Kidnapped ik-10

by Jan Burke

  CLEO posed before the mirrors on the sliding closet doors. She felt pleased. She had done a really excellent job this time. The man’s suit looked good on her. She liked the shoes. They made her look like someone who was about to take care of serious business.

  Well, what could be more serious than murder?

  The thought made her laugh.

  She had a hat to go with this one. When she put the hat on and adopted certain mannerisms and a way of walking, she knew for a fact that no one watching from a neighboring window would be likely to identify the person they saw as a woman.

  In the trunk of the BMW 325xi parked in the garage, she had carefully stored coveralls and work boots, as well as her second complete outfit. Now, that one really looked great on her.

  She looked around her. She liked this little house. Only two of her neighbors on this quiet suburban street had met her, and neither knew her real name. She told them she was an international sales representative who traveled a great deal. Nothing of real value was kept in the house, but she used a security system she controlled from her laptop to monitor alarms, as well as the small cameras mounted outside the house and in the various rooms to turn lights and radios off and on. The system would page her if anyone set off an alarm. No one had done so yet, which was something of a disappointment — she planned to deal with the problem personally if it ever happened.

  A lawn service came by twice a week to ensure that the yard was clean and green, and that leaflets and flyers were removed from the porch. Her mail was forwarded to a private mail drop.

  She had Roy to thank for the inspiration of living invisibly in suburbia. His example taught her to be the perfect, quiet homeowner who never annoyed her neighbors and was never annoyed by them. She never held parties, and did not cause concern by bringing unsavory strangers as visitors to the neighborhood. She never brought any kind of visitor to this house.

  She couldn’t stand the place for more than a few days at a time, but it provided excellent quarters when she was in the process of relocating her main residence.

  She spent a few moments going over her preparations for her work. She was already wearing a well-concealed knife — she was seldom out of reach of at least one knife. She had already checked and rechecked her Beretta. She smiled, thinking of it. She liked a weapon small enough to be concealed in the palm of her hand. The Beretta had served her well. Loaded with .22 shots, thrust up against the back of a skull — it hardly made more than a popping sound.

  She didn’t like the kind of shot she had made on Sheila — she forced her thoughts away from that job. Not everyone would have been able to escape in that situation.

  A small duffel bag held gloves, clean-up supplies, and Plans B, C, D, E, and F: the garrote, the restraints, the plastic bag, the syringes, and the drugs.

  Roy had called her this morning. She had already given him advice. She wondered if he’d followed it. He was a nervous wreck.

  Something in Roy appealed to her, made her like him a little more than the others. Giles was full of himself. She had been drawn to him because of his arrogance and power, but lately that had grown old. Dexter — Dexter was a fabulous lover, and more like her than any of the others. They understood each other. But Roy — Roy was kind of sweet, she decided. Protective of her. It was really funny if you stopped to think about it, but none of the other men even thought of treating her that way. And he would do anything for his children. That had made her like him for more than the sex. An image from her own childhood rose to mind unbidden, and she quickly suppressed it.

  She checked her watch. Almost time to go. She began a series of meditations she used to hone her concentration.

  A soft alarm sounded, distracting her. Someone was walking up her driveway. Probably a salesperson or one of the seemingly endless number of tree trimmers who littered her porch with business cards and flyers. She hid the bag and silently moved toward a monitor.

  A slightly built brown-haired man in his fifties, wearing jeans, a light windbreaker, and running shoes, neared the porch steps. She recognized him immediately and swore. She quickly strode to the door.

  What the hell was Giles doing here? He wasn’t even supposed to know this place existed. The son of a bitch thought he owned her.

  She felt her hand go to the Beretta.

  She was going to shoot him. She was going to shoot him now.

  No, not here.

  She managed to rein in her fury enough to take her index finger away from the trigger of the gun.

  She watched him look toward the street as he raised his fist to knock on the door.

  She quickly opened the door before his hand made contact with it. She caught his wrist in a crushing grip and yanked him through the doorway, pulling him off-balance. She kicked the door shut, then slammed him up against it, knocking the wind out of him and pinning him. She used her other hand to take hold of his collar and twist it.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  She was pleased to see that his smile was a little wobbly. He was also getting an erection. That was no surprise to her, nor was it gratifying. Giles’s sexual response to her was beginning to bore her.

  “Let go of me,” he croaked, “and I’ll tell you.”

  She released him. He stumbled forward, then awkwardly regained his balance.

  She smoothed out the suit. “I’d better not have any wrinkles in this.”

  “I’m going with you,” he said, looking at her clothing with fascination.

  “Like hell you are. And you aren’t going to sidetrack me now. How did you find out about this place?”

  He smiled again. “Cleo. You know I am always interested in the whereabouts of the members of my family.”

  She considered threatening him, then rejected the idea. Giles knew far too much about her activities.

  Besides, there was no reason to threaten him — she could take action instead. For now, though, she would need to seem to give in.

  “If you’re changing the plan,” she said, “I need to know now. We’re running out of time.”

  “I merely wish to observe.”

  “Then why are you carrying a weapon?”

  His smile faltered. Did he think she wouldn’t notice the gun?

  “Cleo, aren’t you the one who always likes to have a backup plan?”

  “What’s really going on, Giles? Tell me now.”

  “It’s Roy, I’m afraid. At some point I think we’ll need to intercept him.”

  “Are you crazy? He’ll have the kids with him. You know my rules,” she said fiercely. “No hurting kids.”

  He cowered a little, caught himself doing so, and straightened his back. “Of course not. What has this been all about? It has always been about the children.”

  She eyed him skeptically.

  “These are precious children, indeed,” he went on smoothly. “That’s why you need me. When we’ve made sure that Victoria is no longer a problem, I’ll go with you to take the children under my care, and you can deal with Roy.”

  “You’ll make them lose both parents in one day? Don’t you think that will be a bit traumatic?”

  “Are you so fond of Roy that you won’t be able to carry this out?”

  She laughed. “Is that what this is really about, Giles?” She moved closer to him, stroked a hand along his cheek. “You aren’t jealous of your little brother, are you?”

  He moved away from her hand. “Certainly not.”

  She wasn’t convinced, but she stayed silent.

  “Have you seen this morning’s newspaper?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “There are photos and stories in it concerning some people who may be familiar to you. Bonnie Creci Ives, known to you as Victoria Fletcher, wife of the man with whom you’ve been having an affair. Fortunately, between the plastic surgery on her nose and eyes and the changes in her hair color, length, and style, she looks quite different.”

  “Yeah. I’m sure a few birthdays and a lot more sobrie
ty may have made a difference, too.”

  “Perhaps,” he conceded. “There is speculation in the stories that she stole her daughter, Carla — you know her as Carrie. The photos do show some resemblance, but the computer-aided attempt to show what she might look like now may throw people off. I am a bit concerned that some of the family members may remember what she looked like as a child.”

  Cleo swore. “I told you not to bring her around them!”

  “We took your advice for a few years, but eventually we had to develop her sense of devotion to the family.”

  “Really? How many Fletchers have seen me?”

  “Very few, and you’ve done more for the family than just about anyone other than my father. But you’ve always been extraordinary, Cleo.”

  “Whatever. It doesn’t matter.”

  “Oh, I should also mention that the reporter who wrote the story is Irene Kelly.”

  Cleo didn’t like hearing that name. She wasn’t going to give Giles the satisfaction of seeing her squirm, though. “So what? She writes lots of stories for that rag.”

  “In this one she mentions that Bonnie Creci probably took Carla away from her ex-husband with the help of one Reggie Faroe. Name ring a bell?”

  “Sure. You asked me to take him hiking.”

  “Cleo, how long do you think it’s going to take her to learn that Reggie Faroe is no longer living?”

  “I don’t care. It will be a dead end. That’s what you always have me working on, right? Dead ends. You knew that if Blake Ives ever went looking for Faroe in other states, he’d find a heap of bones. And then he’d have nowhere to go.”

  “Provided you didn’t leave anything like — oh, say a shoe — at the bottom of a cliff.”

  “Very funny. I’ll tell you what I think, Giles. I think it’s stupid to carry out this plan today. You should call Roy and cancel the whole thing.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

  “It never has been one of your best plans, but carrying it out now would be a huge mistake. Think about it. You want it to look as if the family just moved out.”

  “The cover story will be a little more complex than that, Cleo.”

  “Okay. But you think no one is going to notice that they took off the day after the story ran in the Las Piernas News Express?”

  “Circulation is down in Las Piernas itself, Cleo. I doubt anyone on that street in Huntington Beach reads the Express.”

  She shrugged.

  “Another reason for me to be there with you today,” he said, “is that it will reduce suspicion if I let you in. I’ve been seen entering that house on any number of occasions.”

  “Getting into places has never been a problem for me,” she said.

  “It will take less time to load the body in the van if I help you,” he persisted.

  He had a point. “You might not like it much. Have you ever touched a dead body, Giles?”

  “No,” he said.

  She glanced at his crotch. “Christ. And now the very thought of that gives you a damned hard-on. Next thing, you’ll be fucking corpses.”

  “No, I like my women warm. In fact—”

  “Forget about it. Where did you park?”

  “Two streets away from this one.”

  “Anybody see you and your big pokey Johnson come sauntering down the street to my house?”

  “No.”

  “So you hope. You brought gloves?”

  He showed them to her.

  “Okay, get in the Beemer—”

  “You borrowed Dexter’s car?”

  “Dexter’s? Hell, no. I bought one of my own.”

  His look of surprise cheered her.

  “Why?”

  “Do you think anyone in Roy’s neighborhood will think twice about seeing a BMW pull into Roy’s garage? Dex’s has been over there fairly often, especially lately, right?”

  He was wary now, she could see. Time to reassure him. She ruffled his hair. “As I was saying, get in the Beemer. It’s in the garage. I’ll be there in a minute. I’ve got to make sure I’ve got coveralls and booties for you, too.”

  He kissed her and walked toward the garage.

  The kiss was a tolerable annoyance. She didn’t like that he knew where the entrance to the garage was without being told.

  What mattered to her most, though, was something that made her smile to herself: He obeyed her.

  CHAPTER 41

  Tuesday, May 2

  9:56 A.M.

  HUNTINGTON BEACH

  IT was dark in the bathroom, even though the bathroom door was open, because the hall light was off. Genie had thoughtfully turned it off as she supposedly looked for Carrie. The darkness would make it less likely that the boys would come this way. Carrie stood behind the shower curtain, glancing at the glowing dial on her watch. Dad was usually fussy about being on time.

  She heard Genie moving around the house, calling out to the boys that she was going to get them. Genie went up and down the stairs, in and out of the garage.

  Carrie knew Genie was up to something, but it took her a while to realize that she was stalling until it was time to leave. Carrie mentally reviewed her own plans again, looking for possible problems.

  She’d wait until Dad left with all the other kids to go to Grandfather’s house. She’d sneak out. She’d meet Ms. Kelly and talk to her for a few minutes. Then she’d hurry back home. With luck, Mom wouldn’t be out of bed yet. Mom could take her over to Grandfather’s later.

  She heard Dad calling from upstairs. “Kids! Get in the car!”

  “Which one?” Genie called back from somewhere in the kitchen. Obviously, she wasn’t looking very hard for the boys.

  “The SUV,” Dad called back. “Hurry up. We’re leaving now.”

  Carrie thought his voice sounded strange, as if he was upset.

  “Olly, olly, oxen free!” Genie called.

  The boys squealed with delight as they came out of their hiding places. “We won! We won!”

  “Yes, you won.”

  “Get in the car now!” Dad yelled, and they fell silent.

  Carrie heard Genie hurrying the boys down the hall, and caught a glimpse of them as they passed the darkened bathroom. If Dad was so angry, maybe she should come out of hiding and join them. Maybe she should try this on some other day.

  She heard Genie say in a low voice, “Boys, will you help Carrie and me?” and their quick assurance that they would.

  “Good! Now, it’s just a game of pretend….”

  Carrie didn’t hear the rest — the door to the garage had closed behind them.

  Dad came down the hall, although his footsteps sounded strange, almost as if he was stumbling. Carrie had to suppress a gasp of surprise as he turned the bathroom light on. She thought he must have seen her. He went out of her narrow range of vision, and she cowered, waiting for the curtain to be pulled back.

  Instead, to her shock, she heard him throwing up.

  Long moments passed. The toilet flushed and water ran in the sink. She heard him sobbing as he washed up.

  She nearly stepped out then, to comfort him. But she worried that he would be embarrassed about throwing up and crying, and angry that she had not made her presence known before now.

  He turned out the light and left the house. She heard the SUV’s engine start up as the garage door was raised. The car drove off quickly.

  She stood in the shower in the dark for a few minutes more. She was shaking. She tried to calm down, to make sense of what was going on.

  She suddenly decided that she needed to get out of the house no matter what. Even if her dad came roaring back down the street and saw her walking down the sidewalk, and got really, really mad at her for not being in the car, that was better than staying in this crazy place.

  For a moment she considered going upstairs, but if her mom was awake, she might be mad to find Carrie still here, or insist that she stay home. No, Genie had worked so hard and risked so much for this chance, Carrie
had to do her part.

  She went to the alarm keypad, thinking she would need to disarm the alarm, then reset it. Dad always set it when he left the house so that they would be safe. But when she reached the keypad, it showed the alarm wasn’t activated. Thinking of how distracted he had been, she wasn’t surprised. She set it now, then quickly went out the door within the time frame it allowed.

  She looked at her watch. Ten-twelve A.M. She should hurry.

  Once she reached the sidewalk, she had to force herself to walk slowly so that she didn’t attract attention. She found she could not do this for long. Out in the air and light, away from the house, she was a creature freed from its cage. This was the farthest she had been away from home on her own. She was terrified and thrilled all at once. She walked faster and faster, and before long she was running to the corner. It seemed to her that at any moment an adult in one of these silent houses would stop her, would order her to go back.

  She glanced at her watch again. Ten-fifteen. What if Irene Kelly never heard the message? Wasn’t coming here today?

  Then she would just go back home.

  She was looking for a good waiting place when a Jeep Cherokee turned onto Playa Azul. She felt a spike of panic. She should find a hiding place, a place where she could observe without being seen. There were bushes along the side of the house on the corner, but there was also a dog in the yard. How could you hide if a dog was telling everyone right where you were?

  The Jeep slowed, and Carrie saw that it was being driven by a woman with dark hair. When the car stopped and the passenger window was rolled down, Carrie could see that this was the reporter. She looked a little different from the small photo that was next to her story in the newspaper, but not that much.

  “Hi,” she said. “I’m Irene Kelly.”

  “Hi.” It came out more like a croak than a greeting.

  “Are you the one who called me?”

  Carrie hesitated. “I’m the one you’re supposed to meet.”

  “Oh. Okay…”

  She waited. Carrie liked that, that she gave her time.

  “I don’t want anything bad to happen to my family,” Carrie said in a rush.

  “I can understand that,” she said. “I wish I could promise you a lot of things, but I don’t want to get to know you by telling you a lot of lies. What happens to your family won’t be up to me, though.”