“And then, when she was born, you were thrown.”
“Yes.”
“And disappointed.”
Elizabeth’s lips parted but nothing came out.
“Elizabeth?”
“Well, of course, it was traumatic.”
“Your life was changing in ways you never expected.”
“Yes.”
“And you blamed her for it.”
“No!” Elizabeth said, but the bolt of emotion hit her so hard tears sprang to her eyes and her resolve crashed to the floor. “I never blamed her,” she said and pressed her clenched fist to her mouth. “I never, never blamed her.” She drew a couple of desperate breaths and tore at the tissue in her hand. “I loved her. I always loved her.” Her lower lip trembled while she fought against the pain that was now gripping her. “It was God that I blamed. It was all those people who looked down on us with pity that I blamed. I hated them and the tired old clichés they tossed my way like chicken feed while they went back to their own perfect lives and forgot all about us. I hated the fact that they could all walk away and desert me. I hated people with their … their perfect children and their perfect lives. I hated our so-called friends who threw dinner parties that Holly wasn’t invited to, and I hated Richard for letting that happen. I hated people who told me that it was time I learned to accept and move on. Huh! What the hell would they know? Maybe they should have been telling a person who’s clinically depressed to ‘turn that frown upside down’ or tell a paraplegic to get up and walk. Dear God. These people were supposed to be my friends.” She swiped away the tears with the heel of her hand. “They turned their backs on me and I don’t blame them. I’m a lousy wife and I’m a lousy mother. Maybe she’s better off without a failure like me. I couldn’t fix her, God knows, I couldn’t even fix myself,” she said as fresh tears sprang to cut streaks down her face and drip onto her hands.
For some moments she sat motionless, fighting to regain control, until finally, she sucked in a deep breath and sat back, pale and drained and exhausted. She teased out the tissue and dabbed at her eyes, glancing up just in time to catch the amused eye of the taxi driver in the rearview mirror before he quickly looked away. “Did you get all that?” she fired at him. “Well, lucky you. Now you’ll have something to tell all your friends and laugh about over a beer tonight. As for you,” she said to Diana, “now you’ve got something you can write in your article. Elizabeth McClaine Breaks Down, Admits Complete and Utter Failure as a Mother. It’s what you’ve been waiting for, isn’t it? Following me around like a hyena waiting for a wounded animal to fall. Well, I’ve fallen. Do your worst.”
Diana remained silent, just sat watching her. “Do you really think you’re a failure?”
Elizabeth’s face crumpled briefly. “I’m not sitting here listening to this.” She snatched up her bag and after a quick glance front and rear, she opened the door and got out.
“Hey,” the driver yelled. “You can’t get out here.”
Behind her, she could hear Diana calling after her, but she was already weaving her way through the traffic like a shipwreck survivor wading to shore. Diana called again. She ignored the woman. Just strode down the street, bumping into pedestrians who turned furtive glances her way or watched openly as she thundered past. When she glanced back, she spotted Diana hurrying after her, calling, “Wait, Elizabeth.”
A young man passing held up his iPhone and snapped a couple of pictures as she went by. Right out in the open. Not even the decency to try to hide the fact. She didn’t care. She checked her watch then turned the corner and ran straight into a rally that was marching down the main road carrying banners that read, “The Politicians Have Homes. What About Us?” and, “First my job, then my house! What’s next?” and “My kids can’t eat tax breaks.”
Elizabeth stopped short. “Oh, my God.” If the crowds outside the hotel weren’t bad enough, she had no idea what would happen if this lot spotted her.
“This way,” Diana said and grabbed her elbow, steering her towards a nearby alley. No sooner had they cleared the main street, than they were stepping across boxes and the belongings of people who were obviously living there. “Excuse us,” Diana said repeatedly as they made their way through the lives of these destitute people, heading for the corner and the next street.
“Who are all these people?” Elizabeth asked, looking back in horror.
“Elizabeth! Listen to me. These are people who have lost their jobs, their homes, everything. You could not have gotten out of the car in a worse place.”
“But …”
“But nothing. Can’t you see what’s going on around you? You’re a politician’s wife, for God’s sake. You’re the one that’s supposed to be helping these people. How long is it since you actually had your feet on the ground?” she shouted over the noise of another march descending on them from the western end of the street they were on. She grabbed Elizabeth and pulled her quickly across the street and around another corner, only to find an opposing march of people waving pennants and flags and pictures supporting Ray Townsend. The demonstrators swept toward them, cutting off any escape in that direction, so Diana maneuvered her around, meaning to head back to the alley, when her phone rang.
She hooked it out, answering, “Yes, hello!” as they quickly retraced their steps and ducked down a side street. Down here were the back doors of restaurants and Dumpsters, between which clusters people sat with their lives packed in boxes and bags around them.
There were even more people in this alley than the last. These weren’t the drug addicts and derelicts Elizabeth had grown used to seeing. These were families—people with children, the newly dispossessed still grappling with their circumstances and finding themselves ill-equipped to cope. “My God,” she said, looking around her. “How many of these people are there …?”
“Yes, I do understand, but can’t you just …” Diana pleaded into the phone. “Isn’t there anything you can do? Please …” Finally, she hung up and said, “Elizabeth, listen to me.”
Shocked by her surroundings, Elizabeth turned slowly to face her. She felt like a refugee in some strange country.
“Remember when I left you earlier?” Diana was saying. “When I told you I had a meeting?” Elizabeth nodded. “The thing is, I went to meet some contacts to see if I could find any information.”
“Do these people live here?”
“Listen to me. Elizabeth! I have information. About Holly.”
“What information?” she said at once.
“The kind the police don’t get. My contact just called me back. Are you listening?” she said and actually shook her.
“Yes, yes,” said Elizabeth. “I’m listening.” Although her gaze had shifted back to a child who was sitting on a filthy rug against the graffiti-covered wall, staring up at her.
“We have names. Holly’s kidnappers are a Matthew Subritzski and his brother Lionel. The girl that was with them is Kelsey Money.”
“Yes, but we already knew that.”
“Well, it turns out that Lionel Subritzski was in prison up until three weeks ago for dealing drugs. Now suddenly, Lionel’s setting up some very big drug deals.”
“So …?”
“We’re talking ten-million-dollar drug deals.”
“The ransom money …?”
“And that’s not all. The Subritzski brothers ditched Kelsey Money.”
“But what difference does that make? Somebody still has Holly.”
“The police received an anonymous call saying that she has your daughter. That this Kelsey Money murdered six people and now she’s hiding out at some abandoned factory where she’s setting up these drug deals with a known drug dealer named Wayne Clemmons.”
“Well, that’s good news,” Elizabeth said, then saw the look on her face. “It’s a lie, isn’t it?”
“I’m afraid so. Kelsey Money didn’t murder these people and she doesn’t deal in drugs. My contact says that when things got ugly, she tried
to bring Holly home. The Subritzskis caught her and beat her up. Then they ran out on her and took Holly. Now she’s trying to find them so she can bring Holly back home. It was Matthew and Lionel Subritzski who were responsible for the deaths of those people, Elizabeth,” she said solemnly. “Holly is in terrible danger. They don’t intend to let her go home alive.”
“Oh, my God,” gasped Elizabeth, oblivious now to her surroundings.
Behind them, a man had gotten to his feet and was advancing slowly on them, head angled in curiosity. “Hey, you’re Elizabeth McClaine,” he was saying.
Diana was watching him over her shoulder. She took Elizabeth’s arm and drew her a little further down the alley. “We can’t stay here,” she said. “We have to get back.”
But Elizabeth stopped and jerked her arm loose. “These men have nothing to lose, do they?”
Diana spotted another man advancing on them, his eyes narrowed in a curious glare. She angled Elizabeth around and dragged her on. “It’s worse than that. The Subritzskis have alibis and now the police are only looking for this Kelsey Money.”
“Did somebody say ‘McClaine’?” yet another man was saying. He was now also getting to his feet and cutting off their exit. “Are you Elizabeth McClaine? Your husband lost me my job. So thanks a bunch,” he yelled at them.
Diana steered her around them. “This way,” she said, towing her past the men and to the end of the alley.
“I lost my job and my house because of your asshole husband,” the first man yelled and now a woman pointed at them and shrieked, “You think your fancy tax policies for the rich are gonna help me? You can all rot in hell.”
Diana gave them a brief backward glance and shoved Elizabeth around the corner into the next street. “These people out here are hurt and angry. Come this way.”
“No. I can’t. I have to find my daughter,” Elizabeth said and stepped back out of Diana’s grasp.
“Leave it to the police, Elizabeth. We’ll tell them …”
“Like hell. When little Christobel Hopkiss was kidnapped and murdered last year the police couldn’t find her. Six days they searched. She’d been dead since day two. I’m damned if I’m letting that happen to Holly.” And she went to storm off, but Diana grabbed her again.
“Not that way,” she said and gave their surroundings a searching glance. “Come with me. I know a place.”
They doubled back to the main street with their heads furtively bowed and fell into the flow of marchers. One block down Diana pulled Elizabeth into a doorway, opened the door, and they both fell into the reception area of a small, shabby office. Diana went directly to a middle-aged woman sitting at the desk and said, “Excuse me, I wonder if Chad Summers is here.”
“May I say who wants to see him?” the woman asked, slipping Elizabeth a suspicious look. Up on the wall a TV was running a live feed from the march, echoing the same noise they could hear from the street. The camera panned across to a young black woman with a microphone who spoke in urgent tones as she pointed off to her right.
When Elizabeth turned back, a young man had appeared from the offices behind them. He had long dreadlocks tied back in a clump, and wisps of patchy hair on his face. His shirt and jeans hung loosely over a thin frame. He went straight to Diana, who took his hand in both of hers. His questioning gaze crossed to Elizabeth, then back to Diana.
“Diana,” he said.
“Chad, we need your help.”
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
DAY TWO: 11:28 AM—KELSEY
The Taurus went through gas like water through a sewer pipe. The tank was a little over half full when Kelsey left Maria’s; now it was almost empty. Three blocks from Collingwood, she swung into a gas station, got out and dug what little money she had from her pocket. It was just as she was crossing the forecourt, counting out the four dollars in coins for the gas she’d pumped that she glanced back over her shoulder to see a police cruiser swerve smoothly into the forecourt and pull up behind the Taurus. Without missing a beat she walked straight into the gas station and pulled the cap down hard, pretending to shop as she watched one of the cops get out of the car and walk alongside the Taurus. He bent briefly to look in the windows, then circled the car and signaled the other cop, who lifted his radio and called it in. The first cop gave his partner a nod, then directed his attention to automatic glass doors Kelsey had just walked in through. The second cop got out of the car and joined him. After a brief discussion, they both headed for the door.
Kelsey’s initial reaction was to run. Fat chance. She’d get about six steps and they’d be on her. When they stepped inside and surveyed the store, she moved to a door at the rear, then made a bee-line for the restroom out back, intending to slip out the window. But when she got there, the only accessible windows were nailed shut, so she went from stall to stall, looking for a second option, but locking herself in one of them wouldn’t work because the cops would simply come in and knock the goddamn door down. If she stayed where she was, though, she’d be cornered. So head down, cap low, and her heart in her mouth, she calmly walked straight back into the store.
The two cops were standing at the counter pointing to the Taurus. The guy behind the counter peered across and shook his head, then indicated the surveillance camera up behind him. Kelsey moved down the magazine aisle toward the back of the store, pretending to search for something on the shelves as the cops turned to give the half-dozen customers in the store a once-over. After another brief discussion, one peeled off towards the restrooms, leaving the other at the counter, scanning the store with his thumbs tucked into his belt.
From where she had ducked down behind a stand, she could just see him. When his partner called something and he strode across towards the restrooms, she hooked a pair of sunglasses from a stand, picked off the price tag and shoved them on her face. Then she walked quickly to the exit. Just as the door swept open, the guy behind the counter yelled out, “Hey, you!”
She paused, sweat flashing across her forehead, and glanced back. The guy was pointing at a strung-out-looking girl who was backing away from the cops, protesting her innocence and clutching at the huge “belly” in front of her that was now spilling assorted stolen items onto the floor.
Kelsey went out the door like her heels were on fire and headed straight across the forecourt, feeling like the eyes of the world were on her. Now she had to do something decisive. One mistake now and the cops would pick her out in two seconds flat. In a snap decision, she walked straight across to a red late-model Honda Accord that was parked at a pump and facing the street. She ripped open the rear passenger door, got in and pulled the door closed. Then she dropped down behind the front seats and held her breath.
Two seconds later a plump woman somewhere in her late thirties opened the driver’s door, juggling a bunch of purchases as she dropped heavily into the driver’s seat, saying, “Okay, I got you a Snickers bar and a Coke, but you may not have them until after you visit the hygienist … What?” she said sharply. A girl of around eleven or twelve and with tight red curls and a smattering of freckles sat up in the front passenger’s seat, thumbing towards the rear of the car. “We got company.”
“What?” the woman said and immediately turned in her seat. “Oh, my …”
“I got a gun pointed straight at your back, lady,” Kelsey told her. “Just hit the ignition, nice and easy, then drive straight out and head left.”
“Who are you?” asked the woman, flashing a look in the rearview mirror as she started the car. “You’re that woman I’ve seen on TV. Kelsey something-or-other. The police are looking for you.”
“Shut up and drive unless you want me to blow a hole the size of Texas in your back.”
The kid twisted around in her seat and peered over. “She doesn’t have a gun.”
“I do, and I’ll shoot.”
“What have you done with that child?” the woman demanded as she guided the car out of the forecourt and turned left. Kelsey felt the car speed up so she lifted her
head. The woman had both hands gripping the wheel, knuckles taut. “Tammy, will you sit around?” she snapped at the kid. “You want her to kill me?”
“Mom, she doesn’t have a gun,” the girl insisted. “She’s just lying there.”
Kelsey sat up. “Just keep driving,” she said and scowled at the kid. “I mightn’t have a gun, but I could strangle your mother to death from right where I’m sitting. You want that?”
“Oh, yeah, that’d be smart. You kill my mom, and she drives straight into a truck and kills all of us,” the girl said and rolled her eyes.
“Would not,” Kelsey said, and glared at her.
“Whoa,” said Tammy, who had twisted right around to kneel on her seat, “what happened to your eye? Did your boyfriend do that?”
“No.” She looked away. “I walked into a door.”
“Tammy! Sit around and don’t engage,” her mother snapped while she shot Kelsey another look in the mirror. “She’s dangerous. The TV reports said not to approach her.”
“A door?” Tammy was saying, “I’m eleven years old, even I don’t believe that.”
“Will you sit around and quit your yap, young lady? Let’s just do as she says and get her out of our car. Where am I going to?” she asked Kelsey while Tammy slid down in her seat again.
“Take a left up here. I’ll tell you when to stop.”
Tammy smiled back at Kelsey again. “I’m Tammy, by the way.”
“Well, gee, I’d never have guessed,” Kelsey replied.
“And this is my mom, Rona,” she said, and waved dismissively at her mother. “Did you really kill all those people?” she asked, obviously impressed.
“All what people?”
“They said on the TV you killed six people.”
“Six? I didn’t kill six people. I didn’t kill anyone. Jeez,” she sighed. In her mind’s eye, she could still see the dead nanny. Was she really naïve enough to think Lionel would hand her ten grand? Just for disappearing for a few hours? She looked off out the window and wondered how everything had come to this. “Turn right up here.”
The Elizabeth McClaine Thriller Boxed Set Page 22