The Drop

© C.E.Ayr

“They have found an empty boat.” Officer Sanchez was slowly repeating the message. “Yes, VA-3417-KZ. Thanks.” He slowly placed the receiver back in the cradle. Joan Bisquene’s look said it all.

“There was nothing on the boat?” in a whisper of desperation.

“As far as I know, they have found nothing.”

“That’s got to be a good sign. No blood. No one was hurt.”

“What do you mean?” New thoughts were entering the sergeant’s mind. “You were reporting them missing. What makes you suddenly think that foul play?”

“There is more to the story.” Her face suddenly consumed in guilt. “Frank, my husband, was to make a delivery- I guess you would call it a drop- last night. In return, we were to get our youngest son returned.”

“Your youngest … kidnapped?” Sargent Sanchez found it difficult to restrain his voice. “Don’t you think that would have assisted us in the search?”

“I just couldn’t take any chances. They said if we told anyone about the kidnapping…”

“Then why did you come here?”

“Frank’s law partners reported him missing. I thought it would be easier to explain if I just came in and reported a late fishing exhibition.”

Suddenly, ‘Beethoven’s Fifth’ came bursting from her purse. “Frank!”

“Ms. Bisquenue, you were warned. Why are you at the police station?

Joan fainted.

Written for Sunday Photo Fiction. Requirements: With the help of the photo prompt, create a 200+ word flash story.

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