‘No harm in asking,’ replied Walker.
‘I need to speak to Cal Ginevra.’
‘Can’t do it.’
‘Hear me out, Chief. She can give us the answers we need, I’m sure of it. Not just about the Ginevras but about the shooting last night as well. And if she’s going to talk to anyone, she’ll talk to me.’
There was silence on the phone.
‘Chief?’
‘I’m looking for a notepad to write my resignation on,’ said Walker, ‘because if the Super ever hears about this …’
‘That’s a yes?’
‘I can give you ten minutes with her,’ replied Walker, ‘but this had better deliver.’
‘I’ll be there in five.’
‘Five?’ Walker’s voice rose in surprise. ‘You knew I was going to say yes.’
‘Only because you trust me,’ said Roscoe as he disconnected the call.
Exactly five minutes later, Roscoe walked into the police interview room at New Scotland Yard. Cal was sitting alone at the interrogation table. She looked up at him and he could see the desolation that had long since replaced the bright shine of her deep brown eyes.
‘Hello again,’ he said, taking the seat opposite her. ‘I’m here to help, if you’ll let me.’
‘It’s too late for that,’ she replied. ‘I don’t regret what I did. He deserved it.’
‘Why did he deserve it?’ asked Roscoe. ‘For taking away your daughter?’
‘Yes, for taking away my daughter,’ said Cal, the anger instantly rising in her voice. ‘And for locking me away for four years in an institution I should never have been in.’
‘Why did Enzo bring you to London?’
‘To play happy families. He thought I would pretend everything was fine, that I’d be grateful to be out. And that I’d do exactly what he wanted me to.’
‘What did he want you to do?’
‘To go to him again, to go to his suite, to his bed,’ said Cal, the pain vibrating in her voice. ‘Matteo told me at the airport in Chicago that he’d be here. That’s why I ran away. I never thought I’d see him again, but when we arrived in London there he was, acting like one of the family. And I realised then Harper was in danger too.’
‘Cal, who is Harper’s father?’ asked Roscoe.
She pressed her fingers into her eyes and smeared dirt-stained tears across her face.
‘Uncle Oscar.’
CHAPTER 35
INSIDE THE WINDOWLESS police interview room at New Scotland Yard, Roscoe threw back his chair and sprinted from the room.
As he ran down the hallway, Chief Inspector Fran Walker called after him, ‘Roscoe, talk to me!’
But he was gone.
‘Dad?’ said Martin as Roscoe got into his SUV, fired the engine and accelerated away.
‘Slight detour,’ said Roscoe. ‘We need to head back to the hotel before we go and see your sisters.’
‘What’s going on?’
‘I knew there was something wrong when he approached me in the parking garage.’
‘Who?’
‘I think he was going to shoot me then.’
‘Dad, look out!’ exclaimed Martin as they flew through a red light.
Without touching his brakes, Roscoe swerved around a red London bus before he hit the accelerator again.
‘I hope you’re wearing your seatbelt,’ he said, turning to Martin with a smile. ‘Hit Anna’s number on my phone.’
‘I promise you I’m still doing fine,’ said Anna, her voice on loudspeaker filling the car.
‘Oscar Miller is the father of Harper Ginevra.’
‘Miller?’ said Anna, sounding shocked.
‘Or “Uncle Oscar”, as Cal called him,’ said Roscoe. ‘Miller worked together with Enzo Ginevra on the very first Tribeca Luxury Hotel. He became a fixture at the Ginevras’ home, trusted by all. And he abused that trust in the sickest of ways.
‘Cal gave birth to Miller’s child and my guess is Enzo saw that as an opportunity to further his own interests. Either he decided to protect his business partner at the expense of his own daughter or, more likely, he chose to use Harper’s birth to enhance his own empire. He had a hold over Miller and was ready to exploit it in every way possible. Ginevra Construction became the exclusive partner of Tribeca and the money flowed in. And that meant Matteo could become more and more reckless as he was simply untouchable.’
‘Which ended in him killing two men in Chicago,’ said Anna.
‘And my guess is even that wasn’t a problem because Uncle Oscar was despatched to take care of any potential witnesses.’
‘Including you, Dad?’ said Martin.
Roscoe turned to look at his son. ‘I was the last man standing,’ he said. ‘I didn’t realise at the time, but once I’d mentioned to Miller Cal having a child, he panicked. He came after me in the parking garage, but he lost his nerve and couldn’t shoot me face to face. Instead he tried to shoot me through the bedroom door.’
CHAPTER 36
AS HE RACED through the gates of the Tribeca Luxury Hotel in Mayfair, Roscoe could see in his mirrors Chief Inspector Walker pursuing him in a police squad car. Accelerating up the driveway, he saw Oscar Miller sitting in the rear of a Tribeca limousine, waiting for his bags to be loaded into the trunk of the car.
Roscoe spun his SUV across the front of the limo, Martin gripping hold of his armrests as he did. The stench of burnt rubber hung in the air as Roscoe jumped from the car and ran to the limo.
Throwing open the rear door, he leant across the back seat as Miller sipped a glass of vintage champagne.
‘Merry Christmas, Mr Miller.’ He knocked the glass from Miller’s hand, sending champagne flying across the car.
‘What the hell …?’ said Miller. But Roscoe had already gripped the lapels of his grey cashmere coat and was dragging him head first out of the back of the limousine.
‘You raped a child again and again!’ he cried, throwing Miller against the side of the car. ‘And you didn’t feel one ounce of remorse!’
Roscoe’s fist slammed against Miller’s jaw before he dragged him to the front of the car. Pulling his head backwards, he prepared to slam Miller’s face into the hood.
‘No, Jon!’ hollered Fran Walker, her car coming to a stop alongside Roscoe’s. Jumping from the vehicle, she stood on the other side of Miller’s car, imploring her former inspector. ‘He isn’t worth it.’
Roscoe looked at Walker, and then at Miller.
‘You’re never going to get that nasty bloodstain out of a nice coat like this,’ he said, throwing Miller to the ground before two police officers quickly stepped forward and cuffed the man. ‘But then again, I doubt you’ll need it where you’re headed.’
‘You’re going to make that shoulder even worse if you keep behaving like that,’ said Anna as Roscoe walked through the towering glass door that led into the hotel’s marbled foyer. She put her arms around him.
‘Tell me you’re okay,’ said Roscoe.
‘I’m not going to answer that question any more,’ she replied with a smile. ‘Will this change what happens to Cal?’
‘She killed her father and she planned it. But a good barrister should make a strong defence. Let’s hope there’s a plea and it doesn’t come to that.’
He looked back across the foyer to see Martin standing at the entrance to the hotel.
‘You should go,’ said Anna. ‘You need to be with your family.’
‘I might see you later?’
‘I think I’ve earned my night off tonight,’ she said as she kissed Roscoe on the cheek. ‘I’ll catch you tomorrow.’
CHAPTER 37
STANDING IN THE front garden of her parents’ home, Marika Roscoe heard a woman violently sobbing. Realising Emily Lee had been brought home that morning, she told her mother to take her daughters inside and she ran straight towards the neighbouring Montgomerie home.
As she entered the garden, the front door to the house opened, and Emily Lee cra
wled out on her hands and knees.
Marika could see her eye was blackened and her mouth split open.
Coming through the door after her, Wyatt grabbed hold of Emily’s hair. Jerking her head backwards, he pulled her up onto her knees before spinning her around, back towards the house.
‘Wyatt, please! I’m sorry,’ she cried as he lifted her off the ground.
‘Get back inside!’ he yelled. ‘How stupid did you think I am? You’re the stupid one. Did you think you could steal my son? Tell me where you had him!’
Wyatt lurched at his wife and Marika saw her hopelessly try to clamber away.
‘Kids don’t just suddenly reappear!’ he roared. ‘Get back in the house!’ His hand connected with his wife’s face.
‘Stop!’ shouted Marika, making her way up the path. ‘Stop it now, Wyatt!’
Wyatt turned to face her, and Marika realised he hadn’t seen her until that moment. ‘Get off this property,’ he said in a disconcertingly calm tone.
‘Not until you let her go.’
‘Don’t tell me what to do,’ he replied, reaching down and gripping Emily by the hair again. Emily looked tragically at Marika, as though pleading with her to leave.
Marika couldn’t do that.
‘Wyatt, let Emily go,’ she said.
Wyatt laughed. ‘Do you think this is some kind of negotiation?’ he said, moving towards Marika.
‘Emily, I want you to go back inside the house, close the door and lock it behind you,’ said Marika, issuing clear instructions in the hope of breaking her from her stupor.
Wyatt continued to walk towards Marika.
‘Now!’ shouted Marika, and Emily ran towards the front door.
Wyatt took three steps forward, wrapped his arm around Marika’s neck and dragged her too towards the house. Seeing her husband’s SUV pull up outside the house, Marika shouted for help.
But Wyatt was too strong. In a split second he had dragged her backwards into the house, kicked Emily through the door and forced Marika in after her.
Thrown to the floor, Marika stumbled down the hall as Wyatt Lee slammed the door closed behind them.
CHAPTER 38
ROSCOE SPRINTED DOWN the path and with a single kick of his boot smashed through the front door of Dame Annabel’s home.
Seeing Marika backing safely down the hallway, he turned to Emily, who sat cowering at the foot of the stairs, holding her young son Brayden.
With panic in his eyes, Wyatt went to grab the child. The boy screamed and clung defiantly to his mother. In one movement, Roscoe took hold of Wyatt by the back of his neck and hurled him through the open front door, which swung on its hinges.
Roscoe stepped out onto the path after him. Wyatt scrambled to his feet and started to run towards Roscoe’s parked SUV. As he did the car door was thrown open, and with fantastic force it slammed like an iron fist into Lee’s face, knocking him unconscious to the ground.
‘Nice work,’ said Roscoe, walking down the path.
‘I didn’t think that shoulder of yours could throw any more punches,’ replied Martin with a smile. He stepped over his victim and made his way over to his dad.
CHAPTER 39
ROSCOE LOOKED ACROSS the road to the small house at the side of the pond and wasn’t surprised to see Julian Templeton peering through his window. Walking across the road, he saw a second figure slip away.
As he approached the house, the door was opened and Roscoe walked inside.
‘Brayden has not been harmed in any way,’ said Julian, following Roscoe into his living room.
‘I know,’ said Roscoe. ‘Where is she?’
Julian turned his head to the kitchen door and raised his eyebrows. Roscoe stepped across and pushed the door open.
‘It wasn’t meant to be like this,’ said Dame Annabel. She was leaning against a kitchen cabinet.
‘Do you want to tell me how it was meant to be?’ asked Roscoe.
‘An intervention, she called it,’ said Julian.
‘Be quiet,’ said Dame Annabel.
‘I did everything you asked of me,’ he continued. ‘We’d rescue your grandson, you said, get your daughter out of a disastrous marriage. Nobody would get hurt, you said.’
‘Julian!’ snapped Dame Annabel. ‘What you need to understand, Jon, is that my daughter, through no fault of her own, ended up in a violent and abusive marriage. I had to find a way to get her out of it.’
‘So you kidnapped her son?’ asked Roscoe.
‘She would never leave Wyatt while he still had control of Brayden. He terrifies her, but she loves her son. I knew if I could get Brayden away it would end Wyatt’s hold over her and give me a chance to persuade her to leave Wyatt.’
‘But she ended up in hospital and it was impossible for you to talk to her?’ said Roscoe.
‘Exactly.’
‘And I was left with the boy and very little gratitude for the danger I was suddenly facing,’ said Julian.
‘I shouldn’t have put you in that position,’ said Annabel.
‘No, you should not,’ said Julian. ‘What excitement you said it would be. The first night you would stage the break-in, you said. If you hadn’t guessed, Mr Roscoe, it was me who was responsible for the graffiti on the dame’s car. And then, of course, late on Christmas Eve the boy was brought to me.’
‘So when the alarm went off on Christmas morning …’ said Roscoe.
‘He was already safely hidden in the room beneath my kitchen.’
‘It seems a stupid idea now,’ said Dame Annabel, ‘but I had to do something. You’ve seen how violent Wyatt can be.’
‘I’m sure the police will have questions for you both.’
‘Does it have to be that way, Jon? Brayden’s safe and now surely Emily will see she has to escape from that man. I’m the only one who can help her do that.’
From outside the house Roscoe could hear police sirens approaching. ‘Sounds to me as if it’s already too late,’ he said.
‘Indeed it is,’ said Julian with a satisfied smile. ‘I’ve already made the call. I’m sorry, but you’re no friend of mine, Dame Annabel.’
CHAPTER 40
ON THE THIRTY-NINTH floor of the Tribeca Luxury Hotel in the Mayfair district of London was one of the finest Indian restaurants in the country. With views across the neighbouring royal park and beyond to the historic city, it was one of the most beautiful settings in the whole of the capital.
Reaching their table, Jon Roscoe pulled back his wife’s chair before taking his seat opposite her.
‘A memorable Christmas,’ said Roscoe, touching his champagne glass against his wife’s.
‘You’ve saved me from seven years of bad luck for lying to my mother,’ said Marika, looking across at him.
‘I have?’
‘I promised her we’d have dinner together before I left.’
‘Hopefully not the worst promise to have to keep,’ said Roscoe.
‘You can’t do any wrong in her eyes. And now she will dine out for a year on the story of how Dame Annabel enlisted the help of Julian Templeton to kidnap her own grandson.’
‘Kind of crazy, keeping him hidden for two days in Julian’s cellar,’ said Roscoe.
‘Misguided, certainly,’ said Marika, taking a sip of champagne, ‘but I saw what Wyatt Lee was capable of. If Dame Annabel was aware of half of that, I can understand exactly why she did it. Perhaps she went about it in the wrong way, but I think her heart was in the right place. She had to find a way to get her daughter and her grandson out of that marriage.’
‘You’re right,’ said Roscoe. ‘At the airport I thought Wyatt was genuinely reluctant to come to London but in reality he was taunting his wife, mocking her, finding another way to abuse her. I was so blinkered on Matteo Ginevra and Cal, I never realised it was Emily who had left me the note on the plane. Like Cal, she too was frightened for her life.’
‘I wonder what Emily will do now.’
‘Wyatt could be tried for a
ssault, and my guess is the courts might look kindly on Dame Annabel and Julian. But perhaps Emily would be best making her own fresh start, just her and Brayden.’ Roscoe paused as he looked across the restaurant.
Marika turned her head to look over her shoulder as a young Italian man, his jet-black hair slicked back, crossed the restaurant and approached their table. ‘Who’s that?’ she said.
Roscoe scowled. ‘That’s Matteo Ginevra.’
‘This must be the beautiful Mrs Roscoe,’ said Ginevra as he held out his hand to Marika. ‘Delighted to finally meet you.’
Roscoe clenched his fists and edged back in his chair.
‘I’m sorry your family has had to endure such suffering,’ replied Marika.
‘Families like mine, Mrs Roscoe, live from generation to generation. We only grow stronger.’
Roscoe thought how much he detested the man. How was it that Cal, who had been so desperate to protect her daughter, was sitting in a police cell while Matteo, having killed two men, walked free?
‘I’ll leave you to enjoy your meal, Mrs Roscoe,’ said Ginevra. ‘I’ve an early flight back to Chicago in the morning.’
Roscoe watched as he walked away and out of the restaurant. Oscar Miller may have been about to be charged but Ginevra was the man Roscoe wanted to see convicted.
‘You have to let it go, Jon,’ said Marika, reaching for her husband’s hand.
‘I never will,’ he replied. ‘That man is evil and causes suffering wherever he goes.’
‘That’s what makes me afraid. You have to walk away and be ready to put me and the girls first.’
‘Walk away from a man I know is guilty?’ Roscoe rubbed his eyes. ‘I’m sorry, Marika, I can’t do that.’
‘Then however much I love you, I can’t live like that,’ said Marika, pulling her hand away. ‘I think it’s time for me to go home.’
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Kidnapped: BookShots (A Jon Roscoe Thriller) Page 8
