Sylvie
Nathan
The Longest Time
Without You
Copyright © 2015 Sylvie Nathan
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Other books by Sylvie Nathan:
Chained Soul
Every Glance
Undefined
Grow a Pair of Wings
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Books in this series:
I stand With You (Gold Streaks Book #1)
I Told You to Be Careful (Gold Streaks Book #2)
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
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Chapter 1
It is dark outside. So dark; the starlight stark on the shadow of the ridge outside.
Sue is opposite her window in the darkness of the kitchen, but she is not looking out at the stark, silent beauty of the night.
“Hello? This is Sue Montmorency; Gold Ridge Mines? Yes. Yes, I'm well. I'm calling to report a missing person.”
Sue's voice is rising with frustration and panic, each second she is delayed.
As she suspected, her status as CEO of one of the country's most prosperous mines brings a quicker response than she might otherwise enjoy from the police.
“When did you notice the disappearance?”
“About two hours ago.”
Sue's voice, despite her composure, is trembling. Lisa, her partner, has been missing for at least that long, and each second could make things more dangerous for her, wherever she is.
“You can provide a description?”
“Yes. Tall woman, late thirties; long red hair. Brown eyes.” Sue's voice softens, describing Lisa.
“She went missing from work?”
“Yes. Yes, I think so. The last time I heard from her, she was at work. In her office, at Naidu and Marsden law firm.”
“So that was the last place she was seen?”
“Yes. I think so.”
“We will send a team round to you for information, and another to start the search. If anything else happens before they arrive, please keep us informed.”
“Yes. Thank you. Yes, I will.”
Sue is distracted; pacing. She cannot stop the rising panic; she is trembling with concern and worry.
The click of the phone being put down on the other side leaves her alone again, locked in her doubts and fears. She paces the room, unable to sit still; unwilling to contemplate anything too closely.
As one of the country's top corporate defense lawyers, Lisa has a dangerous job. So many people could bear a grudge against her. And with this latest case...Lisa had said there was something strange going on; that she felt she was being followed. And now this.
Sue looks back at her mobile, reading the last message from Lisa: “kidnapped”.
That was half an hour ago now. Sue has tried so many times to call Lisa, but the phone is unresponsive. Where is Lisa? Who has her? And why?
Who would know the answer?
Sue stops pacing a moment; stands and thinks.
Titus. Lisa's colleague and trusted friend. He will know where Lisa was. He might even have seen her leave, or seen who she was with before she went missing.
Sue has his number after meeting him at a luncheon for Lisa's work promotion. She finds it on her mobile; calls it.
“Titus?”
“Hey?”
The voice is relaxed, as if disturbed in sleep. A slight African accent, overlaid with years of education in college and the law-courts.
“Titus. It's Sue. Montmorency? Lisa's partner.”
“Hey, Susan.”
Titus' voice is still lazy, but warmer, now, than it had been. “Can I help you? What's the matter? You sound...stressed.”
“I am stressed, Titus. It's...Lisa hasn't come back home tonight. And I received a message from her mobile. It said “kidnapped.” I am...more than worried.”
There is a moment of silence on the other side of the telephone.
“Titus? You're still there?”
“Yes. Yes, I am. That's...terrible. Are you sure?”
Strange, how the mind always questions such things.
“Yes. I am sure. It's her number. But I can't get through to her, Titus.” Sue's voice comes out in a strangled sob. She puts her hand to her throat, holds it; tries to keep the sobs inside.
“...Sorry.” Her voice is still choked. “I can't...can't...”
“Hey. Susan.” Titus' voice is mellow; measured; low. “It's okay.”
“I wish it was.” Sue is sobbing now; bent over with one hand braced on the counter, hot tears running down her cheeks; the other hand holding the phone and trying to mop away the tears.
“Can I come over?” Titus sounds concerned.
“Please do.” Sue's voice is small.
“I'll be there soon. You just hold on. Don't go anywhere.”
“I won't.”
Half an hour later, and Titus is at the door of Susan's stylish home at the top of the hill, overlooking the dark stillness of the nighttime town.
“You've called the police?”
Titus asks, sitting in Sue's sitting-room, a mug of hot coffee held between his cupped hands. Sue is on the elegant white sofa opposite, her legs curled under her, a cup of tea on the counter behind her. She looks worried, exhausted, but still beautiful; the pale light from through the window shining on her pale hair and making it glow softly.
“Yes. They said they'd send a team here to ask for information, and another to town, to her office.”
Sue pauses, then continues. “That was almost an hour ago, now.”
“Yes. They take their time.”
Titus' voice is mild, inscrutable. “We'll just have to wait.”
They sit in silence for a moment.
“Lisa...” Sue starts; pauses to clear her throat, tight with emotion. “Lisa was...she felt in danger on this case she was working on. Said she was being watched.”
“I think she was. She showed me the car outside.”
“Did you...did you see her leave work?”
“No.” Titus looks pained; his head lowered as he watches the liquid reflections on the coffee's surface.
“No. She never left before me. Ever.” He smiles at that. “You know Lisa...she was addicted to her work.”
“Yes. She was. Is. Titus? She is...she is goin
g to be alright, isn't she?”
A small voice; asking for reassurance as a child might ask it; with hope mixed with terror.
“I...I don't know. We can't know.”
Titus looks down, shakes his head. Then continues,
“...But I do know I will stay here tonight...If you like, that is. If they've come after one of you...I can't risk that I let them hurt you as well.”
“I don't...I don't think they even know me, Titus.”
“If it's the people from the case; maybe no.”
“It must be.”
“We don't know.” Titus says reasonably.
“No. We don't know.” Sue agrees. “Thank you, Titus. I would like it if you stayed here tonight. I would feel...safer. Less...alone.”
“No problem, Ms M.”
They sit in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts and worries.
“I...” Sue starts. Downstairs, the doorbell rings.
“It's the police, I think.” Sue is half-rising to answer the door; her white dress gathered in one hand as she swings her legs from the couch.
“I'll get it.”
“No...no. It's alright, Titus. I'll go and let them in.”
Sue lifts herself to her full height, squares her shoulders and sniffs, stiffly. She might be lost in the sheer nightmare of Lisa's kidnapping, but she is Susan Montmorency, CEO of Gold Ridge Mines, and she is redoubtable. Remote. Unassailable. Her face is stiff and still as she walks down the stairs, a slight, slim woman with achingly-straight posture; pale and slender in the wan light from the windows.
“Hello?”
“Inspector Nozamo from the police. You are Mrs Montmorency?”
“Ms Montmorency.” She is about to shake hands, somehow the structured politeness of introduction is reassuring; automatic. Something she does every day.
“Right, Ms Montmorency. Let's get down to business.”
There are three policemen in the hallway now; boots on the white carpet; their eyes roaming over the pictures, rare china and porcelain decorating the hallway walls. Sue feels strangely uncomfortable with their presence here.
“If you'll come up?” She gestures to the stairs, smiles with forced brightness; reverting to perfect, chilled hostess polish.
She leads the way up the stairs to the main sitting-room, where Titus is already rising from his seat to greet them.
“Hello. Titus Mogkotsi. Naidu and Marsden law firm.” He says it smoothly.
The inspector looks unimpressed. Blinks once. “You worked with Ms Marsden, yes?”
“Yes.” Titus affirms, standing his ground; the still-polite smile broad on his face, and only slightly frozen.
“Well, perhaps we can ask you a few questions?”
Sue takes a seat beside Titus on the main couch, and the policeman lowers himself onto the white one. Sue swallows the protest at the dirty marks from his boots. Nothing else matters now. These men could find Lisa. That is all that matters.
They start asking questions. Sue and Titus do their best to answer.
“Anything else?” he asks, finally. They are all standing, ready for the police to take their leave. Sue has risen to escort them downstairs and out of the front entrance.
“I'll...I'll keep phoning Lisa? Maybe she will be able to reply.” She asks; her mobile in one hand.
“Probably they have disabled calls by now.” The inspector replies. “You can try, but don't expect any answers.”
Sue sits down, abruptly. Suddenly, it is all too much. She feels frozen. She wants to cry, to scream, to break down...do anything, rather than sit here with these men telling her she has little chance of seeing Lisa again.
Titus rests his hand on her shoulder.
“I'll show these...gentlemen...out.” Titus lets the pause sink in.
“Thank you, Titus.” Sue's voice is cold, regal. “Do that.” She pauses, then continues.
“Thank you, gentlemen. I trust you will keep me informed? I will let you know if anything changes here.” Her voice is hard.
Titus nods to her as he leaves, the policemen behind. He and Sue are colleagues, suddenly; united in their distaste for the policemen's callousness.
“This way?”
Titus leads them downstairs and to the front door.
Sue waits; hears the click of the lock as Titus locks the door behind them.
He comes back up the stairs, his shoes almost-silent on the carpet.
“That's that, then.”
“Yes.” Sue agrees, thinly.
“We should get some sleep?” Titus asks. “You must be exhausted.”
“Yes. Yes, I am exhausted.” Sue replies, her voice somehow distant. “I'll...there's a spare bedroom at the front of the corridor, on the left? The bed's made up, and there's a bathroom next door.”
“Thanks.”
“Not at all.” Sue replies automatically.
Then, “Thank you, Titus.”
“No problem.”
Chapter 2
Morning. It must be. The light hurts her eyes. Gold, slanting, coming from a high angle, somewhere far above her.
Lisa groans, rolls over. Rubs her head. Feels the beginnings of a lump, damp with new sweat and old blood. She groans again.
Nothing feels broken; not anywhere in her body.
She thinks back; remembers leaving work; the brief terror of a confrontation; then pain and darkness.
She inhales, smells old straw and fresher paint and steel and the iron of rust and all over the powdery cold scent of cement.
She opens her eyes.
The roof soars far, far over her head; bare corrugated steel. The light is coming through high windows, set just below the roof. Bare walls stretch up to meet it; the perspective making them lean inwards together, even though they are straight and far apart.
Lisa turns her head, winces at the throbbing from the bruises.
The far wall is cement, and solid, without a door. Across the room is some disused equipment; rusting and seemingly-broken. She sits up, rubbing her right arm, absently, which has been lying underneath her through the night and is now gone stiff and cold.
On the far right, near the front of the room, is a single door; two long iron sheets with hinges and a locking-bar across them.
Lisa tries to stand. It takes longer than she would have expected. She gets to her feet and walks across the cement and straw of the floor; keeping as quiet as possible, her legs cold and cramped and far from steady.
Eventually, she reaches the door. Leans down on the bar. Nothing. It must be locked from the other side. She leans down harder, grunting with the effort. Nothing. She waits; kicks a leg back to aim a foot at the gap between the iron doors. Stops. Walks across to a hole on the right, above the locking-bar, where the door has rusted through a little. Puts her eye to it.
There. She thought she heard voices. There are two men, standing just in front of her outside the door.
She pauses, stands closer so she can hear what they are saying to each other.
“...So, boss wanted us to stay here, then?”
“He said so, yes.”
One of the men has a slight Indian accent, the other something South African and unprepossessing. They could be anyone, so far. Nothing to identify them in any way, or to tell Lisa why they might be here or why the might wish her harm.
“...how long, did he say?”
“No. Until they've agreed, I suppose.”
There's a pause. The other man chuckles.
“You know Raju. That could be next month.” They laugh.
“I am also a Patel, you know. I know how we think. How long he could take.” The man with the Indian accent replies.
The other man laughs, a grunt of approval.
“Yes. You are. Heads hard like cement, the lot of you. No easy way to make you agree to anything.”
The men laugh.
Lisa draws a breath. These men work for Raju Patel! The corrupt businessman. The one suing the car-company she was going to def
end in two day's time. Her mind whirls.
One of them is related to him. That must be the one who was watching her office. She thought she saw him, on a photograph of the Patel family during her research for the case, and recognised him at once. That was what made her think there was something strange about this case. Now she knows for sure. She breathes, and listens to the men continue.
“...what about you?”
“You mean, at the car firm? Yeah, life's good. Can't complain.”
“Brinkman...he's in for it in the court, soon.”
“Yeah, yeah.” The other man sounds less convinced. He pauses a while. “And how's your uncle been?”
“Not bad...he's recovering slowly.”
The men go on to talk of other things; family, acquaintances, the mines, football. Lisa stops listening halfway. Her mind is whirling with the information she already has; trying to put it together and fit it with what she knows, so far.
The Longest Time Without You (Gold Streaks Book 3) Page 1
