The next morning she paused at her door when she heard Yancey talking to someone. The delayed conversation indicated he was talking on the telephone. She paused at her door, reluctant to invade his privacy, but intrigued by what she might derive from his conversation. She glanced back to make sure she wasn't being observed. Tammy and Sarah were eating a snack on the patio. Giddon's angry voice recaptured her attention.
"Twenty-Five thousand? That's a lot of cocaine."
After a pause, his voice was more controlled.
"I don't owe you anything. Consider it an advance until you get the package. I expect you to repay me once it's sold."
Silence followed. Apparently he hung up. She quietly opened the door to her room and carefully closed it behind her and took a deep breath. Apparently he was shipping someone twenty-five thousand dollars worth of cocaine. There it was - the proof. But no, it wasn't proof at all. It was bits and pieces of a telephone conversation with a mystery person. A few minutes later he walked down the hallway. When the back door closed, she emerged from her room. A quick check assured no one was in the house. She walked hesitantly to his office. The door was unlocked. Inside, she closed the door and looked around. From the window of his office, the path was clearly visible. That was something to remember. Waiting until Yancey disappeared down the path, she walked over to the desk. The top was clean except for accessories and a few letters standing upright in a sorter. In the second drawer she found a check book with duplicates. The latest entry was to a Sharon Dobson in the amount of twenty-five thousand. She replaced the checkbook and started to close the drawer, but a thick envelope caught her attention. It looked like the envelope the man in the black car had given him. Carefully lifting the envelope from the drawer, she opened it. She caught her breath. It was stuffed with one thousand dollar bills - fifty of them. The return address on the envelope was Columbia, South America, but it wasn't addressed to anyone.
Blood left her head so fast that for a moment she thought she would faint. She quickly replaced the envelope with shaking hands, making sure it was in exactly the same position as she found it. As she shut the drawer, the envelopes on the top of the desk caught her attention. One was an electric bill, but the other was addressed to Sharon Dobson, Brownsville, Texas. At last, a tangible lead. She grabbed a pen and a notepad, hesitating a second before pulling the top sheet off the notepad. No impression of the address would be left on the pad this way. With the note in her hand, she opened the door slightly and peeked out. Assured that no one was there, she went to her room. There she opened her letter to Connie and added a request to check on that name and address. She didn't mention the conversation or the money. Sealing the letter, she took a stamp from her purse and placed it on the envelope. Announcing that she was mailing a letter didn't seem wise, so she walked down to the mailbox. Standing at the mailbox, it occurred to her that the red flag would be exactly that for Yancey. A short walk up the road uncovered another mailbox. She placed the letter inside and lifted the flag. She had to get a car as soon as possible. Of course, she could call Connie, but Yancey's conversation on the phone was fresh in her memory. Would she have been able to hear his conversation behind a closed door?