by Mary Birk
After Lizzie failed to show up to meet Maria, and didn’t return home, Greg had checked the surveillance app on his computer, searching for clues in what she’d done before she’d gone out. But everything that last morning had been as it always was; this time the panties were turquoise, the bra her white one, her outfit jeans and a soft blue jumper. She hadn’t packed her clothes, and when she left her room, she hadn’t been carrying a suitcase.
Greg had expected the camera’s motion-activated recording to end at that point, but it hadn’t. The camera captured one more recording that last day, triggered by someone else coming into her room. His father.
When Lizzie was supposed to be meeting her friend for lunch, before anyone had reported her missing, Douglas Gunderson had yanked open the door to Lizzie’s room. He grabbed Lizzie’s suitcase out of her closet, and, moving quickly, cleared her bedroom and bathroom of all her belongings, throwing everything into the suitcase as he went. When he was finished, he’d left the room, taking the suitcase, and all traces of Lizzie, with him.
Chapter 15
BACK AT HIGH STREET, Harry watched as Allison displayed the chat room conversations caught on Greg Gunderson’s computer to Oscar and Frank. It was a teen chat room for Christian girls who wanted to travel abroad safely. Lizzie had used the name, Frosty, obviously a takeoff from her name. There’d been discussions about boys—no surprise—about love—again no surprise. The only surprising thing was how innocently chaste the discussions seemed to be.
They’d gotten little other information from the teenage Gunderson boy; other than that Greg was sure Lizzie didn’t have a boyfriend. Harry could tell the boy knew something else, but hadn’t been able to get any more out of him. At least not yet. He’d left his card with the kid. The rules about talking to minors were dicey, but if the boy came to him, Harry’d figure out a way to work things.
Allison tugged at his sleeve. “Look here, Harry. This is how the meet was set up when Lizzie was taken. Through this chat room.”
“Bless young Greg.”
“Lizzie was supposed to meet this Rosie for lunch before they joined Maria at the film.” Allison’s mouth pursed in disapproval. “How many times do you have to tell kids that meeting people over the internet is dangerous?”
Harry patted the pile of folders of the other missing girls. “Can you go through and see if the other girls were ever in the chat room?”
“No problem, your majesty. What are you going to be doing?”
“I need to brief the local police on this, see if anyone’s heard anything before about this chat room.”
“We should let Jack Shelton know, as well.”
“You take care of that, sweetcakes.”
“What about the guv? Do you want to tell him what we found?”
Harry could tell Allison was dying to tell the Superintendent herself, besides he was still nursing his mad. “Nah, you do it. I want to take a better look at young Greg’s computer, if you can spare it for a while.”
“I can get into the chat room from anyplace now that I have the location. What are you looking for? You don’t think the kid had something to do with Lizzie’s abduction.”
“No. But it took some serious bollocks to buck his old man and come talk to us on his own. He knows more than he’s told us, you can bet on that.”
* * * * *
Lizzie had almost given up any hope of escape when she’d finally been unshackled. She felt almost giddy with excitement. They’d let her go into the bathroom by herself, and even close the door. Of course, neither the small bathroom nor the room she was being kept in had any windows. But her hands and feet were free. She still wore the collar, but she could run with it on. If she got far enough away, the remote-control for her collar probably wouldn’t work. She just had to figure out how to get out of this room, past her heavily armed guards, out of whatever building she was in, and from there, to freedom. Freedom and home. Did her mother know she’d been kidnapped? Did anyone? Were the police looking for her?
Her spirits dropped immediately when the door to her prison room opened, and the Master came in, looking as beautifully dressed as he was evil. He no longer bothered to cover his face when he was with her, and he never left her without debasing her in some way, or forcing her to debase herself. One more test of her faith, one more trial to endure. She said a silent prayer for strength.
He motioned her to her knees, and she wanted to cry. She knelt. But instead of making her put him in her mouth, he took her chin, tilting it up.
“I’ve been thinking about how exactly we should stage your film.”
She didn’t say anything, just silently chanted her prayer.
“You’re praying, aren’t you?”
Was this a trick question? Was he going to shock her if she said yes? Lizzie decided to tell the truth. “Always.”
He grabbed her by the hair, yanking her head back, then leaned down and kissed her, filling her mouth with his tongue until she wanted to gag. He pulled his mouth away, but kept his hold on her hair.
“Hold still. I’m going to take the collar off.” Using a small plastic tool, he unlocked the collar and pulled it away from her neck.
Her hands instantly went to where the collar had chafed. Thank God. Now it would be easier to escape.
He handed her a small tube of ointment. “Rub this in. I don’t want marks on your neck.”
She opened the tube, squirted some of the ointment on her hands, and began massaging it into her neck.
“They tell me you’ve been asking for your rosary. Do you still want it?”
She nodded.
“Then you shall have it.” He took her rosary out of his jacket pocket, and dangled it in front of her.
She grabbed it, clasped it to her lips, and kissed it.
He studied her. “We should be able to find a buyer for you who’ll like the idea of a buying a virgin who fancies herself a Christian martyr. A girl who would rather die than be violated.”
Lizzie stayed silent, clutching her rosary to her chest.
Smiling, he stroked her hair. “Many of our buyers hate Christians, but they all love virgins. We’ll dress you in a short white toga, with your rosary and a cross. You can kneel and do all the praying you want. It’ll make a great film.”
Lizzie calculated the distance to the door. If she pushed him over, and ran, how far would she get before the guards outside her door tackled her? About one inch, she thought with dismay.
“Are you going to miss me, Lizzie?” He ran his finger around her nipples, then reached down between her legs. By now she knew better than to flinch. If she did, he might make her do things to him, and even worse, to the guards.
“I need at least a million pounds for you, but with the Christian virgin martyr angle, I might get two million. The thought of all that money makes me hard, Lizzie. What shall we do about that?”
She knew what he wanted her to say, what he wanted her to do, but she couldn’t do it again. She didn’t care if he killed her for refusing. Never again.
She shook her head, clutched her rosary, and closed her eyes, praying out loud:
To thee do we cry, poor banished children of Eve, To thee do we send up our sighs in this valley of tears. Turn then, Most Gracious Advocate, thine eyes of mercy upon us, and show us unto the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.
She was still praying when she heard him leave.
Chapter 16
“IT’S HALF-FIVE, ALLISON. Let’s hit the Pink Elephant.”
Surprised out of her concentration by Harry’s voice, Allison looked up from her computer. “Why?”
“I need to talk to you about something in private.” Harry had that jaunty look that signaled he was up to something, though he was trying to look boyishly innocent. His bright red hair and freckles contrasted starkly against his pale skin, and his ears stuck out worse than his hair, but he didn’t look boyish, nor did he look innocent. He looked tough, like he’d had to fight all his life.
“What do yo
u want to talk about?” Despite herself, she was curious. Although he seemed to spend half of his time at the office making her life miserable, teasing her and patronizing her, he was unquestionably the guv’s right hand, and Allison knew that he was privy to things no one else in the office was.
“I’ll tell you over a pint.”
“Why can’t you tell me now?”
“I’m ready for a pint.”
“No one’s stopping you.”
“I’m buying.”
That wasn’t an offer he made often. Harry had a reputation of being overly careful with his money. He was definitely up to something. Allison decided to ask the question she wanted an answer to, since he obviously wanted something from her. “What happened with you and the guv this morning?”
“Nothing.”
“Liar.”
“Okay, we argued.”
“About what?”
“Football. No big deal.”
“You’re still lying.” She felt unsettled, like a child whose parents were fighting. Her world depended largely, albeit in different ways, upon the Superintendent and Harry being the way they always were, and them not getting along threw off the balance of things.
“Let’s go get that pint.”
“Then will you tell me what you two were arguing about?”
“I already told you, football.”
“Football, my arse. What has the two of you so off?”
“Nothing to worry your pretty little nose about.”
“Fine. I’ll stay here.”
“I need to talk to you.”
“Then talk. Here’s fine.”
“I’ll tell you at the Pinky.”
“I don’t have time to go to the pub. I’ve still got hours of work to do tonight.”
“This will be a little break.”
She considered. Maybe she could get more information from him after he’d had a pint or two. “You’re really buying?”
He nodded. “Don’t order champers or anything, though.”
“As if.” Anything sold at the Pink Elephant under the guise of champagne wasn’t likely to be drinkable.
“Come on, you know you want to go.”
“All right, then. One pint.” Allison grabbed her coat and scarf, and pulled her knitted cap over her head. Harry shrugged into his own coat, and held the door open for her before following her out into the bleak evening air. April was always that wet cold that made you want to stay indoors until May. Though sometimes May was a disappointment as well. Shivering, she bundled her scarf around her neck.
Although it was only a five-block walk, the sidewalks, still splashy wet from the earlier rain, made Allison glad she’d worn her boots. Harry didn’t seem to feel the cold. He was whistling and his jacket wasn’t even closed up.
“Stop whistling. You look like a lunatic.” But in truth, she felt like whistling herself. She drew in a deep breath of fresh air, feeling it expand her lungs. When she released her breath, she could see it hang in the air. The exercise felt good, and the break from the computer screen and slogging through evidence that didn’t seem to go anywhere, might make the rest of the night more bearable.
He grinned. “Whatever you say. Have you found anything showing that the other missing nannies had used Lizzie’s chat room?”
She shook her head. “Not yet. If I knew the names they were using or had the computers they logged in on, maybe I’d be able to, but so far, nothing. But I’ve got some ideas. Maybe I can run them by you later?”
“I’ll look at them in the morning.”
“Thanks.”
“So, pet, Eddie Michaud? What’s going on there?”
“None of your business.”
“I thought you’d told him to bugger off months ago.”
She felt her face flush. “He’s not so bad.”
“Ah, it’s like that, is it?”
“Shut up. How’s your flavor of the month, or should I say flavor of the week?” She wasn’t going to tolerate any teasing tonight. She’d give it back to him as good as he gave.
“You have a jaded view of my romances.”
“Hah. You wouldn’t know romance if it hit you in the face.”
“The face isn’t where romance hits most blokes, sweetcakes.”
“You’re revolting, as always.” The temperature seemed to have dropped as they walked, and despite her scarf, Allison’s face felt half frozen. She was relieved to see the door of the pub coming closer. A big pink elephant with a maniacal grin hoisting a pint decorated the lighted sign. Irrationally, she felt happy every time she saw that stupid elephant. She’d had a good day and a pint would go down great.
He opened the door for her, and she went in, grateful when the warm air in the pub hit her in the face. She found a table, sat down, and shucked off her coat while Harry went to get their drinks. Usually when the team went for a pint, they took turns with rounds, but he never stayed long, keeping his money and his drinking for the women he went out with. She raised her eyebrows when he returned with not only the drinks but packets of crisps.
“Big spender. What’s behind this, then?” Allison slid the hat from her head and fluffed her hair, looking around the room briefly to see who else might be there.
He sat down and took a long swallow of lager, pushing one of the crisp packets toward her.
She ignored it and took a drink of her own lighter brew. “What’s this all about?”
“I have a proposition.”
“That sounds scary.”
“Not a bit. It could work out great for both of us.”
“That’s not likely.”
“Why are you so prickly?”
“Because I know you.”
“Allison, sweetcakes, hear me out.”
“If you don’t stop calling me that, I’m going to report you. It’s sexual harassment.”
“Sexual?” He appeared truly taken aback. “You’re like my little sister.”
“Yeah, yeah. Cut to the point. What do you want?”
Harry ran his finger along the rough grooves of someone’s initials carved into the table. “You know I’ve been saving my money so I could buy my own place?”
Allison nodded. He’d mentioned the reason for his aggressive economy before. He’d many times expressed his displeasure at throwing money away on rent when he could be “building something.”
“I’ve found a place I can just about afford—if I have a renter.”
“So, get a renter.”
He held his hands out to her, palms up, and grinned.
She looked at him, incredulous. “You’re daft.” Allison quickly ripped open the packet of crisps, and popped one in her mouth. She didn’t want him to take them back now that he wasn’t going to get what he wanted.
“Just listen, pet. You’ve been wanting to get a place of your own, but as you said, with the deposits and this and that expense, it’s hard to make it happen.”
She started to interrupt, but he held up his hand.
“I wouldn’t charge you any of those things. The room has its own bath and a separate entrance and a little landing, almost a lounge. You’d be on the ground floor and I’d be on the top floor. The first floor has a kitchen with a dining area and a front room. We’d share that. Everything else would be absolutely separate.”
“It might be weird. Being together at work, and at home, too.”
“We won’t be together at home. You’ll have your space, I’ll have mine. I’ll do my thing, and you do yours. We’ll go to and from work separately, just like now. Never the twain shall meet.”
Despite herself, she was interested. She was tired of living like a child in her parents’ home, and even worse, having her brothers know all her business. But living with Harry? His teasing was relentless. She had to take it at work, but since her brothers had all moved out, not when she went home at night.
“No way.” Even as she said no, she wanted to say yes. Her own floor, a bathroom to herself, a private entrance. It would be
heaven, if it weren’t Harry.
“It has a washer and dryer. You’d have the use of that as well.”
Now he had her. She’d never have that if she rented a flat elsewhere, not at what she could pay. She’d talk to him about cutting out the teasing. “Where’s it at?”
His earnest enthusiasm seemed to match exactly what she was feeling herself. “That’s the beauty of it. Twenty minutes to the office on the underground, and there’re shops and pubs nearby, so it’s convenient all around.”
“You must have been saving up since you were three to buy a place like that.”
Harry grinned. “Just about.”
“How much rent?”
She was surprised at the amount he named. She could easily afford the rent, and still have money left over each month, but she didn’t want to agree to the first price he named.
She made a face. “Cor. That’s a bit steep.”
His pained expression almost made her smile. “No utilities, no deposit. Where else can you get a deal like this?”
She took a swallow of her pint, then took another crisp, as if she was still skeptical. She didn’t want to give in too quickly. “I’d have to see it first.”
“I’ve got my car nearby. We can pop round and see it. I’ll bring you home after.”
Home, she thought. What would her parents think about her sharing a place with a man? Harry was Harry, but technically he was a man. Her folks were that old fashioned that they’d assume he had designs on her body.
Harry seemed to read her mind. “I can come in and explain it to your parents so they understand that it’s all aboveboard.”
Allison considered. Her parents had met Harry before and liked him well enough. They knew she worked with him and that there was nothing between them. Maybe they’d be all right with it if it was put to them the right way. Harry could talk the feathers off a bird. If anyone could convince them, it would be him. But she felt her own feathers ruffle a little at his assumption that a woman her age needed to get permission from her parents.
