The Elizabeth McClaine Thriller Boxed Set

by Catherine Lea

  No signs of life. So Laney moved on, ducking from window to window, brushing past wet shrubs, squelching through rain-sodden gardens, until she got to the corner where she peeped around to take in the front entrance.

  Two large double doors. Locked, no doubt. Secure electronic locks. She could pick a standard lock but she hadn’t hung around the right cons inside to learn how to pick an electronic one.

  Typically, the door would have an exit button next to it on the inside. Or an exit sensor. Only way to open them was from the inside.

  That meant she’d need a diversion.

  Sticking to the shadows, she followed the gardens in an arc around the front of the building, where she picked up a path leading around back. Out here, overhanging trees formed a darkened archway at the end of which she spotted an outbuilding with a concrete driveway leading up to the front double doors. Like a garage. Or a barn. Grounds like these, you’d need a ton of gardening equipment. A ride-on lawn tractor at the very least. She figured that’s where it would all be stored.

  Groping her way through water-sodden shrubs she picked her way around the side of the garage, where she peered in through a side window. Pitch black inside but for the occasional flash of red light, indicating an alarm. It flickered on and off, perhaps triggered by the motion of the twigs brushing against the window with a scritching sound.

  Wasn’t the best, but it was all she had. About a twelve-second walk from the front entrance to here. That’s all she’d need.

  A quick scout around brought her to a stack of empty flowerpots at the rear of the building. She selected one and checked it for heft. It felt about right, so she went back to the window, swung the pot like a shot-putter, and smashed it against the glass. The window shattered and the alarm immediately burst into life—shrieking into the night with an ear-splitting scream.

  Heart in her mouth, she sprinted back down the pathway, ducking under dripping tree branches, leaping over flowerbeds, splashing through puddles, until she hit the shadows out front and stopped. Hands on her knees, breathing heavily, she waited.

  “Man, I gotta get fit,” she whispered as she watched.

  Sure enough, a figure in a blue uniform appeared in the reception area and approached the glass front doors, peering out into the night. Probably a nurse. She stood peering out beyond the glass, turning her head left and right, wondering what to do.

  “Open the damn door,” Laney urged quietly. “Just come out, see what the noise is.”

  Then a second figure appeared. The two spoke briefly before the second woman hit the button on the side of the door and both doors slid open. Wasn’t till she stepped out into the night with her hair flying in the wind, and pulling the cardigan around her shoulders, that Laney recognized Velma Stanford.

  Seven seconds now. Timing was everything. Too slow, she’d miss the door. Too fast, they’d catch her.

  Velma moved cautiously out, surveying the area while the doors closed behind her.

  “Shit! Okay, hit the button again,” she whispered at the figure still inside. “C’mon, you can do it. Just follow her.”

  Still the nurse remained inside, peering around the doorway while Velma made her way around to the side of the building, angling her head this way and that, searching the pathway. Suddenly, Velma returned, calling to the nurse inside, and pointing in the direction of the garage. Again, the nurse hit the exit button. The doors swished apart and she also stepped out, staring off along the path where Velma had just gone.

  “Yes! Now go. Follow her, just go!” Laney hissed under her breath.

  …three…

  Laney crept to the edge of the shrubbery, rocking on her heel like an athlete ready for the gun while her heart pounded and the seconds passed…

  …four…five…

  Now, both women were huddled at the end of the pathway, looking down towards the garage. But still in sight. Then they moved on.

  Now!

  Laney leapt out of the bushes and did a running tiptoe up the two front steps and slid easily in between the doors, twisting into the reception area just before they met. With a quick glance over her shoulder she did a fast-walk for the nearest hallway and headed down it. From behind her came the swish of the front doors opening again, along with the mumble of voices. With her heart still thudding, she slipped into a darkened office doorway to her left, pivoted into the room with her back to the wall, and waited.

  Two women, headed this way, wet rubber soles squeaking on the floor. She could hear them talking. Laney held her breath.

  The two women moved right on past, one saying, “It was probably a tree branch. I’ll call the security company, get them to check it out.”

  Velma, the snooty bitch.

  “I’ll get back to the ward,” the other woman said. Laney heard footsteps pause outside the door, then double back.

  Next, Velma’s voice calling after her. “Check the ward thoroughly. Make sure all the clients are still asleep.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  The squeak of rubber soles receded off around a corner and faded to nothing. Laney gave it a few more seconds, then quietly tiptoed around the door and peeked out, left then right. No one in sight. The hallway echoed emptiness.

  The first time Laney had ever come here was five weeks back. She’d been escorted to David Whitcliff’s office. At the time he was all sugar and spice, telling Laney to sit down and call him “David,” like they were besties, and that Kimmy was safer in Sunny Springs than with her, and that she didn’t have any choice but to hand over care of Kimmy to Sunny Springs. After all, didn’t they have all the fancy facilities for someone with Kimmy’s disabilities? And besides, what did Laney have to offer her? Or at least, that’s how she’d heard it.

  Her response was fast and fiery.

  What the hell did he know about who should take care of her sister? Laney was family, for cryin’ out loud. Okay, so maybe she didn’t have a fancy house and a new car. But that wasn’t what made a family, was it? And what about Janelle? Wasn’t she good enough?

  Which was met with the same flat response she’d gotten every other time she’d suggested it. Like sending Kimmy to stay with Janelle was tantamount to sending her to work in the mines. So she’d told David where he could shove his facility; that once she was on her feet, she’d take her sister out of this shithole and never come back.

  He’d spun around in his chair and dropped Kimmy’s file back into the big black file cabinet behind his desk, then had security escort Laney off the premises.

  So much for Laney and her shitty temper. But she’d bet anything she liked that along with Sunny Springs’s patients’ files, that big black file cabinet also held all the staff employment details: who they were, what they did, where they lived. Wendy’s included.

  She ducked out, and walked quickly along the first corridor, searching the nameplates on each of the doors until she came to David’s.

  She tried the handle—locked.

  No surprises there. So she dug the lock-picks from her jeans pocket and went to work. After a couple of minutes, she heard the satisfying snick of the door lock and the handle turned. Inside, she flipped the wall switch and a cold white light flickered on.

  Settling in David’s chair, she spun around to the line of black file cabinets behind the desk and started with the top left-hand drawer, flicking through folder after folder. Finding nothing of interest, she went to the next drawer down. That was all the accounts, signed client documents, and legal papers. Nothing about staff.

  In the next, she found more legal papers and searched until she located the one Judge Roth and Mrs. McClaine had signed, authorizing Sunny Springs to take care of Kimmy during Laney’s incarceration. Laney ripped it from the file, tore it into a million pieces, and cast it into the wastepaper basket next to the desk. They’d have another copy on disc, but it gave her some satisfaction knowing they’d be put out searching for the original. Even if it didn’t take long.

  The next drawer down was packed with
more files, all grouped into sections tagged Nursing Staff, Administration, and Care Staff.

  Laney found Pinky’s file almost immediately, and opened it.

  Patricia McCorline, age twenty-four, after-hours cleaner.

  “Pfft, that didn’t last long.”

  Attached was a photo of her: black hair with fluorescent pink bangs—obviously dyed the instant she was sprung from Carringway—clear blue eyes, stud in her brow. Oddly enough, the photo made her look far younger than her twenty- four years. Or was that just because Laney was used to seeing her in the flesh? Regardless, it had DISMISSED stamped across the front in large red letters.

  “Better luck next time, kiddo,” she said, turning the page to skim over Pinky’s dismissal notes and the list of drugs found in her possession. “Man, you don’t do things by halves, sister. No wonder they fired your ass.” She chuckled and stuck it back in the file cabinet.

  Behind her, David Whitcliff’s office door burst open. Laney didn’t need to turn around. She could smell the reek of self-righteousness overriding Velma’s sickly-sweet perfume.

  “Miss Donohue, may I ask what you’re doing in here?”

  Laney put Pinky’s file back, and plucked out another and swiveled David’s chair to meet Velma, who stalked into the room and stood next to the desk, indignantly tugging her cardigan into place over her shoulders.

  “Just checking through all these files.” Laney grinned up at her. “Can’t seem to find what I’m looking for. Maybe you can help me.”

  This file belonged to someone who’d been fired for ongoing absenteeism. Which wasn’t what she was looking for, so Laney spun in the chair, deposited it back in the drawer in no particular order, plucked out another, and swiveled back.

  This one was a loan application form—the name Velma Roberta Stanford handwritten into the first box.

  Laney leaned back in the chair and let out a soft whistle. “Wow, this is a loan application for twenty-five large. With your name on it. Somebody’s spending up a storm, Vel. What’s it for—new car, house, luxury vacation maybe?” She waggled the file in the air until Velma reached across the desk and snatched it from her.

  “That is private business,” Velma said, hugging the file to her chest. “You have no right looking through here. I want you out of here right this minute. I already have a detailed report outlining your blatant disregard for our regulations. Don’t make this any worse.”

  From the look on Velma’s face, Laney had hit a nerve. Not wanting to pursue the matter and potentially embarrass the woman, she spun back to the open drawer, plucked out another file, and leaned back in the chair, one ankle up on her knee while she flicked through it. “Matter of fact, I’m not interested in your financial arrangements, Velma. I’m looking for someone named Wendy. Remember her?” Laney whipped the chair around to face her. “Foreign girl, good with people. She used to work here. Until yesterday, that is. Now, where do you suggest I look for her personnel records? ’Cause, for the life of me, I cannot find them here.”

  Velma’s cheeks flashed red. For a second, Laney thought she might lunge at her. Instead, it was like a something inside her head clicked. Her demeanor underwent a chilling shift and she modified her tone.

  “Laney, please don’t do this. Why don’t you just bring Kimmy back and we’ll forget all about this?”

  “And what? You’ll tear up the report you wrote?” She frowned deeply. “Really? After all the work you put into it? Why don’t you just tell me? What do you have to lose?”

  “Why don’t we talk about this? We could come to some arrangement. One that suits both of us.”

  Laney’s eyebrows shot up. “An arrangement? Wow. Like one where Kimmy never gets out of this shithole, and I stay in prison for the rest of my life? Boy, wouldn’t that be something.”

  “You have no right to go through these files.”

  “Then just tell me where I can find Wendy.” She gave Velma a hard stare. “That really would be helpful.”

  “You know I can’t do that. Our policies prevent us from giving out private information about our employees. As you’re well aware.”

  Laney tutted and swiveled back to select another file. “You don’t want to help me, then that’s fine. Oh, wait a second…what do we have here?” Around she swung once more, this time waving the file at Velma. “In the staffing section—Wendy O’Dell. And look at this: according to your files, she still works here. What’s with that, Vel? I thought she was fired.”

  Velma’s nostrils flared. “Please, Laney. I know you have your reasons, I know you think you’re doing this for Kimmy, but this is only going to make things very difficult for you.”

  “Oh, seriously? I love that you care for me so much. So, how come Wendy had to leave so fast? Did she steal something?”

  “Wendy left of her own accord. She went back to her old job.”

  “So, who was the dude she left with? From what I hear, you knew him pretty well.” A loaded statement. Feeling out just how well she knew this guy.

  With a dead-eyed expression, Velma picked up the phone, savagely punching out the numbers. “That’s it. I gave you a chance. Now, you leave me no choice.” When the line picked up, she said, “Get me the police.”

  Bingo. She knew exactly who he was.

  Laney sat back paging through the file, grinning and shaking her head while Velma waited on the phone. “I can’t wait to hear this.”

  After a moment, Velma shifted a pointed gaze onto Laney, saying, “This is Velma Stanford from the Sunny Springs residential facility for the disabled…”

  Laney got up, rounded the desk, leaned in and whispered, “I’ll see you around, Vel.”

  “Just a moment,” Velma said into the phone. “Laney, you stay right here,” she called after her. “Running is only going to make it even worse.”

  Clutching the file to her chest like a schoolgirl carrying books, Laney turned, backing up a few steps. “Oh, I’m not running, Vel. I am definitely walking here. And you will not stop me.”

  Then she turned and headed quickly for the front door with the sound of Velma’s voice shouting after her.

  CHAPTER TEN

  DAY TWO—1:02 AM—ELIZABETH

  Lake View Cemetery lay on the border between East Cleveland and Cleveland Heights. One of the largest cemeteries in Ohio, Lake View was spread over almost 285 acres and boasted architecture and monuments that had seen it rise to become a popular tourist destination.

  In the gloom of the night, chalk-white angels and towering monuments rose from the earth like the ghosts of those whose graves they marked, the ground between studded with a seemingly haphazard collection of headstones.

  Four police units, plus a car she recognized as Delaney’s, were already parked at the side of the narrow street leading through the cemetery grounds. As she eased the car in and parked behind a police cruiser, Penny pointed off to their left.

  “That’ll be them over there.”

  Elizabeth tugged the key from the ignition, ducking her head to follow her line of sight. Sure enough, in the distance she could see a pale blue halo of lights through the trees. About halfway between the women and the distant light, two police officers walked carefully between headstones, also headed in that direction.

  Penny got out of the car, sweeping her hair out of her eyes and watching them while she waited for Elizabeth to tug her headscarf into place, check her look in the rear-view mirror, and get out.

  “I don’t know what you think you can do here. Do you even know what Laney Donohue looks like?”

  Elizabeth locked the car with a flick of the switch on her key, dug a flashlight from her pocket, and started in the direction of the distant glow, talking over her shoulder. “It doesn’t matter. I have to know this isn’t her. And I have to know it isn’t Kimmy.”

  “But what can you do here? Delaney told you he had it under control, didn’t he?”

  Elizabeth stopped short, and turned to face her PA. “What else am I going to do? Go home?
Get a great night’s sleep while Kimmy’s missing? I’m the reason this happened. Me,” she said, stabbing herself in the chest. “I put her in Sunny Springs. Now she could be dead.”

  They quickened their pace, hunching their shoulders and squinting against the wind. It wasn’t until now that Elizabeth found herself wishing she’d grabbed the camelhair car coat instead snatching up her hip-length wool jacket in her haste. They picked their way between burial plots and headstones, following the dim circle of light cast by Elizabeth’s flashlight before they came to a white tent erected over the site. Despite the shelter of the surrounding trees, the sides of the tent billowed and flapped with each gust of wind. Portable floodlights had been set around the periphery of the area, washing the scene in insipid white light. To the left Delaney stood amid a clutch of police officers, issuing orders, if the gestures were anything to go by.

  As they approached the crime scene tape marking off the area, an officer stepped out, cutting them off.

  “Ma’am, I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

  “I’m here by invitation.” She nodded towards Delaney, who was looking over. He excused himself from the huddle and motioned for her to approach.

  Nodding in acknowledgement, the young officer stepped back, allowing her to pass, before returning to his post.

  “Elizabeth,” Delaney said in grim acknowledgment.

  She brushed back a stray wisp of hair that had escaped her headscarf. “Do you know who she is yet?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Do you want me to see if I can identify her?”

  With his hands driven into the pockets of his coat and his collar turned up, he switched his attention briefly back to the site, then shook his head. “I’m sorry, Elizabeth. I can’t let you see her. She’s in pretty bad shape.”

  Elizabeth switched her attention to where a young officer exited the tent behind Delaney, the expression of horror plain even at this distance.

  “Do you know what happened to her?”

  Delaney followed her line of sight, watching the officer who was now in hushed conversation with another. “We don’t know yet. She wasn’t murdered here. The ground’s soft. It’s slushy underfoot all around here. There’s no prints showing a sign of a struggle. But we found a shoe matching the one she was wearing over by the roadway. I’d say someone brought her in, carried her here, and didn’t notice the shoe fall.”