Bannon Brothers Read Free

wasn’t a blueblood.”
    â€œYou read it?” Bannon challenged.
    Her face was a study in patience. “I knew her—not well, though. We went to the same church when we were younger. Before she married and I didn’t. Luanne was always nice.”
    Something about her thoughtful tone made him curious. Very curious. “You going to tell me more about that?”
    â€œLater. Maybe.”
    â€œI’m holding you to that,” he responded.
    Doris turned back to her work. “Go ahead and start sorting what you can. I’ll finish the one I’m working on while you do.”
    â€œOkay. Take your time.”
    He took off his leather jacket and slung it across the back of a folding chair, then settled his long frame into the seat, ignoring a sharp twinge in his back when he sat down. RJ opened the Montgomery file and noticed that the earliest forms had been completed on a manual typewriter. He picked up the first piece of paper and read the basics.

    Victim: Ann Spencer Montgomery.
Adult/Child: child.
Age: 3.
Nature of crime: abduction.

    At a later date, someone had scrawled four bleak words across the paper.

    Still missing. Presumed dead.

    Presumed dead. Not declared dead. Officially still considered missing. Curious, Bannon began turning pages of the thick file and soon became engrossed in it for the better part of an hour. “This is one hell of a case,” he said softly and glanced at Doris. “How come I never heard of it?”
    â€œYou were a kid when it happened, Bannon.” She sounded a little surprised by his interest. “It was before your time. Before you knew it all,” she added in a teasing way.
    â€œYeah, sure. But—Ann Montgomery was abducted at the age of three.” He grabbed a pad of paper and pencil and jotted down some quick figures. “That means she would be twenty-nine now if she somehow survived.”
    â€œThat’s correct,” Doris agreed.
    Pulling out the old reward poster and the bank document clipped to it, Bannon scanned them both. The money was held in a trust that would terminate on Ann’s thirtieth birthday. “There’s a year to go on this reward.” He couldn’t imagine why the case was being closed. The female victim was still officially classified as missing and a million-dollar reward was still in force for information leading to her safe return.
    Decades had gone by. Her family had faith, he’d give them that. Some people would cling to hope forever when no body was found. A few abducted children had turned up alive, years later, but the odds were solidly against this little girl. He flipped through the documentation, feeling a rush of hunting instinct. It felt good. Like his old self was back.
    â€œYes, I noticed that,” Doris replied. “What’s your point?”
    â€œFake Anns might start showing up. I wouldn’t call this case cold.”
    â€œIt’s been forgotten, RJ. Don’t spin your wheels.”
    RJ leafed through another section of documents. “I don’t get it. Did you ask Hoebel about this? What could it hurt to keep it open for one more lousy year?”
    â€œAs a matter of fact, I did, RJ. But he said nothing doing—every case more than five years old with no activity and no leads is officially cold. He wants these off the shelves. The actual files are going into a document storage place in a week. It’s about a hundred miles from here.”
    RJ frowned. “Not this one. It could be a gold mine of information. Every scrap of paper counts. This was a kidnapping, for chris-sake.”
    â€œHoebel knows that,” she said, “but he doesn’t care. He wasn’t working here when the Montgomery case was headline news. Bye-bye, files.”
    â€œBut why—”
    â€œDid you get through everything in that one?” Doris was asking.
    â€œI skimmed most of it.”
    â€œFinish reading,” she ordered in a