The Elizabeth McClaine Thriller Boxed Set

by Catherine Lea

  Her eyes widened briefly at the irony. “Well, I do now.”

  “One of the guys that was living here got another two years in the slammer for hacking his bracelet off. Did it with a machete, the big dumbass. Sliced a chunk out of his leg doing it. Blood everywhere. You shoulda seen his face. It was hilarious,” she added with a wry chuckle. “Cops followed the trail of blood and picked him up at the hospital.”

  Stacy couldn’t help but smile. “Listen, I’d love to stay and chat and all, but I need some help.”

  Caitlin patted the dirty mattress next to her. “Come, sit down. Tell me what you need.”

  Stacy lowered herself to a crouch in front of her, forearms rested on her knees. “A phone. You got one?”

  “I got three.”

  Stacy straightened immediately. “Are you using again, Caitlin? What did I say to you?”

  “Me? Heck no. I haven’t been using since before I went inside. I’m clean now. Been clean ever since I got out.”

  Their eyes simultaneously dropped to the crook of Caitlin’s left arm, and Caitlin immediately pulled her sleeve down to hide the track marks.

  She pulled her knees in tight, chin tucked down, as if trying to make herself smaller. “Okay, so sometimes I get a little low. It’s nothing, Stace. Seriously, I can handle it.”

  Stacy pressed her lips firmly together and let her eyes lift briefly to the ceiling. “You know Amy died, right?”

  “Yeah, yeah, I heard.”

  “You wanna be next?”

  “It’s only a taste—”

  “It’s not only a taste, Caitlin. It’s never only a taste.” Angry now, Stacy went to the window, hands jammed in her pockets.

  “Aw, c’mon, Stace. Don’t be mad at me. Please?” Caitlin said in a tiny voice.

  She sounded truly repentant. But then, she always did. When Stacy looked back, she had her chin on her knees, head tilted looking up at her. “So is that the only reason you came here? Just to kick my ass?”

  “No, it wasn’t. Like I said, I just need a phone. I gotta call someone.”

  “You gonna tell me what it’s about?”

  “Best I don’t.”

  Caitlin leaned over and pulled one of the cardboard boxes closer. She rummaged through it a moment, then pulled out an old flip phone. “Use this one. Keep it if you want. The guy’s an asshole.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Stacy?”

  “Yeah?”

  Caitlin looked away, dragging her lower teeth along her upper lip before meeting Stacy’s gaze again. “I ah…” She winced. “You got any money? I could really use it now.”

  Stacy had the twenty-five dollars gate money down her bra next to the photograph. If she thought Caitlin would buy a meal, she wouldn’t have hesitated. “Not a dime,” she lied, pocketing the phone as she went for the door.

  “You’re leaving already?”

  At the doorway, she turned to regard Caitlin again. “I have to. I’ll be back, though. And when I do, you better be clean.”

  “I will be.”

  “Make sure you are. ’Cause if I find out you’re not, I might just kill you myself.”

  Then she left.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  DAY ONE: 7:48 PM—ELIZABETH

  By the time she had halfway recovered from the revelation Eileen Grant had dropped on her, Elizabeth realized she didn’t have enough time to interview any more of the women today. She had immediately called for Warden Glassy, who had accompanied her down corridors divided by remotely opened security doors to the front entrance. Just as she stepped across the threshold, her phone beeped three times, indicating messages.

  “Oh, I have coverage,” Elizabeth said, surprised.

  Glassy scanned the parking lot, hugging herself and rubbing her upper arms as if noticing the chill wind for the first time. “When the building was designed, they put in some kind of blocking equipment so that cell phones don’t work within the prison. I should have warned you about that.”

  “It’s fine. To be honest, it’s nice to not have it ringing every two seconds.” The message on the screen indicated she’d missed five calls and had three messages. “Only five calls. The media hounds must have given up.”

  “I find that doubtful,” Jennifer said wryly.

  Just as she was about to leave, Elizabeth paused and turned to face Jennifer. “Why didn’t you tell me that Lois Hankerman, the woman who’d been convicted of smuggling the drugs into the prison, was your sister?”

  Jennifer Glassy’s mouth widened into a humorless smile. “And I suppose we can thank Eileen Grant for telling you that. I should have known she would.”

  Elizabeth didn’t respond, just cocked her head, waiting for the response.

  The other woman met her gaze, then briefly dropped her head. “It wasn’t relevant, Mrs. McClaine. The case was resolved. Justice has been served.”

  “Do you believe she did it?”

  She let her gaze reel out across the parking lot before answering. “It doesn’t matter what I believe. An investigation was carried out and she was found guilty.” She lifted her head an inch. “I was as surprised as anyone.”

  “I’m glad you place such faith in the legal system. I wish I could say the same.”

  Jennifer Glassy nodded once, declaring the meeting over. “Good luck, Mrs. McClaine. You’re going to need it.”

  Jennifer Glassy had walked back in through the front doors without another word, leaving Elizabeth to walk to her car. Now, an hour later, after going over and over the information in her head, she was just pulling into her driveway when her phone rang. She cut the engine and answered it.

  “Elizabeth, it’s Penny. Where are you?” she said in a hushed voice.

  “What’s wrong?”

  There was a moment of silence while Elizabeth imagined Penny moving to another location for privacy. Sure enough, when she spoke again, she sounded guarded. “When are you going to be home?”

  “I’m in the driveway right now. Why?”

  “I’m at your place. Delaney’s here. He wants to see you.”

  Elizabeth glanced up in the rearview mirror, only now noting the late model black sedan parked across the street. “I’ll be right in.”

  As soon as she opened the front door, Holly came shambling down the stairs to meet her, arms out for a hug, big smile on that beautiful round face. Despite those first few years when Elizabeth had struggled to come to terms with her child’s disabilities, these days she never saw her daughter as a Down Syndrome sufferer. Even the scar from the second surgery to correct the cleft lip and palate was barely visible, although even with the best speech therapist, Holly’s words were still thick, the r rounding out as w, and her s forming as f, causing the word “dress” to come out “dweff.”

  “Mommy, Mommy,” Holly cried, as Elizabeth enfolded her in her arms and kissed the top of her head. She smelled of strawberries and cream, felt like a thousand summers in her arms.

  “Hello, baby. Has Katy given you some dinner?”

  The reply came with a mischievous grin. “I had hot dogs.”

  Despite the impediments, Elizabeth could hardly believe the leaps and bounds Holly’s communication had made. There were days when she just wanted to sit and listen to her daughter, reveling in the words she never thought she’d hear from her.

  “Oh, really? Hot dogs? What about vegetables?” Elizabeth asked, smiling.

  The child made a face. “I don’t like them.”

  Elizabeth narrowed her eyes and leaned to her daughter in mock reprimand. “Tomorrow, you eat vegetables, okay?” And she touched her briefly on the nose before putting down her briefcase.

  Holly’s smile broadened, but only momentarily. Drawing in a deep breath, she stepped back, her expression unusually serious. “Mommy, may I go to a dance?”

  Elizabeth blinked at her, wondering where on earth this came from. “A dance?” She slipped off her coat and hung it over the stairway newel post, feeling a million horrors clangin
g around inside her. “What kind of a dance?”

  Holly’s hands flapped with excitement. “It’s a school dance. I got a note in my backpack. From my teacher.”

  “I see. And who would you go to this dance with?”

  The child clasped her hands at her chin, twisting left and right. “I will go with Cheryl. She’s my best friend. Daddy say, if you say yes, he will take us.”

  Despite the threat of tears forming, Elizabeth found herself smiling. Oh, my baby, how you’ve grown. Please don’t grow any more.

  “Well, I cannot think of a better person to go to a dance with than your best friend. Of course you can go.”

  “Can I get a new dress?”

  “I think it’s the perfect opportunity to get a new dress.”

  “Fank you, Mommy.” Holly threw her arms around Elizabeth, hugging her tightly while Elizabeth wrapped her daughter in her arms and planted another kiss on the top of her head.

  Holly’s head went back, looking up at Elizabeth. “Can we get my new dress from Boo Beeba? They have pretty dresses.”

  “You mean Rue Xeeba?”

  “Yeff,”

  Without knowing why, Elizabeth felt herself stiffen. “We’re not going to Rue Xeeba, my darling. We will find you the prettiest dress in all Ohio, but somewhere else.”

  “But Mommy—”

  Elizabeth was about to respond when she glanced up to see Detective Delaney standing in the doorway, Penny just behind him, both watching.

  She shuffled her daughter along, saying, “You go to your room and get ready for bed, young lady. We’ll discuss this later.” While Holly departed, climbing back up the stairs, Elizabeth turned for the living room and Delaney followed. “And to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, Detective?”

  He waited until she sat on the sofa and eased off a shoe before replying.

  “I hope your interviews with the women in Carringway were worth your while,” he said. From the look on his face, he wasn’t expecting much.

  “A few interesting comments, but nothing earth shattering. What’s happening at your end?” She massaged her stockinged foot, then slipped the other shoe off, and relaxed back with her legs crossed.

  “We found the bracelet. Stacy had cut it off and it was found it just this side of Euclid Avenue.”

  “So I heard. Not exactly a big surprise, was it?” Elizabeth said just as Katy, her housekeeper, entered, nodding in deference at her employer. “Coffee for me, thank you, Katy. Detective?”

  “Not for me, thank you.” When Katy had departed, he went on, saying, “We also found Gayleen Charms’s car. It was parked out near Terrence Street.”

  Elizabeth slipped one foot up beneath her, her arm resting along the back of the sofa. “Why there?”

  “She had been inside with a woman who lives there. I had an officer call on her but she says she hasn’t seen Stacy since she was released several months ago.”

  “And you think she’s lying?”

  “Probably.” He dug into his coat pocket to bring out what looked like a stack of envelopes bound together with a rubber band. “We found these in the car, though. On the passenger’s seat.”

  He passed them to Elizabeth who flicked through the envelopes, turning them every couple so she could read the address. She frowned up at him. “They’re all addressed to Wayne Lettes—Tyler’s father.”

  “It seems he’s moved. One of my officers dropped by there earlier and said that a Mr. Traynor who lives there now told him a young woman knocked at the door, asking where Wayne Lettes was. He gave her these.”

  “Oh, no. So where would she go from there?”

  Delaney lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “That’s the $64,000 question. But at least we found the tracking device. It was down a gulley nearby. Looks like she threw it from the car. And Mr. Traynor confirmed he was the one that gave her the letters, so it fits.”

  “And you’ve looked through them all?”

  “Most of them. It’s obvious from what she writes that she never had any intention of sticking with the program. In the first letter four months ago, she says something about it all going wrong, and how she has to find Tyler. In the next few, she outlines a plan where she expects Wayne Lettes to help her. I’m betting that would have been a surprise to him because he’s had virtually no contact with Tyler in the last three years.”

  “So why would she ask him?”

  “I’m guessing she didn’t know. She told him in the letters not to contact her because any communications could get intercepted. Which they probably would have.”

  Feeling that stab of a father’s betrayal of a child from her own past, she handed the letters back. “Best-laid plans, I guess.”

  Delaney took them and tucked them back into the inside breast pocket of his coat. “I’m sorry it turned out like this, Elizabeth. If it’s any consolation, you’re probably not the first Stacy’s put one over on.”

  He’d misread her—she didn’t feel that Stacy had put one over her. She nodded once, but said nothing.

  “There is one other interesting development, though. Nancy Pattrenko’s office had a call from Wayne Lettes.”

  Elizabeth lifted her eyebrows. “The same Wayne Lettes, I suppose?”

  “It’s the very one. All of a sudden he’s desperate to see his son.”

  Elizabeth’s head jerked back. “After all this time, that’s a conspicuously ominous change of heart, wouldn’t you say?”

  “I would.”

  “And you think Stacy’s asked him to contact the foster parents so she can find Tyler.”

  “Seems likely.”

  “But of course you’re not going ahead with this visitation, are you?”

  Delaney bunched his mouth, clearly reluctant to reply. “I don’t see why not. I’ve asked Nancy Pattrenko to contact Kay Heathers from Child Services and arrange a meet for nine o’clock tomorrow morning. As the parole officer, Nancy’s been known to attend meetings between the children and their parents, so it makes sense.”

  Elizabeth’s jaw dropped. She sat forward, both feet on the floor. “Let me get this right: you’re planning to put a little boy in a potentially dangerous situation so you can, what? Ambush his mother?”

  Delaney drew a patient breath and slowly raised his eyes to a point just above her head. Probably regretting telling her, Elizabeth thought.

  “Elizabeth, this could be a legitimate request by the father, so we need to honor it. Tyler will be perfectly safe. We’ll have a solid police presence in the area. Kay said she’ll arrange to take him to a shopping mall, maybe McDonald’s, get him a Happy Meal. He’ll have a nice time.”

  “So your officers are going to, what? Jump out and arrest her in front of her child? He’s a little boy. What’s he supposed to think when the police drag his mother away?”

  For some moments, Delaney just stared at her, his expression unreadable. Then he said, “You seem to have conveniently forgotten that Stacy May Charms attacked her social worker and put her in the hospital.”

  Elizabeth was flabbergasted. She got to her feet, pointing off towards the door, her voice raised and her face flushed with anger.

  “She was seventeen, goddammit.” Elizabeth said, leaning in so he got the full force of her outrage. “She was barely more than a child herself. And maybe if her lawyer hadn’t done a half-assed job, she wouldn’t have wound up in prison at all.”

  Detective Delaney drew in a heavy breath and dropped his head a moment, his patience seemingly thinned to the edge of frustration. “I don’t make the laws, Elizabeth. I just uphold them. If you want to continue with your inquiries, that’s fine. But I have a job to do. If I find you’re withholding information or getting in my way, I’ll lock you right out and bring any attempts to continue with your own to a very abrupt halt. Understood?”

  Elizabeth nodded and sat down.

  “I’ll see myself out,” he said, and went to the door. Just before leaving, he paused, looking back at her. “And obviously I don’t need to r
emind you that any information coming your way will be forwarded straight to my desk.”

  “You do not,” she replied in a tight voice.

  Just after he’d gone, Penny appeared in the doorway. “Youch. You need anything for those scorch marks?”

  Elizabeth collected up her shoes and got up. “I’ll live.”

  Penny slipped her sleeve back to indicate the time. “Well, I hate to be the bearer of more bad news, but you have thirty-one minutes before the Business Awards start.”

  “Talk to me upstairs while I dress.”

  Penny followed Elizabeth up to her bedroom, an elegant space decorated in soft greens and buttery yellows, the king-size bed adorned with plumped pillows and a hand-embroidered coverlet that matched the décor in both color and style. On the bed lay Elizabeth’s navy business suit. Katy had laid it out, along with matching shoes and purse.

  Elizabeth strode across to her walk-in closet and flipped on the light. Her encounter with Delaney had left a sour taste in her mouth. Perhaps he simply couldn’t understand what a mother would do for her child, or the pain the rejection of that child’s father caused.

  “Your suit is over there,” Penny said, pointing to where the garments were laid out in plain sight.

  With nothing more than a passing glance at the suit, Elizabeth stepped into the closet, raking through the hangers. “Over my dead body.”

  “You’re not wearing it?”

  She ignored her secretary, instead moving garment after garment along the rail until she plucked off one hanger, then a second, and moved to the full-length mirror in the bedroom, holding a short-sleeved black dress trimmed with silk at the hem and sleeves against herself, then switching to a vibrant rose-colored strapless cocktail dress with a silk wrap. “Which do you think?”

  “Are you going straight to the Business Awards or have you secretly signed for a new series of The Bachelor?”

  “The rose one, I think,” Elizabeth said, switching the dresses again, then nodding toward the rose-pink one.

  “You can’t be serious,” Penny said as Elizabeth flung the dress on the bed and went in search of shoes to match.