Attachment Strings Read Online Free PDF Page A

won’t.”
    “Good. You’ve got all the contact details there.” Williams pointed at the folders. “Now get to work.”
    Trenkins and I strolled out of Williams’s office and picked up our jackets. We walked to my car in a strained silence. Before I started the car, I asked, “Are you okay?”
    He grimaced. “I’m not big on being told off or reminded of my temper.”
    “No one is.”
    I turned the key in the ignition and drove out on the street. “It’s in Brigantine, right?”
    “Seaside Road,” Trenkins replied.
    With no more to say, we remained silent for the rest of the ride.

Chapter 4

     
     
    M RS . A NDERSON personally opened the door for us. She was a petite blonde, in her midthirties, and very obviously used to getting her way. Crisply, she demanded to be shown our badges and that we tell her what we had done so far concerning the threatening calls. Trenkins’s face darkened. I forestalled him by saying, “I’m sure our captain already informed you that a technician will come out this afternoon and place a tracking device on your phone. We would like you to tell us all about the calls you received.”
    “How many people do I have to tell about them before something happens? My daughter’s life is at stake here!”
    “Where is your daughter now?” Trenkins asked.
    “She’s in her room with the physiotherapist, doing her exercises.”
    “She isn’t at school?”
    “I always pick her up at noon and bring her home. She’s not equipped to handle a full day there. She attends to all her therapies at home and….” She trailed off. We waited until she continued, “She likes it better here at home. She’s more relaxed and at ease and I like to have her close and see with my own eyes she’s doing fine.”
    Maybe she wasn’t that bad. Her voice softened when she spoke about her daughter’s well-being. I didn’t get the impression of dishonesty at all. On the contrary, she seemed to care about her daughter. Why wouldn’t she? She was her mother, after all.
    We watched Mrs. Anderson’s gaze flickering around the room for what seemed like a long time. Eventually she took in a deep breath, smoothed out a crinkle in her skirt, and asked politely, “Would you like something to drink?”
    “No, thanks,” Trenkins and I said in unison.
    “Well, have a seat and ask your questions.”
    Mrs. Anderson ushered us toward a big sofa with rose-colored flowers all over it. It fit in with the wallpaper and the other furniture in the living room. Trenkins could barely mask a horrified expression when he discovered the precisely matched cushions. I shot him a warning glare, which he ignored completely. At least he kept his mouth shut.
    We asked Mrs. Anderson about the calls. When did they start? Did she recognize the voice? Was it always the same person? Why didn’t she call the police earlier?
    “The first call came in a week after Amaris had started school last year in September. In the beginning they came intermittently. Now they come at least twice a week. I didn’t take the first calls too seriously. I thought someone was playing a cruel joke. Such people are attracted to people like me.”
    “What do you mean by that?”
    “I’m the daughter of a powerful man, Detective Woods. It makes me a convenient target for hate campaigns. I never thought they’d include Amaris too. She’s innocent and such a sweetheart. I don’t understand why anyone would threaten her.”
    Tears pooled in her eyes and Trenkins shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. I cleared my throat while Mrs. Anderson discreetly wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “Have you been threatened before?”
    “Yes, but nothing ever happened. I’ve never really been worried before, but now… it is different.” Defiantly, she raised her chin and declared, “And I’m not hysterical or overreacting. This is serious. If you’d heard this person on the phone… he’s full of hatred. He hates Amaris for being alive, can you imagine