“I just did,” he said, and signaled the officer waiting by the other car. “Take Ms. Pattrenko on in. I’ll join you shortly.”
As the officer got into the second car, fired up the engine, and drove back the way they’d just come, Elizabeth stepped in, cutting Delaney off again. “Excuse me, Detective, but if the governor and the police commissioner have sanctioned my investigation, then I’d like to be present at the questioning of Nancy Pattrenko, if you don’t mind.”
He got into the front passenger’s seat and lifted a bemused look on her. “As a matter of fact, I do mind, Mrs. McClaine. This is a police investigation and I don’t care what the governor or the police commissioner say you can do, this is my case and you won’t be present at any time during the questioning of a law enforcement officer. And that’s an end to it.”
Just as he closed the door, he muttered something she didn’t catch.
Penny walked across to stand next to her. Together they watched the car perform a U-turn and take off the way they’d come.
“So what happens now?” Penny asked.
“You heard the man, we find out what the hell is going on, and we find Stacy May Charms.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
DAY TWO: 10:31 AM—ELIZABETH
Elizabeth had spent the entire trip back to her office with her elbow on the car window frame, head resting on her hand, staring out at the passing city without even seeing it. By the time they arrived back at the office, a headache was throbbing at the back of her skull.
“Are you okay?” Penny asked as she pulled to a stop at a traffic light.
Elizabeth leaned her head back, staring at the spot right above her head. “So where do I go now?”
Only a tense silence followed. She glanced across at Penny, who met her gaze briefly and said nothing.
“What? You think I should just leave it at that? Just walk away?”
Penny bunched her mouth, checked the rearview mirror. When the light changed, she pressed her foot to the accelerator and they moved forward.
Elizabeth kept her gaze fixed on her secretary. “You do, don’t you? You think I’m chasing shadows.”
“I just think, y’know, you’re a smart woman, Elizabeth. Stacy broke the law, threw away all her chances. Why don’t you just leave it to the police? I don’t know what you’re trying to prove.”
“I’m not trying to prove anything. I’m trying to figure out why Stacy broke parole and ran in the first place.”
At the next intersection, Penny hit the turn signal, eyes on the road as she took the corner. “You don’t think that maybe she just ran because she could? Because the opportunity presented itself and she grabbed it?”
“Oh, not you, too.” Elizabeth sighed and turned back to the window. “Stacy told me she was afraid for Tyler. That was real. She said she had a photograph of him that threatened someone was going to kill him. That’s not chasing shadows.”
“And what if it was just another inmate that was pissed off with her? What if she’d annoyed one too many people by getting an early release and one of her buddies inside decided it wasn’t going to be all Happy Families? You said yourself that Cissy whatever-her-name-is turned out to be a complete nut job, that she was happy to step up for an early release no matter what she had to do.”
“Stacy didn’t believe it was another inmate, and neither do I. It had to be someone with access to the outside. Who else would be able to get the photograph? Who would know where Tyler was?”
“Well, there’s Kay Heathers.”
“And Nancy Pattrenko,” Elizabeth added in a sour tone. “But why? What could anyone have to gain? There’s no way Nancy would bring drugs into the prison … would she? And where was she taking Tyler?”
“I overheard her telling one of the cops she was taking him out of the danger zone because she was afraid for his life.” Penny hit the brake, stopping at yet another traffic light.
“Afraid for his life? She abducts a child and tells the police she was afraid for his life? Who’s she trying to kid?”
“She’s a parole officer. Maybe she saw something that made her think she had to get the child out of the way.”
“But why take him there?”
“Stacy was in a car right behind her. Maybe she spotted her following behind and just kept driving, believing they were still in danger. Who knows?”
“That’s a lot of maybes, if you ask me.”
Penny checked for oncoming traffic, then pulled the car into the parking garage, and into their allocated spot. As she took the keys from the ignition, Elizabeth felt the atmosphere in the car grow heavy.
“What?” she asked.
Penny drew her teeth along her lower lip, as though she was trying to pick her words, then turned to face her. “I know you have every faith in Stacy May Charms. I know you interviewed her and you had this … this thing where you connected, right?”
Elizabeth said nothing, just sucked in her cheeks and waited for it.
“Think about it, Elizabeth,” Penny said softly, counting points on her fingers, “One, there’s no crime; two, there’s no evidence of any crime; nothing to prove anything happened. Stacy ran. Okay, she says she’s in danger, that Tyler’s in danger, that someone’s threatened them—but who? She says she doesn’t know. So what else is she going to say? She was hardly going to admit that she didn’t want to continue with the program, was she? That she was sick of being pushed around and told what to do and what not to do, and that she wanted her kid back so she could do whatever she wanted? I mean, an explanation like that isn’t exactly going to fly, is it?”
“Are you done?”
Penny lifted both hands, dropped them in her lap. “I’m trying to play devil’s advocate here, Elizabeth. I’m not saying you’re wrong, I’m just saying that…” She turned to stare off across the parking garage.
“Something is definitely off. There’s some kind of cover-up going on. I’m sure of it,” Elizabeth said, although her voice lacked her earlier conviction.
“Jennifer Glassy said they got to the bottom of the drug trafficking. She said they found the evidence, and they convicted Lois Hankerman—”
“Yes, her own sister,” Elizabeth interrupted pointedly.
“Even sisters screw up.” Penny heaved a sigh. “Listen, Elizabeth, I know you want to believe that Stacy had good reason for bailing on her parole. God knows, I want to believe it. I know how hard you’ve worked on this program—sheesh, I was in your shoes, I’d be disappointed. But maybe,” she said softly, focusing on a point low on the steering wheel before turning her attention back to her employer. “Maybe Stacy May Charms wasn’t the right candidate for the program. Pure and simple.”
“You’re saying I made a mistake? That I just can’t admit it?”
Penny bunched her mouth a moment. “There are probably other candidates who would be just as good. Obviously, the Charles McClaine Foundation wouldn’t be involved because the child—or children—probably wouldn’t have disabilities and therefore wouldn’t be eligible for support, but the governor specifically asked you for your input on this program. He believes in you.” She spread her hands, gave her an encouraging look.
Elizabeth got out of the car without another word and went to the elevator. Something deep down inside her had curled up into a ball, refusing to be pried open. But it wasn’t dead.
When the elevator opened, the two women stepped inside, then turned silently to face the doors, each staring straight ahead until the doors reopened on the sixth floor, where Elizabeth’s office was located. Stepping out first, Elizabeth went straight to the door and directed her gaze off down the hallway while Penny unlocked the office. As soon as the alarm was deactivated Elizabeth walked straight through to her inner chambers without a word.
Now, sitting at her desk with the sun streaming in behind her, she couldn’t help wondering what on earth had been going on in Stacy May Charms’s head. Had she really duped Elizabeth? Was she really that good? And was it fair to
take it out on Penny, when all she’d done was point out what was rapidly looking like the truth—a truth that perhaps Elizabeth would prefer to close her eyes to?
“Penny!”
She appeared almost immediately in the doorway to Elizabeth’s office. “Yes?”
“I’m sorry. I spoke out of turn. I didn’t mean to take all this out on you.”
Her secretary stuck one hand on her hip. “Coffee? I think we need one.”
“I’d prefer a good stiff vodka martini.”
Penny’s eyebrows shot up.
“Well, I would.”
“You start drinking again after all this time, I’ll make you sorry twice over. I’ll get the coffee.”
While Penny disappeared to put the coffee on, Elizabeth drew together all the files strewn across her desk, all devoted to Stacy May Charms’s application. It was hard to believe how much work had gone into the process. She stood the file folders on end, stacking them into a neat pile. Next to her, the phone rang—her personal number. Frowning, she picked up.
A woman’s voice. “Elizabeth, it’s Diana.”
Diana Du Plessis. Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut, silently cursing herself. She hadn’t gotten in touch with her again. Here the woman was going out of her way for her, delving into the backgrounds of all the prison officers in Carringway, and all for nothing. Elizabeth pressed her fingers to her eyes, saying, “Diana, it’s great to hear from you. What did you find out?”
“Not a lot, I’m afraid. I think the recruiters who brought all the officers in did their due diligence. We got files on all personnel except the kitchen staff.”
“And?”
“Nothing that stands out. A few traffic offenses, one investigation into an incident, but the officer was cleared of any wrongdoing. Otherwise, no major convictions to speak of.”
Elizabeth dropped her head, cradling it in one hand. That headache was coming back.
“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate all you’ve done, Diana. Really.”
“It’s nothing. There was one small thing, though. Like I said, it’s not major but you may like to be aware that one of the prison officers is in a relationship with another law enforcement officer.”
“Is that unusual?”
“Not at all. Let’s face it, if cops didn’t marry cops, the world’s police forces would be a pretty lonely place. This is slightly unusual because it’s a lesbian relationship.”
Frowning, Elizabeth said, “Again, I can’t see anything wrong with that.”
“There’s nothing at all wrong with it. I just thought I’d bring it to your attention while I had you on the phone.”
She picked up a pen, said, “Okay, so who have we got?”
“Well, apparently an officer by the name of Patricia Tomes, one of the senior prison officers in Carringway, is in a live-in relationship with a parole officer in the Cleveland central area.”
Elizabeth’s heart did a flip. Her eyes lifted to a point straight ahead of her. “And what’s the name of this parole officer, Diana? Can you tell me?”
“It’s Nancy Pattrenko.”
Diana said something else, but Elizabeth wasn’t listening. She was already out of her chair and calling Penny from the other office.
“Switch the machine off. The coffee’s going to have to wait.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
DAY TWO: 11:45 AM—STACY
Stacy had turned the car and headed east, in the direction she’d come from, then looped around on a side street and come back a mile or so west of where she’d left Tyler with Nancy Pattrenko. Then she’d headed for East 40th Street. When the sound of the helicopter hammered through the air to her left, she’d pulled into a parking lot outside a factory, ducked down, and waited. Sure enough, it banked and flew on over. With any luck, they’d have assumed she’d put her foot down and headed south. Maybe if she’d had enough gas, she might have done exactly that. As it was, she guessed she had only enough to get to the next station, so she’d given it another ten minutes, then hit the ignition and driven on through to Woodland Avenue and merged with the traffic.
If her original plan had gone right, she’d have had Tyler and been out of the state by now. It didn’t. No point dwelling on it, she could only work with what she had. Whoever had threatened Tyler, had murdered Amy. She’d have bet her last dime on that. Chances were, she’d never get Tyler back. Maybe she’d never see him again. But while she had the chance, she could at least find the bastard who thought they could threaten her child and kill her friend.
To do that, she needed information. The blouse Amy had found had been sent back to Carringway by the same company that had received it—Millcreek Fashions. None of the inmates had given a fat rat’s ass about who Millcreek was. But if Eileen was right, that’s where she had to start looking. Maybe from there she could pick up enough clues to figure out who had the most to gain by shutting Amy up and keeping Stacy under wraps. And the only place she knew to get information was probably the last place the cops would look for her.
It took just a little over twenty minutes to drive across town. Cleveland Public Library Downtown would have been a better bet, but with only nineteen dollars in her pocket and a gas gauge tipping the red zone, she’d have had to park ten miles away. This way, she’d get the same information without spending a cent.
First pass, she cruised straight by University Heights Public Library, checking out the lay of the land. Nothing out of place, nothing unusual, and no cops. So she parked down a side street under the trees and walked back.
A woman with short brown hair and a name badge introducing her as Caron looked up from behind a large reception desk just inside the front doors, and smiled as Stacy approached.
“Good morning. How can I help you?”
Stacy drew a breath and gave the area a quick scan. “Ah yeah, I was wondering if I could use a computer.”
“What time did you book for?”
Book? Shit, this could get awkward.
“Ah well, I was going to but then I … y’know, I forgot.”
Caron gave her an uncomfortably long look, then snapped to, saying, “Okay. What about your library card? Do you have it with you?”
Sliding her hands in her back pockets, Stacy twisted back to give the door behind a quick check. “No, I don’t. I left it at home.” She pinched the bridge of her nose briefly then stuck her hand back in her pocket. “Listen, I’ll go back home and get it,” she said as she backed up a couple of steps.
“Well, hold on a sec. Let me see what I can do. After all, you’re already here.” Caron leaned in, squinting at her computer screen, clicking her mouse and swiping it across the mouse pad.
Had she recognized her? Her body language was difficult to read. Or was Stacy just being paranoid? She could leave right now, but she needed the information.
She flicked her eyebrows. “Yeah, sure. Thank you.”
Caron’s lips relaxed into the shape of an O while she searched. Then she smiled. “Oh, look, you’re in luck. We’ve got two computers free at the moment. Can I just take your name?”
Their eyes met.
“Kay Heathers,” Stacy replied without blinking.
“Then if you’d like to come this way, Kay, I’ll show you where to find the computers.”
She got up and walked off through a set of double doors. Stacy hesitated, and shot a look back at the front doors again. Her gut said, Run. Her head said, Go get the information.
Caron paused at the door, waiting for her. “This way, Kay.”
Feeling like she was wading through quicksand, Stacy followed. They walked past racks of books, down corridors, through silent rooms of people sitting at tables and reading. No security. They kept walking until they turned a corner and entered an area lined with desks on which the computers sat, all sectioned off from each other.
“Second from the end,” Caron said, pointing. “And here’s the password.”
Stacy took the card from her. If Caron had recognized her
and was about to call the police, her acting skills were pretty good. If that was the case, she didn’t have much time. She walked briskly down to the computer two back from the window, entered the password, and typed “Millcreek Fashions” into the search engine.
When the results came up, she went straight to the fifteenth page, which is where she’d found it when she’d done the same search in her computer studies while she was inside. Sure enough, there it was. It was just a few lines in among a whole bunch of blah: the mention of the company name picked out on some company registration form or other, and a couple of names she didn’t recognize. She drew across a pencil and paper seemingly provided for such occasions, and noted the names down: Maryanne Louise Crane-Thorpe and Christine Amanda Redfern Wentworth. When she entered Maryanne Louise Crane-Thorpe into the search bar and hit Images, a series of pictures came up. She clicked on one to find a middle-aged woman with sharp features, short curled gray hair, and the brand of stiff smile you get only with money.
Christine Wentworth was much younger—maybe late twenties, early thirties. The images showed her in business suits, with clutches of business guys, and at some big-ass function where she was arm in arm with some old guy, champagne glasses raised in a toast.
Sneering at the stupid things the rich think are important, she tucked the note with the names on it into her pocket, but over the top of the computer she picked up a security guy in the distance. Dressed in black with security emblems on the upper arms of his shirt, pot belly hanging over his pants, he was making his way across the front of the building outside, headed for the front door at a brisk pace.
“Shit.” She closed down the search and got up. Moving quickly back the way she came, she exited through the double doors and turned down a hallway to her left where she ducked between two shelves of books and walked to the end. Finding no other way out, she paused at the far end of the bookshelf where a woman was reading the back of a book.
“Have you read this?” the woman whispered to her, showing her the cover.
Stacy glanced at the cover, then back down to the main aisle. “No. I’m actually more into crime,” she replied, and squeezed past her. “Will you excuse me?”
The Elizabeth McClaine Thriller Boxed Set Page 45