The Elizabeth McClaine Thriller Boxed Set

by Catherine Lea

  “Thank you, Detective. We know you’re doing everything you can.” Richard stood to escort Delaney to the door. “If you need anything further, please let us know immediately.”

  Elizabeth lifted her hands and dropped them. “Is that it?” Both men turned as if they’d forgotten her. “Is that all you’ve got? You’ve been searching for my daughter for almost twenty-four hours and that’s all you’ve come up with? An anonymous call that anyone could have made? A couple of alibis that were probably paid for?”

  “Mrs. McClaine, I’ve already told you, we have a number of avenues we’re already investigating. There’s a procedure we have to follow with these cases.”

  “Procedure be damned. I just told you—”

  “Elizabeth,” Richard interrupted. “The police know what they’re doing. They’ll tell us as soon as they know anything.”

  “I’m sorry I can’t bring you better news, Mrs. McClaine. But we will,” Delaney said. Then he left.

  Behind them Alice had the TV on, flicking from channel to channel on which every news item was accompanied by the rhythmic thrum of the chanting crowds. She paused on a headshot of a young woman shouting into a microphone:

  “… The rally has now moved into the central city and police are preparing for the worst.” A wall of people surged behind her, shouting slogans and almost drowning her out. She put one finger to her ear and shouted, “This city is angry and opposition to this bill is not dying down anytime soon. And while Richard McClaine remains absent from the helm …”

  On the next channel was a young male reporter yelling:

  “… The streets of Cleveland have come to a complete standstill. While placard waving voters send their message to the world, six-year-old Holly McClaine still remains …”

  And the next …

  “… election day draws near, police have no further leads on the whereabouts of six-year-old Holly McClaine. With only a matter of hours to the kidnappers’ deadline, the question on everybody’s lips: Is it already … too late?”

  “How can the police possibly carry out a thorough investigation with all this going on?” Elizabeth grumbled.

  Richard said nothing, just watched the items without expression. He looked dazed.

  Alice snapped her fingers and pointed at him. “We support Dave Craney’s bill to increase spending on law enforcement,” she said. “We go out there and tell the people that this must not happen again. That law-abiding Americans will not stand for this. Not on your watch …”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Richard told her. “My campaign platform is based on tax initiatives to increase business and stimulate the economy. It’s about finance. That’s my background. Besides, we haven’t done the figures.”

  “Oh, phooey,” she said and waved his objections aside. “We make the figures fit. It’s a matter of simple manipulation …”

  “I’m not fudging the figures and I’m not making promises I can’t keep.” She went to say something but he cut her off, saying, “And that’s an end to it.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” Elizabeth growled, and picked up the phone. “I can’t believe you two. Yes,” she said as soon as the operator answered. “I want room service and I want it right now. Send me a room attendant who’s around five feet six, blond and around a hundred and twenty pounds. And tell her to bring her cart. Have you got that?”

  “Terrific,” said Alice, raising her hands briefly and dropping them. “And now the mother finally loses it.”

  “What are you doing?” Richard asked her.

  Elizabeth ended the call saying, “Thank you. As quickly as you can,” then hung up and immediately prodded in the numbers from the card still crushed in her hand.

  “Put the phone down,” he said and went to take it from her.

  She twisted out of his reach and the second the phone picked up, she said, “Hello, Diana, it’s me. I need your help,” then hung up and dialed again.

  “What are you doing?” Richard asked again.

  “I’m finding our daughter, that’s what I’m doing,” she said and put the phone to her ear.

  “The police said to leave it to them. Who are you calling?” He reached for the phone but she turned away out of his grasp.

  As soon as the phone picked up, she said, “Hello, it’s me, Elizabeth. Are you in your office?” She nodded once and said, “Good. Wait there, I’m coming over.” She ended the call and put the receiver back into the cradle.

  “Who was that?” Richard demanded, pointing to the discarded phone.

  Elizabeth scooped up a notepad and pen from the coffee table and tucked them into her purse. “The police in this city can hardly maintain any sanity on the street out there. I’m damned if I’m sitting around waiting until my daughter is murdered.”

  “Delaney told us to leave it to them. They’re doing everything they can.”

  She cut him a glare. “Is that what they told the parents of little Christobel Hopkiss? That they were doing everything they can? I’m finding our daughter, and if you’re not going to help, get out of my way.”

  He opened his mouth to speak, but almost at once there was a knock at the door. When Alice opened it a girl in a hotel uniform stood framed in the doorway with her cart, peering in while the reporters behind her lifted their heads to see what was happening. “You called for room service?” the girl asked.

  “In here,” said Elizabeth, practically shoving Alice aside so the girl could get into the room. Beyond her, the waiting journalists were moving forward like a pack sensing blood. The second the door was shut again, Elizabeth said, “Is this the only uniform you have?”

  The girl’s astonished gaze crossed from Elizabeth to Richard and back. “I’m afraid so. But I—”

  “Then go to the bedroom and strip,” said Elizabeth. “Let me see if your shoes fit first,” she added, kicking off her own.

  “What …?”

  “Now,” said Elizabeth. “Please, I don’t have time to argue. You can choose anything you want from my wardrobe—anything at all. Just give me your uniform.”

  The girl moved into the bedroom and, still shooting Elizabeth bewildered glances, she stripped off her skirt and blouse. After a brief search through the closet, she selected a Marc Jacobs silk blouse and skirt which she slipped into, while Elizabeth put on the uniform. It was a little baggy around the waist but it didn’t matter.

  “Oh, it’s a disguise,” said the girl. “So the press won’t jump all over you.”

  “That’s right. And thank you,” she said. “I’m sorry if I was sharp, but I really am in a hurry.”

  “That’s totally cool,” the girl replied. “Are you sure it’s okay for me to wear these? I’ll bring them straight back tomorrow.”

  “Keep them. And don’t worry about the uniform,” Elizabeth told her. “I’ll call your boss and square it with her.”

  After adjusting the headwear into place, Elizabeth went back to the living area where she snatched up her purse and cell phone from the table, and tucked them down behind a stack of towels on the lower rack of the cart. She wrestled the door open, holding it open with one foot and ignoring Richard’s hissed orders to “stop being ridiculous and get back here,” as she reversed out of the room with her head down, drawing the cart along with her. Just as she thought, the pack of reporters outside fell back and waited while she maneuvered the cart through the doorway, peering over her shoulder in annoyance as they tried to get a sneak-peek into the room. Finally, they fell back, parting for her to push the cart towards the elevator. With a trembling hand, she pressed the button and the instant the doors opened she pushed the cart inside and hit the button for the parking garage.

  Two heart-pounding minutes later, the doors opened and she looked out into the dim expanse of the parking garage. At first she hesitated, wondering whether she should have specified the floor and meeting place. But after no more than a few seconds of frantic searching, a silver Nissan Micra rounded the corner and Diana pulled up alongside her. />
  “Perfect timing,” said Elizabeth as Diana got out.

  “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” she asked.

  “Never more so,” said Elizabeth. “And when I’m done here,” she said, getting into the car and snapping the seatbelt into place, “I’m coming back to help those people out there.” And she threw the car into gear and took off.

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

  12:09 PM—KELSEY

  Dark thunderclouds had been rolling in from the north. They had given way and now the sun was cracking through the clouds, brightening the landscape. Cleveland, Kelsey thought. You don’t like the weather? Wait a minute.

  The abandoned factory on Collingwood was a two-story structure clad in dirty beige-colored aluminum siding, and with three enormous silos that sprouted from the roof. Graffiti had been scrawled across every available surface. The place sprawled across an entire block from Appleby Road on the left, to Stretham Avenue on the right, all surrounded by a high, razor-wire-topped fence. Up until two years ago, this had been the home of Ferti-Chem, manufacturers and exporters of agricultural and industrial compounds, with over five hundred employees. The last downturn had seen the place closed down and now the only visitors here trashed the place and left their mark everywhere in spray paint.

  The rear entrance into the building was via a flight of steel stairs that led from the center of the parking lot up to a small landing where a broken door leaned drunkenly on one hinge.

  Keeping one eye on the street, Kelsey followed the fence along to within a few feet of the corner. She was beginning to think she’d have to walk around to the front after all, when she spotted a small depression in the ground and the signs of a gap under the fence. When she dropped to one knee she found the fence had been cut and pulled back into place. She eased back one side of the wire, dropped to her belly and slid through.

  On the other side, she did a duck-and-run across to a spot under the stairs where she hunkered down behind a stack of broken crates. Apart from the distant hum of cars from the freeway a few blocks away, there were no obvious signs of life. It was as if these three entire blocks had become invisible to the rest of the city. It was the perfect place to keep Holly—no neighbors, few passing cars and a great view of approaching traffic from every side.

  She swung out of her hiding place and took the stairs two at a time to the top and with another quick scan across the lot, she pushed her way in past the broken door and stepped inside.

  The first room looked like the cafeteria. A counter stretched along one wall with a sink and a gap where the dishwasher might have once sat. Broken tables and chairs had been overturned and the dirty linoleum floor was littered with files that had been wrenched apart, their contents stripped out and flung around. The place looked as if a violent storm had swept through.

  She crossed to the door on the far side of the room and carefully cracked it. Outside was a wide, dimly lit hallway with offices dotted along. All she could hear was the occasional sound of creaking metal, as though the bones of the old building were beginning to ache. The place must have been a sweatbox in summer. Even now with the windows all smashed out the air was heavy and stale. She followed the hallway along the rear of the building. About twenty feet along she came to a door with a sign lettered out in red on the upper glass panel. It read:

  Warehouse Personnel Only—Protective headwear must be worn at all times

  Now she didn’t know what to do. The place was much bigger than she’d imagined. It was the perfect place to disappear. It was also the perfect place to get ambushed. To make matters worse, she couldn’t decide whether Matt would stay on the ground floor where he could make his escape, or whether he’d come up to the second floor where he could keep an eye on the front entrance. And, running all over the building looking for him was out of the question.

  She dug her phone out of the back pocket of her coveralls and hit Matt’s speed-dial but it went straight to voice mail. She was just beginning to think this was one big waste of time, when she heard the creak and clunk of a distant door.

  She froze on the spot.

  Shoving her phone back in her pocket, she tiptoed back along the hallway until she came to the top of the stairway. Again, she paused, listening.

  “Matt?” she called tentatively.

  Nothing.

  She turned full circle, listening. “Matt, is that you?”

  Silence. She was beginning to wonder if she’d imagined it, when the sound of footsteps sent her heart into overdrive. She spun around, hesitated, then ducked into one of the empty offices where she gently pushed the door closed, and slid down with her back to the wall and an ear to the crack. Almost at once, the footsteps came thumping along the hallway and stopped outside the door.

  “Jesus Christ,” a guy’s voice yelled. “Where are you?”

  “I’m right here,” came a muffled reply. Kelsey figured the second person had been on the ground floor, because this was immediately followed by a door closing, then the footsteps thundering up on the stairs. Before she knew it, they were right outside the door. She turned to look to give the room a once-over. It was completely bare—not a stick of furniture. She leaned hard against the door and held her breath. So much for Matt’s promises. Jesus, even Tammy had seen this was a setup. How could she be stupid enough to think he’d be here? Why didn’t she ever learn? Now here she was, trapped in a room with nowhere to hide and barely two hours to find Holly.

  “Anything?” This was the first guy. Kelsey recognized the voice but couldn’t put a face to it.

  “Nothing down there. What’d I tell you?”

  “This is bullshit.”

  “You sure this is the place?”

  “That’s what he said. He said she’d be here, with the kid. Told me she’d come in the front way but there’s no cars or nothin’.”

  “Lionel’s full of shit. Always was. I don’t know why you even listen to him.”

  “So, what do we do now?”

  “Go back, I guess. Where’s Luke?”

  “He’s comin’.”

  “Okay, we’ll do one more run. This time you check downstairs, I’ll stay up here.”

  “Why? You think I’m too stupid to know if I seen her?”

  Irritation grated in the second guy’s tone. “Because she might’a been hiding, is why. So just do it, okay?”

  The thud of footsteps receded downstairs, and the guy outside the door muttered, “And fuck you, too.”

  Silence followed. She sat listening, but now she didn’t know whether the first guy had moved off or if he was still outside the door. She glanced at her watch. Time was slipping by. She put her ear to the crack, but all she could hear was the echo of the empty building, the creak of metal, and the distant whisper of wind in the roof.

  After almost a minute of silence, she eased back to her feet and cracked the door. The few feet she could see was empty, so she cautiously pulled the door open and peered out.

  The entire length of the hallway was empty. She had no idea where the guy had gone. Hugging the wall, she crept back toward the rear of the building, pausing beside office doorways, stealing glances inside, before moving on. At the end of the hallway, she turned right and retraced her steps until she reached the cafeteria.

  The door was closed.

  Did she close it? She couldn’t remember. She stood in front of it, trying to decide. When she leaned her ear to it, she heard nothing. She curled her fingers around the handle, and eased the door open. A thin, wraith-like guy stood right in front of her, staring at her with his eyes wide and mouth open.

  “Fuck!” he yelled and reached into the back of his jeans. “Fuck, fuck.” He pulled out a gun, but he fumbled and almost dropped it.

  Kelsey put her shoulder down and charged him, ramming him in the midriff and driving him backwards until he toppled over an overturned table and she went over with him. They wrestled back and forth, hands grabbing for the gun, until someone behind them yelled, “Gotcha, you bitch. N
ow, get off’a him.”

  She released her grip on the guy’s jacket and raised her hands, fingers spread. The guy on the floor shoved her aside and she rolled off him and onto her back to find Wayne Clemmons standing over her with a gun pointed at her head. “You bitch,” he said and cocked the hammer. “I am gonna take great pleasure in shooting your sorry ass. Get outta the way, Luke.”

  Luke scrambled to his feet and stepped wide. Wayne ran his tongue across his lips and blinked hard. He looked strung out. His gun hand trembled and sweat trickled from his hairline.

  “No, wait! Wayne, it’s me, Kelsey,” she yelled.

  “I know who you are,” he said, and blinked hard and licked his lips. “This is for Stick,” he said and closed one eye to sight along the barrel.

  She threw out her hand. “What? I don’t know what you’re talking about. What do you mean, ‘This is for Stick?’ Wayne, stop!” she yelled.

  Behind him the door flew open and a third guy in a beaten-up black leather jacket burst in. She recognized him at once—Melvin something. Another of Lionel’s contacts. He looked her over, nodded, and said, “Good, you got her. Where’s the kid?” he asked Kelsey.

  She got slowly to her feet. “I don’t know. I’m looking for her.”

  Melvin briefly considered her reply, then said, “Shoot her.”

  “No! Wait. You shoot me you won’t get the money!” she said at once.

  He placed a hand on Wayne’s arm and angled his gaze on her. “Go on.”

  “I don’t have the kid, Matt does. He said he’d be here with her. That’s what he told me.” Some unspoken communications ran between them, so she added, “I don’t want the money. You can have it. I just want the kid.”

  “I’m still listening,” Melvin said.

  Wayne snapped a look at him. “And what about Stick? Doesn’t anybody care that she killed my brother?” he said, jabbing the gun at Kelsey.

  “I what? No, why would I kill Stick?”