The Elizabeth McClaine Thriller Boxed Set

by Catherine Lea

  “Where are we going?” Rona asked again.

  “Go straight ahead then turn right again.” Kelsey’s plan was to circle around and approach the abandoned fertilizer factory from the rear. She’d find Holly and Matt, and assess the situation when she got there. Maybe if she could just see him, talk to him, she could convince him to let Holly go. Was it a good plan? Who knew? It was the only one she had. “Just keep going,” she said.

  “So how many people did you kill?” Tammy asked, like it was less remarkable now.

  “I told you, I didn’t kill anybody,” she said. Rona was still eyeing her. “And I don’t have the kid,” she told her.

  “Then where is she? She must be terrified, the poor child.”

  “I keep tellin’ everybody, I’m trying to find her. She’s with … some people. I’m the one looking for her. I’m the one tryin’ to get her home.”

  “But you’re the one that snatched her, right?” said Tammy. “I know because you got that tattoo on your neck,” she said, pointing. “They showed that on the TV, too.”

  Kelsey clapped her hand to the tattoo and spotted the woman’s accusing gaze in the mirror again. “Yeah, well okay. I did that. But I shouldn’t have.” The kid was still staring at her. “I did a bad thing, okay? Now I have to find her and get her home.”

  “Why don’t you turn yourself in to the police and let them find her?” Rona said. Seemed she was feeling a little braver now, speaking to Kelsey like she was one of the kids and she’d started a fight with her sister during a road trip.

  “I can’t go to the cops. They won’t believe me. And the guys that took her are …” She slipped a look at Tammy, who was gazing wide-eyed at her. “Well, they could hurt her. I can’t let that happen. Turn right up here and slow down.” They cruised along a wide dusty street and came to a stop outside a chain-link fence. Razor wire ran along the top and signs warning of the penalties for trespassing were dotted along at intervals above a line of straggly bushes that had sprung up along its length. “Shit,” she muttered when she saw it.

  “You think she’s here?” Rona asked in concern as she also looked the place over.

  “That’s what he said,” Kelsey replied as she turned in her seat to look back down the empty street. Something felt wrong.

  Rona was also looking up and down the street. “You’ll never get in from here. I’ll drop you around front.” And she went to start up the car again.

  “No!” Kelsey said and touched her on the shoulder. “No, stay here. This is good.”

  “This is the perfect place for a setup,” said Tammy.

  This time her mother gave her a look.

  “What? I watch TV, don’t I?”

  “Matt wouldn’t do that,” Kelsey said.

  “Oh, yeah,” said Tammy. “And is that the same guy that wouldn’t smack you in the face?”

  “Look, I told you …” Kelsey started, but Rona butted in, saying, “All right, that’s enough, the both of you. Now, I don’t know why the police can’t help you, but if you think that child is here and you think you can find her and get her home safely, maybe you better go look.”

  “We’ll wait here for you,” Tammy offered, then caught her mother’s expression. “Oh, c’mon. Who needs a hygienist when you’ve got a wanted criminal in your car?”

  “Hey!” said Kelsey. “I’m not a wanted criminal. I’m just …” She shook her head and let it go. She was stalling and she knew it. And she still had no real plan.

  “Is there someone I can call?” Rona offered. “Or maybe I can take you someplace else.”

  “No, I’m good. Thanks for the ride,” she said and opened the door and got out before she lost her nerve. Rona and Tammy gave her a wave then took off. Kelsey stood on the side of the street with her hands tucked into the pockets of the coveralls and watched the car round the corner and disappear. Then she turned to the abandoned factory fifty yards or so beyond the fence.

  She hoped Holly was here. Kelsey had no car, no money and less than three hours to find her.

  But someone was still watching over her. And that gave her hope.

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

  DAY TWO: 12:09 PM—ELIZABETH

  The most Chad could offer Elizabeth and Diana was an old coat each by way of disguise and an escort back to the hotel. As it turned out, their final destination was only three blocks from where Elizabeth had gotten out of the car.

  Chad and Diana had briefly discussed some issue in hushed voices and cryptic terms, all the while slipping furtive glances in Elizabeth’s direction while she pretended not to hear. In fact, she wasn’t the slightest bit interested in what their business was. She had tried repeatedly to call Richard to tell him what she knew, but he was either ignoring her attempts or he’d left his phone behind—something which, knowing Richard, seemed extremely unlikely. Now all she wanted to do was get back to the hotel.

  Chad accompanied them as they walked one block over, but when they turned the corner, they found themselves confronted by a wall of humanity. The protest march had now moved east from the downtown area. It traveled along like a single entity, with people waving placards and shouting slogans into any television cameras that got close enough.

  Chad grabbed each of them by the arm and tugged them back out of sight. They retraced their steps, then turned down a side street to emerge behind the rally on a virtually empty street. By the time they reached the hotel where Chad parted with them, it was twelve-twenty.

  The moment one of the security officers spotted Elizabeth and Diana cutting their way through the semicircle of journalists outside the hotel, he spoke into his radio and five armed guards dashed forward to surround them. Together they moved toward the hotel and in through the front doors with the guards fending off journalists who crushed forward, filling empty space like sand falling into holes. All around them, microphones and cell phones and cameras were shoved at them while people called out questions like, “Is there any word on your daughter, Mrs. McClaine?” and “Is your husband still proceeding with his run for the Senate?”

  Inside the lobby the guards moved in formation, heads swiveling for potential threats, as they guided the two women to the elevator and someone pressed the button. When the doors slid open, Elizabeth moved forward with the guards. But when she turned, Diana was standing outside the elevator car. “I’ll leave you here. My car’s in the parking garage two floors down.”

  Elizabeth placed her hands on the doors to prevent them closing. “You’re not coming up?” The question surprised even her.

  Diana hesitated a moment, then leaned into the elevator car and threw her arms around Elizabeth, drawing her into a hug. “I’m sorry. I have some pressing matters to attend to.” She pulled back, squeezing Elizabeth’s hands in hers, and saying, “If there’s anything I can do, just say the word. I mean it.” Then she pressed her card into Elizabeth’s hand, pausing to hold it a little longer.

  Then the doors slid closed.

  Feeling somehow abandoned, Elizabeth rode the elevator straight to the fourteenth floor where, still enclosed within a small space made by the six armed guards, the doors opened and a second wave of journalists lurched towards them. Two of the guards stepped forward, shepherding her down the hallway to her door while the others closed in around her. She hurriedly slid the passkey through the slot and slipped quickly into the room to find almost as many people inside as there were out in the hallway, all sitting or standing around with surprised expressions. As soon as she closed the door, Richard looked up from where he was perched on the edge of the sofa, studying a pile of reports that were stacked up on the coffee table. On seeing her, his manner became immediately guarded, as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

  “Elizabeth,” he said and got to his feet. He dashed a guilty glance across the towers of paperwork, then quickly bent to close a file. “How was the school?”

  “Interesting.” She placed her purse and phone on the coffee table, and surveyed the room. Alice
and Blake were in a huddle over by the windows, while Richard’s speech writer, his treasurer, their head of security, and chief of staff, were all seated around the room. On the periphery were a couple of young men Elizabeth didn’t recognize. Judging by the line-up, she figured Richard had assembled a council of war and they were now in the midst of thrashing out new strategies, poring over tactics, gauging the political temperature and analyzing the way forward from here. As she moved into the room, she noticed a disorderly stack of newspapers on the corner of the coffee table. The top one was folded so that all she could see of the headline was, “… aine in Meltdown.” When she picked it up and shook it open, the whole line read: “Elizabeth McClaine in Meltdown.” It showed a picture someone had taken of her the previous night with her eyes half closed and her mouth misshapen. It was obvious she’d been just about to speak but the effect was damning. She looked dreadful. Worse, she looked drunk.

  “Ignore them,” said Richard, reaching across and taking the paper from her. But the one beneath read: “Your Money or Your Child: Richard McClaine’s Choice?” and below that another read: “How Far Can Elizabeth McClaine Drag Her Husband Down?”

  Richard gathered up the papers and folded and refolded them, saying, “They’re garbage. Ignore them.” What was in those pages had no doubt brought about this meeting, and Richard’s campaign team was now sitting in steely silence, avoiding her gaze. The only one with enough spine to level a critical eye on her was Alice, who stood with her back to the window, arms folded and the corners of her mouth pulled down.

  “What’s going on?” Elizabeth asked, despite the fact it was obvious.

  “What do you think is going on?” Alice replied immediately. “We’re in the middle of a strategy meeting is what’s going on. And now you’re holding us up.”

  “Thank you, Alice,” Richard said abruptly. “I’ll handle this.”

  “Excuse me, Richard,” said Blake, drawing his attention for a moment. “I’ll get that press statement out. I know this is a difficult time, but we need to move fast. Townsend’s heading back to Columbus today. I think he’s planning an announcement about—”

  “—Yes, yes,” Richard replied. “You do that.”

  Everyone else dropped their eyes to their shoes or fumbled with briefcases and papers, looking discomforted and embarrassed.

  Elizabeth ignored the atmosphere along with the newspaper headlines. “Where’s Detective Delaney?”

  “He’s on his way,” Richard replied as he gathered and squared up reports and pages of statistics.

  “Will you all excuse us?” Elizabeth said. “I’d like to speak to my husband in private. Can we talk in here?” she asked Richard, and gestured towards the bedroom. After searching the faces around him, he restacked the handful of papers onto the table then followed her.

  As soon the door was closed, she rounded on him. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “I’m trying to stitch together a strategy to get us out of this goddamned slide we’re in. Townsend’s shitting all over me and I can’t do a goddamned thing to respond. If I don’t get out there and get us back on track we’ll be in a freefall situation we won’t recover from.”

  “Your daughter is being held captive by some murderer and you’re discussing popularity points and margins of error?” she said, incredulous. “I don’t believe it.”

  “Do you even know what’s happening in this country? Do you know what the hell I’m trying to achieve here? This nation needs me. These people are depending on me. I have a responsibility to them.”

  “And what about the responsibility to your daughter?” she hissed. “What about your own child? Or is this a case of the good of the many over the good of the one?”

  Richard dropped his head in sheer exasperation. When he looked up again, all she could see was raw determination, the savage resolve of a man she barely knew. “What the hell do you expect? This is what I do.” He paused, breathing long and deep, struggling to regain his composure. When his words came, they were slow and measured. “You have no idea how much I’ve sunk into this campaign: the blood, the sweat, and yes, the money. I put my business on hold—”

  “—which is collapsing—”

  “Through no fault of my own. Do you … do you have any idea what it’s taken to get this far?”

  “Your child,” she said, “has been stolen. Is this all you can do? Does she mean nothing to you?” She spread both hands wide. “Richard, she’s your daughter—our daughter. She’s the only daughter we’ll ever have. Hate me if you want. I don’t care. And Christ knows I wouldn’t blame you. You’re right. I haven’t been there for you. I haven’t been there for her.” Her voice was low, firm, but there was fire in her eyes and she knew it. “Richard, she’s our little girl. She’s our baby. We have to do something now. Before it’s too late and we’ve lost her forever.”

  For the longest time he said nothing. Then he whispered, “What can I do? This is all I know.”

  And there it was. It was as if the truth deep within him had finally welled up and surfaced like the body of a drowned man, once thought lost. She wanted to reach out to him, to reassure him that he wasn’t alone, that she knew exactly how he felt because she’d felt like that for the past six long years. But as she stepped towards him and placed her hand on his arm, there was a sharp rap at the door and Alice called.

  “Richard! Delaney’s here.”

  Richard took a long, relieved breath and gently removed her hand from his arm. Once again, the moment had passed, and the husband she’d once known was gone.

  “We’ll be right there,” he called. “Listen to me,” he said to Elizabeth. “Let the police find Holly. That’s their job. They know what they’re doing.”

  “And what if they don’t, Richard? What if they’re wrong and Holly’s the next to turn up dead six days after she went missing?”

  Delaney stood just inside the door with his hands clasped in front of him as he ran a calculating eye over Richard’s staff, each of whom was now packing away papers into briefcases in a stony silence. As soon as the last of them had departed, nodding and mumbling their goodbyes, Alice closed the door and Delaney shifted his attention back to Elizabeth and Richard, his expression unreadable.

  “Please, take a seat,” Richard told him.

  Delaney gestured Elizabeth to a chair, waited until she was sitting stiffly with her hands clasped on her knees, then took a seat opposite her on the sofa. “I know this has been very difficult for you both, and I know you’re anxious, so I’ll keep this brief.”

  “Have you found her?” asked Elizabeth.

  Alice pointedly massaged her forehead. “You think he’d be sitting here with that face if he had?”

  “Do you mind, Mrs. Cressley?” he said, causing Alice to roll her eyes and mumble.

  “For chrissakes, just get on with it, will you?” And she turned her attention back to the window.

  “We have made some progress,” he told them. “It appears Miss Alvarez was the one who canceled Holly’s car.”

  “Meaning what?” said Richard. “That she was involved?”

  “It looks that way,” Delaney said.

  “I knew it,” Elizabeth whispered. The image of that girl sprang into her mind—smiling in their faces while she took their money and stole away her little daughter—and she hated her. Then she remembered Sienna was dead, murdered in their home, and a wave of guilt struck her for even thinking that way.

  “And what about Holly?” Richard was asking. “Is there any news?”

  “About an hour ago we got an anonymous call telling us that Kelsey Money has your daughter. And that’s what we suspected all along. We think she and Sienna Alvarez set this up together. But the good news is it sounds like Holly is alive and well.”

  “Well, that is good news.” Richard let out a relieved breath. “Thank God.”

  “So where are they?” Elizabeth asked flatly.

  Delaney looked up, perhaps surprised by her tone. “We have a
location for an abandoned factory where she’s being kept, Mrs. McClaine.”

  “With this Kelsey Money, I suppose.” When Delaney nodded, she said, “And you believe it?”

  The detective tipped his head, perhaps expecting the question. “Mrs. McClaine, we follow up any and every lead we get. I sent a car straight over there to search the place, but they found nothing. She could be on her way there now, so I sent two officers back to keep the place under surveillance until we know one way or the other.”

  One way or the other. Obviously implying that at three o’clock, they would have their answer. Holly would be found alive—or she’d be dead.

  Elizabeth got to her feet. “And what if I told you that this Money girl doesn’t have our daughter? What if I told you that the Subritzski brothers have Holly?”

  “Where did you hear that?” Richard asked her.

  Delaney’s quizzical gaze was asking the same thing.

  “It doesn’t matter. What I want to know is, are the police investigating the Subritzski brothers or not? Because if you’re not, I want to know why.”

  “I don’t believe it,” Alice muttered and squeezed the bridge of her nose. “She goes from ‘couldn’t-give-a-damn’ to ‘Mother of the Year’ over lunch.”

  Delaney frowned and heaved a sigh. “I can assure you that we will be speaking to the Subritzski brothers. Their relationship with Kelsey Money obviously implicates them by association. Believe me, Mrs. McClaine, we leave no stones unturned. Especially when we’re talking about a child’s life. But both these men have rock solid alibis. We’re convinced Kelsey Money was working with Miss Alvarez. She murdered her in some kind of disagreement, and now she’s the one who has your daughter.” With that, he got to his feet and drew his hands heavily down his face. He looked worn out. As if the immensity of the situation had suddenly overwhelmed him. “Try not to worry. We’re doing everything we can. Of course, if we had unlimited resources …” he added pointedly and shrugged. It was a thinly veiled barb at one of Richard’s speeches that suggested spending on law enforcement should be put under the spotlight. “Anyway, I’ll keep you informed.”