Angelina nodded. “Okay. That makes sense. Proceed.”
“Thanks.”
“Driving distance?”
“That’s what I’m thinking. And an overwhelming number of the cases were about missing children, too.”
Angelina poked her again. “Type in ‘missing children near Concord.’”
“I don’t think that’s how she does it. I think she tries to find big cases. National news cases and then picks one nearby she thinks sounds interesting.”
“That’s how I’d do it,” mumbled Croix.
“What do you mean, that’s how you’d do it?” asked Angelina.
Croix shrugged. “If I could work on any case I wanted, I’d search for ones that looked fun or challenging. Ones I thought other people couldn’t solve.”
Angelina shoved Charlotte’s shoulder with her fingertips. “Do that.”
Charlotte glared at her. “Quit poking me.”
Angelina’s eyes grew wide as she peered down her nose at Charlotte. “Sorry, Miss Sensitive.”
Charlotte grit her teeth and returned her attention to the keyboard.
Think. Think.
She tried a few searches for the latest cases capturing the attention of the nation.
“Oh my,” she said after a few searches.
“What?”
“Look at this.”
Charlotte pushed back her chair to make room for Angelina to lean in. The concierge manifested her reading glasses from somewhere in her cleavage.
“Do you have your lunch in there too?” asked Charlotte.
Angelina ignored her and popped on her glasses. She read the screen, her glossy crimson lips moving in time with the words. After a moment, she gasped.
“That’s her.”
“What? What is it?” asked Croix.
“Some woman had her baby kidnapped and then returned, but the baby returned wasn’t hers.”
“Someone swapped babies on her?” The bridge of Croix’s nose wrinkled. “I don’t have a kid, but why would anyone do that? Who wouldn’t prefer their own baby?”
Angelina and Croix both trained their attention on Charlotte. Even Harley stared down at her with her big brown eyes.
Charlotte put her hand on her chest. “Why are you asking me?”
“You’re the detective,” said Angelina.
Charlotte sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe they didn’t like the baby they had.”
Angelina scoffed. “Everyone likes their own baby best.”
Croix nodded. “That is weird.”
“Well, I don’t know why they did it, but the swapped baby makes for an interesting case,” said Charlotte.
Angelina straightened. “I don’t know. The more I think about it, it might not be interesting enough. I mean the last one with the dog—”
“Did you see where it is?” interrupted Charlotte.
“No. Where?”
Charlotte pointed to the top of the article, pressing her finger right under the words Jupiter Beach.
Angelina pointed to the ground. “It’s here?”
Charlotte started typing. She asked Google Maps how long it would take to drive from Concord, New Hampshire to Jupiter Beach, Florida. Google spat out the results.
“It’s a full day’s drive. Twenty three hours. She’d probably at least split it.”
“The postcard got here yesterday, but it was mailed three days ago,” said Angelina.
“So she could be here right now.”
Angelina pressed her lips tightly and began to pace. “Do you think? Would she come here after all this time?”
“She might. She’s been getting closer. Could be she was trying to make her way here anyway.”
“Maybe she’s the one who stole the baby so she could come here and solve the case,” offered Croix.
Angelina and Charlotte looked at her.
“Don’t be an idiot,” said Angelina.
Croix shrugged.
Charlotte glanced through the front entry way. “The question is, if she is here, where would she be?”
“Not here, apparently,” mumbled Angelina.
“Getting involved with the case?” suggested Croix.
“Exactly.” Charlotte looked at Angelina. “I need to borrow Harley.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Frank spotted the goblins on the crop duster and suffered a flashback to times gone by.
“It’s T.K.!” repeated Mac, pointing at the plane.
Frank nodded. It was definitely the same plane the Gophers had watched turn back the Air Force from Herbert’s land so many years ago.
“But it can’t be T.K.,” he mumbled, squinting into the sun.
In Elizabeth Weeble’s back yard, a hundred arms pointed toward the sky.
Hepper shifted the bulldozer into another gear and continued his path of destruction, unpeppered by tomatoes as his enemies’ attentions drew skyward. Soon, he was far enough down the line of bombs even Declan’s tossed tomatoes couldn’t reach him anymore. The yellow monster approached the far corner of the fence, marked by a silver dummy bomb, chugging away as bombs pressed into the dirt beneath its giant tires.
The plane passed overhead and made an arcing loop to head back toward the field. As it approached, it swooped low and even Hepper had to stop his progress to stare. Just as Frank feared the plane might plow directly into the bulldozer, the nose of the aircraft lifted toward the heavens and the payload doors opened. Hundreds of red orbs cascaded over Hepper, the bulldozer and the field exploding with gushy ferocity.
One red ball smacked Frank in the chest and he took a step back to catch his balance. He looked down to find his uniform covered with red and suffered a moment of panic. He spotted seeds and realized he wasn’t dying.
“Tomatoes?” he asked as the deflated skin of one slid down his buttons and slapped to the ground.
The bulldozer, now painted red with tomato blood, continued to grind toward the corner of the field.
That’s when it exploded.
Declan and the Gophers dove to their bellies, crushing tomato plants beneath them, hands covering their heads. Dirt rained.
The crowd, already silenced by the plane, released a collective gasp.
When the soil stopped falling, Frank looked up to see the plane veer hard
