The Elizabeth McClaine Thriller Boxed Set

by Catherine Lea

  An unintentional snort escaped her lips. “Now that I’d like to see.”

  “Why? You think he won’t?”

  “I think he’s there for at least another term, Clay,” she said. “I’d just about stake my life on it. If it was worth anything right now,” she added flatly.

  “Well, either way I need to position myself to back the right horse. I’d have to choose my moments, if you know what I mean. You understand.”

  “Oh, look, I completely understand. Forget I spoke, Clay. Truly, I’ll work something out.”

  After making excuses to avoid dinner with him tonight, she ended the call and hung her head, humiliation washing back and forth like a spring tide. When the doorbell sounded again, she groaned, saying, “What now?” and calling to Katy, “I’ll go.”

  Penny stood on the doorstep, briefcase in hand. “You weren’t at the office.”

  Elizabeth widened the door and Penny entered, giving her boss a worried look. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m great.” She closed the door and went back to the dining room with Penny following.

  “I had a call from Delaney. He’s threatened to arrest me for obstruction of a police investigation. Then he called both the prisons I was to visit and told them not to admit me.”

  “Whoa!” Penny deposited her briefcase on the floor and rested one hand on the back of a chair, other hand on her hip. “So what brought that on?”

  Elizabeth folded her arms, defensive. “Stacy called me. Last night. Apparently, Delaney was monitoring the calls. He called me at just after six this morning to kick my butt for not telling him.”

  “Great wakeup call.”

  Elizabeth frowned at a point just in front of her. “You know, I was just thinking.” She let the idea take shape, then said, “What’s the time?”

  Penny checked her watch. “Seven forty-two. You’ve got that look on your face. What are you cooking up?”

  “Did you bring your car?”

  A flinch, indicating the obvious. “How else would I have gotten here?”

  “Did you bring your phone?” Elizabeth asked.

  “You ever seen me without it?”

  “Good. Come with me.” Elizabeth headed for the stairs.

  “Where are we going?”

  “I think it’s time I took you to breakfast,” she told Penny over her shoulder.

  Penny followed her upstairs, responding in a suspicious tone, “That’s nice. What’s the catch?”

  “No catch. Just don’t expect eggs Benedict.” Elizabeth pushed her bedroom door open and went in. “We’re going to McDonald’s.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  DAY TWO: 7:43 AM—STACY

  Almost the second Stacy’s head had hit the bag she was using as a pillow, the heavens had opened and the rain started falling, streaming down like someone had turned on a tap. Despite pulling the trash bags over her head and tucking her feet up, the rain seeped through, leaving wet patches on her jeans, her sweater, and saturating her hair. When an icy raindrop trickled down her collar and around her neck, she knew even the dumbest homeless person wouldn’t sleep out in weather like this. So she’d pulled the trash bag over her head, gathered up her two plastic shopping bags, and gone in search of shelter. Head down against the deluge and squinting into a sea of shattered streetlights, she turned the corner to her left and found a bus shelter. It was dry, and from here she could still see the entrance to McDonald’s, so she’d flicked the water from her hands and ruffled it out of her hair. After shedding the wet garments and tucking them away, she’d spread out her trash bag on the bench, and again, using one of the bags as a pillow, she lay down.

  No sooner had she wrapped her arms around herself for warmth and found a semi-comfortable position with the restaurant in her line of sight, when a couple entered the shelter. Apparently also homeless, the two talked in low voices, warily glancing back at her every now and then as they set up their own sleeping arrangements on the opposite bench before settling in.

  Stacy had lain awake, shivering with the cold and listening to the rain pelt against the Plexiglas and the hiss of tires speeding by. For the briefest moment, she guessed she’d drifted into something approaching sleep, because when she shuddered awake at just after twelve, feeling like she had a knife in her back, the homeless couple had disappeared along with one of her bags.

  “Oh, you’re kidding me.” She sat up, rolling her shoulders, and tilting her head left and right to stretch the kinks out, then lifted the remaining bag onto her knee, searching through the contents.

  “Bastards.” She pressed the remaining items back down into the bag again.

  Gathering up the few things she had left, she slung the shopping bag over her shoulder and returned to the car. She may as well sleep in some comfort, head back here by eight. Even if they were early, there was a chance she’d find a good position from which she could catch Tyler and whoever was with him as they went in.

  But she had to get some dry clothes on.

  At the bottom of the bag was a pair of jeans and a sweater Alice had discarded, probably too large for Alice’s emaciated frame. Switching to the rear seat, she slid across to the middle and arched her back against the seat back while she maneuvered her jeans down to her feet and kicked them off, then took off her sweater. It was a struggle even getting Alice’s jeans up over her hips, but after wiggling side to side and holding her breath, she finally got them up. She couldn’t zip them, but that didn’t matter; the sweatshirt came down far enough to hide the zipper. She flicked the hood up over her head and took a look in the rearview mirror.

  Perfect.

  Well, almost perfect. After pulling Tyler’s toy car out of the pocket of her wet jeans, she dug out her keys, got into the driver’s seat, and hit the road.

  The first all-night launderette she came across turned out to be just around the corner. She parked in a spot across the road, got out and ran to the front door, where she pushed her way inside, toting her one remaining bag and wondering whether Tyler would remember her.

  It wasn’t the first time she’d wondered; wasn’t the first time that sliver of fear had carved an enormous hole in her chest. What could be worse? A child you love enough to do anything for who doesn’t even remember you.

  Would he still have memories of those first two years he’d lived with her? Or would these last three with so few visits have erased them, replacing them with a bond with his foster mom that no one could break? Stacy couldn’t think of a worse fate for a mother. All she could do was hope that with time, he’d come to love her the way she did him, and if he didn’t, that somehow he’d come to know that everything she’d done, she’d done for him.

  The inside of the launderette was warm and smelled of fabric softener and soap. She selected a dryer at the rear of the place and tossed in her rain-dampened clothing, removing her socks as an afterthought and throwing them in as well. Just as she had slipped the first few quarters into the slot, two women pushed through the front door, talking and laughing about some party they went to last night. They glanced her way and moved to the machines opposite.

  Keeping her back to them, Stacy picked up one of the tattered magazines left for the customers and pulled her hood down in front, head bent low, pretending to read. Behind her, the chatter had dropped to a few whispers. She could feel them watching her.

  She sat for as long as she could, but when the silence behind her echoed over the machines, she got up, opened the dryer before it had completed the cycle, and took the clothes out. She stuffed them into the plastic shopping bag, exited the launderette, and hurried back to the car.

  When the clock on Curta’s dash told her it was 8:34, it was time to go. She knew what she had to do, where she had to go. But she needed Mrs. McClaine to know. If anything went wrong, she had to know that she’d make sure Tyler was taken care of. So she pulled out the phone, switched it on, and waited for it to connect to the network.

  The instant the bars appeared in the top right corner
, the phone beeped, telling her she’d missed eleven calls.

  Eleven? Who would be calling eleven times?

  First, she checked messages—nothing. Next she checked the numbers that had called. Four were from a number she didn’t recognize, the rest had been blocked. Was it the guy Caitlin had gotten it from? What if it was Wayne, telling her they’d changed the arrangements?

  For a second she was lost in indecision. Then she dug out Mrs. McClaine’s card, comparing the number that had called with all three numbers printed after her address. It was none of those. She found Elizabeth McClaine’s cell phone number and was just punching it in, when the phone rang in her hand. She stared at it, noting the number was blocked, so she hit the button, and held it to her ear, but said nothing.

  “Hello, Stacy.” It was a man’s voice—not one she knew.

  Frozen in place, heart pounding, she kept the phone pressed to her ear, listening.

  “Stacy, this is Detective Delaney,” he said. She hung up at once, switching the phone off and casting it into the passenger’s seat as though it was something deadly.

  How did the cops get the number? Had Mrs. McClaine turned her in? Surely she wouldn’t. What if they’d spoken to Caitlin? Or Wayne? What if he called the cops straight after she’d spoken to him? Or his girlfriend?

  Whatever. When it all came down to it, it didn’t matter how they knew. They just did. But from now on, Stacy would only be able to switch the phone on for short periods of time. Verna Harris two cells down in C-Block had wound up with a seven-year stretch after the police had tracked Verna down by locating the areas her cell phone was in use. Verna had been oblivious to the fact that her whereabouts were practically common knowledge across the entire Cleveland Police Department, and the way she told it, she was coming out of Chuck E. Cheese in the Great Northern Plaza when forty-two cops descended on her and threw her ass in jail. Then again, everyone knew that Verna wasn’t exactly a criminal mastermind, so even if the cops hadn’t picked her up using the cell phone, it wouldn’t have been long before they got her some other way.

  Checking the street in front and back, Stacy fired up the car, put her foot to the accelerator, and pulled out, heading back to McDonald’s.

  If her luck would just hold long enough, she might catch up with her beautiful boy. It was one date she didn’t want to miss.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  DAY TWO: 8:54 AM—ELIZABETH

  Elizabeth sat in the front passenger’s seat of Penny’s car, directing her to drive this way and that, until Penny finally said, “Elizabeth, I have GPS. We’ll find the damn place,” and Elizabeth sat back, one elbow resting on the window frame, and the knuckle of her forefinger pressed to her mouth while she focused on the passing landscape.

  As they rounded the last corner, Elizabeth sat up, saying, “Here it is. Park over there.”

  “No, I’ll park over here,” Penny replied as she spun the wheel and guided the car into the Burger King parking lot directly opposite, where she pulled into a spot facing the street.

  “Oh, this is even better,” Elizabeth said, twisting around in her seat, eyes searching the area. “I can’t see her.”

  Penny pointed out the windshield. “There’s Nancy Pattrenko.”

  Across the street, they could see the woman walking into view. At around five-three and thickset, Nancy must have been in her late forties, hair dyed plum red and drawn harshly back from her face, heavy features without makeup, scowl lines obvious even from this distance.

  Elizabeth huffed. “Couldn’t she have put something over her hair? Look at her. She looks like a traffic accident. Stacy gets one look at her and she’ll run.”

  “Does Stacy know what she looks like?”

  “Of course she does. They met several times in prison to discuss the terms of her parole. It was one of the conditions of her release.”

  Penny sat forward, her gaze riveted to the shrub garden at the corner of the restaurant. “What’s that guy doing over there?”

  Elizabeth shifted in her seat to follow Penny’s line of sight. Sure enough, a guy in a windbreaker and sunglasses was crouched, ostensibly to tie his shoe, but the moment he placed his finger to his ear it was obvious he was wearing a mic.

  Elizabeth groaned. “Oh, my God. He’ll be one of the police stakeout team.” She leaned right across, head pressed to the passenger window so she could see down the other side of the restaurant. “There’s one on the other side. They may as well have worn their uniforms and brought signs, the idiots. What time is it?”

  Penny slipped her sleeve back. “Two minutes to show time.”

  Right at that moment, Elizabeth’s phone rang.

  “Dammit,” she said, and scrambled through her purse to find it. Lifting it, she turned it to check the screen. “It’s Diana.”

  “Answer it. I’ll keep watch,” said Penny, ducking her head to get a look down the alleyway next to the restaurant.

  Elizabeth hesitated. She was just about to hit the button, when Penny said, “Wait up. There’s Kay Heathers with Tyler. Over there.” Again, she pointed.

  Sure enough, a gray-haired woman in her late fifties, early sixties maybe, walked toward the restaurant, a small boy next to her, his hand in hers.

  At six years old, Tyler Charms was a slim child with fine dark hair cut squarely around his face. He wore a padded blue parka a couple sizes too big for him, track pants, and sneakers. Together they turned towards the front doors of the restaurant, Kay clearly nervous, darting looks up and down the street as she pushed open the doors and they moved inside.

  Either side of the building, both police officers had vanished.

  “What now?” asked Penny.

  “We wait.”

  Penny leaned one arm over the steering wheel, angling herself around so she could see further down the street. “Is that her?”

  Elizabeth sat forward in time to see a young woman approaching the restaurant, head down, sweater hood pulled up and furtively glancing around, but the wig clearly visible beneath; Gayleen’s flowered dress hanging below the sweater, jeans below over dirt-covered sneakers, plastic shopping bag in hand.

  “That’s her. That’s the wig and the dress she was wearing in the photo. I’m sure of it. What do I do?”

  “There’s nothing you can do. We just have to—” Penny began, but almost at once, three suited officers approached the girl, two from in front, one materializing from behind.

  The girl stopped short on seeing them, visibly stiffened, then turned, apparently opting to turn back, but the officer right behind her closed in. All at once, she threw the shopping bag two-handed at the nearest officer, who fended it off with a swipe of his hand. He made a grab for her but she ducked under his hand and took off at a run. She tore down the side of the McDonald’s with the three right behind her. Out of nowhere two police cars appeared, lights flashing, sirens whooping.

  “Get going, follow them,” Elizabeth ordered, but Penny had already switched the ignition and slammed the car in reverse. She swung out of the lot so fast Elizabeth grabbed the door, then they hung a right onto the main road, almost hitting a car that came out of nowhere. Elizabeth pointed down the alleyway adjacent McDonald’s. “Down there. I just saw her. Keep going straight along and we’ll follow.”

  Penny pressed her foot to the floor and they shot forward, then slowed at the next intersection. The driver behind leaned on his horn and Penny yelled, “Ah, shut up!”

  “There she is.” Sure enough, the hood had blown back and the wig was half off. She fled across the intersection one street down, running parallel with Penny and Elizabeth, the three cops and two cars following close behind her.

  “Man, she’s fast,” Penny remarked.

  “Next intersection—go, go, go,” Elizabeth yelled, waving her forward like General Patton signaling his troops to advance.

  Once again, Penny hit the gas and they lurched forward until they were at right angles to the next street. At the dead end of the alleyway, they could see
the girl clinging to a chain-link fence, kicking out at the cop beneath her as she tried to scramble over.

  “Down there, go,” Elizabeth yelled, pointing again.

  “I’m going, I’m going! Oh, shit!” Penny said as the two police cars swerved in behind them and flew down the alleyway to screech to a halt in a V formation.

  Penny backed up, then threw the car into drive and they hurtled down the street, coming to a whiplash-inducing halt behind the police cars.

  Elizabeth threw her door open, jumped out, and ran to where the cops had tugged the girl down from the fence and pounced on her, rolled her onto her stomach and cuffed her hands behind her back.

  “If you’ve hurt her, the governor will be told and your asses won’t be worth squat,” Elizabeth told Delaney, who was just getting out of the second car. Together they walked quickly over to where two of the pursuit policemen were breathing heavily, one bent with his hands on his knees trying to get his breath, while the third took the girl by the shoulder and jerked her over onto her back.

  She had a hole in one knee of her jeans, a bloody graze showing through. The wig had come off and her nose was bloodied, probably from the fall. She looked up, eyes reflecting the same horror on the faces of everyone surrounding her. She had the same coloring, same hairstyle, but it was not Stacy May Charms.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  DAY TWO: 9:06 AM—ELIZABETH

  “So who’s this?” Elizabeth demanded, gesturing towards the girl as the two officers lifted her to her feet and took her to a waiting car.

  Delaney had his phone to his ear. He turned away briefly, speaking in a low voice, watching as the one of the officers placed a hand on the girl’s head, assisting her into the back of the patrol car, while the other went around to the driver’s side and got in. The detective hung up, pocketing the phone as he turned to Elizabeth, his face expressionless. “Officer Turner found at least two ounces of marijuana on her. She’ll be taken down to the station for questioning.” He looked away, trying to avoid her furious gaze.