by Chris Taylor
Lane stood still and silent, his eyes challenging her to disagree. Despite the graveness of the situation, a thrill of excitement coursed through her at the thought of spending time alone with him.
Ignoring the curious gaze of her father, she nodded decisively and whispered, “Call me.”
* * *
Lane’s text came barely five minutes later. Zara had left her father in the entryway looking melancholy and confused and had headed back up the stairs to her room to freshen up.
Lane had given her the name of a café with an address in nearby Double Bay. “Christina’s on the Bay” was small, but private. She’d been there before with her father and recalled the delicate, wrought iron garden furniture surrounded by shrubs and flowerbeds and ancient fig trees. It was like picnicking in a secluded garden and she’d been told it was a popular spot for illicit lovers seeking a discreet place to meet.
That thought sent heat rushing to her cheeks and she silently castigated herself. Lane worked in the northern suburbs. This wasn’t his neighborhood. It was unlikely he had any idea about the establishment’s reputation. Even so, the thought of spending time alone with the handsome detective had her feeling a range of unfamiliar sensations.
She looked down at her dress and grimaced. Dust and dirt from the house in Scarborough Road had soiled it in several places. If she hadn’t had such a debilitating migraine upon her return, she’d have showered and changed immediately. Lane had demanded she meet him in fifteen minutes. The café was at least a ten-minute drive away.
Moving quickly, she undressed and stepped into the shower. She prided herself on her punctuality, but she refused to meet him while she was filthy. He’d just have to wait.
It was another ten minutes by the time she’d dressed in clean clothes and leaned over the basin to apply a fresh coat of lip gloss. Picking up her hairbrush, she untangled the knots from the long, straight strands and then twisted it into a chignon that caressed the back of her neck.
She wondered about Brittany and hoped her little sister was coping. Zara hadn’t stopped in to see her since she’d arrived home and she was immediately filled with guilt. Then she remembered her stepmother had returned and was assured Brittany would be well and looked after.
Her thoughts flew to Olivia, no doubt distressed, hungry and terrified. Zara’s guilt intensified. The midnight deadline loomed ever nearer. She sent up a silent prayer that rescue was close at hand. Knowing she might be of help, determination surged through her. It was time to follow the right path to the end. With a clarity that so far had eluded her, she came to a decision.
It was time to tell the truth.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Sunday, 28 January, 3:57 p.m.
Lane sat back against the hard, wrought iron chair and wished he’d found somewhere more comfortable to meet. Like many cafés along the waterfront in the eastern suburbs, comfort had been sabotaged by fashion and he longed for the old, but relaxing booths that filled the café around the corner from where he lived. They may have been covered with cracked red vinyl, but they were big enough for a man to spread out on, to stretch his legs and take a break from the world.
Not that “Christina’s” didn’t have atmosphere or a view of the harbor that was less than spectacular, but it wasn’t the kind of place he felt comfortable in and he wished he’d suggested someplace else.
He glanced at his watch again and tried to contain his impatience. She was late. Or ignoring him. He scowled at the thought. A moment later, she materialized in front of him and his irritation dissipated in the warm summer breeze.
She wore a different dress from the one he’d seen earlier and her hair was damp from the shower. Instead of being loose, it was now pulled back behind her ears and secured low at the back of her neck. Soft pink lipstick glistened in sun, emphasizing the lusciousness of her mouth.
His gut tightened in response. He stood when she approached, hoping she wouldn’t notice his body’s reaction.
“Thank you for meeting me,” he said, remaining upright until she’d taken a seat.
She stared at him, a myriad of emotions filling her dark eyes. “I had no choice. It was the right thing to do.”
Surprise coursed through him. He leaned forward in anticipation. She was going to confess. A part of him felt disappointment, even as he braced himself for her admissions.
“Are you admitting you’re involved in Olivia’s abduction? That you’ve been involved from the outset?”
A frown marred the smooth skin of her forehead. She shook her head and her eyes narrowed in confusion. “Me? Involved?” She laughed without humor. “Oh, God. You couldn’t be further from the truth.”
Now it was Lane’s turn to feel confused. “But, you knew where she was being held. You were there, in the very same house. I found your scarf.”
He watched in silence while she closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. Tension gripped him. He waited for her to speak. It seemed to take a lifetime.
“You’re right about some of it. I was there and somehow I dropped my scarf, but I didn’t know it was where they’d been hiding Olivia.”
“Bullshit. Why the hell else were you there? You live in Point Piper. No one heads out to Milperra and especially not to a place like that, for the sake of a morning drive.”
Zara held his gaze steadily. “Please understand how hard this is for me. I-I want to do the right thing. That’s why I’m here. I could have ignored your text—”
“And I’d have hauled your sweet little ass across town and put you in the lockup,” Lane growled, impatience once again surging through him. “You’re in this up to your ears, princess. Now, start talking before I change my mind and slap some cuffs on you.”
Her eyes widened with anger that was also laced with fear. Her shoulders rose and fell in time with the rate of her breathing. Lane refused to soften his hard stare. When she spoke again, he had to lean forward to hear her.
“As much as it pains me to tell you, it’s…it’s my father. He’s the one involved in this.” The increasing burden she’d felt over the last few days suddenly lifted as each whispered word fell from her lips. While she fully understood the implications of what she’d revealed, she no longer felt inhibited.
Lane’s eyes narrowed. He sucked in some air and tried to still his racing heart. “How do you know?”
She drew in a deep breath and released it on a heavy sigh. “A couple of weeks ago, my father met with two men at home in his office. They were rough looking men—unshaven, leather jackets, dirty jeans. They looked so out of place. When I mentioned them to him, he told me they were undercover DEA officers.”
Lane made no comment. His gaze continued to drill into hers. She broke the contact and shrugged. “It seemed like a reasonable explanation. I left it at that.”
“What happened to change your mind?”
“Two things: Olivia’s abduction and Dad telling me he thought the kidnappers had made a mistake—that Brittany had been the target.”
“He told me he’d received a threatening phone call from someone identifying with the outlaw motorcycle gangs,” Lane said.
“I don’t know anything about that, but I recognized two of the men in your photo line-up. One of them was Boris Vukovic, the same man Brittany identified. The other one was Draco Jovanovic. You told me they were members of the notorious Redbacks biker gang.”
Lane nodded, his body taut. He waited for her to continue. At last, she spoke again.
“They were the men I saw a few weeks ago in my father’s office.”
Shock ricocheted through him. It explained her reaction when she’d looked at the photo line-up. He couldn’t believe the Attorney General hadn’t said a word about that meeting. The thought made him frown. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
She met his stare without flinching. “You don’t. But I have a sister the same age as Olivia. I can’t imagine the horror her parents are going through. I want to help. I need to help.”
&nb
sp; She looked away, her breath coming faster. After a few moments, she looked back at him.
“After you left the second time, I questioned Dad again. Again, he denied the men in his office had anything to do with outlaw biker gangs.” Her shoulders rose and then slumped. “I knew he was lying. And what reason could he have to hide the truth…? I’ve run out of reasons to defend him.”
She looked bereft and defeated, but Lane quashed the urge to offer her comfort. He was in the middle of a breakthrough in the case. A little girl’s life depended upon it. The seconds were ticking by. Anger stirred inside him.
“Why didn’t you call me?”
Her eyes scrunched closed. Her teeth bit into her bottom lip. Lane tried to contain his impatience.
“I should have. I know that. I thought about it, but you have to understand. I still didn’t know the extent of my father’s involvement. I wanted to protect him as much as I could. When I found the note with Draco’s name on it, I thought—”
Lane tensed. “Hang on a minute, what did you say? What note?”
“I-I snooped around in Dad’s office. I found a piece of paper with Draco’s name on it and an address.”
“The house in Milperra.”
“Yes.”
Lane let the information settle inside his head. It made sense. It explained why the ransom note offered no contact details. It explained how she’d known about Draco’s hideout. It explained what she was doing there. All of a sudden, a different kind of anger surged through him.
“How could you have been so stupid? I can’t believe you put yourself in such danger. How did you know the place wasn’t crawling with armed and dangerous criminals? If you really thought it might have been where they were hiding Olivia, surely it occurred to you that you were putting your life in danger by going there? Do you really think that little of me and my colleagues?”
Zara winced and pulled away from the anger in his voice, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t believe she’d been so foolhardy. The men that ran with the Redbacks were violent criminals, some of the worst the State had to offer. And she’d waltzed into their hidey-hole alone and unarmed.
“Did you have the sense to tell anyone where you were going?”
Color bloomed in her cheeks. Tears glistened in her eyes. She looked away and shook her head. Pity tightened Lane’s chest when he saw the desolation that flooded her face.
“I-I thought I was doing the right thing. I wanted to protect my father, but I also wanted to help that poor little girl.” Her voice broke. She swiped at her eyes and then riffled through her handbag and finally withdrew a tissue.
His anger died. What she’d been trying to do was heroic, admirable—even if it was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. She weighed no more than a grasshopper. If Draco or his men had still been inside the house, they’d have squashed her like a bug. She’d have disappeared like so many of the gang’s enemies, never to be seen again.
Anger once again ignited low inside him, but this time, he did his best to contain it. He believed she’d had the best of intentions in her heart. She couldn’t have known the danger she put herself in. At least she’d come out of it unscathed.
On impulse, he leaned across the table and reached for her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. She gasped softly, but didn’t pull away.
Though the late afternoon sunlight was plenty adequate, sometime during their conversation, a waitress had approached and lit the candle that was centered on their table. The flame flickered and danced in the light breeze, but he hardly noticed. Zara stared at him, her eyes huge in her delicate face. He couldn’t take his gaze off her.
His heart pounded hard against his chest. His throat tightened. He opened his mouth, but found he couldn’t speak. She was so beautiful, she took his breath away.
There had been women in and out of his life, but none that had affected him like her. He could drown in the depths of her midnight eyes. They beckoned him to look deep within her, encouraging him slowly, until once committed, he’d be powerless to resist her and there would be nothing more he could do but surrender.
Delicate laughter from a nearby table snapped him out of his reverie. This wasn’t the time to let his emotions take over. The timing was all wrong. Loosening his hold on her hand, he slowly released it and returned it to the table. She curled her hand into a fist.
He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. You’re a beautiful woman. I…” Heat raced up his neck and spread across his cheeks. He turned away.
What the hell was he doing? He was acting like a teenager, not a grown man of thirty-one. Besides, he didn’t do serious. Women and commitment just didn’t work for him. Not after what had happened to his mother.
He swallowed a sigh and readied himself to leave. As much as he wanted to spend more time in her company, time was a commodity in short supply.
He cleared his throat and refused to look at her. “I have to go. Thank you for telling me. I’m sure it will make a difference.”
“Do you think you’ll find her?”
“Well, we have more to go on than we did before. I’ll go back to the station and make some plans. Our raid on Vukovic’s place yielded nothing but confirmation of the house in Milperra. Let’s hope a raid on Draco’s place of residence will give us more. I’m sure he’s not stupid enough to move her there, but we might shake a little more information out of him. Who knows?”
“It’s worth a shot,” she murmured.
Suddenly impatient to get things moving, Lane shoved back his chair and stood. “I’m sorry. I’d really like to stay, but I can’t. I need to get back.”
Zara nodded, her expression grave. “I understand. Call me if you find her. Please.”
He stared down at her, wanting to memorize the sweetness of her features. His gut tightened with resolve.
“I will. I promise.”
* * *
Olivia slowly regained consciousness and became aware of her surroundings. She still lay sprawled across the back seat of Boris’ car, her hands tightly secured. She still wore the blindfold and her breathing continued to be labored through the gag. Every part of her body ached and her head pounded so hard it felt like it would explode. She didn’t know how long she’d been out of it, but the air that blew in from the car’s opened window felt cooler.
Please, Daddy, please hurry. I need you to find me. Now. I’m so scared. Tears burned behind the blindfold. Even the sight of Ellie would be welcome.
At the thought of her stepmother, Olivia bit her lip against a sob. Ellie had shown her nothing but kindness and love. From the time she could remember, Ellie had treated her like her own child. Until the boys arrived, she’d been their only child. She hadn’t once felt unwanted or unloved.
But the older she got, the more she became aware of the loss she’d suffered by losing her real mother. The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. It wasn’t fair that her mother had died so young. It wasn’t fair that Olivia couldn’t remember her. If it hadn’t been for the photos her father kept, she wouldn’t even have known what Lisa Munro looked like.
The unjustness of it ate away at her like a disease and made her madder and madder still. With cold purpose, she set her sights on Ellie and took out the brunt of her anger on her. At first, it was little acts of defiance, a tantrum here and there, but the more she realized how much it affected Ellie, the more determined she became to keep it up.
She was waging her own personal war against God and the unfairness she’d been served. But God was out of her reach and Ellie was much more accessible.
Hot shame burned through Olivia at the thought of how she’d treated the only mother she’d known. Ellie had been so good and kind and loving—everything she assumed a real mother was. She hadn’t deserved to be treated so badly. She hadn’t deserved the attitude. She hadn’t deserved any of it. Olivia could see that now. She only prayed she’d be given the chance to apologize.
The vehicle swerved suddenly and
took a corner fast. Olivia slid across the seat and banged her elbow against the armrest. She gritted her teeth.
It was a moment before she realized the car had come to a halt. Boris opened his door and she tensed. The sound of the backseat door opening reignited all of the fear that for a brief moment had subsided. Now, it exploded through her like fire.
Two meaty hands grabbed her ankles and hauled her out of the car. Unable to use her arms, she braced herself as best she could against the jarring impact of the ground. She fell hard and the breath was knocked out of her. Pain radiated through her hip and up into her spine. Fresh tears burned behind her eyes. Where, oh where was her daddy? Where, oh where was her mom?
If God ever let her see them once more, she’d never be mean to Ellie—her mom—again. She’d picked the fight with her mom on purpose and God was punishing her for it. And she deserved it. She deserved everything that happened to her.
The ground beneath her cheek was grassy and moist and there wasn’t even a glimmer of light. She could only assume it was nighttime again. They must have been driving around for hours. Her bladder was painfully full and she did her best to ignore it. The blindfold was still pulled tightly across her eyes, making it impossible to see even the slightest of shapes in the darkness, then hope flared inside her at the sound of a woman’s voice.
“What the fuck are you up to, Boris? The coppers have been here. They’re lookin’ for you. You’d better not be in fuckin’ trouble. Last time you went to the clink I had to put Emma into foster care. Couldn’t afford to look after her.”
“Shut the fuck up, Sandra. You hear nothin’, you see nothin’, understand?”
“What the fuck happened to your face?”
“Nothin’. I ran into somethin’, all right? See this girl? She’s our ticket to the big time. Just you wait and see. Now, go and open up the trapdoor.”
