Cody Wegman apologized to Georgia at the Starbucks near Midwest National. Ellie covered Wegman’s hand with her own. “Relax, Cody. You tried.” “Yeah, but I’d thought she’d have more cojones, you know?” Georgia tried not to react. This wasn’t some caper with macho language and attitude. And Ellie was right. It wasn’t the kid’s fault. He’d risked his job to help them. Still, when you rely on amateurs... Ellie and Wegman both peered at her, as if waiting for her to come up with another solution. The problem was she didn’t have one. She sipped her drink. Icy cold and sweet. Small compensation. “What’s so important about those cashiers’ checks?” Wegman asked. Ellie glanced at Georgia. She nodded. “Chris Messenger authorized them,” Ellie explained, conveniently leaving out the part about the bank chairman’s signature. “Then closed the account they came from while her little girl was kidnapped. We think they might be related to her death.” “Whose account was that?”
