’d have been out plowing by now, trying to keep the freeway clear. I mean . . . there are trucks, truckers driving up from Chicago and Milwaukee . . .”

“The Highway Department has been plowing,” Max said. “They’re just not keeping up. This snow’s coming down too fast.” He frowned. “You okay? You sound rattled. Do you want me to drive?”

“No, I’m okay.”

“Just take it easy and keep your eyes on the road. Hold your speed down and don’t take any chances.”

“You’re a fine one to talk.”

“Well . . . it doesn’t matter how long it takes us to get back now. Once we’re home, we won’t be going anywhere for a while.”

As they cruised down the hill outside Hudson and crossed over the Saint Croix River, Afton started to breathe a little easier. It felt like the halfway point now. Halfway home and halfway closer to Poppy and Tess. She knew exactly what they were all going to do tonight. She was going to make pigs in a blanket, Poppy’s all-time favorite. Then they were all going to curl up together. Maybe play a game. Something old-fashioned and soothing, like Candy Land or Monopoly.

“There’s open water here, too,” Max said. His head lolled to one side, studying the river as they spun by.

“Because of that power plant upstream,” Afton said. “Must disgorge a lot of hot water.”

“Good for the ducks and geese that hang around all year.”

“Unless somebody shoots them and stuffs them.”

“You’re in a mood,” Max said. Then he chuckled. “You know how many snowmobiles go crashing through the ice every winter?”

“I don’t know,” Afton said. “But I bet you’re going to cheer me up by telling me.”

“There were something like a dozen snowmobiles last year, even more the year before. I tell you, it’s an epidemic. And I’m not just saying that because of that Torbert guy last night. Guys tow their fish houses out onto a lake, hammer back a few shots, and then go blasting around on their ’bile, never even noticing the open spots.”

“You should probably count ATVs, too.”

“There you go, that’d up the number considerably.”

“What are you gonna do?” Afton said.

“Not much you can do. Just fish out the idiots.”


*

THEY were on the outskirts of Saint Paul, cruising past 3M. The three-lane highway had been reduced to just one icy rut when they got a call from Thacker.

“We might have discovered something interesting,” Thacker said. “The FBI just got done tearing through that lawyer’s office. Torbert’s office.”

“What’d they find?” Max asked.

“They discovered a file with a number of names in it. They think it might have something to do with illegal adoptions.”

“They found something in Torbert’s office that might pertain to illegal adoptions,” Max told Afton.

“Holy smokes,” Afton said. “That could be the break we’ve been looking for.” She motioned with her hand. “Hurry up, put him on speaker.”

Max hit the speaker button and Thacker’s voice crackled out. “Don’t get your undies in a twist yet, kids. All they found was paperwork on what looked like payments.”

“Payments,” Afton said. “Why do you think they relate to illegal adoptions?”

“Because it looks like that was Torbert’s specialty. Adoptions. Private adoptions.”

“No shit,” Max said.

“What else do we know about these payments?” Afton pressed.

“There’s receivables and payables,” Thacker said. “The receivables, those may have come from adoptive parents, since they’re all in the range of one hundred to two hundred thousand dollars. The payables are in far lesser amounts, but we don’t know what those are all about. We haven’t contacted Torbert’s bank yet or tried to run down any of the names.”

“Let us know when you do, okay?” Max said.

“Wait a minute,” Afton said, feeling jazzed. “The payables, the smaller amounts. Do we know who those went to?”

“Um . . . yeah,” Thacker said.

“What are the names?” Afton dug in her jacket pocket and pulled out the list Burdick had given her. She knew it was a long shot. “We got some names from that taxidermy distributor. Let’s at least see if we can cross-reference something.”

“We’re going to end up with a pile of names,” Max said. “Why don’t we let the computer sort it out, wait and see if we get any kind of match?”