‘Please, just take us back home,’ she called now. ‘There’s no need for this.’
The man lifted his head, and she assumed he was looking at her in the rear-vision mirror, only she couldn’t see his eyes.
‘Don’t worry. We’re all just going to have a lovely day hanging out together. We’ve got lots of yummy snacks, and movies – you like Disney movies, right?’
She didn’t know if that was just a good guess, considering the audience, or if in fact he’d researched and discovered that Jonah would sit and watch the Cars movies all day long, given the opportunity, and that Julia loved the mice in Cinderella.
Julia nodded, while Jonah just sat and glared at the man.
‘And then Daddy will come and drop Darcy off and pick you up.’ The man lowered his glasses so that Gertrude could meet his blue gaze. ‘But we’re all going to be on our best behaviour while we’re together, hmm?’
Oh God. They were being kidnapped.
Alex watched as his sister Fiannah jogged down the path towards him, her long blonde hair tied back in a ponytail that swung with each step. She was a creature of habit, young Fi: she always went for a jog around the paths at Sydney Olympic Park at sunset. He knew exactly when she noticed him – her frown spoke volumes as she jogged past him.
‘I can’t talk to you about the case,’ she said breathlessly.
He fell into step alongside her. ‘I know Darcy Montgomery is one of your witnesses,’ he told her. ‘I need to know more.’
‘All you need to know is that it’s none of your business.’
‘Dom’s kids were kidnapped today.’
Fi jerked to a halt and he stopped as she faced him, her face screwed up as she tried to catch her breath. ‘What? Jonah and Julia?’
He nodded. ‘Gertrude took the kids out for a play. They never came home.’
‘Shit.’
‘The driver who was assigned to them was discovered in the back of another person’s car. The mother got a nasty surprise when she went to put her pram in the boot.’
Fi braced her hands on her knees, gasping as she tried to get her breathing under control. ‘Is he okay?’
‘He’s in hospital with a severe concussion. Whoever did this was a professional. The driver was former Special Forces, and damn good at his job. For someone to get the jump on him, the guy has to be very, very good.’
‘Only one?’
‘That’s what Dudley said before he went in for a brain scan.’
‘Has the kidnapper advised what his terms are?’
‘There was a note with the driver. They want Darcy Montgomery.’
Fi straightened, then started to walk up the drive to the Novotel hotel. ‘Well, that’s going to be hard to deliver, seeing as you don’t have her.’ She frowned up at him. ‘How long was she with you guys?’
‘Close to two months.’
Fi swore again. ‘We’ve been looking for her for four months.’
‘Why are we going in here?’ He followed her into the blessedly cool reception area, their sneakers squeaking softly on the polished marble floor.
‘Because I know the staff in the events department, and they let me stow my bag and have a shower after my jog.’
Alex looked around. It was far nicer here than Marty’s gym showers. He turned to his sister, who was walking into the quiet lounge area. ‘So, what happened at the safe house?’
‘We’re not having this conversation,’ she warned him.
Alex nodded. ‘I understand.’ His sister was a stickler for the rules – had to be in her role at the DPP, but the lives of two kids were at stake, and she treated those kids like her own niece and nephew. She sat and waved at the bar staff, and one of them nodded and grabbed a chilled bottle of water and two glasses and brought it over to where they were sitting.
‘She’s a star witness on a fraud case,’ Fi began once the waiter had left. ‘She worked for an investment broker, and discovered he was involved in fraud. Upon further investigation, we think the fraud is much, much bigger, on a scale we haven’t seen before. We’re talking millions, if not billions, of dollars.’
Alex whistled. ‘But if you can track the fraud, why do you need Darcy to testify? Don’t you have the evidence?’
Fi grimaced. ‘She overheard a conversation between her boss and someone that intimates there is further activity that we haven’t uncovered. If we can get a guilty verdict, we’re hoping the boss will rat out his partners to commute his sentence.’
‘Why not spill his guts now and request immunity?’ Alex asked. ‘He could avoid a trial altogether, then.’
His sister shook her head. ‘Darcy’s testimony would be enough to convict him, and for what he’s done to his investors, he deserves to go to prison.’
‘So if she doesn’t testify, he may get off.’
‘Exactly. We had her in protective custody, but this guy has some serious money behind him, money we can’t track or freeze. The safe house was compromised.’
‘And three officers were killed protecting her,’ Alex stated grimly. ‘So she ran.’
Fi sighed. ‘She escaped, more like, by killing the hitman. It’s a clear case of self-defence.’
‘So why put out a warrant for her arrest?’
Fi sipped her water, looking surreptitiously about. He didn’t know why, there was nobody within earshot. He folded his arms, waiting.
‘We thought she would come to us, that she’d establish contact so we could bring her in, but she didn’t. She dropped off the grid.’
Alex shrugged. ‘Can you blame her? There was a leak somewhere. She sounds like a smart lady – she’s not going to put her neck out again.’
‘The case starts in three days. If we can’t produce our witness, this guy could go free, and thousands of people who have invested millions will be left destitute. Three cops were killed. We can’t risk this guy getting off. We hoped she’d come in of her own accord, but we’re coming down to the wire. We can’t afford to wait for her any longer.’
‘Christ. So Dom’s kids have been kidnapped to draw her out.’ Alex looked through the window that faced the stadium and the grand Olympic Boulevard, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘Either way, this sucks.’
‘What is Dom going to do?’
‘What can he do? We don’t know where Darcy is. If you guys couldn’t find her for four months, we’re not going to do it in three days.’
Fi rose from her seat and waved goodbye to the bar staff. ‘True. She’s so good at disappearing…’ She was silent for a moment, then shrugged. ‘So if you can’t get to her, do exactly what the kidnappers are doing. Get her to come to you.’
‘How?’
His sister started to walk towards the reception area. ‘I’m sure you’ll think of something.’
Darcy had to force herself not to touch her hair any more – or the lack of it. She didn’t want anyone to remember the strange woman who kept petting herself.
She’d walked out of Strathfield station and straight into a hairdresser’s salon, and emerged with hair shorter than Jennifer Lawrence’s tomboy-chic phase and spiked up with enough gel and hairspray to be a serious fire hazard in the thirty-four degree heat. She’d then casually walked down one of the arcades and found a shop that did nails, waxing – and henna tattoos. The Mehndi artist had initially baulked at Darcy’s request, but had reluctantly drawn an intricate pattern of dragon wings up the left side of her neck, cheek and temple, as well as some smaller flames ringing her left bicep and ankle.
Darcy ducked her head as she crossed the road. She’d cried when she’d seen herself in the mirror. The delicately coiffed, well-groomed blonde executive assistant of just six months ago was now a slender goth tomboy with tatts and chunky silver and leather jewellery. And that’s what people would remember. The tattoos, maybe the nose piercing. She’d learned that people were mostly content to accept the facade, to not question or look any deeper than that. She’d risked her life on that belief.
At least she
’d been able to lose the contacts. It felt like heaven, not wearing them.
Now, though, she was attracting strange looks in this well-to-do area of Paddington. She’d have to be quick.
She took a deep breath and walked up to the busy cafe. Kids were playing in the park next door, and Darcy easily recognised the Shein girls sitting on a slide, huddled over an iPod. She turned away. She’d only met the girls a handful of times, but she still didn’t want to run the risk of them recognising her.
She stepped into the dark interior of the cafe and removed her sunglasses, walking directly to the back area where a short hall led to the restrooms – and the supply area. She’d had the odd coffee here herself, a time or two.
She could hear the clatter of dishes coming from the kitchen at the end of the hall, the general hubbub of conversation from the front shop. The smell of coffee and toast wafted down the hallway, and – oh God, was that bacon? She’d barely eaten since leaving Jirralee.
She grabbed one of the black aprons hanging from the hooks in the corridor and tied it around her waist. She picked up a tray, grabbed a glass and smacked it down onto it, then returned to the shop area, reaching into her back pocket for the white envelope. She stopped to snag a bottle of chilled water from the soft drinks fridge by the door. She ignored the confused looks of the other waiters as she stepped back out into the sunlight and wended her way through the tables to where Liz Shein sipped her caramel soy latte and flicked through a magazine, casting an occasional look over to the park to check on her girls. Mark had always whined how Liz sat and sipped lattes while he brought home the bacon, and that this cafe’s prices could settle third world debt. Her lips tightened. It wasn’t the only thing he’d whined about. She felt sorry for his wife. Darcy placed the bottle and glass on the table, and Liz murmured her thanks absently, not glancing up as she perused the latest Paris fashions.
Darcy put the envelope down next to the glass and turned away. She left the tray on an empty table and untied the apron as she walked to the kerb. She draped the apron over the back of a chair and then crossed the street, waving casually to a car as it stopped to allow her to pass.
She kept walking down the street. Step one to making Mark Shein’s life hell: Complete.
CHAPTER
28
Mark walked into his home, jingling his keys. The house was silent – not so unusual, these days. He couldn’t remember the last time the girls had invited some friends over.
He walked into the kitchen and frowned. Liz wasn’t cooking dinner. He glanced at his watch. It was past six o’clock. Were they supposed to be going out? Had he forgotten? He wandered down the hall, and had almost passed the living room before he noticed his wife standing by the window.
‘Oh, there you are. Where are the kids?’
Liz turned around, her face set in a cool mask. Uh oh. The ice queen was back. Must be that time of the month.
‘They’re with my mother,’ she said calmly as she approached him. Damn, she was still an attractive woman. Long legs, auburn hair – she was as beautiful now as she was— Wait. She’d taken the kids to visit the dragon? This didn’t sound good.
‘What?’
‘I’m just about to join them,’ she said, and this time he saw the anger in her hazel eyes. She was on the war path. Liz on the war path was – painful. Physically, emotionally and financially.
‘What’s going on?’
‘I’m leaving you.’
The words were softly spoken, but for all that she may as well have shouted at him. He blinked, then frowned. She’d finally snapped. All this stress over the charges, the social purgatory she’d found herself in, the cancelled tennis dates from her so-called friends from the girls’ school; it had finally gotten to her. Apparently the last four months were just a warm-up for the main event.
‘Hey, honey, I know it’s been tough,’ he said, raising his hands to hold her arms, but she avoided his grasp.
‘Don’t touch me,’ she hissed at him. ‘Don’t you ever touch me again.’
He frowned. ‘Liz, sweetheart, whatever’s going on, we can work it out. I love—’
Crack!
Her palm hit his cheek, and he stumbled back, shocked, as she advanced on him. ‘You love me? Is that what you were about to say?’ Her voice shook with rage.
Crack!
This time he could have sworn he saw stars. Searing heat bloomed in his cheek.
‘Liz, stop i—’
Crack!
Goddamn that hurt. He held up a palm to his hot face, staring in disbelief at the shrew he could have sworn was his wife.
‘You son of a bitch,’ Liz yelled, her cheeks mottled with rage. She slapped him again, and this time he fell back, landing on his butt on the cold marble floor. ‘Did you think you could hide this from me? Did you think you could get away with this?’
His jumbled thoughts raced around his head as he tried to make sense of the surreal situation. ‘With what, exactly?’ There were so many things…
‘Your mistress.’ She flung some paper at him, and he fumbled, frowning. Oh God. The credit card receipt. From the credit card Liz didn’t know about. From the bank account she didn’t— Oh God.
‘You like to get screwed, do you?’ Liz stepped over him, her heels clacking on the tiles as she walked away. ‘Well, I can oblige. I’m divorcing you.’ She paused and looked briefly over her shoulder. ‘Oh, and I’m going to screw every last cent out of you.’ She left the house.
Mark sat on the floor, staring in disbelief at the papers in front of him.
This was bad. This was very, very bad.
Darcy wiped down the bar, picking up sodden coasters and replacing them with new stock. The pub crowd was noisy, the pokies dinging in the background, and she almost missed the news story. She halted when she saw Dom’s face on the news, then grabbed the remote.
‘Shhh, everybody,’ she yelled, not caring about the attention she was calling to herself as she increased the volume. She listened in horror as the news presenter reported the kidnapping of Jonah and Julia St James. Darcy’s hand rose to her mouth, her eyes widening as she watched Dom being interviewed. He looked tired and haggard, but even from the distance of a camera lens, she could see the anger simmering in his eyes, and the worry.
She blinked when what he was saying finally sank in. Even the reporter had to ask him to repeat it.
‘I’m offering a one million dollar reward for any information that may lead to the safe recovery of my children, and of Darcy Montgomery. Darcy, if you’re watching, contact me.’
Her arms half rose, as though to reach out to him on the screen.
A photo of blonde Darcy graced the screen, along with Julia and Jonah, and she lowered her arms.
The children, oh crap, the children. She hoped, prayed, they were safe. Then the reality of his words sank in.
Oh my God. He’s put a bounty on me.
She turned the volume down and placed the remote very carefully on the counter as the story continued with surveillance footage of a suspect for the St James building letter bomb. She hadn’t known about that incident until after she’d arrived in Sydney. And now his kids were taken, and he’d announced a reward for information on Jonah and Julia – and her.
The patrons had returned to their own business, the noise of conversations slowly rising. As though everything was completely normal, while she had a quiet freak attack on the inside. It took her a moment to realise she was building a small tower of coasters.
Mick, her new boss, sauntered up to her carrying a stack of empty glasses. He was a big man, with a red beard that matched the long curly hair on his head. He stared at her for a moment, and she swallowed, reaching slowly for the rag to continue wiping down the bench.
‘I think you’d better leave, don’t you, Denise?’ he said softly, stressing her name.
She nodded. He set the glasses down, and turned to the till, pressing the buttons to open the drawer. ‘Here.’ He shoved some notes into her hand, a
nd she shook her head.
‘No, Mick, I can’t—’
He covered her hands with his. ‘I was once in a spot of trouble, myself. You go now, girl.’ He nodded to the door. ‘I’m giving you half an hour, then I’m going to make some calls and get that money back, with interest.’
Darcy smiled shakily. ‘Thank you.’ She moved past him, ducking back into the service area to grab her bag, then hurried out the staff entrance. If Mick had recognised her, how many others had? Were calls already being made to the hotline?
Crap. How long did she have before the place was swarming with cops?
Adrian looked twice at his roommate. ‘Good God, what happened to you?’
Tony Blewitt sat on the lounge, watching the news on the telly with a blank stare, several empty bottles of beer scattered across the coffee table.
‘Tony, what happened to your head?’ Adrian asked as he plonked himself down in the armchair. He eyed the carnage on the table with disgust. He didn’t mind the odd drink or four on the weekend, but his roommate lost all sense of time and place sometimes. The room stank of stale beer and – antiseptic? Tony was a mess. His nose and chin were covered in blisters that looked hot and painful, and tiny tears in the skin looking angry and raw. And what the hell had happened to his hair? Tony had stuck white patches in various spots over his head.
‘Shampoo,’ Tony muttered drunkenly.
Adrian’s eyes widened. Holy hell, that was some shampoo. The man looked like he’d been attacked by a whipper snipper. He didn’t like Tony, and was trying to figure a way to broach the subject of the man moving out, but sheesh, he looked like one of those pictures they used on cigarette packs to scare people off smoking.
He smiled to himself as he settled in his seat. Tony’s mug on a packet of cigs would be enough to make him quit. He concentrated on the news, and frowned, leaning over to reach for the remote hiding behind some beer bottles on the table. He turned up the volume.
He listened as the reporter talked solemnly to the camera about some letter bomb that went off in the St James offices in North Sydney.
Runaway Lies Page 24
