“Siri, I tell you now that whatever you brought in, it never reached me!”
“There was an older lady at the desk, with gray hair and very smartly dressed. She said you were on sick leave, but that she would put the envelope in a safe place and make sure it got to you when you returned.”
Ellie frowned. That sounded like Sheila Stephens, the station’s civilian office administrator. “Perhaps, if you did not get our package, you could ask her when you get back to the station,” Siri suggested.
Ellie sighed. “I can’t, Siri—I think that would have been Mrs. Stephens, and she retired and moved away. But I will try to contact her.” But in her mind’s eye, Ellie could see the package she’d flung so carelessly onto the seat of her car. Could it be…
“Well, unless someone else has taken it, it should still be there,” Siri insisted. “After they beat my father, my mother and my uncle insisted that we install a security video camera. It was hidden on one of the top shelves, and when the men came in, demanding money, my father and brother drew them out a little. They were very boastful. The camera recorded everything. The three men could be seen clearly. We thought surely the police would do something. But nothing happened, and we thought—well, we thought that perhaps we’d been wrong, and that you, too, were part of it all. That is why my father will not speak with you now.”
“Siri, I can tell you that I never received anything from you. But several things were happening at that time, I was—well, to cut a long story short, I was suspended from duty.”
“We heard you’d left because they thought you were taking bribe money,” the girl said bluntly, her dark eyes fixed on Ellie’s face.
Pain flickered in Ellie’s heart. So much for keeping everything quiet! She wondered how far that little tidbit of gossip had traveled in the community—no wonder Mr. Patel would not speak to her! Swallowing back the anger and humiliation that crowded her throat, Ellie held Siri’s gaze. “Do you believe that?” she asked, heart pounding.
The pretty face clouded, the girl’s brows furrowed. When she spoke at last, her voice was determined. “My father said there is no smoke without fire. We argued about it, because I did not believe it. And I still don’t.” With a smile, she reached out and touched Ellie’s arm. Ellie let out the breath she’d been holding.
“Thank you.”
Siri nodded, her expression so adult on that young face that Ellie wanted to hug her protectively. Instead, she spoke softly, “Now we have to find out what happened—are these men still bothering your father?”
Sadly, Siri nodded. “Yes. He pays them even though it is destroying both the business and his own pride. There is no alternative. He is afraid for us,” she said simply. “But they are careful now. I think they somehow found out about the video, because they never come into the store—they make my father deliver the money to an empty house.”
“If I found that tape and identified the men, do you think your father would talk to me?”
Siri was silent, then nodded. “Maybe he would. It would depend on whether he thought he could trust you again.”
Nodding, Ellie scribbled down her telephone numbers on a scrap of paper from her notebook, and gave it to Siri. “If anything happens, call me, no matter what time of day or night. In the meantime, I’ll search for that tape.” The girl looked at her intently for a moment, then nodded and ran swiftly with the grace of youth down the alleyway and back to her father’s shop.
Ellie’s mind raced with excitement as she walked back to the car, thinking of the fat envelope the desk sergeant had given her. She should return to the station, tell Reilly or Harris, but first she needed to find out what was on that tape.
A team meeting was scheduled for late afternoon, but Ellie turned her car homeward. She wanted to go through the material in the envelopes in privacy. Her excitement grew as, after parking in front of her cottage, she grabbed up the envelopes from the back seat and felt the hard rectangular outline of the videotape, the old-fashioned kind used in surveillance cameras.
The envelope seemed to burn her fingers, and Ellie forced herself not to yank the package open right there in the open in full view of anyone who might be watching. Instead she slipped out of her jacket and tucked both envelopes inside its folds, hoisted up her briefcase, and let herself into the quiet cottage. Whatever was on the videotape could be the key to clearing her name.
Resort to Murder
CHAPTER TWELVE
This time her instincts kicked in too late. Ellie had barely crossed the threshold of her home when she felt rather than heard the movement behind her. A strong arm snaked around her body and a hard hand clamped across her mouth, leaving her gasping for breath.
“Don’t scream; don’t try to make a break for it! Just keep quiet and everything will be fine.” The harsh, familiar voice whispered in her ear. Ellie nodded—sometimes compliance is better insurance of continued breathing than fighting on principle. She made herself go limp, dropping her jacket and briefcase on the sofa as she struggled against the purple haze that swam before her eyes. Struggling for air and to hold onto consciousness, Ellie was dragged into the darkened bedroom and thrown roughly down onto the bed. Oh, dear God, no, no! she screamed inwardly. I don’t want to die like this…
But her attacker just stood over her, not attempting to touch her. Ellie stared in shock at Jay Richards. At least she thought he was Jay Richards, although the wild-eyed, bruised and unshaven face above her bore little resemblance to the immaculately groomed, smugly handsome mien of her colleague. She had to consciously stop her gaze from drifting down to the sharp bladed knife in his hand.
“Just cooperate a little here, Ellie, and no one will get hurt. We’ll get through this.” His voice was a ragged whisper, and Ellie winced as the dim glow of the porch light through the thin curtains illuminated the wicked-looking bruises on Richards’ neck.
“I’ll fight you every step of the way, Richards—do you want it that much?” she declared, hating the tinny sound of fear in her voice and the tiny sob that hiccupped at the end.
Richards began to laugh—a dry ugly sound in the still room.
“My God, Ellie, if it was sex I wanted I wouldn’t need to rape a woman. Never have.”
“I see you’re still full of the same crap,” she replied, anger and fear sharpening her tone. Richards laughed again, a terrible, desolate sound.
“Ellie, I wanted you the first time I laid eyes on you—but you were a stuck up bitch who wouldn’t look at an inferior officer. At least not till Liam Reilly got his hands in your pants. Believe me, I laughed when he used you as a stepping stone in his own career.” Richards words dripped cruelty, and Ellie flinched as if he’d hit her.
“No,” she whispered.
Richards laughed again, satisfied that his cruel words had hit their mark. “I have friends who aren’t very happy with either of us. Friends who’d hoped you’d know better than come back into all of this, after they paid you well. But now you’re back, we’ve got to get a hold of the evidence you have and destroy it. My friends don’t want to get flushed down the toilet because of your ambitious Girl Scout ethics.”
She swallowed hard, calculating the distance between herself and the door. But it was only to try to keep her senses sharp—there was no possible hope that she could dive past Richards before he grabbed her. Not with that cruel knife in his hands and the crazy glitter in his eye. As if he read her mind, the stocky man said menacingly, “Don’t even think of it, Ellie. Believe me, you’re better off with me than with my friends. They’ll not treat you as civilly.”
“Richards, I think you’ve finally flipped. I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about—and I want nothing to do with either you or your weird friends.” Ellie’s voice was stronger now. She ventured to sit up, pulling the bunched up shirt down over her stomach. Richards gave her a lecherous grin.
“You must have it, Ellie. We know Patel made the tape around the time you left. I was never able to lay hands on it at
the station or in your flat. Believe me, I looked. I knew you didn’t already have it or you’d have used it. So I figured, when you came back, there was a fair chance some good little official at the station would dig out any stuff of yours that was still there and pass it on. Now, I’ve searched this dump you call home, and I’ve searched your office and came up empty. So, where is it?”
“No idea.” Richards’ hand seemed to flash out of nowhere, catching Ellie across the mouth. She tasted the sudden sweetness of blood against her teeth and purple clouded her vision.
“I told you not to screw with me, Ellie. This is too important. I want this over; I want my wife and my kid back home. I want these guys out of my hair—even-steven.”
She almost smiled at Richards’ childish phrase, but fear pounded through her veins and her shirt stuck to her back as cold sweat trickled down her spine.
“The only thing I got from the station when I came back, aside from a ton of files about the Slasher case, was a big envelope of messages and memos that had been held at the front desk.”
Jay Richards groaned. “I’d forgotten how efficient Mrs. Stephens was. She’d have put it by and left a memo in the day book.”
“I guess.”
“So where the hell is it, Ellie? For God’s sake, I hope you’ve got it here.”
Ellie’s mind was racing. If she pretended the envelope was still at the station, Richards might decide to take Ellie along as insurance. Innocent people could get hurt if they were challenged, as they surely would be when other officers got a look at Jay’s face. Yet if she gave Jay the tape, she lost all chance of ever proving her innocence and, quite probably, she’d lose her life as well. Looking at her situation frankly, Ellie doubted that either she or Jay would come out of this alive. The men with whom Jay must be involved with weren’t likely the type to leave loose ends. But maybe she could use the videotape to buy time until she could come up with a plan.
“Jay, I haven’t even looked at the stuff from the station myself yet, it’s just an envelope and I doubt there’s a videotape there. It’s on the settee with my jacket.”
She’d hoped he’d go to look alone, leaving her with the opportunity to escape. But Richards grabbed her arm and dragged her bodily through the small cottage. Light flooded in through the glass doors and Ellie’s breath caught in her chest as she saw more clearly the ghastly bruises and swelling on Jay Richard’s face and neck. Judging by the painful way he moved, he had been worked over by an expert. Fear lodged tightly in her throat, knowing she could expect similar treatment—or even worse.
Richards upended Ellie’s briefcase, scattering the files and other oddments, then tossed her jacket aside and swooped down on the thick envelopes with a hoarse cry of triumph. He ripped them open and tossed a thick wad of employee forms and message slips onto the kitchen table. Richards gave a crow of satisfaction and relief as he grabbed the videocassette. As he examined it, Ellie saw the pile of pink message slips and desperately wanted to examine them to see if Reilly’s name was there. Had he tried to call her in those dark days months ago? She reached out to pick some of the slips up, but Richards’ rough hand seized her hair, dragging her head back, and she opened her eyes to find madness glaring back at her.
“Whatever crafty scheme your university educated little brain is thinking up, darlin’, forget it. It wouldn’t be worth what would happen to you,” he sneered, his free hand roving across her body as if to prove she was helpless against him. She gritted her teeth against the pain and humiliation, and hung on firmly to the picture of Reilly’s face in her mind. Richards, tiring of the game, let her go and she staggered backward, coming to rest against the kitchen counter. She gave an involuntary shudder, and Richards sneered, “Goose walking over your grave, eh?”
“They’ll be walking over both our graves once your little friends have what they want. Now get out,” Ellie spat.
But Richards shook his head. “No way, honey—the guys want to see you personally, to make sure you understand that you’d better not shop any of them.”
“That’s a mistake, Richards—I’ve haven’t even seen the tape. I haven’t a clue who your masters are…”
“Doesn’t matter, kiddo. They want to make sure you get the message.”
Ellie swallowed. She knew exactly the kind of message these men would want to give her—and that she’d be lucky to survive. And so would Richards, but she didn’t think he’d given much thought to that.
“Don’t you see they’ll probably kill both of us?” she said, trying to speak calmly over the ball of fear that lodged in her chest.
“Nah, they’re not killers. They’re into drugs and whores, and a healthy little protection racket, that’s all. A few beatings, but nothing more than that.” Richards sounded almost cheerful. “C’mon, we have to get moving.”
“I need my jacket, I’m cold,” Ellie said, grasping the thick fleece. “And I’ve got to use the bathroom.”
“Sure, wouldn’t want you to wet your pants now, would we?” Richards sneered. But he peered into her tiny bathroom to be sure there was no other way out before standing back to let her past. She uttered a silent prayer of thanks when he pulled the door shut. Ellie sat down on the toilet—she really did need to go. Then she turned on a tap and ran cold water into the basin to cover up the noise as she quickly tapped a text message onto her cell phone.
“Reilly…help…Richards…my house…taking me where?” Was all she could think to say. She wanted to add “I love you.” But there wasn’t time. Might never again be time. She pressed “Send,” hit the mute button, and then set the telephone to call Reilly’s office number. She’d keep pressing the redial button as long as she was able, hoping they’d get curious enough to wonder—and leave the line open.
Ellie knew cell phones could be located by a process of triangulation. She would have to rely on Reilly to figure out quickly what was going on. It terrified her that Jay Richards didn’t seem to understand that the men he was working for could not afford to let either of them live. Pushing the phone into its pouch under her shirt, Ellie twisted the belt around so it nestled in the small of her back like the cops in American movies carried their guns. The number was new, so it was unlikely that anyone would ring and give her away, but she pushed the mute button anyway. Ellie shrugged into her bulky fleece jacket, flushed the toilet and washed her hands, splashing cold water onto her face.
“C’mon, Ellie—making yourself pretty for these guys would be a waste of time.” Richards’ voice sounded harshly from the other side of the door, and Ellie stepped out to face him.
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” she told him, looking defiantly into his bruised and battered face. She knew she was on dangerous ground, but she was playing for time. The longer she could avoid leaving the cottage and its vicinity, the better. Please God, let Reilly get my message and understand, she prayed silently.
****
Reilly closed the team meeting in a foul mood. They’d made pitifully small progress on the Collins murder. They had one officer missing, and now Ellie Fitzpatrick was ignoring her duties. He’d told her clearly to be at the meeting that had just ended—and she hadn’t shown. The minute she arrived, he’d let her know in no uncertain terms that he wouldn’t tolerate insubordination. He was honest enough to admit that some of his anger stemmed from jealous thoughts about who Ellie might be with, but he brushed the thought aside and stormed into his office, slamming the door so hard that Jane Corby looked up in surprise.
“Any calls from Fitzpatrick?” he growled, and looked even more furious when Jane shook her head. Reilly’s expression was furious - Ellie Fitzpatrick was going to be in a lot of trouble when she surfaced. Seeing his face, Corby suppressed a grin.
Reilly turned and stared out of the window. Where the hell was she? Playing kiss-and-make-up with her lover? The thought made his stomach sour and he had to draw in a harsh breath as visions of Ellie’s slender curves in the arms of another man wormed their way under his skin,
flooding his senses. When the telephone on his desk shrilled, he shouted at his sergeant to answer it. Jane picked up the receiver, listened, and slammed it back down again.
“Damned phone company,” she muttered, but Reilly caught her words.
“What’s wrong? Has everything gone crazy around here?” he demanded. But before Jane could answer the telephone rang again.
Reilly leaned across his desk, picking it up, but the dial tone cut in before he could speak. “How long has this been going on?” he asked Jane, a curl of fear starting in his gut.
“With depressing regularity for the last five minutes or so,” she replied, and then caught the shocked look on Reilly’s face. A dark feeling crept into the pit of Jane Corby’s stomach. An intelligent woman, she suddenly had the awful feeling that she had done something very stupid in ignoring the repeated ringing.
Reilly confirmed her thoughts. “It could be that someone is trying to get through to us –”
“Someone who can’t actually speak into the phone?” Jane finished for him.
Reilly’s quick mind too was assembling a variety of frightening scenarios.
“Let’s hope to God we’re wrong,” he said brusquely, knowing by her face that his sergeant had followed his train of thought. Was Richards trying to contact them? Or was it Ellie? His chest contracted with fear. “Use another line, and get me our contact at the telephone company.” He barked out the command. “Call a meeting of all available men from the Special Task Force and the uniform branch. We may need to move quickly.”
Reilly picked up his own cell phone, and cursed. He’d been so busy that he’d missed the little envelope sign that told of a text message waiting. Reading Ellie’s words sent icy fear down his spine, and his heart was thundering. Ellie. “Reilly…help…Richards…my house…taking me where?”
Resort to Murder Page 14
