The Elizabeth McClaine Thriller Boxed Set

by Catherine Lea

  Holly wiggled into the bed but just as Kelsey tucked the comforter around her, a little hand popped out, snatching at the air. “Ninny, Ninny,” she pleaded.

  “Ninny? What’s a ninny?”

  “Ninny Nion,” Holly said and snatched at the air again. “Wah Ninny Nion.”

  “You want your nanny? You mean Sienna …?” But before Kelsey could finish, Holly’s eyes widened and she let out a howl that made Kelsey jump. “Hey, hey,” she said, but Holly sucked in another breath and howled even louder. Her arms flayed and feet kicked, and all Kelsey could do was grab her wrists and pin her down. “Hey, whoa there. Sienna’s not here. You hear me? She’s not here. She’s all gone.”

  Holly fell silent. She sucked in one long hiccupping breath and drew the back of her sleeve across her eyes. “Nenna ah gong?” she asked. “No Nenna?”

  “Nope, no Sienna. She’s way gone. And she ain’t comin’ back.”

  Holly reached out again. “Wah Ninny Nion.”

  “Oh, I got it. You mean Lilly Lion.” When Holly’s eyes lit up and she snapped her hand again, Kelsey said, “Okay, so Lilly must be your favorite toy, right?” She touched her finger to the end of Holly’s nose. “Well, I’m sorry, but I don’t have your Lilly Lion. Listen, though, I’ll make you a deal—”

  But before she could finish, the door behind her opened and Matt leaned in. “What the hell’s goin’ on? Why’s she yelling like that?”

  Kelsey tucked the comforter up around the child, then turned. “Nothing. Everything’s fine.”

  Matt regarded them both, and dropped his shoulders. Twenty-four years old, Matt was as good-looking as the day Kelsey met him—maybe better. Thick brown hair, strong white teeth, great body. He was the one who had planned all this. Right down to the last detail. He had covered bases no one else even thought of. Like mailing the ransom note out the day before so it got there at the perfect time. Kelsey would never have thought of that. She would have just called on the phone like you see in the movies. Matt told her the cops could track you down if you called on the phone. But how many people passed through a different part of town one day and were gone the next? So if you posted a letter from any particular part of town, how would the cops ever trace it? The rest was in the timing. That’s what he’d said.

  Even now she still didn’t understand why they couldn’t just call on the phone. But there you had it. Matt was the smart one. Kelsey’s old man always said she was dumb as a sack of hammers. But she had enough clues to know smart when she saw it. And Matt’s ingenuity, his cleverness, his ability to make something out of any situation; those were the things she loved most about him. Though lately, he had so much on his mind he hardly seemed like the same guy.

  He raked his fingers through his hair and said, “I’m going to get something to eat. You want something?”

  “I’ll go,” she said.

  “We’ll both go.”

  “No,” she replied so sharply that he shot her a look. “I’m not leaving her with Lionel.”

  “I don’t know why you don’t like him.”

  “It’s not that,” she lied. “It’s just … what if he gets strung out? He can’t look after her if he’s out of it. Anyway, she needs some shit for her eyes. They’re all red and itchy. They’re driving her nuts.”

  Matt spread his hands and let his gaze circle the room in exaggerated wonderment. “So, why’s that our problem? Why do we have to get it? Why can’t her rich parents shell out their money for it? It’s not like they can’t afford it.”

  “Well, maybe they would. Only they’re not exactly here.”

  He considered it. “Okay. You go. Don’t talk to anyone, keep your head down and stay low. Don’t go blowing this. We’ve come way too far to screw it up now.”

  “Just keep an eye on her.”

  Kelsey followed him to the door and looked back. Holly lay tucked under the covers, grinding her little fists into her eyes. “Just keep checking on her. Make sure she’s okay,” she said and pulled the door closed.

  Downstairs Matt dug in his pocket and came up with ten dollars. “Quit worrying, will you? We’ll take good care of her.”

  Matt was Kelsey’s world. She never trusted anyone like she trusted him. She’d trust him with her life. She wouldn’t trust Lionel to butter her toast. If she’d had the choice, she’d have taken Holly with her. That option wasn’t on the table. So she’d have to move fast.

  CHAPTER THREE

  DAY ONE: 3:51 PM—ELIZABETH

  Elizabeth McClaine sat on her wide, black sofa in the living room of her luxury lakeside home in the better part of Bay Village, nibbling her thumbnail. She was still reeling from the news the man sitting across from her had just delivered, and wondering why her husband was taking so long to get there.

  She had just checked her watch for the umpteenth time, when she heard the front door close. She immediately got to her feet.

  “Elizabeth, where are you?” Richard called out.

  Once upon a time, everyone called her husband Mac. It didn’t matter who they were—architects, company board members, laborers slogging for minimum wage for his construction conglomerate; they all called him Mac. The minute he’d declared his run for the U.S. Senate, he’d become Richard. Alice, his steel-belted campaign manager, had decreed it. No one argued. They wouldn’t dare.

  “I’m in here,” Elizabeth called out, and pressed her white fingers to her lips, frown lines highlighting the worry in her eyes.

  As soon as he entered the room, he crossed straight to her, placing a protective hand on her shoulder. “I got your message. What’s happened?” At forty-nine, Richard was the picture-perfect politician—handsome features, perfectly styled hair, a smattering of gray at the temples. His gaze flicked first to the martini glass on the coffee table, then to the man who had risen from the seat opposite his wife.

  Their visitor was probably between fifty and sixty but looked older. He wore a woolen coat a year past its best, and one size too big. The two deep creases down his face and bluish pouches under his eyes gave him the look of a chronic insomniac. “Mister McClaine,” he said, with a nod.

  “It’s Holly. She’s been kidnapped,” Elizabeth told her husband in a strained voice. “This is Detective Delaney,” she added, gesturing toward the man. “Holly’s gone, Richard. Someone’s taken her.”

  Richard flashed his election-drive smile and extended his hand, then checked himself and frowned. “Kidnapped?” His attention swung from Elizabeth back to the detective again. “What do you mean kidnapped?”

  Delaney reached into his pocket and produced a square of standard white paper in a sealed plastic bag. He handed it to Richard.

  “It’s a ransom note,” Elizabeth said. She folded her arms across her chest, watching him smooth out the plastic bag so he could read the note.

  His eyes zipped back and forth across the scrawled words within. When he got to the dollar value, he sucked in a breath like he’d been hit in the gut. “Jesus,” he said.

  “They want ten million dollars for Holly’s return,” Elizabeth said.

  “Ten mill … Jesus Christ.” Richard clapped his hand over his mouth and turned to scan the room while the information sank in. Then he turned and waved the plastic bag in Delaney’s direction. “This is unbelievable. What…?” he began, and swallowed hard. “What happens now?”

  “I was just telling your wife that a full investigation is underway, Mr. McClaine. We’re doing everything we can.”

  “When did this happen?” asked Richard. “Are you sure it’s Holly they’ve taken?”

  The detective dredged a notebook from his jacket pocket and flipped through the pages. “At approximately two-thirty this afternoon, a witness saw a young woman running from the scene with a child. We’ve accounted for everyone else in the class and your wife has identified a child’s backpack that was dropped at the scene. It was your daughter’s.”

  Richard turned to her. “And you’re sure it’s hers?”

  “
Yes, of course I’m sure,” she said, a little more sharply than she’d intended. She slipped a glance at the detective and modified her tone. “It’s her Dora the Explorer backpack. And Holly’s the only child in the class the police haven’t located. My God, Richard, her teacher was run down in the street. They took Holly and dragged Mrs. Patterson along the roadway and now she’s in the hospital. What kind of person would do something like this?”

  “Is Audrey going to be all right?”

  “I’m afraid there’s been no word on her condition,” Delaney replied. “Mrs. Patterson was unconscious when she arrived at the hospital. I haven’t heard anything further.”

  Elizabeth clasped her hands to her mouth, whispering, “Dear God, this can’t be happening.”

  Richard read through the note again, frowning and shaking his head. He looked dazed, as if he could barely take the words in. “So, where are the police, the FBI? Who’s investigating this?”

  Delaney’s chin lifted an inch. “Right now our department is handling the case, Mr. McClaine. Reinforcements are being pulled in out of the field as we speak.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  Delaney consulted his notebook again, and took out a pen. “What can you tell me about your nanny, Miss Sienna Alvarez?”

  Elizabeth frowned. “Sienna? Why?”

  “Have you spoken with her today?”

  Elizabeth exchanged a look with her husband. Then he said, “No. Should we have?”

  “We haven’t heard anything from her,” Elizabeth added. “I’ve been trying to contact her. I have no idea where she is.”

  “Do you think she had something to do with this?” Richard asked, tilting his head to see what Delaney had noted down. “Did you try calling her on her phone?” he asked his wife.

  “Well, of course I did,” she replied. Again, she shot a glance at the detective, and softened her voice. “Her phone was turned off.”

  Delaney nodded. “Can you think of anyone who may have a grudge against you, made any threats, perhaps?”

  “No one,” said Elizabeth.

  “Have you seen anyone acting suspicious? Unusual cars driving by the house, that kind of thing? Perhaps anyone who might have taken an unusual interest in your daughter …?” Delaney asked.

  Elizabeth shook her head and looked to her husband, but he’d hardly noticed anything beyond his campaign these days. “Not that I’ve noticed.”

  Delaney nodded, made a note.

  “They said not to talk to anyone,” Elizabeth told the detective. “That’s what it says in the note—that if we go to the police, they’ll harm her. What happens if they find out you’ve been here?”

  Delaney tucked the notebook into the breast pocket of his jacket. “I have officers following up the school incident and questioning witnesses. There’s no way the police couldn’t be involved. But rest assured, any information you’ve given me stays with me.” He regarded each of them. “Don’t worry. We’re already working on a number of positive leads. But remember, if you think of anything that might help us—no matter how insignificant it seems, I need to know immediately. If you can’t get hold of me, leave a message.” He took a stack of cards from his pocket and handed one to Richard, one to Elizabeth.

  She glanced down at the card without reading it. “We will. Thank you.”

  “I’ll need a recent photograph of your daughter, Mrs. McClaine,” Delaney said, giving the room a quick scan. “And a description of what she was wearing this morning.”

  Elizabeth followed his gaze across the sideboards and dressers where no family portraits or mementos were apparent. “Upstairs,” she said. “I’ll go and find one.”

  “I’ll ah … I’ll come and help,” said Richard.

  *****

  Emptiness echoed off the walls in Holly’s room and the air seemed somehow colder in here. Elizabeth hugged herself, feeling as though the dead of winter had suddenly descended on her.

  Richard peeped out into the hallway and quickly closed the door. “Why now? Five days to the election. Five goddamned days,” he groaned as he stalked across to the window.

  “I can’t believe this is happening,” Elizabeth said. She let her gaze trace the room where toys and clothes were positioned like props on a movie set. It was as if the past six years had been erased; as if she’d awoken from some ghastly nightmare, only find herself plunged into something worse.

  Richard had one hand cradling his forehead, the other on his hip. “I cannot believe they sent one policeman—one, for chrissakes. I’m running for the United States Senate. Where’s the FBI? Have they even been informed? I wouldn’t be surprised if this detective shut them out—trying to keep the case in-house. His solve-rate—that’s what this is about.”

  Elizabeth wasn’t listening. “Who would do this? Someone must have been watching her—stalking her. And now she’s out there, all alone. She could be anywhere by now. She could be out of the country. How are we ever going to find her?”

  Richard’s eyes narrowed on a point just beyond the glass. “It’ll be somebody who knows us—they’ve probably been watching our movements, waiting for their chance. And now they expect us to hand them ten million dollars to get our own child back.” For some moments, he said nothing, just stared out with his nostrils flared. He checked his watch. “I’ve got a press conference in half an hour.” He dredged out his Blackberry and checked the screen. “I’ll have to cancel that. And the rally in Columbus tomorrow. Jesus, I’ll have to reschedule my whole week. I don’t even know where to start,” he said, and shut it down again.

  Elizabeth was opening drawers, aimlessly searching them, then pushing them back in. She was trying to remember the last time she had even seen her daughter, much less spoken to her. “I don’t like that detective. I feel like he’s accusing us of something—of being bad parents; of not caring about her.” She shoved one drawer back in with a bang and pulled out another. “What were we supposed to do? Keep her with us every minute of the day? That’s ridiculous. And would she want that? I doubt it.”

  “I’d like to know what happened to Holly’s car,” Richard said. “We pay that driver to take her to school every day and pick her up. Have the police even spoken to him? He’d be the first one I’d be talking to.”

  Finding no photographs in the dresser, Elizabeth crossed to the highboy and pulled out the top drawer. At the very back, she found a school photograph. It showed Holly’s round, flat face smiling into the camera with her pink puffy eyes and scarred upper lip. She stared down at it for some seconds while an avalanche of emotions crashed down on her. That old familiar pain—already she could feel it leaching back. She had borne it for three long years until she had finally wrenched herself free of it. At a distance she was safe. She could shut off her emotions. Such a respite may have been tenuous, but it let her breathe. Now that respite was gone and reality had come gushing back to fill the void. She drew in a deep breath and stiffened. “Here, I found this. It’s her school photograph.”

  Richard stepped across to look over her shoulder at it. “Don’t we have a better one?”

  “If we do, I don’t know where.” She crossed to the closet and parted the dresses and sweaters hanging inside. She had no idea what was in the closet let alone what wasn’t. She took down a dress, checked the label. Then a second, and a third. “What? I don’t understand. These are all Target brands. I give Sienna two thousand dollars a month to buy clothes for Holly. What’s she doing with the money?”

  Richard was standing in the center of the room, looking around as though he’d just woken to find himself somewhere he didn’t recognize. Then the words hit him. “What? Two thousand dollars? Don’t we pay her enough? Maybe it’s time we got rid of her. She skulks around here watching every move we make. She never smiles; never speaks. I don’t even know why we employed her.”

  Elizabeth shoved the dresses back into the closet. “Don’t be ridiculous. We need her. And besides, it doesn’t matter whether you like her or not, Holly adores h
er.”

  “You want to keep someone working for us—in our home—when she’s stealing from us?”

  Elizabeth crossed to the dresser and pulled open another drawer, realized she’d already searched it and pushed it back in. “Now you’re being over-dramatic. She’s not stealing from us. I’ll talk to her about it when she gets here. There’ll be some simple explanation.”

  “If she ever gets here …” Richard said, and let the implication hang between them.

  “What do you mean, if she gets here?”

  “Well, think about it—Holly’s suddenly kidnapped, Sienna disappears …” He spread his hands as if to say, “Need I say more?”

  “Sienna would never do that. She loves Holly. Anyway, she doesn’t have a tattoo.”

  “It’s exactly what the police will be thinking. Tattoo or no tattoo, she’ll be top of their suspect list.”

  She was about to object when Delaney’s voice echoed up from the bottom of the stairs. “Mr. McClaine, is everything all right up there?”

  Richard crossed quickly to the door, opened it, and leaned out. “Yes, fine. We’ll be right down.” He closed the door again. “Dear God, I don’t believe this.”

  Elizabeth pulled out more drawers, hunted through them, and pushed them back in again. Finally, she cast a helpless look across the room and shook her head. “Well, I have no idea what she was wearing when she left this morning. Why don’t we just give the kidnappers whatever they want so we can get her back? At least then we can get on with our lives again.”

  Richard ignored her. His gaze was fixed toward the window, staring vacantly into space. “That’s out of the question,” he said absently.

  “Out of the question? What do you mean, out of the question? The note said if we pay the ransom, we’ll get Holly back.” When he still said nothing, she took a step closer. “Are you listening?”