The Elizabeth McClaine Thriller Boxed Set

by Catherine Lea

“That’s out of the question. I have to stay here,” said Richard. “Well, with so much going on …” He gestured to what was now a rapidly depleting crowd.

  “I’ll go,” said Elizabeth. In fact, she couldn’t wait to get out of there. She’d go home and close the door on the world.

  “Fine. Officer Wallace is on his way over here. He called on your home earlier today but of course, you weren’t there,” Delaney said. “As soon as he gets here we’ll get going. Officer Kennedy here will be stationed with you, Mr. McClaine.” Behind him, the young policeman stepped forward and nodded.

  “I hope you’ve got the house under constant surveillance,” said Alice. “That’s the first thing I would have done.”

  “We have an unmarked car doing regular checks at five-minute intervals, Mrs. Cressley. I do know my job,” he told her. “If we have an obvious presence at the house, they may not send the next letter. No letter, you don’t get your extra day.”

  “I hope they’re looking after her,” Elizabeth said in a small voice. Despite the fact that she couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her daughter, she’d never felt so far from her.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  DAY ONE: 9:56 PM—KELSEY

  “The hell do they mean, another day?” Matt asked again. It was the third time he had said it, and neither Kelsey nor Lionel were coming back with answers. “What the hell is wrong with these people?” he demanded, spreading his hands in disbelief at the TV anchor who now babbled on in muted silence.

  Every now and then, pictures taken from various angles of the street outside the school flashed up across the screen, alternating with the school photograph of Holly. “And how come they only just found out? The goddamned letter was delivered in the three o’clock mail. Three o’clock, for chrissakes! What is it now? Almost ten. What the hell were they doing all this time?” he asked Kelsey and Lionel.

  “They’re too stinkin’ rich to open their own mail,” mumbled Lionel, switching from screen to screen on his iPod, searching for something to listen to. He was already coming down from his all-too-brief high. Frustrated, he tossed the iPod down on the coffee table, snatched up Matt’s cigarettes, extracted one from the pack and lit it. “I say we tell ’em to go fuck ’emselves. They give us the money, or we pop her. Plain and simple,” he said as wisps of smoke snaked from his nose and mouth.

  “But what if they can’t get the money right away?” Kelsey asked. “What if they don’t have the cash sitting in the bank and they have to sell some stocks or shares or whatever? What time does the stock market close?”

  He glanced at his watch and the corners of his mouth drew down. “I dunno, hours ago, I guess.”

  She shifted in her seat. “Okay, so we told them twelve noon. Another day’ll make it twelve noon on Saturday. Ten million’s gotta be tougher to find than the hundred grand we were going to ask for. And what difference does it make?”

  Matt pressed his fingers to his eyes. “For chrissakes. What do you mean, ‘what difference does it make’? We’re sitting here like a bunch of morons waiting to get sprung, is what difference it makes. Every minute we’ve got that kid and no money, they’re getting closer,” he said, pointing off to somewhere out front. “That’s the difference.”

  “But, we’re gonna take her home after, aren’t we?” she asked.

  Matt’s entire body tensed up. “Will you shut up about taking her home? You don’t shut up about it, I’ll go up there and fuckin’ kill her myself.”

  She fell silent. When he was like this it didn’t pay to aggravate him. Problem was he’d been like this a lot more since he lost his job on the construction site six weeks ago. But he was smart, he’d come up with something. And he wouldn’t do anything stupid. She knew that much. Matt picked up his phone, checked the screen, put it down again. Kelsey wondered if he was expecting a call. It wasn’t a good time to ask.

  “Okay,” he said at last, and sat down again. “This is how it goes down from here …” He paused, turning his head towards the window where a background din outside had been slowly rising. Jaws clenched in irritation, he got to his feet, went to the window and parted the dirty curtains.

  Out front, cars had been driving up and down the street, sound systems booming and sending vibrations through the house at regular intervals. Up until now they had ignored it—well, this kind of neighborhood, what did they expect? And whereas before, the loud rhythmic thumping of rap music came and went with the cars, now it droned on in one long, low-level series of vibrations that punched through the walls and the floor and rattled the windows. “What the hell’s going on out there?” Matt angled his head against the glass, looking up and down the street before narrowing the source of the racket down to the house opposite.

  Kelsey moved in next to him, also peering out at the house. Lights were on and music poured out of the open windows as though it had mass and energy and a life of its own. Beefed-up guys in gang colors, and girls in tight jeans, puff jackets with fur-lined hoods, and high leather boots were sitting out on the porch, or milling around with bottles and cigarettes in their hands, yahooing and laughing as they wandered in and out of the house. Cars lined either side of the street and every now and then, a shriek of laughter rang out above the music.

  “A party. Shit,” said Kelsey. “They better not wake Holly up.”

  Matt growled in irritation, and was about to say something when his phone rang. He snatched it up off the coffee table, checked the screen and answered it with, “About fuckin’ time.” He listened, grunted a couple of times, then said, “I changed the amount. You got a problem with that?” Whoever he was talking to said something, to which he replied, “Yeah, whatever.” Then he hung up. “We’ll give them until three,” he told them as he tossed the phone back down.

  “Who was that?” Kelsey asked. It got her a filthy look but no reply.

  Lionel was slouched back in his chair, blowing smoke rings, watching them wobble and dissolve in the air. “Don’t know why we’re givin’ them an extra three hours. We should just get our money and get the hell outta here.”

  “I think we should give them the day,” said Kelsey. “Maybe they need it, y’know. And it’s only like, one more day.”

  Matt turned on her. “What’d I just tell you? That’s another day we have to stay low, another day the cops have to find us.” He began stalking back and forth, shaking his head and darting aggravated looks at the window where car headlights intermittently swept the room as more and more people arrived.

  Then, the music got louder.

  “Jesus Christ,” Matt groaned. “How are we supposed to stay here, keeping low and staying out of sight when we got half of Cleveland just across the street?”

  “Y’know, I heard of kidnappers that kept people for days, sometimes weeks,” Kelsey told him in a conversational tone, trying to sound reasonable. “I mean, there’s no hurry. I can look after her. I can make sure she stays out of sight.”

  “In Somalia they keep ’em for goddamn years,” Lionel muttered and blew another smoke ring. “End of the day, they always come back dead.” He turned a grin on her.

  “Will you quit bitching about Somalia?” Matt said. “I told you the money’s …” He stopped, scrubbed at his face, seemed to gather himself. “We’ll get the money, okay? We’ll get it.”

  “They’re gonna want to know she’s alive,” Lionel muttered casually.

  “Will you shut up and let me think?” Matt sat down and buried his head in his hands. “Okay, this is the deal. We give ’em the day. But that’s it. Saturday noon, we’re gone. Gimme a sheet of paper.”

  “But then we’ll take her home, right?” said Kelsey.

  Matt just gave her a look.

  Lionel leaned forward, slid a sheet of paper from the ream they had bought two days prior, and held it out. Matt pulled a pair of white cotton gloves from his pants pocket, slipped them on, and snatched another sheet from it. “No prints, see? That’s why I’m the one in charge here,” he said, showing the b
oth of them the new sheet of paper. He perched on the edge of the sofa, took out a pen and wrote several lines.

  “So, how do we prove she’s alive?” Kelsey asked. The last thing she wanted to do was annoy Matt any further. Annoy him more than this, you were likely to wind up with a smack in the mouth for your troubles. But some questions had to be asked.

  He gave it a moment’s thought. “We’ll send a photograph.” He took his phone from his pocket and placed it on the table.

  “How are they going to see it?” Lionel asked. The whole situation seemed to be amusing him. “Are you gonna email it to them?” he said and chuckled. “How about we stick it on Facebook,” he added and laughed.

  Matt froze for a full four seconds, his flinty gaze directed at a point a few feet in front of him, his breath rasping. “No,” he said with forced calm. “I’ll give them my phone and the memory card. And I’ll also give them my name, my address and my date of birth. How’s that?” he said through clenched teeth. “We’ll take a photo of her with today’s paper, then we’ll print it out. Anybody else got any smartass comments?”

  “So how do we print it out?” asked Kelsey.

  “Everyone thinks I’m a fuckin’ idiot. Nobody thinks I can think for myself,” he said and threw the pen across the room where it hit the wall and broke. He folded the sheet of paper roughly, stuffed it into an envelope. “Whichever of us delivers the note can go by Walgreens and print out a copy of the photo in one of the kiosks there. Then they’ll stick it in this here envelope and go deliver it. Got that? Everybody happy?”

  Kelsey nodded. “Yeah, sure. That’s a good idea.”

  “I know it’s a good idea,” he told her. “That’s why I thought of it.”

  “Only we don’t have today’s paper,” Lionel added. He was now lounging back in his chair with his feet crossed on the coffee table, watching the TV and taking a last drag on his cigarette.

  Matt said nothing, just glared at him. Then he said, “I know … wait here.” He went to the front door, leaving the door open for the music and laughter to flood in from outside while he disappeared. A few seconds later he came back in with a handful of junk from the mailbox. He kicked the door shut and flitted through the circulars and foldouts, tossing the discarded papers on the floor, until he came to a yellow sheet of paper advertising specials for a local computer store. “We’ll use this. It’s a one-day sale and it just came today. It says ‘tomorrow’s specials’ with tomorrow’s date, so it had to be delivered today.”

  “I’ll go,” said Kelsey. “I’ll deliver the letter.”

  The two brothers hesitated.

  “It makes sense. I’m the only one they’ve seen. If I get caught …”

  “Yeah,” said Lionel. He scratched at a scab that was developing on his cheek. “She’s right. She should go.”

  Matt gave it some air. “Yeah, that makes sense. You take it, but make it fast. Her folks are still downtown so now’s your best chance. You go to Walgreens, drop the letter, then get straight back here, y’hear? Drive to the speed limit, take the backstreets, and don’t go stopping along the way,” he told her. “And be careful. They’ll have the street staked out. Pick your timing. Don’t fuck it up.”

  “I know, I know. I’ll be quick as I can. We better get a good photo. Just let me check on her first.”

  *****

  Upstairs the bed was empty. Kelsey’s heart almost stopped until she saw Holly over at the window, peering down at the commotion across the street.

  “Hey, get away from there.” She scooped the child up in her arms and carried her back to the bed. “Those are mean sons of … people down there. You don’t wanna let them see you up here. You hear me?”

  “Wah Ninny.”

  Kelsey sighed. “I already told you, I don’t have it, so shut up about it.” Holly’s brow furrowed. Her chin crumpled and the corners of her little mouth turned down. “Oh hey, I’m sorry.” She tucked the child into the bed and sat down on the edge, leaning over her with a hand each side. “You gotta stay with us one more day, okay? Matt’s gonna come up soon and we’ll take a photo of you so your mom won’t miss you too much. And the time’ll go like that,” she said, snapping her fingers. “I promise, in no time at all you’ll be back with your family.”

  Holly’s eyebrows rose in the middle, forming an inverted V, and her mouth puckered. “Ninny,” she whimpered.

  “I just said …” Kelsey stopped herself. Something was irritating her—something she couldn’t put her finger on. It was as if some small piece of her world had shifted—a change so small that every time she tried to nail down exactly what it was, it slithered away out of reach and disappeared. “I don’t have your lion. But I’ll get it, okay? I’ll get your Lilly Lion. I’m going back to your house to get the stuff for your eyes anyway. You’re gonna be with us an extra day, so you’re gonna need it. So, I’ll get your damned lion while I’m there.”

  Holly’s face lit up. “Ninny?” She giggled, wriggling in the bed and kicking her feet.

  Despite her irritation, Kelsey smiled. “Yes, Lilly. Doesn’t take much to make you happy, does it? But, don’t tell Matt. He’ll go ape-shit.” She leaned close down over the child, and whispered, “It’ll be our little secret, right?”

  Holly peered up with her red, swollen eyes and her damaged lip, and grinned. “Nuvs Ninny Nion,” she said, drawing both her little fists across her chest. Then she ran her hand back over her hair in one deliberate movement.

  “Oh, believe me, I know you love Lilly Lion. Hey, and you can do that signing language. Wow. And that means love.” Kelsey held her fists crossed at her chest. “You know somethin’? That means you know a whole other language.” She smiled down at this strangely beautiful child. “And you taught me something. That makes you real smart—smarter than me, because I only know one language.”

  Holly frowned. “No.” She clamped her little fists across her chest again. “Nangsie Mommy mart. Nuvs Nangsie Mommy.” Kelsey Money smart. Loves Kelsey Money.

  Kelsey leaned low again, took the child’s face in her hands and looked hard into those crusted eyes for the longest moment. “Don’t talk shit,” she said and sat up. “Now listen up. I gotta go now because if I don’t, we’ll miss the opportunity. Then we’ll be sitting up shit street and no one will be going anywhere.”

  “Agh, agh,” Holly cried out, her hand snapping for Kelsey.

  “No, I can’t. Soon as we got this photograph, I gotta go. But Matt’s here. He’ll look after you.” But even as her words hit the air, something deep down in the very pit of her gut shifted once more—that small, insignificant niggle. Like a tiny pebble tumbling down the rock face of an enormous precipice with a barely audible click, click, click as it bounced off the hard, cold surface, plummeting into the depths below. Kelsey could not identify the source of the movement; she didn’t know what had dislodged it. But there it was—creating ripples in her world and making its presence felt.

  “Listen to me,” she told Holly. “I’m gonna take you home to your mom. Not right now, though. I can’t. But when the time comes, I will. I promise.”

  “Snay wah Nangsie Mommy,” she said, using her sign language as she fought to mold the words with her scarred lips and her thick tongue. “Snay wah yoo.” Stay with you.

  “No. No you can’t stay with Kelsey Money. I got nowhere to keep you, no home or nothin’. You got a beautiful home with all your toys and stuff. I gotta take you home. On Saturday, okay? But you gotta listen to me. Are you listening?” The child blinked up at her. “If Lionel comes up here, if he comes anywhere near you, you holler. Just open up and yell. Matt will come. He’ll help you. You hear? But, I’m warning you, he’ll be pissed as hell. He’ll yell and make a performance out of it like you don’t know what. But don’t worry. He won’t hurt you.” There was that distant click, click, click, once more. “And I’ll be back before you can even count.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  DAY ONE: 10:07 PM—ELIZABETH

  Elizabeth h
ad her purse clutched to her chest as she headed towards the door of the makeshift control/campaign room that was now Richard’s campaign central. All she wanted was to get home, kick off her shoes, and get away from all these prying eyes. Perhaps once she was alone, she could figure out how the hell she was going to get her child home. Because from what she’d already seen, she needed more than one incompetent policeman and Alice Cressley’s PR circus to find her.

  Just as she reached for the door, however, the unmistakable sound of Alice Cressley’s voice cut across the din, calling her name. Elizabeth froze, debating the wisdom of just walking out and not looking back. She decided against it and slowly turned.

  “Did you hear me?” Alice said, as she approached.

  “I did. I was wondering if I should simply ignore you.”

  “Then you made an excellent choice.” Without waiting for a response, she stepped aside, indicating to the woman who was standing behind her. “I’d like you to meet Diana du Plessis. You may remember she was sitting in the front row during Richard’s speech.”

  Terrific, she thought. “Yes, I was just …”

  “We meet at last, Mrs. McClaine.” Diana du Plessis smiled and extended her hand.

  Alice cut in, saying, “Miss du Plessis will be accompanying you to the hospital to visit the teacher tomorrow. At ten o’clock, she’ll join you to attend an open day at the school.”

  “Is that so,” Elizabeth said. “And since when did you start organizing my calendar, Mrs. Cressley?”

  “Since your daughter got kidnapped, Mrs. McClaine. Would you excuse us a moment?” Alice took Elizabeth by the arm, angling her around, and guided her off to the side.

  “Of course,” Diana du Plessis replied, as though she hadn’t noticed.

  As soon as they were out of earshot, Alice dropped her voice. “Now listen here. I am tired, and when I’m tired, I become even more cantankerous than I normally am. I’ve gone to great pains to organize an exclusive with this woman—and before you go butting in—” she added as Elizabeth tried to protest, “—this could be the difference between getting your daughter back and getting her killed. Diana du Plessis may be a bleeding heart liberal I would not cross the street to spit upon, much less read the trash she writes, but she has clout. She writes human interest stories, which means we can pick up an entirely different demographic. This is a very large, well-informed vote we may otherwise have never had access to. Richard and I have already given her exclusive rights to the story, which will run in four of the biggest newspapers in the state first thing in the morning. All you need to do is stay sober and nod. Do you think you can do that?”