Forty Thousand Dollars Demanded to Bring Our Lost Daughter Home
“It is the same yellow,” Clara said, her voice dropping to a quiet drawl that held no doubt. “The same pollen from the tall ones near the road.”
“He cut them down himself,” I said. “He wanted us to find the box so we would believe the note was real.”
George cleared his throat loudly, the sharp sound echoing off the plaster walls of the kitchen.
“He is your cousin, Andrew,” George said, his voice hard. “His mother is my sister, and she has had enough trouble in her life.”
“He knew you had the savings bonds in the safe,” I said, pausing to let the words settle. “He knew exactly how much we could raise if we were desperate enough.”
Clara set the magnifying glass down with a soft click against the oilcloth table.
“The forty thousand dollars,” Clara said. “He knew the figure because he was sitting right there at the diner last winter when we talked about the timber sale.”
