by Chris Taylor
CHAPTER FIVE
Saturday, January 27, 12:50 p.m.
Zara Dowton stared down from the window where she stood in her sister’s bedroom and watched the detective head toward his car. He opened the door and went to climb in when Emily McGregor appeared. The girl worked with Mrs Harrow and helped to keep the household running smoothly. She was also precocious and flirted outrageously with some of the male staff.
Zara was sure she didn’t mean anything by it and no one seemed to mind, least of all the staff. Emily was barely out of high school. With her svelte figure and fun, flirty ways, she seemed to draw men to her with very little effort and Zara couldn’t help but admire her for her confidence.
She saw the detective laugh at something Emily said and a pang of envy went through her. What she wouldn’t give to be carefree and confident like Emily. To be witty and make someone laugh. She had the best part of half a decade on the girl and yet Zara felt awkward and uncomfortable whenever she was left in the presence of an eligible male. A casual flirt she wasn’t, no matter how she wished she were different.
A few moments later, the detective offered Emily a cheery wave and climbed back into his car.
A minute later, his vehicle headed down the driveway and disappeared from sight. She glanced back at her sister, now asleep on the bed. She’d urged Brittany to rest after her ordeal and had promised to stay with her while she slept. Her heart ached for the trauma and shock the little girl had endured and Zara thanked God she’d been spared the worst of it.
She didn’t know the Munro family very well, but she felt their pain, deep in her chest. She couldn’t imagine the agony of not knowing where their daughter was, whether she was hurting, whether she’d ever come home…
She fingered the business card given to her by the good-looking detective. Lane. That’s what he’d told Britt. It was a nice name, a strong name, like him. With his long, muscular legs and broad shoulders, he’d towered over her. At her five-foot nothing, that wasn’t hard for most men, but Lane carried himself in such a way and with such an air of confidence and determination—as if nothing would ever get in his way—that he seemed even taller than what she guessed him to be.
And he’d been so good with Brittany. The little girl had been scared to death, had sobbed without relief when she’d first arrived home. She had begged Zara to stay with her, but the detective had seemed to sense her fragile state and had gently coaxed her into giving him the information he needed.
At first, Zara thought he was going to change his mind about conducting the interview. The look of panic on his face when he’d entered Britt’s bedroom would have been almost comical under less serious circumstances. He’d looked too big and too dark and too male amidst the fluff and flutter of her sister’s fairy-tale bedroom. But he’d kept his composure and managed to get what he came for, without unnecessary stress on Brittany—and for that, Zara was grateful.
The memory of his gaze as it captured hers sent a shiver of awareness down her spine. Hazel colored and flecked with brown, his eyes had looked right into her soul. For an instant, the world had narrowed to just the two of them. He radiated strength and honesty and sex appeal and she’d been drawn to him like an arsonist to kindling.
And then her father had spoken and the spell had broken, but as the officer went about carefully and kindly eliciting answers from her sister, her gaze had returned to him over and over again.
She’d never felt so drawn to a man before. Of course, he was probably too old for her. From the creases lining his forehead and the crow’s feet in the corners of his eyes, he’d either spent way too much time in the sun, or else had waved good-bye to thirty some time ago. Not that she had a thing about age. In fact, she didn’t have any set of criteria with which to judge a potential boyfriend.
Always a high achiever, in high school she’d been too caught up in Pythagoras’ theorem and solving quadratic equations to be bothered with boys. Attending a prestigious all-girls school hadn’t helped. Opportunities to socialize with the male species had been limited to a school dance twice a year and the right to be partnered by someone to her high school graduation. In the end, she’d chosen a male cousin for the role, a choice her ever protective father had quietly applauded.
Even her university days had been filled with more work than play. Following in the footsteps of her forebears, she’d enrolled in a degree that combined economics and law. Having been awarded a full scholarship, she’d felt the need to put even more effort into her studies in order to pay tribute to the honor she’d been bestowed. And that had paid off. She couldn’t deny her enviable university results had led to the numerous job offers from illustrious law firms right across the country in the weeks prior to her graduation.
Of course, she could have gone to work for the firm set up by her grandfather. Although her father no longer practised law, her choice to begin her career in the firm founded by her family would have been met with paternal pride and satisfaction. But, in the end, she’d chosen Breakers, a large law firm based in Sydney. It not only allowed her to put her exceptional legal skills to use, but also, the firm had an enviable reputation for philanthropy, an attitude and way of life she held in high esteem.
Zara had been raised with the knowledge her mother had been born in a tiny village in the Philippines where the majority of its residents were unemployed. Anna Mendoza’s family had depended upon the mercy of charities and philanthropic entrepreneurs in order to survive.
Zara had always loved hearing the story her father told about how he’d traveled to her mother’s village as part of a group of volunteers working for a charitable organization during his university days. Her father told her many times, that within moments of meeting Zara’s mother, he’d known she would one day become his wife.
Two years after their initial meeting, the recently graduated lawyer returned to the village and claimed her for his bride. After marrying Zara’s father, life became much different for Anna Mendoza, but Zara never forgot the stories her father told her about the poverty and desperation that had influenced her mother’s early life.
It was one of the reasons why Zara gladly worked eighty-hour weeks and was rarely home before Brittany’s bedtime. Part of every billable hour she recorded was donated by Breakers to charities around the world. It meant her social life was largely non-existent, but that was a sacrifice she was prepared to make. Over the years, she’d never had cause to lament her lack of boyfriends. Until now…until the arrival of Detective Black.
A wave of emotion surged through her, leaving her feeling fluttery and restless. With it came the wholly unfamiliar feeling of jealousy when she remembered the smile he’d given to the house maid. So what if he’d flirted with Emily? The girl might not have an original thought in her head, but she was pretty and fun and knew how to make a man smile. Zara had watched her in action with a few of the younger gardeners on more than one occasion. She could hardly blame the detective for being interested.
With a disgruntled sigh, she turned away from the window and paced the length of her sister’s bedroom. She was more than content with her life. She was happy with how things were turning out.
She worked hard at a job she enjoyed. She was surrounded by a family who loved her. Well, maybe not so much by her stepmother, but no one’s life was perfect. And yet, all of a sudden, she felt a yearning deep inside that things were different and it had everything to do with the very sexy detective.
Sliding his business card out of her pocket, she looked at it again. Her fingers moved over the plain black text that described his name and rank and the contact details where he was stationed. She flipped it over and stared at the handwritten scrawl on the back. His home number. Her heart fluttered. She pressed the small card to her breast and tried to slow her breathing.
She wished she had a reason to call him, to hear his voice again. Deep but gentle, it had caressed her skin like a whisper-soft kiss. She’d barely been able to concentrate on the content of his questions ea
rlier, her distractedness something that secretly astounded her.
The description her little sister gave the detective of the attacker rang a chord of familiarity in her mind and her thoughts turned to the men she’d spied in her father’s office a fortnight earlier. Such a contrast to those he usually met with—they were rough, dangerous looking men she’d never seen before. When she asked her father about them later, he assured her they were undercover police officers, but as he said it, he’d paled and she’d briefly recognized unconcealed fear in his eyes.
Now, she could only wonder if their visit had something to do with the disappearance of Olivia Munro. She wondered if her father had mentioned the visitors to Lane. She could call him and make sure. It would give her the excuse she was looking for.
Lane. Already, she was calling him by his first name.
Heat crept up her neck and suffused her cheeks. She bit her lip against the strange rush of desire that suddenly weakened her. She’d never felt this way before about any man, ever. Nothing came close. The scariest thing was, she didn’t have a clue what to do about it.
She was a twenty-five-year-old woman who was well on her way to an illustrious career and yet she’d never known a man in the most intimate of ways. She’d never had the time to date anyone seriously; she’d never had the inclination. She didn’t understand why her feelings about all that had changed in the seconds and minutes since she’d met Detective Senior Sergeant Lane Black of the Chatswood Local Area Command.
Her heart leaped with nerves and excitement at the possibility of talking to him again, but her head issued a cautious warning. Dark undercurrents tugged at her consciousness. A fortnight ago her instincts told her that all was not as it seemed and the feeling of dread hadn’t diminished with time. After listening to Brittany’s description of the man who’d attacked her, Zara’s disquiet had magnified. Why was that?
Everything came back to her father, a man she loved more than anyone in the world.
She needed to speak to him. She needed him to explain to her a second time the reasons for the presence of the rough-looking men in his office. Her gut told her he hadn’t been honest with her and she wanted to give him a chance.
A chance to tell the truth.
CHAPTER SIX
Saturday, January 27, 1:03 p.m.
Olivia Munro curled herself tighter into a ball and tried to hold the sobs at bay. She didn’t know where she was or how long she’d been unconscious. The only thing she could clearly remember was arguing with her stepmother about a stupid bikini. After that, there was nothing.
A rough-looking man dressed in dirty jeans had come and checked on her twice. Both times, she pretended she was still sleeping. He’d come over to where she lay on the floor and had shoved her with his boot, turning her onto her back to face him. Though he no longer wore the leather jacket, she recognized him as the man who’d kidnapped her. It had taken everything she had to remain silent and motionless.
Eventually, he’d sauntered out again, locking the door behind him with a jangle of keys. She groaned at the pain in her arms and wriggled in an effort to get more comfortable. The bindings around her wrists were tight and she’d lost all feeling in her hands. She swallowed a sob and tried to hoist herself upright, using the wall behind her for leverage.
With a grunt and a hard shove, she managed it. She was left panting from the effort, but at least her head was now off the floor and she was better able to take in her surroundings.
The single window had been boarded up and only the tiniest slivers of light escaped inward from underneath. It was barely enough to dent the dimness, but as her eyes grew accustomed to the dark, she slowly made out the rest of the room.
The space was smaller than her bedroom and was bare of furniture. Cobwebs hung from every corner of the ceiling, their long strands swaying gently from an unidentified source of moving air. They reminded her of the dark and scary caves she’d seen in the Indiana Jones movies she’d watched with her dad. All she needed was a gigantic, hairy spider to appear.
With a shudder, she lowered her gaze and tried not to think about it and wished her daddy was near. Dust lay thick on the floor. She looked down at her once-white shorts and grimaced, upset for a second that they were ruined. Then her situation really hit home. She was captive—she had no idea where—and guarded by the frightening thug who’d shown her no mercy. How had all this happened? From her fear, memories slowly began to emerge.
Her head was fuzzy. She wondered where Brittany was. Had she been taken, too? Perhaps she was here with her, somewhere in the house? The thought gave her hope that she wasn’t alone with the short, thickset man who’d attended her earlier. Through her squinted eyes, she’d seen the bulging muscles in his arms and the array of tattoos that covered his skin. She’d also sensed the menace coiled inside of him and that terrified her. The danger of him had been there in the change room before he pressed a sweet-smelling cloth over her mouth and nose and the world went suddenly dark and blank.
Tears welled in her eyes and slowly leaked down her cheeks. She wanted her daddy. Where was he? Surely he knew she was missing? Her stepmother would never have kept something like this from him. She must have told him. He was on his way. He’d find her. He’d rescue her. She was sure of it.
The rattle of the key in the door once again stole her breath. Heart thumping, she tried to slide sideways, to pretend she was still asleep, but though she tried, she couldn’t get the impetus she needed to topple. Panic clawed at her throat. She watched, as in slow motion, the door opened and revealed the bulky shape of her captor.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Saturday, January 27, 1.10 p.m.
Before she knocked on the door to her father’s office, Zara took a deep breath and tried to quell the nerves that tumbled around inside her belly.
“Dad, it’s me. May I come in?” Not waiting for a reply, she opened the door and found him at his desk, frowning behind a mound of papers. He looked up as she entered.
“What is it, darling? How’s Brittany?”
“She’s fine. She’s sleeping. I think today’s events and the visit from the detective wore her out.”
“Not surprising, after all she’s been through.”
Zara nodded her agreement and took a seat opposite her father’s desk. Needing to occupy her hands, she picked up a heavy glass paperweight and moved it from one hand to another.
Her father watched her in silence for a few moments. “What’s troubling you, Zara?”
The nerves she’d almost managed to suppress returned full force, tightening her throat and turning it sandpaper dry. She licked her lips and tried to form the words. In the end, they came out in a rush.
“It’s about those two men who visited you a couple of weeks ago. You heard Britt describe the man who abducted Olivia. The men who were here looked like him. I-I was wondering if they could have had anything to do with Olivia’s disappearance?”
Her father stopped writing on the notepad in front of him and gave her his full attention.
“Why would you say that?”
Zara broke the eye contact, suddenly filled with uncertainty. “I don’t know. They were dressed in much the same way and seemed so…so menacing.”
With a nod of understanding, her father resumed writing. “I told you. They’re police officers. They’ve been working undercover for a long time. Sometimes the lines get blurred and they forget who they really are.”
He glanced up at her and grimaced. “It’s a danger our undercover operatives constantly face and one we keep a close eye on. It makes them really good at their job, but the change can wreak havoc on their families.”
Zara digested his explanation. It made sense—kind of—but something was still a little off. She continued to juggle the paperweight in her hands. Her father looked up at her again, an eyebrow raised in query. “Is there anything else?”
She drew in a deep breath and released it in a rush, needing to ask the question before she lost her courage.
“If that’s the case… If they were really undercover officers…why did they scare you?”
His eyes widened in surprise and then he laughed. “Don’t be silly, darling. Of course they didn’t. I’ve known those men for years.”
“But—”
He came around the desk and pulled her to her feet. Putting his arms around her, he gave her an indulgent hug and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“Thank you for caring about me, darling, but you have enough to worry about. Don’t look for issues where there are none.”
Releasing her, he stepped away. “Go on up and check on Brittany. I have a few things to do down here and I don’t want our baby girl waking up and finding herself alone.”
“Of course.” Turning, Zara left the room. If she hadn’t seen firsthand how much the men had frightened him, she would have been inclined to believe his explanation. Although it was unusual for officers to come to their home, it wasn’t unheard of. She wished she could simply accept his explanation and forget about it. Perhaps, at the time, she’d imagined the fear she’d seen in his eyes? Perhaps, as he suggested, she was finding issues where there were none?
With a sigh, she headed up the stairs, hoping his reassurances would settle her concerns, but more than a little disturbed that they might not.
* * *
Lane scrolled through the entries on the computer screen in front of him. He glanced at the clock on the squad room wall and cursed. Another hour had passed since Olivia Munro had disappeared.
Although the security camera footage had identified a man who generally fit Brittany’s description, the angle had been wrong and the camera too far away to make a positive identification viable.
There were still a number of general duty officers canvassing shoppers in the mall, but so far, they hadn’t turned up a credible witness. Lane had reported back to his boss about Dowton’s threatening phone call, but they still didn’t have enough evidence to indicate his daughter was the target. So far, Lane’s team was dealing with the matter on their own.
