She and Delaney had left the house with police cars parked at odd angles and lights blazing up and down their beautiful street. They had driven her to the high-rise hotel Richard had booked downtown, and Delaney had escorted her to a room where the mini-bar had been stripped dry. After impressing on her that he would return to his office and work through the night to find their daughter, he told her to get a good night’s sleep. Then he left.
As if she would rest. As if she would be tucked up in a strange bed, sleeping away the trauma of the day while her daughter was in the hands of a stranger who had murdered their nanny and ruined their lives. She lifted her eyes to the horizon. What on earth did people think went on in her head? Did they think she was callous? Thoughtless? Stupid, perhaps?
“Poor Sienna,” she muttered to no one in particular as she watched yet another police car speed the length of the street below and vanish into the maze of buildings.
Richard was sitting on the bed, his tie loosely coiled next to him, exhaustion creasing his face. “Hmm? Yes. Poor Sienna.”
“Detective Delaney said there were fingerprints everywhere. He said it’s probably the same woman. She didn’t even try to get rid of the evidence. She obviously doesn’t care. What kind of person does this? What kind of a monster steals a child from her family and murders a girl like Sienna?”
Richard rubbed his hands together, as if he was cold. “I wish I had something to drink.”
“If Alice hadn’t stripped the bar you would have,” she told him and returned her gaze to the window. “I could do with a stiff martini myself,” she muttered, ignoring the look he flashed her in the reflected glass. “Holly loved Sienna. She’ll miss her terribly.”
“Yes, because you’d know.” He said it so quietly, Elizabeth almost missed it.
She turned, frowning at him. “Excuse me?”
He paused, underpinning the moment. “I said, ‘You’d know, wouldn’t you?’ Oh, for God’s sake, Elizabeth, don’t look so aghast. It’s not like you’re at home every day to see them together. Well, is it?”
“What are you accusing me of?”
“I’m not accusing you of anything. When were you ever there to do anything? You were always at your charities or your luncheons—”
“Working for your campaign.”
“You call being drunk on your ass working? And if you’re not making a fool of yourself—of me—at your luncheons,” he said, getting to his feet, “you’re passed out on the bed. Oh! Which seems to be your second favorite pastime these days.”
“Oh, go on. Let’s get the knife right in there. Like you’re anyone to talk.”
“Please, don’t act like you’re surprised. It’s a wonder you even recognize the kid—”
“The kid? That ‘kid’—that little lost girl,” Elizabeth said, pointing off to the window, “is our daughter. Or have you forgotten?”
“Back to that old tune again,” he said. “You know what? The minute Holly came along, our lives were flipped upside down. You started acting like she’s the only person in the world. You lost all perspective. Nothing else mattered. But guess what, I’m still here.”
“You? Holly has Down syndrome. She has a cleft palate, in case that’s conveniently slipped your mind. She has special needs, for chrissakes. And that’s not just a label you plaster on people. And since when was this about you?”
“Me?” he said, jabbing himself in the chest. “How could I ever think it was about me? I never saw you. You spent every minute with her—dragging her from one doctor to the next, hoping they could change her into something you wanted.”
Elizabeth felt a barb of truth hit her in the chest. “How dare you.”
“And me? I might as well have been dead, for all you cared. You never touched me, you never came near me. Do you remember the last time we had sex, Elizabeth? Do you?”
Elizabeth felt her face twist into a bitter sneer. “Well, I know about me, Richard. But I don’t know about you. How is Pamela Jacobs these days?”
The shock instantly registered in his face. “I … well, I …”
“Yes, that’s right. I know all about your nasty little affair.”
“Yes. That’s right. I was the bad guy. But think about this, Elizabeth. What choice did you leave me?”
“What choice? What choice?” she shrieked. “You ran straight into the arms of your secretary. Well, how clichéd. Did you tell her your wife doesn’t understand you?”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“And what about the DNA tests? What about the paternity tests you had done, hmm? What about those?”
He said nothing. The color had washed from his face and his mouth opened and closed, forming words without sound.
“That’s right. All your hard work provided ample money to pay for the best private detective I could find. And what were you going to do, dearest darling?” she said, using the words Pamela had used in the voice message she had found. “The minute you could prove she wasn’t yours, you were going to run off and leave us, isn’t that right? But you ran into one big, fat problem, didn’t you? The tests came back positive. Oh God, Richard, I would love to have seen the look on your face. I can just imagine your expression when you realized how much alimony and child support you were up for. It must have been a pretty penny because soon you came running home to become the loving husband again—minus the loving part, of course.” He made a dismissive noise and turned away, but she went on. “You talk about me. You ran out on us. When we needed you—really needed you, you weren’t there. And you’re still running, Richard. The only difference is now you’re holed up in your office instead of in some seedy hotel with Pamela … oh no, that’s right. You did it in our house, in my bed.”
“What the hell would you know? I had to work. I had to earn a living.” His voice was low, bitter. “God knows, I had to keep you in booze, didn’t I?”
Elizabeth was about to launch back in when a sharp rap at the door made both of them turn. They exchanged a glance, and Elizabeth went to the door. “Who is it?”
“It’s me. Open up,” Alice called from outside the door.
Elizabeth turned the latch and the instant the door gave way, Alice pushed her way in.
“What the hell are you two doing? We’ve got half the press in the state sitting right outside the door and you two are at each other’s throats like a couple of stray cats. What are you yelling about?” Her fiery gaze shifted from Elizabeth to Richard and back.
“Nothing,” said Elizabeth. “We were just talking.”
Richard stepped across and placed a hand on Elizabeth’s shoulder. “We’re fine. We’re just very tired. This has been an ordeal for both of us.”
“Well, keep it down, for God’s sake. You’ll have every paper in the state writing up divorce stories before we know it. Is there any news? Do they have any idea who these people are that took your daughter?”
Elizabeth twisted out of his grasp and went back to the window. “The police tell us it’s the same woman. She left fingerprints everywhere. And there was the second letter telling us they’ve given us until three o’clock tomorrow afternoon.”
Alice heaved out a sigh. “Well, three hours is better than nothing. It gives you a little more time to come up with the money. Speaking of which, have you seen the campaign contributions? We’re up to almost three million. That’s in a matter of hours. Maybe we should have thought of this sooner.” She bent to square off a stack of papers on the coffee table, then handed them to Richard. “These are the breakdowns of the Columbus debate. Take a look over them, see where we scored. Oh, and we have an extra slot on prime time TV at six-fifteen tomorrow morning so I want you two looking … well, I want you there. These slots are boosting our ratings. We’re up twelve points—twelve points, Richard. That’s in a matter of hours. At this rate we can forget the second term—we’ll go straight for the White House.”
And there it was—like something emerging from the mists of chaos and confusion; a truth that had materialized into s
omething only Elizabeth recognized. She turned slowly, eyes narrowing on Alice Cressley. “You,” she said in the barest whisper. “It was you.”
Alice blinked. “Me? What about me?”
“It was you,” Elizabeth said again. “You’re the one who took our daughter.”
“What?”
“Elizabeth,” Richard said. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
But she was slowly advancing on Alice. “You set all of this up to boost your pathetic ratings. This is a campaign stunt—a sham. You organized these monsters to steal our child.”
“Oh, please,” Alice groaned at the ceiling.
“You took my baby from me,” Elizabeth shouted. “You stole her away.”
Alice pressed her fingers to her eyes. “Oh, for chrissakes, somebody give her a drink. And keep her away from me,” she said, and took a step back.
With her fists bunched, lips drawn back in terror and rage, Elizabeth flew at the woman. “You did this, you did this. Don’t try to deny it,” she said, until Richard grabbed her and yanked her back. “How could you?” she wailed and burst into tears.
“Sobriety really is doing you no favors, Elizabeth. Dear God, I thought you were a bad enough drunk. I was well wide of the mark.”
“Tell us what you’ve done with her,” Elizabeth demanded. “What did you do with my baby?”
“I didn’t do anything with her, you stupid woman. Listen to me. If I had organized this, believe me, I would have done a far better job. For one,” she said, counting points off with her fingers, “I would not have sent a goddamned letter. I would have called. To hell with the fact your number’s unlisted, who knows how many people would have it. I surely wouldn’t. Secondly, I would not put your daughter through this. What kind of a person do you think I am? Do you honestly think I could do this to a little girl? Your opinion of me must be so far down the sewers it’s halfway to Japan. Thirdly, I would not have asked for ten million. It’s a ridiculous amount. Where would I put it? What would I do with it? Banking security systems in the United States would have flagged that amount the instant it left your account and hit mine, and I’d have had the CIA blasting holes in my front door before I could call out ‘Who’s there?’ Fourth, if I was going to kidnap anyone—anyone at all—I would not hire a pack of imbeciles such as these people obviously are. I would have hired people who actually had a brain cell between them. Not idiots who run around breaking into houses and killing innocent people, and leaving their fingerprints all over the evidence.” She regarded first Elizabeth and then Richard. They said nothing. “And finally,” she added quietly, “I would have kidnapped the child of people who actually had money. Not people who are down to their last dime.”
Even Richard gasped.
“Oh, for chrissakes,” Alice groaned. “Do you think I don’t follow the stock market? Do you think I can’t read a newspaper? I’ve seen how much this campaign has cost. I see how many contracts are going your way and how many you’re losing because of Ray Townsend and his political cheap tricks. I also know you just laid off every one of your employees at both the Painesville airport construction site, as well as that new shopping mall in Beachwood—though why on earth they need another shopping mall is anybody’s guess. Do you honestly think I don’t notice these things? You must think I’m stupid.”
There was a deathly silence for some moments. Then Richard finally asked the question that had obviously occurred to both of them. “So, why are you doing this? If you knew our position, why did you continue on with this campaign—with the …?” He gestured weakly around them, then dropped his hand.
“Because despite my bitch gland being bigger than both of your brains put together, I would actually like to see this child come home. Although, God only knows, after seeing the two of you scrapping like a couple of spoiled kids, there’s a chance she’s better off where she is.” She pulled in a long, tired breath. “And, despite everything, I believe we have a serious chance at the White House. And I believe in my heart, that I can get you there. Well, don’t look at me like that. Everybody needs a purpose,” she added and sat down.
“I’m exhausted,” said Elizabeth.
Alice got up and collected her briefcase and paused at the door. “Maybe you should stop searching for enemies in your own camp and get some sleep. You’ve got two hours with Diana du Plessis tomorrow. She’s enough to test the patience of God himself, and even then,” she added pointedly, “given ten minutes with her, even He would probably smite her. Good night, Richard. Elizabeth.”
And she left.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
DAY TWO: 3:58 AM—KELSEY
Kelsey had followed Matt back to the living room downstairs, where she sat watching Lionel opening up his stash to have “just another little taste.”
She had seen this routine so many times she knew it by heart. First, he tied the band around his arm, tightening it with his teeth while he prepared the needle like it was some kind of surgical instrument. It was a ritual he carried out as if the act itself was integral to the high. She watched him slip the needle under the skin, drawing, finding nothing, then repeating it over and over.
Half the guy’s veins had collapsed. It was a miracle he could get anything into them at all. At one point she was so engrossed watching this jackass with his tubes and his contraptions, going through his shitty ritualistic procedures not six feet from her, she suddenly became aware of the scowl that had crept across her face.
As though sensing her revulsion, Lionel’s bleary gaze turned on her. “What are you lookin’ at?”
Kelsey simply shook her head, as if to say, “Nothing.” Because that’s exactly what she was looking at—an empty shell. Whatever soul he may have once possessed had been eaten away by drugs, until there was nothing but a black hole that sucked in everything around it and pulverized it into more nothingness. If this bottomless pit of expectation was in pain, he had brought it all on himself, through need and greed and his pursuit of self-gratification. And yet this empty remnant of a human being would think nothing of taking Holly’s life—a little girl who carried her own burden without complaint; an innocent child who gave out love without question and demanded nothing in return.
Kelsey had never liked Lionel. But watching him now, injecting chemicals into his veins like pouring gas into a never-ending tank, she wondered yet again how Matt could have ever seen him as a hero. And somehow, in that moment, something in her mind clarified and locked into place. Lionel had no intention of going into rehab, and never did. It was just another lie so he could get what he wanted—no matter what the cost to those around him.
Truth was, Kelsey didn’t care. If she’d found Lionel spread-eagle in the street on the brink of death, she would simply have stepped across him and continued on her way without a backward look. That was how little he meant to her.
When he’d finally released the tourniquet and flopped back in the chair with the same stupid look of satisfaction on his face, Matt spoke.
“Okay, listen up. There’s a couple of changes I made to the plan.”
Kelsey had known Matt since she was fifteen and he was seventeen. From the day she met him it took hellfire and a tornado to make him change any of his plans. So this was unusual.
“Now, this is the deal,” he told them, hunching forward in his seat. “Instead of staying here tomorrow morning until eight like we were going to, we’re heading out at six. I got us another place to hole up in.”
“Where? Why?” Kelsey asked.
“Because now we’ve got another twenty-four hours to kill, that’s why. We can’t risk being here all that time, so we gotta move. ’Specially with that goddamned party going on over there.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Half of fuckin’ Cleveland’s over there. We can’t risk the kid being seen. It only takes one nosey asshole and the whole thing goes to shit. So, we head out at six. Clear?”
“Yeah, sure,” she said. So he was still pretending they were giving the parents another day. For some reason t
hat small betrayal—that minuscule blip in his otherwise solid façade angered her more than she would have expected. “So, where’s this place we’re going?” she asked again.
“Why? What does it matter?”
“I was wondering, is all.”
“Who’s planning this?”
“You are.”
He gave her a long, searching look. “Six o’clock tomorrow morning. Just be ready.”
And that was that. She promised him she would keep Holly quiet until he called her at six, then she went to bed. Upstairs, she lay next to that small body, pulling her close, smelling the scent of her, feeling the softness of her hair. For almost an hour she lay there, holding her, listening to the child’s gentle breathing, until she fell into a fitful sleep.
At four o’clock on the dot, Kelsey opened her eyes. It was time to move.
“Hey,” she whispered in Holly’s ear. The child groaned softly, snuffled, then nestled down and went quiet again. “Holly. C’mon, wake up.” Kelsey shook her gently by the shoulder. “C’mon, baby, we don’t have all night. We gotta get up.”
Holly’s little feet pushed down the bed, her back flexing as her thin little body stretched out to its full length, arms reaching high above her head, tensing and shuddering. She yawned wide and ground her fists into her eyes.
“Now, shh,” Kelsey told her in a voice she herself could barely hear. “We gotta be real quiet.”
Holly blinked up at her and put her finger to her lips.
“That’s right. I’m taking you home to your Mommy and Da …”
“Angh! Angh!”
“Shh no, shut up,” Kelsey hissed, and clapped a hand over the child’s mouth. “You gotta be quiet.”
She pulled the cover back and waited until Holly scooted to the edge of the bed. Kelsey crouched down next to her, slipping the child’s shoes on and whispering, “I’m sorry, but you gotta be real quiet now, okay?” Holly said nothing, just blinked at her in the dim light while Kelsey tucked and straightened the clothes she had dressed her in the night before. At last, Kelsey took her hand, lifted her own shoes, and the two of them trod lightly towards the door.
The Elizabeth McClaine Thriller Boxed Set Page 12
