The Elizabeth McClaine Thriller Boxed Set

by Catherine Lea

  Elizabeth’s smile was genuine now. It was directed at a point a couple of feet in front of her, where she could see the scenes playing out as if she were right there; still vital, still burning with a raw energy that seemed to fuel itself. “Then, one day, at an end-of-year dinner, we sat next to each other. He was young and ambitious. And so handsome,” she said and glanced across at Diana, who was also smiling. She turned her gaze back to the window, frowning in wonder as those memories rushed her one after the other, reaching out and touching her, then vanishing like the wind whistling through her fingers.

  She drew in a breath and stiffened in her seat, modifying her voice back to her standard, flat interview mode. “Three years later we married. At the time Richard’s father was keen for him to follow in his footsteps, building up a separate arm of the construction business. So his political career suffered a rather longer-than-expected hiatus. Then we moved to Chicago and everything changed. Everything he touched turned to gold. He was incredible—invincible.” The words had come out so low she could barely hear them. She cleared her voice, and continued on. “He threw everything he had into the business, and with Richard’s passion, and his eye for detail, there was no stopping him. The business thrived; we found ourselves moving in all the right circles, making a raft of supportive friends. Then eventually, Richard decided to step back into the political arena.”

  How many years were they treading those boards before the shades came down? she suddenly wondered. Too many. The days and months had simply flown past. Now look where she was.

  “You left having a family until quite late,” Diana said.

  Right then, Elizabeth saw her agenda. It was as if the woman had swept a magician’s black cloth back to reveal her nasty little trap, and now it was sitting right there in the spotlight, waiting for Elizabeth to blunder into. This was where Elizabeth had to keep her guard up. Something could so easily slip, and that blackness she kept locked up in her heart could leak out into the light of day. It wasn’t an issue if she kept calm. She’d done this God knew how many times with half a bottle of vodka under her belt. All she had to do was stick to the script.

  “When I turned thirty-nine, we decided to start a family. We knew the odds, but of course, it never seems real. How many women now are still having babies later in life? The newspapers are always full of celebrities who start families as late as their mid-forties. But after two years we were beginning to think we’d missed our chance. We were in the early stages of in-vitro fertilization when I discovered I was pregnant.”

  “You must have been delighted.”

  “We were.” A smile formed as the memory sharpened. She had rushed home and straight into Richard’s arms. She could still see the tears forming in his eyes at the news. He had lifted her from the floor and swung her around, and they had both joked about how that wasn’t going to happen for too much longer because she’d be like a whale in no time, and they fell apart laughing.

  Right then and there they made a pact: It didn’t matter if it was a girl or a boy, as long as the baby was healthy and had all its fingers and toes and could one day go to Harvard—well, where else? Naturally, he or she would eventually take the helm at the company, leaving Richard to follow his career in politics and Elizabeth to prepare the way for a clutch of grandchildren.

  Over the next days, weeks, months of her pregnancy, Elizabeth found herself overcome with emotions she had never dreamed possible. Emotions that ranged from abject terror about the future for her child, to a sense of attachment that burned so deeply, it was as if this child—her child—had become the very ground beneath her feet, the sky above her world and the air she breathed. At times like this she had become so overwhelmed by her love for this child, she had wondered in despair how she would ever live her own life again.

  It wasn’t until she felt that first flutter, that infinitesimally small movement, that she truly realized her most desperate wishes had been granted; that this was not an elaborate ruse set up so they could pretend at normality. She really was to have her own child.

  Without thinking, she had called Richard at his office, excitedly demanding that he leave work this minute and come home. By the time he got there, his panic had risen to a point where every tragic scenario he had imagined on his way home was etched into his face, and he looked like a man ten years older.

  It was only when she took his hand and laid it flat to her belly and he felt the faintest movement from deep within, did his expression soften. At the tiniest twitch of his child, it was as if the troubles of the world had dissolved, and in that instant she saw the man she’d known in Harvard; the man she’d known in lives past; the man she would know forevermore. And she knew how truly blessed they were.

  The birth stole all of that away. At the first sight of the child it was like looking into the face of an imposter who had been slyly substituted in the crib while her own beautiful, golden-haired child had been stolen away. That was the first time she had wondered if God was punishing her for wanting something so very much. It was not the last.

  Over the days and months that followed the birth, a black shroud descended upon Elizabeth, blocking out the sun, stifling any light and happiness once present in her life. They seemed to leach out into the air and dissipate like smoke in the wind. This was a place she referred to as “the Darklands,” a place she could neither understand nor escape. Even now those memories struck cold in her chest, like a metal pick hitting icy ground.

  Lost for any further words, Elizabeth let her gaze drop into her lap and opened her purse as if searching for something. “What else would you like to know?”

  Diana had been watching her. As if sensing the tension, she smiled. “So you were forty-one when you conceived? Did you consider having tests done?”

  “No,” Elizabeth replied, wondering again what the hell business it was of hers whether she’d had tests or not. She was beginning to think this reporter intended to put out a story that made her out to be some kind of naïve idiot. Either that or some overindulged scatterbrain who didn’t know which side her bread was buttered on. “Of course, being an avid pro-life advocate, it was my belief that there was little point to taking tests, so I refused them. I was fully prepared to welcome this child into our family regardless of …” her throat constricted, causing her to swallow involuntarily, “… regardless of any … problems she might have.”

  Oh, how the mighty have fallen, she thought and returned her gaze to the window.

  She could feel Diana regarding her quizzically. How could she understand the road Elizabeth was on? Who was she to question the decisions she had made when she didn’t even understand them herself? Once upon a time she had had the world at her feet. Now it seemed that whole world had turned its back on her and left her floundering in those Darklands. And if things weren’t already bad enough, here they were broke, their little daughter stolen away and held for a ransom they couldn’t pay, and their marriage nothing but the shriveled skin of something that was once alive and vital. Elizabeth wondered yet again how much further she could fall, and whether she should have simply jumped from the hotel roof when she had the chance.

  “Oh, look, I can see the hospital just up ahead,” Diana said, sitting forward on the seat and looking out over the driver’s shoulder. When she glanced back at Elizabeth, she almost did a double take. “Are you all right, Mrs. McClaine?”

  “I’m fine,” Elizabeth said again, and dug her nails into the palm of her hand, noting as she said it just how many times those words had slipped her lips. “I hope Mrs. Patterson likes the flowers I sent over.” At last she might have a chance to speak to Audrey Patterson, to find out what she’d told the police. Audrey had seen the kidnapper, spoken to her. She must have seen whoever the girl was working with. What if it was Sienna? she thought and suddenly felt ill.

  The taxi cruised to a stop outside the main doors of the hospital and the driver got out, holding the door for each of them. Once their entourage had guided them in through the
front doors and through the lobby, they rode the elevator to the fifth floor amid a clutch of reporters, and now, escorted by the charge nurse, they made their way to room 512. A second nurse, who had been waiting for them, raised a hand and asked for absolute quiet. To Elizabeth, this was just more of the hoopla—more grandstanding for the media. In her mind’s eye she could see Audrey Patterson sitting up in bed, waving to the cameramen like the Queen of England, surrounded by gifts.

  “Are you ready?” asked Diana.

  “Of course,” she replied, turning to give the press a curt nod and switching on the disposable smile she kept for such occasions. In a blaze of photo flashes, the nurse pushed the door open and she and Diana stepped through.

  Inside the air was cool and the blinds were drawn against the morning sun. Once the door closed, the lighting was so subdued that Elizabeth first thought they had stumbled into the wrong room. The woman lying in the bed wasn’t even recognizable as Audrey Patterson. Bandages crisscrossed her chest and arms and her hair had been shaved from one side of her head to reveal a line of angry stitches across her scalp. Her face was swollen and grazed, her left leg suspended above the bed in traction. Through a gap in the covers, Elizabeth could see what looked like a gauze adhesive tape stretched across her right hip and thigh, holding together flesh that resembled something from a butcher’s shop window. All around her machines bleeped and hummed. Elizabeth flinched, then turned to Diana. “But … I knew that … well, I don’t understand …”

  The nurse went to the bed, checking drips and lines and saline levels. “She gained consciousness at five this morning but she’s heavily sedated,” she told them in a hushed tone. She leaned over Audrey and said, “Are you comfortable, Audrey? You have visitors.”

  Elizabeth lowered herself into a chair. She could feel the shock coursing through her veins and robbing her of speech. She knew the woman was ill, but she had no idea of the extent of her injuries. It wasn’t until now that she looked across and noticed the young woman sitting opposite her. Perhaps in her mid-twenties, the girl had short blond hair and startling blue eyes. She wore a simple cotton dress, hair pulled into a ponytail, no makeup.

  “Mrs. McClaine, Miss du Plessis,” she whispered, smiling and nodding at each of them in greeting. “I’m Amy Cartwright. I’m Mrs. Patterson’s personal assistant over at the school.”

  “I’m pleased to meet you,” Diana whispered back. “How is she?”

  Amy drew a faltering breath and two lines formed between her eyebrows, making her appear suddenly ten years older. For a moment, her lip trembled and she looked as though she might burst into tears. “She’s lucky to be alive. They’re doing some skin grafts as soon as she’s strong enough, but … I think she’ll be here a while.”

  “But …” Elizabeth could feel her fingers teasing at the leather of her purse, trying to ground herself. Nothing made sense. “I had no idea. How did this happen?” she asked, looking from Amy to the nurse.

  “She was trying to stop the kidnappers. Witnesses said she wouldn’t let go.” Amy angled her head in loving admiration toward the woman in the bed. “Isn’t that just like Audrey? She kept hanging on to the car and eventually they sped up and she got dragged along the blacktop. That’s why she lost so much skin. And how she broke her leg.”

  “Oh my God,” said Elizabeth. She was frozen in her chair, barely able to think. “Has she said anything? Anything at all about who did this?” Elizabeth asked, only to receive an incredulous look from Amy. Of course she hadn’t. The woman had almost died.

  Amy frowned as if the question was ludicrous. “No, but I’m sure once she’s awake she will. Audrey would go to any lengths for any of the students at the school. But Holly …” she said, and shook her head. “She’s her favorite.” She clasped her hands tightly in her lap and dropped her gaze to them, fighting back the tears. “And doesn’t Holly just know it? If ever there was a teacher’s pet, it’s her. Oh God, I hope they find her soon.” She put her hand to her mouth and folded over as her face crumpled.

  “Yes,” said Elizabeth. “The police are doing everything they can.”

  Amy gathered herself, sniffing and dabbing a handkerchief first to each of her eyes, then to her nose. “She loves people. Holly, I mean. She adores people.”

  “Yes, she loves … loved Sienna, too,” Elizabeth said as the memory of her last exchange with the nanny scorched into her mind—the bitterness in the girl’s eyes, her only concern being how she’d pay for her car. That still clanged somewhere inside, not to mention the question of where she’d really been that day. “Sienna was our nanny. She was …” She couldn’t even bring herself to say the words.

  “Oh, yes, I heard,” Amy said and bit her lip. “I heard she was murdered. I’m so terribly sorry.”

  “Yes,” said Elizabeth. “Holly will miss her.”

  A noticeable silence stretched out. “Yes, I’m sure she will,” Amy said in a tone that implied she wouldn’t.

  Elizabeth looked up sharply. The girl held her gaze briefly, then looked away.

  “Is there something I should know?”

  Amy froze for a second. “Well, I don’t want to speak ill of the dead or anything,” she said, picking at something on her lap to avoid Elizabeth’s gaze. “But Miss Alvarez probably wasn’t …” Having said this much, she looked as though she regretted saying anything at all. She wrung her hands together, struggling to find the words. “At least, we didn’t feel that she was the most suitable nanny for a child with disabilities. Or …” she added quietly, “maybe for any child—although that was only our opinion,” she said all at once. “But when we tried to talk to you about it, you never replied to our messages.” She chewed her lip and looked away, apparently realizing that it had come out sounding like an accusation.

  Elizabeth smiled and shifted in her chair. She looked from Amy to Diana and back, feeling as though this was some kind of sick joke and she was supposed to see the punch line. “Messages? What messages?”

  “We sent you a stack of messages, Mrs. McClaine. We even left voice mail asking you to contact us. We never heard anything back so Audrey came over maybe a dozen times to see you. When you weren’t home she left messages with Miss Alvarez.” She shrugged and shook her head. “She obviously didn’t pass them on.”

  “No,” said Elizabeth. “Obviously.” Feeling foolish and angry with Sienna, she sat rigid and dug her nails all the deeper into her palm. Then again, maybe if she had been there none of this would have happened. Maybe Holly would still be at home …

  “Perhaps we should go,” said Diana. “We don’t want to tire Mrs. Patterson. And we have the school visit yet.”

  “Yes, of course.” Elizabeth hesitated for a moment, then stepped across and leaned over Audrey Patterson. “Mrs. Patterson, can you hear me? Can she hear me?” she asked the nurse.

  “Perhaps. As I said, she’s heavily sedated.”

  Elizabeth leaned low, and quietly said, “Thank you. I know I don’t …” But tears began to well in her eyes and she sat down again, searching her handbag for a tissue until Diana reached across with one. “Thank you, I’ll be fine,” she said and dabbed her eyes.

  “I know she’d say Holly was worth every second and every scratch,” Amy said. “You’re so lucky to have her, Mrs. McClaine. I only hope she comes home soon.”

  “So do I,” she replied. And for the first time, she realized she really meant it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  DAY TWO: 8:16 AM—KELSEY

  Maria was right; the car did handle like a piece of shit. Kelsey couldn’t understand anyone stealing a car like this. The engine was running on three of its four cylinders and whereas the Impala’s suspension was spongy, the suspension in this thing was nonexistent. At a guess she’d say the struts and the shocks were all shot and judging from the screeching sounds coming from the front wheels every time she turned a corner, at least two of the CV joints were screwed. It had one thing going for it, though—it was still mobile. All it had to do was
get to Stacy’s Gym. Then it could fall apart in the dirt.

  She nursed the car along the backstreets until she got to Brookpark. At least in this neighborhood she didn’t have to worry about the L21s. This was outside their territory. This was Crims territory. She had no beef with them. Her biggest concern here was the cops. A car like this would get taken off the road in two seconds flat. Kelsey figured Maria hadn’t taken it out of her driveway from the time it landed in front of her house. Kelsey counted herself lucky the battery wasn’t dead.

  Around a dozen cars were parked in the lot outside Stacy’s Gym when she got there. The place was primarily a backstreet training facility for would-be boxers and kids off the street; in fact, for anyone that wanted to try his luck. Or hers. Stacy’s clientele ran from semi-professional fighters all the way to street-fighters and gang members. This day and age, it didn’t pay to be fussy where your dollars came from. So, Stacy’s clients tended to come in before it got too busy, and by eleven there were usually a half-dozen or so waiting to step into the ring. She checked her watch—it was nearly eight-twenty. She shouldered her way through the front door and squinted into the gloom.

  It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the lighting. The place was dim and dingy and stank of sweat and grease and testosterone all mixed together with a measure of desperation. Two fighters were going toe to toe under the glare of harsh white lighting of the ring while their respective trainers watched on and yelled instructions, jabbing and hooking the air from the sidelines. Same old, she thought as she walked straight past them and crossed to the weight training area that was gated-off to her right.