The Elizabeth McClaine Thriller Boxed Set

by Catherine Lea

  “But who would take her?” Sienna asked, as if the notion of someone kidnapping the child was completely out of all reason. “Why would anybody even do that?”

  “We don’t know. The police are investigating. The thing is, Sienna, I know how much you love Holly and how much you love working here …”

  Sienna’s expression shifted, as if she could see what was coming. “Yes. So …?”

  Elizabeth drew a faltering breath. “That’s the thing, you see. Without Holly here … well, you may as well go home. I’m sorry, but with all the—”

  “You are firing me?” Sienna’s eyes widened and she stepped back.

  “No, of course not. But …” Elizabeth massaged her forehead with her fingers. She was wishing she’d let Richard deal with this. He was the communicator. He was the one people listened to. He was also the one who wanted to get rid of the nanny. “Look, I don’t know what’s going to happen and I’d rather not discuss this now. When Holly comes home, then we’ll talk about the terms of your employment—”

  “What do you mean ‘term of my employment?’ I don’t understand. I done nothing wrong. I was at my mother’s. You go ask …”

  “Sienna, I’m not arguing about this—”

  “So what about me? I got rent to pay. I got to make repayments on my car.”

  Elizabeth’s mouth dropped open. “Holly has been kidnapped. Have you even been listening to what I’m saying?”

  The girl lowered her eyes. “Yes, Mrs. McClaine. I’m sorry.”

  For the longest time, she said nothing. Just stood with her head bowed.

  Elizabeth raised her hands briefly and dropped them. “I’ll make sure you get your money, but I don’t know what else I can tell you. This is all so …” She drew in a breath, huffed it out. “I’m sorry. Go home. There’s nothing you can do here.”

  The silence stretched. Elizabeth reached out to the girl, meaning to break the tension with a few consoling words. But when the nanny’s eyes lifted, instead of that sweet, smiling girl who had gushed over Holly at their first meeting, Elizabeth found herself staring into the cold and bitter glare of someone she hardly even recognized.

  Sienna quickly turned away. She snatched up her purse, hugging it close to her chest. “I have to go.”

  “No, wait.” Elizabeth crossed the kitchen to cut her off. She grabbed her by the arm and jerked her around. “Where were you today? Where did you go?”

  “I already tell you. I’m at my mother’s. Go ask her, if you don’t believe me. I done nothing wrong.”

  Sienna went to pull her arm away but Elizabeth tightened her grip. “Why didn’t you call me? You were supposed to be looking after Holly. That’s what I pay you for, dammit.”

  “I try to call you. I already tell you all this.”

  “So, what? You just drive off? Not knowing if she’d get home?”

  “This is not my job. This is the driver’s job. Now leave me alone.” She jerked her arm free, shouldered the door open and stalked out, leaving Elizabeth wilting at the shoulders, and wondering if she could have handled that any worse.

  Furious with herself and sickened by the exchange, she snatched up the note and cast it angrily into the trash, then turned for the living room. But out of nowhere, a single sob welled up and burst from her lips before she could stop it. She clapped her hand to her mouth. “No,” she whispered to herself. “No, no, no. Not now.” She blinked hard at the ceiling, patted the tears from her eyes, and pulled herself back together again.

  By the time she reentered the living room, Elizabeth was the epitome of politician’s dutiful wife again—calm, collected, in full control. Richard and Alice, on the other hand, were both on their feet, gaping open-mouthed at the door Sienna had just stormed through, slamming it as she went.

  Richard immediately turned on her. “You fired her?”

  “Of course not. Why would I fire Sienna? I was trying to explain the situation to her.”

  “Well you didn’t do a very good job,” Alice said. “The girl thinks you just fired her. At this rate, we’ll have an employment dispute and the entire Hispanic community hammering down the door. Jesus Christ, this is all we need.”

  “How could you let her go like that?” Richard said, gesturing after the girl. “Why didn’t you discuss this with me first?”

  “Me? You’re the one that wanted to get rid of her …”

  Alice raised a calming hand. “Forget it, Richard. “I’ll pay her out. It’s not an issue. Seriously, Mrs. McClaine, we’ve got enough problems here. I’m beginning to wonder whose side you’re on.”

  Elizabeth felt her cheeks flash hot. “I’m on my daughter’s side. Whose side do you think I’m on?”

  “Well, right now you’re not doing her any favors. The press gets one whiff of this fiasco, the only media we’ll be featuring in is the tabloids.”

  “What the hell do we do now?” Richard muttered, and massaged his jaw.

  “I told you, I’ll handle it,” Alice said. “Now, go change your clothes. I’ve got a press conference set up for nine-thirty. I want you in smart casual—nothing expensive, leave out the Armani. In fact, go one better. Go drab. You’re stressed; you’re pressured. Drab under these circumstances is understandable. Elizabeth,” she said, giving her a brief appraisal. “You’ll be fine as you are.”

  Elizabeth said nothing. She didn’t much care what the woman thought.

  “Come on, people,” Alice shouted, clapping her hands as Richard flew up the stairs. “I want harassed, I want home-style, I want ‘I just got home and ripped my tie off and I haven’t had time to eat.’”

  Elizabeth pursed her lips and crossed to the liquor cabinet.

  Alice watched her. “With all due respect, Mrs. McClaine, drinking right now would be a very bad idea.”

  “I think I’m a little tired of your ideas, Mrs. Cressley,” Elizabeth said and reached for a glass.

  In an instant, Alice crossed to her, stepping in so close, they were almost nose to nose. “You listen to me, and you listen good,” she said in a low voice. “I’m sixty-five years old; your husband’s candidacy is on the line here. I’ve been in this business many, many years, and to date, he’s my best shot at the White House. If you think I’m going to let a drunken housewife stand in my way, try me.”

  The two women stood silent, locked in a battle of wills for ten solid seconds. Then Richard appeared at the top of the stairs. “Let’s go,” he said. “I’ll take my car.”

  Alice broke away and snatched up her bag. “You’re not taking that car, Richard. You take that car, people see ostentation. People see money they don’t have. We’re working against a Democrat incumbent in tough times here. People think you’re waving your money in their face, they’ll tell you to go to hell. We’re taking my car.”

  “How do I look?” he asked, straightening the collar of his pale pink shirt and rolling up the sleeves.

  “Good, I like the color choice,” Alice said. “Now go get in the car before this policeman gets here and the whole plan is shot to hell.”

  They locked the house and went straight to Alice’s car. Richard got into the passenger’s seat, leaving Elizabeth in the back like an unwanted accessory.

  “Okay, here’s how we play it,” Alice said. She started the engine, wrenched the shift-stick into gear, and reversed into the street. “I didn’t have time to get a speech drawn up, so, you’re flying solo. But here are the rules …” She glanced across to find Richard consulting his Blackberry again. “Are you listening to me?”

  “Yes, yes, I’m listening,” he said, and put the device in his pocket.

  Alice slammed the car into drive and stamped her foot on the gas, her eyes swiveling from the road to the rearview mirror. “You do not talk money. You do not talk politics. You make one remark about politics, this crowd will take you to the pit. And believe me when I say I’ll be the first with my foot in your back. You hear me?”

  Richard had one hand on the dash, the other gripping the seat
. “I do,” he said.

  “You start off by placing your arm around Elizabeth’s shoulders. You have to give the impression of a solid unit here. Then you open by addressing your absence in the closing stages of a hard-fought political campaign.”

  “So, I mention the campaign at this point?” he asked.

  “No. I am not saying that,” she said. As they approached a red light, Alice stamped her foot so hard on the brake, all three in the car bent forward like reeds in a hurricane. “Just listen to what I’m telling you.”

  Richard nodded.

  “You go on to say that your six-year-old daughter didn’t return home from school, and that you’ve subsequently discovered that someone has taken her. Pause for effect, let it sink in. Then you say, ‘We don’t know who is responsible.’”

  Richard nodded, hanging on her every word.

  When the light turned green, Alice pressed her foot to the gas and they sped away again. “While you’re speaking, imagine there’s an audience in front of you. Chances are there’ll be no more than six people present—doesn’t matter.”

  “Are you going to bother mentioning the girl had a tattoo and a wig?” Elizabeth asked. “Or isn’t that part of the show?”

  Alice shot her a look in the rearview mirror. “Do you want to panic these people? Do you want them to kill her?”

  “Of course not,” said Elizabeth.

  “We’re not dealing with political terrorists here,” she said. “We’re not dealing with any kind of strategic genius. These people are stupid. Anyone who sends a note the police can take fingerprints off is a moron. Anyone who does that and doesn’t include details for the money drop is stupid beyond belief. Now, they have to send another note. My guess is they’ll have the money transferred from one bank account to the next. But the minute they give the police that first account number, it’ll be traced, so they’ll send another note giving you a two-minute window to deposit the funds, then they’ll transfer it.”

  “That’s if we manage to raise the money in time,” Elizabeth said, aiming the remark at her husband. Her tone had acquired an edge. She was sick of sitting in the back of Alice’s car. She was sick of the sound of Alice’s voice. All she wanted was to get away from this dreadful woman and get a drink.

  “If these people have any brains at all,” Alice said, “the money will go to a location where the United States government can’t retrieve it.” She pulled the car to an abrupt halt in front of her office block, wrenched on the parking brake, and yanked the keys from the ignition. “So, then you go on to say how you just got home and found the note. Make it their fault. Make them realize they messed up. Finally, you look straight down the barrel of the camera and you ask the kidnappers for one more day. Wait here, while I get my other briefcase.”

  “You think they’ll buy it?” Richard asked. “The extra day?”

  Alice turned in her seat. “Listen to me. The kidnappers are expecting the money at noon tomorrow. Once they’ve heard your speech—and believe me, they will be listening—they will know they can’t have the money when they wanted it because they screwed up. But you must ask for that extra day. I can’t do this without it. We need the momentum; we need the exposure. I want the American public to see a man who’ll go to the ends of the earth for his daughter. I want them to see a man who will move heaven and earth to get his child back. Then you thank everybody, the end.”

  “What do I say?” Elizabeth asked her.

  “You don’t say a word. Let Richard do the talking. That’s what he’s good at.” Alice got out of the car and went straight to her building, leaving Richard and Elizabeth sitting in the car in an icy silence for almost three minutes.

  When Alice returned, she got into the car, twisted the key in the ignition, and picked up from where she’d left off. “So, immediately after the speech, Richard and I will head on downtown. I took out a lease on some space there. It’s not much, but it’ll be campaign headquarters for the next few days. Elizabeth, you can go home straight after. And don’t drink anything. I need you alert. If anything happens, they’ll want to interview both parents.”

  Elizabeth snorted. “What, are you afraid they’ll find my daughter and I’ll be too drunk to speak coherently?”

  Alice pulled the seat belt down and snapped it into place. “Those are your words, Mrs. McClaine, not mine.”

  “Your opinion of me must be so low, Mrs. Cressley. Are you sure you can trust me to be on my own?”

  Alice met her gaze in the mirror again and held it. “If you want the truth, no, I don’t trust you. And it’s nothing to do with opinion. It’s past experience. Unfortunately, I need you to be at home when the next letter arrives.”

  Elizabeth said nothing. She didn’t have to. As they pulled back out into the traffic, she folded her arms across her chest and turned her attention to the passing landscape.

  The instant they hit the freeway, Alice checked her watch. “It’s now eight-thirty-five. It’ll take us approximately twenty-two minutes to get there from here.” She turned briefly to check the traffic behind them, then hit the gas. “Hold on to your hats, kids. We’re in for a bumpy ride.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  DAY ONE: 8:35 PM—KELSEY

  By the time Kelsey pulled the SUV back into the safe-house driveway, the sun was down, the temperature had dropped into the thirties, and the streetlights were on. She collected the three bags of McDonald’s, checked the package in her pocket, and went inside.

  As she closed the door, Lionel and Matt turned from where they were sitting in front of the TV, and Matt got to his feet. “Where’d you go? Canada?”

  Kelsey gave him one of the bags, another to Lionel, who snatched it out of her hand and tossed it on the coffee table. “I went by the drugstore to get some shit for her eyes. Then I got stuck in traffic.”

  “Next time, call,” Matt said, as he opened his bag and drew out the Big Mac. He peered into the bag then frowned up at her. “Is this it? Is this all you got?”

  “I didn’t have enough money. I had to get some for Holly.”

  “Don’t know why we have to feed her,” said Lionel. He was sitting back gripping the arms of the chair like it was about to throw him out. Kelsey watched him for a second. She could see the telltale signs: the irritability, the tight angry features, the greasy sweat. Hands trembling, knee bouncing; he was strung out. Lionel spent the better part of his life either strung out or getting clean. He was mean when he was sober, unpredictable when he was high. Strung out, he was ten times worse. Even now his pupils were so dilated they looked like black holes in his face.

  “What?” he said, knee still jiggling, shoulders twitching.

  She shook her head, said nothing.

  “So how much was this eye stuff you got for her?” Matt was asking her.

  She tossed the car keys down on the coffee table. “I didn’t get it. It was thirty-three bucks.”

  Matt’s mouth dropped open. Holy shit, we’re in the wrong game. We should be robbing drugstores at those prices.” And he chomped into his burger.

  “I’ll take Holly’s up to her,” Kelsey told them.

  “And tell her to shut up,” Lionel told her without taking his eyes off the TV. “She’s been blubbering up there since you left. Fuckin’ neighbors’ll hear. Next thing, we’ll have ten thousand cops banging on the door.” Irritated, he sat forward and cupped his hands over his nose and mouth, and squeezed his eyes shut like he was fighting for some kind of control.

  Kelsey turned the unspoken question on Matt, who glanced across at his brother. “He’s fine. Just go,” he said, and stuffed the last of his burger into his mouth.

  Upstairs Kelsey opened the door and peered in. She could hear Holly sobbing beneath the folds in the covers.

  “Hey, hey, what’s up?” She closed the door and went across to her. When she sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned across, the little lump under the comforter fell silent. “I got something for you. Do you wanna see what it is?”

&n
bsp; The covers parted and Holly’s face appeared, eyes red and swollen from crying, a trail of mucus streaming from her nose.

  “Oh man, look at you. C’mere.” Kelsey took a tissue from her pocket and wiped it across the child’s nose. “Don’t go making a big noise. You’ll just piss ’em off downstairs. Here,” she whispered. “Look what I got.” She reached into her jacket pocket and drew out a misshapen cardboard package that was dripping red juice. “It’s strawberries. They’re a teensy bit squashed. But they’ll still taste good.” She opened the top and passed one to Holly who was now sitting up and peering into the pack.

  “Nawmerry?”

  “Yeah, strawberries. I didn’t get the stuff for your eyes, but the pharmacist said you gotta eat fruit. You need the vitamins. My mom used to get me strawberries when I was little.” She picked one out and gave it the child. “Hey, hey,” she said when Holly pushed the whole berry into her mouth and crushed it. “You’re not supposed to eat the green part. You throw that out.” But Holly had plucked another from the box and stuffed that one into her mouth along with a third and a fourth. “Or not. Long as it’s not poison. I guess if it was poison, it’d say on the pack.” She turned the packaging, searching over the print. “Nope, no warnings or nothin’. I guess you’re in the clear.”

  A red trail of drool snaked down Holly’s chin. She dashed her sleeve across it and selected another strawberry, holding it up for Kelsey.

  “Nah. You eat ’em.” Her eyes fell to the child’s arm. Red welts had risen on the skin where she had been scratching. “Shit, now we got fleas. Terrific. There’s hardly enough room for us in the bed without extras. They’ll be in this shitty cover.” She got up, drew the comforter off and shook it hard twice, then replaced it on the bed, tucking it in around the child.

  Kelsey smoothed the comforter and sat down again. “I bet you don’t get fleas where you come from,” she said as Holly crammed strawberries into her mouth, barely chewing before taking another. “Good, huh?” She wiped the trail of juice from the corner of the child’s mouth once more and smiled down at her.