“Would you like us to call 911, ma’am? Maybe get some paramedics out here?”
“No,” she said, a little too quickly. “No, I’m fine. Please, I have to go.”
The cops stepped away from the car, talking in hushed tones. Back down the road one of the L21s lashed out and two cops jumped him and wrestled him to the ground while insults were traded and the situation threatened to flash out of control.
The two cops reached some kind of agreement and the first one stepped back to her. “Listen, I’m gonna let you go, but I want you to go straight to the shelter and as soon as you’re safe, I want you to surrender the car, you understand?”
“Yeah.”
“Once you’re at the shelter, you call the nearest police department and arrange for someone to bring the car in. Okay?”
“Yeah,” said Kelsey. Hardly daring to breathe, she turned the key in the ignition, checked the side mirror and slowly cruised off.
Someone was watching over her.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
DAY TWO: 5:32 AM—ELIZABETH
Ironically, Elizabeth awoke feeling better than she had felt in months—maybe years. No hangover, no parched mouth, no throbbing head. Despite a lack of sleep, she felt alert, and energized. She assumed she must have dozed for perhaps as much as an hour because the night she expected to stretch on forever seemed to have come to an abrupt halt when she opened her eyes. Now morning light spilled into the room, picking out the clothes and bags and cases she and Richard had hurriedly packed the previous night.
But almost as soon as she had brushed the sleep from her eyes, the memories of the previous day flooded back, and all at once, she felt exhausted again.
Richard was already up and in the shower. Elizabeth didn’t want to move. She wanted to pull the covers over her head like a child and go back to her all-too-brief sleep. At least that had relieved the pain of reality, regardless of how fleetingly.
The sounds of pattering water in the bathroom ceased, the shower door clunked closed, and Richard came into the room with his hair slicked to his head and his shoulders slouched. She had never seen him look so old. From where she lay beneath the covers she watched him for a moment, studying his reflection in the mirror as he combed and patted, preened and dabbed, finally slapping cologne to his cheeks. His gaze crossed to her just as a waft of spicy fragrance she didn’t recognize hit the air.
“It’s time you got up. We’re on at six-fifteen,” he said, and drew a part in his hair that was so sharp, he looked as if he might fall in two.
Reluctantly, Elizabeth got up, showered and was dressed by 5:49 am. She was just putting the final touches to her makeup when two sharp raps sounded on the door. The second Richard opened it, Alice swept in, wearing an azure-colored skirt and jacket in much the same style as she had worn the previous day, and clapping her hands like a high school football coach.
“Okay, people, this is what we have on today …” But on seeing Elizabeth, she paused, looked her up and down, and said, “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing. I’m fine, Mrs. Cressley. And you?”
Alice hesitated a beat. “I’m also fine. Thank you for asking. Nice choice of color,” she said, and dipped her head at Elizabeth’s peach-colored silk jacket and skirt.
Elizabeth sat on the edge of the sofa and slipped on her low-heeled leather shoes.
“Are we all ready for today?” asked Alice. Without waiting for a reply, she opened her briefcase and took out a file. “So, this is what I want from you both. First we—”
“Do you have to go through this again?” Elizabeth interrupted. “We already know what we have to do, Mrs. Cressley. After all, we only did it a few hours ago.”
“I have no doubt about that,” she replied. “But there are a couple of items I need to ensure you have correct. If you don’t mind.”
Elizabeth sucked in her cheeks, pursed her mouth, and stepped across to the mirror to check her makeup.
Alice licked her finger and dealt the pages from the file into three piles on the coffee table. “First of all,” she said, addressing her comments only to Richard, as though Elizabeth had left the room. “I want you to start by thanking the people of America for their support and their love. Anyone whose love and support you don’t have by now, believe me, you don’t want it. Then, I want you to use the words, ‘Please bring Holly home.’ It’s the catch-phrase we’re using in the press releases. Tomorrow morning three of the biggest newspapers in the state will be running, ‘Bring Holly McClaine Home’ across the front page. That means we’ll have your name right there in prime position on every morning paper. Then I want you to go on to say, ‘If anyone sees our little girl, et cetera, et cetera, and then we’ll flash the photograph of her …”
“Oh, God,” Elizabeth groaned and pressed her fingers to her eyes.
Alice paused with the last page in her hand. “Excuse me?”
“I said, ‘Oh, God.’ Would you like me to repeat it?”
“You don’t need to repeat it, Elizabeth. I heard it the first time. I was giving you the opportunity to adjust your attitude.” She thumped the page down on one of the piles.
“My attitude is perfectly well-adjusted the way it is, Mrs. Cressley. Some bastard has stolen my daughter and you want us to go on national television and beg for them to give her back?”
Alice took one step toward Elizabeth. “That’s exactly what you’ll do, Mrs. McClaine. And do you know why? Because the moment you make demands, the moment you start issuing threats, they’ll take it out on your daughter. Is that what you want?”
Elizabeth turned back to the mirror. An icy silence spanned the next four seconds. Alice was about to continue when another soft rap sounded at the door. “Oh, for chrissake, what now?” she groaned to the heavens. “Will somebody get that? Richard, the door.”
As if desperate to escape the tension in the room, Richard quickly crossed to the door and opened it.
“Oh,” said a girl’s voice from out in the hallway. “I’m sorry, I was told the room was ready to make up.”
Elizabeth joined Richard at the door where a girl dressed in a white hotel uniform and lace-edged cap stood beside a large trolley loaded with towels, cleaning equipment and replacement shampoo and soap packs. Behind her, clutches of tired-looking reporters looked hopefully towards the door.
Alice crossed to the door and peered out. “Who called for room service? This is ridiculous. I’ll be speaking with the hotel management about this.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Elizabeth said and quickly closed the door. “Just let her do her job.”
“Fine. Come back in ten,” Alice told the girl. She closed the door and checked her watch. “It’s almost six. Elizabeth, you’re meeting with Diana du Plessis at seven-forty-five; then I want you at the hospital by eight-thirty. You can discuss the format of the interview on the way. Just make sure she understands her brief. See that she doesn’t go off on a tangent. I don’t want a story that comes out like some Liberal Democrat dissertation. It’s asking a lot, I know, but I live in hope. Also, remember there’s a march set to move downtown at seven-thirty, so traffic will be rerouted and the streets will be gridlocked. You may want to leave a few minutes early. Are you ready?”
The moment they opened the door, a wall of reporters pressed forward, snapping photographs and shoving microphones in their faces as they moved down the hallway. Four bodyguards closed in around Richard, Alice and Elizabeth, shepherding them to the elevator and fending off reporters. When the elevator doors opened, the bodyguards stood aside and Elizabeth stepped into the car, followed by Alice. Richard paused in the doorway and raised his hands, thanking everyone for their support but asking that they please be patient, and telling them that any questions they had were to be presented during the interview.
Downstairs, the conference room was already packed. Reporters and TV crews scurried left and right with cables and cameras, looking like a reenactment of the previous day in Alice’s temporary campaign h
eadquarters. The only difference was now the numbers had swelled by more than half again. The din of people talking across each other died down as Elizabeth and Richard entered. The hush turned to an echoing silence as they walked the length of the room and took their places at the front, this time seated behind a bench with a row of microphones lined up before them.
Elizabeth placed her purse on the floor and leaned her elbows on the wooden surface, hands clasped at her mouth while she scanned the room. Sitting in the second row she could see Diana du Plessis. She gave her a taut smile, which was returned with a measure of warmth she hadn’t expected. Elizabeth was not looking forward to spending any time with the woman. She would have preferred to go back to the hotel room and have a bottle of vodka sent up while Richard handled the interviews and questions. After all, this was his domain, not hers.
Still scanning the attendant throngs, she spotted Detective Delaney entering through the main door. He raised his head and looked around. When he spotted Alice, he cut his way through the crowds towards her. As soon as he was within reach, he tapped her on the shoulder and she spun around.
Elizabeth watched as the two of them then fell into a guarded and serious-looking discussion, each mirroring the other with one arm across their waists, fingers to their lips as they spoke. Every now and then they glanced across at Elizabeth and Richard, then continued on. At one point Delaney said something that caused Alice to shake her head briefly and touch her fingers to the corners of her eyes. After a second, she looked up and nodded understanding.
“I wonder what’s going on over there,” Elizabeth said.
Richard lifted his head and followed her gaze. “Maybe there’s some news.”
“If the look on his face is anything to go by, it can’t be good news.”
Blake appeared at Richard’s side. “We’re almost ready.”
Richard straightened his tie, pulled his shoulders back, and placed one hand across the other in front of him, angling his head in preparation for the camera.
“I’m going over there,” Elizabeth said and went to get up.
Richard immediately grabbed her by the arm and yanked her back into her seat and held her there. “Stay where you are. We’re on in one minute.”
Delaney and Alice were now looking their way.
“No, I’m going over there. Let go of me,” she said. But he pulled her back down with such force that she knocked over the chair and stumbled backwards. “Let go of me,” she said as she floundered to her feet again.
He grabbed her arm again. “Elizabeth.”
“I want to know what’s happened. Let go of me,” she said, hearing her voice echo across the suddenly silent room over the now fully functional sound system. When she turned, every eye in the place was on her. She ignored them and moved out from behind the bench while Richard stood, trying to stop her. “Mr. Delaney,” she called. “What’s happened? Is there news about my daughter?”
The entire room turned to him. He looked momentarily shocked, then gathered himself, saying, “We have no comment at this point in time.”
She paused halfway across to him. “Then why …? What were you talking about?” Even to Elizabeth, she sounded like she’d lost her senses.
Richard stepped in behind her. “Elizabeth, come and sit down.” He placed his arm protectively around her shoulders and drew her in. “They’ll tell us if there’s any news.”
The room fell into silence as everyone appeared to go back to whatever they had been doing. But Elizabeth knew they were still watching her, waiting for her “Britney moment”—the one that would catapult her name into the headlines worldwide. She held her breath and pressed her lips together, fighting back the rising tide of emotion. To her surprise, Richard enveloped her in his arms, pulling her in close. “Are you okay?” he whispered.
Tears filled her eyes. She nodded.
“Then pull yourself together. Half the country is watching us. We can’t afford to fall apart here. Understand?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” she said, and pushed away.
“Excuse me, everyone,” Richard called out across the crowds. “I’m sorry, but my wife is unwell. As you can imagine, this has taken a terrible toll on her. Mr. Ressnick will escort her back to our room and I will continue the interview alone.” He looked to Elizabeth for her approval. She nodded, and he handed her into Blake’s care.
She rode the elevator with Blake to the fourteenth floor. The entire way, Blake never offered one word of solace to her; he never even looked at her. At one point, Elizabeth scrutinized him out of the corner of her eye. Almost as tall as Richard, Blake maintained a cool façade. Elizabeth knew that icy exterior went right to the bone. His YSL suit and tie were elegant, his white shirt crisp; his hair flopped rakishly to one side across his forehead. The only telltale sign of anxiety was the way he kept touching his phone. As if he might lose it and miss something crucial to the campaign.
Elizabeth wondered whether Blake had given even a fleeting thought for Holly—a child that wasn’t his—a child rendered unsightly by the scar on her face. To him she would be simply an impediment to his campaign—to his career. Her life would be of little consequence. Outside his own personal aspirations and this election, nothing existed to him.
When they got to the room, Elizabeth thanked him in a cool voice, opened the door, and watched him return to the elevator.
In the quiet of the empty room, she sat on the bed and took off her shoes. She wondered yet again what kind of person she was, tried to see herself from outside her own skin. How could a mother distance herself from her own child the way she had? What kind of person would feel the loss of her child like a yawning void in her chest, and yet be paralyzed at the thought of her return? If this was some kind of test that God had set, she was patently unworthy of the task. Hadn’t she proved so time and time again?
Richard had his career. What did Elizabeth have? In her anger, she had systematically pushed away everyone and everything she had once loved. Now she had nothing: no one she could confide in, no one she could turn to. Perhaps Alice was right—maybe Holly was better off without her.
She went to the door and peered out to find an empty hallway. She returned to the elevator and rode it to the top floor. On the twenty-fifth floor, she exited the car and walked to the end of the hallway where she found a door with the words “Roof—Authorized Personnel Only” stenciled in black lettering across it. She tried the handle, and to her surprise it opened. She climbed the fifteen steps to the top, then opened a door and stepped out onto a vast area of white concrete that formed the roof of the hotel. A low barrier ran around the periphery, enclosing the external vents of air-conditioning units that squatted here and there like a miniature walled city.
Elizabeth gazed up into the bright blue of the sky, blinking against the glare of the late autumn sun and feeling a glimmer of warmth from the concrete under her bare feet. Up here everything was still and quiet. There were no problems, no decisions. Everything was calm, clear. From far below she could hear the distant hum of traffic, and every now and then the ducts from the air-conditioning units belched out a whoosh of air.
Slowly, she walked across the surface of the roof and felt an unexpected surge of peace flow through her. Far off on the horizon, she could see a blue haze of the distant hills. It was as if they represented a freedom she could almost touch, but not quite. Drinking in the silence, reveling in the escape from the prying eyes and questions, she stepped up onto the barrier, feeling the smoothness of the concrete under her feet. She leaned to look out over the edge. From twenty-five floors up, the cars moved silently along the street like toys. People flooded the intersections as they crossed the street, then vanished and went on with their lives. Smiling down on the scene, she watched the comings and goings, wondering who would even miss her …
“It’s a beautiful view up here,” said a voice behind her.
Elizabeth didn’t turn around. This woman, whoever she was, had shattered her peace. Instead she st
raightened, eyes still on the street below. “Yes. And quiet.”
“It’s surprising how far you can see across the city,” said Diana du Plessis. She had moved alongside Elizabeth, her hand shielding her eyes against the glare as she also gazed out towards the distant hills. She didn’t even seem to have noticed that Elizabeth was standing on top of the barrier with her toes curled over the edge.
“And the breeze is wonderful. So fresh after that crowded room,” she said and smiled up at her. When Elizabeth said nothing, she continued, “When I was a child I used to visit my grandmother who lived on a farm. I used to climb the trees across the meadow. One day, I climbed so high I couldn’t get down. Up until then, my only thought was to climb higher and higher, intent on how far I could see. And then, for some strange reason, my focus changed from how far I could see, to how far I could fall. I think that was one of those moments when reality chips away at the child and the adult steps in. Somehow, what you gain in safety, you lose in your sense of wonder. I’m still not so sure it’s such a great trade-off.”
“Oh really,” Elizabeth said. Even to her, she couldn’t have sounded less interested.
“It must be very difficult for you, but you know—”
“If you’re going to tell me that God only sets upon us burdens He knows we can bear, you can save your breath. I’ve heard that one more times than I can count,” said Elizabeth. She turned her face up, staring into the broad blue stretch of the sky. But that moment of peace was gone, stolen by this interfering woman.
“Believe me, Mrs. McClaine, I wasn’t going to say anything of the sort. I’ve seen plenty of people with greater burdens than they can bear and it’s no use blaming God. I’ve interviewed people crushed under weights you wouldn’t believe, and those who hand out such platitudes are offering them for their own benefit, not for the victims.”
Elizabeth turned and regarded Diana du Plessis for a second. Then she stepped down off the edge.
The Elizabeth McClaine Thriller Boxed Set Page 14
