by Mary Birk
Something was terribly wrong.
She glanced back at the man. “Is Rebecca okay?”
“Keep walking.” When they reached the kitchen, he pointed with his gun to one of the chairs around the table. “Sit down. I’ve got to make a call.” He dropped the duffel bag and put his gun in the holster he had strapped over his shoulder under his jacket, then took out a cellphone. He punched out a number, then waited, watching her.
“Albert? It’s me. I’ve got her. Has the money been transferred?” He listened, then frowned. “An hour? What am I supposed to do with her for an hour?” Then, apparently in response to whatever the speaker on the other end said, he laughed. “Good idea. When it goes through, meet me here. We’ll bring her to the drop-off point together.”
The man rang off and motioned for her to get up. He took her by the arm over to an upholstered chair in one corner of the kitchen. He removed his jacket and slid the holster off his shoulder, placing it on a small table next to the chair. “Don’t get any ideas. I’ve got the safety off and I can kill you in a heartbeat.”
Tabby didn’t say anything, just looked down.
“Take off that sack you’re wearing. I want to see what you look like.”
Tabby kept her eyes down, but pulled the long shapeless dress off, leaving herself naked.
“Very nice.” The man sat down in the chair, leaned back and unbuckled his belt, then opened his trousers, sliding them down to his shoes. He pointed to the floor between his legs. “Get down.”
Tabby obeyed, kneeling in front of him.
“Don’t be shy. I’ve been told you’re good at this.” He pulled her closer to him and motioned for her to take him into her mouth. She did as he’d directed. He sighed, laid his head back, and shut his eyes. “That’s right. Just like that.”
Her head whirling, Tabby used her hand to guide him in and out of her mouth. Her eyes fell to the table and the holstered gun. The man’s right hand rested on the table just inches away. If she could get him to move his hand off the table, maybe she could get to the gun before he knew what she was doing. She lifted her mouth up so she wasn’t covering him so deeply, and, as she’d hoped, his right hand immediately went to the top of her head to push her down farther. “Deep, baby. Go deep.”
His hand stayed clamped on her head, his eyes still shut. “God, yes. That’s good.” She continued moving up and down on him, while she inched her hand across the little table. Finally, her fingers touched the holster. She folded her fingers around the gun’s handle, easing it out of the holster.
She jerked her head back, freeing her mouth, and the man’s eyes flew open. Shock registered in his eyes when he saw the gun. He started to rise from the chair, but Tabby scooted away, brought the gun up, and pulled the trigger. Blood exploding from the man’s chest splattered her face, as the force of the gun dropped her to the ground. Her ears ringing from the blast, Tabby sobbed with relief, wiping her hands across her face to get the blood away from her mouth.
She wanted to gag, to retch. Hearing a groaning sound, she looked at the man sprawled back in the chair. His hand twitched, his fingers wiggling toward her. How could he still be alive? She scrambled to stand up, to get as far out of his reach as possible, then raised the gun with both hands, and shot him again. When she was sure he wouldn’t move again, she went over to the sink. She washed her mouth out with soap, spit in the sink, then rinsed her mouth again, until she couldn’t taste any more soap.
Tabby suddenly remembered Albert was supposed to be coming soon. She had to get away before he got there. She pulled her gown back on, and grabbed the shoulder holster, replacing the gun. She slung the holster over her shoulder like a purse. She went to the room where she’d earlier seen a man’s feet. It was indeed one of her guards. Her other guard was probably dead as well. Where was Rebecca? Tabby prayed she wasn’t going to find her dead, too.
Tabby went back to the kitchen and opened the duffel bag the man had been carrying. It was full of DVDs. She looked at the labels, realizing some were of her, some of other girls. Then one title caught her eye: Lizzie 3-Way.
She ran back downstairs to the room where she’d been kept. On the way, she looked into another room and saw the body of her other guard. Outside her room, she found the recorder that taped and played the films for her room, hit eject and retrieved one last disk. She popped the DVD in her hand into the player that went to the screen in her room. She watched with horror the scene between Albert with Lizzie and the girl named Sonia. Lizzie was not like Tabby. She really and truly was good, and she hadn’t wanted to do what he made her do. And what Albert did to Sonia was even worse. Lizzie had begged him to stop, prayed her prayer out loud, and when she tried to help Sonia, a collar around Lizzie’s neck shocked her until she fell to the floor and wet herself.
Tabby took the DVD out of the machine and went back upstairs to where she’d left the dead man. She reached inside his bloody clothes to get his cellphone. She dialed the number of the one person who would understand exactly where she was.
Chapter 52
REID PACKED his Range Rover with what seemed to him to be every baby-tending thing ever invented. Anne, though still shaken from Tabby’s disappearance, and from the discovery of her pregnancy, had insisted that she needed to check on the progress at the Loch Etive job. After that, they were going on to Dunbaryn where Anne, her mother, and Michael would stay for a while. Reid, unfortunately, had to return to Glasgow tomorrow night. Sebastian, who would also stay on at Dunbaryn, was following in Anne’s car.
His mother-in-law, Irene sat in the back beside Michael’s car seat, while Anne was next to Reid in the front. He sensed that Irene thought this second baby was coming a little too closely on the heels of the first one, and of course, she was right, but accidents happened. Reid wondered how many children Anne would want to have. Surely more than two. At least four, he thought. Four was a good number and would still fit in a car if it had an extra seat in back. As there were six bedrooms in the Aytoun Lane house, the children could each have their own bedroom, which would still leave one room for guests.
His thoughts of his future progeny were interrupted when he realized Anne was waiting for an answer to a question she’d asked him. “Sorry, I missed that. What?”
“Could we go by way of Lynstrade Manor? I want Mom to see the gardens.”
He gave her a look that would have quelled anyone but her.
“Please, Terrence? Just from the road.”
He looked back at her mother, pretending exasperation, though in truth he was relieved to see Anne display a little of her customary determination. She’d been too quiet. “How did you handle this girl by yourself?”
Irene laughed. “No better than you are. You may as well give in.”
“All right. We’ll drive by. No stopping.” He patted Anne’s leg, got a wan smile, and started the car.
About an hour and a half into the drive, Reid’s mobile rang. He hit the button on the dashboard to answer. “Reid here. You’re on speaker, Harry.”
“Guv, Allison and I are on our way to Lynstrade Manor.”
“That’s quite a coincidence. We’re on our way to Dunbaryn, and should be passing by the vile place soon ourselves.”
“You know those photos Lady Anne took, the ones that showed the cars?”
“Yes?”
“I could kick myself for not realizing it earlier, but one of the cars looks like Albert Braytoun’s Audi, the car used to abduct Lizzie Frost. The woman in the car that day, I’m pretty sure, was Rebecca Pomeroy, Von Zandt’s old accomplice in purveying human flesh.”
Reid was silent a moment. “You’re thinking Von Zandt’s involved and they’re using Lynstrade Manor?”
“Exactly.”
“You’ve got back-up coming?”
“Aye, but we’re not waiting for them to go in.”
“How far are you from there?”
“Five minutes.”
“We’re about twenty minutes out. Sebastian’s
with me. We’re both armed.”
“As are we.”
“I don’t suppose you have a warrant?”
“No time. I figured we’d see what’s what, and sort it out later.”
“Right. I’ll leave Anne with her mother and Michael someplace safe, then Sebastian and I’ll meet you there. Be careful.” After Harry hung up, Reid hit the button to speed dial Sebastian, just as Anne’s mobile rang.
Her eyes widened, and she mouthed, “Tabby.” She listened for a moment, then touched his arm, speaking into the phone. “Tabby, slow down and tell me again. Where are you?”
* * * * *
Harry drove through the gates to Lynstrade Manor, which had been uncharacteristically left open, and parked the car behind the big house.
Allison unlatched her seatbelt, trying to calm her speeding heart with deep breaths. “How many doors do you think they have?”
“More than we can cover. Just stay with me. We’ll try the back door first. Most likely to be unlocked.”
Allison nodded, checked her firearm again. “Ready.”
When they got closer to the back door, they could see it was slightly ajar. Harry slowly pushed the door open a little wider. The room appeared to be a kind of mud room, with rubber overshoes lined up against the wall underneath a row of pegs for coats and hats. They passed through quietly, coming into a kitchen where a man was sprawled backward in a chair, his pants down around his feet. Blood soaked his shirt and the naked lower part of his body. Harry went over to him, checked for a pulse, though Allison didn’t have any doubt Henry Von Zandt was dead.
Allison’s eyes left the bloody mess, and scanned the rest of the room before following Harry out. In the adjoining breakfast room, the body of another man lay splayed out. Shot as well. She didn’t recognize him, and didn’t think Harry did, either. She checked for signs of life. Feeling no pulse, she shook her head and moved back to where Harry waited for her.
“Come on,” he said. “She’s got to be around here somewhere.” After Tabby called Anne Reid’s mobile, reporting she was at Lynstrade Manor, Reid had let Harry and Allison know. Tabby said she was all right, but that she was afraid that a man named Albert was coming soon, and that he would try to take her away or hurt her.
“Should we wait for the guv or our back-up?”
“No. We need to find the girl.”
They found yet another dead man in the dining room. Allison ducked into a study, saw nothing, and went back to where she’d left Harry in the hallway. Harry wasn’t watching her. She turned to see what he was looking at, and realized his attention was focused on the drawing room to their right. The room was empty of furnishings except for two dust-sheeted sofas. In front of one of the massive sofas, Albert Braytoun stood holding a knife to Tabby Low’s throat, his dark eyes reflecting his desperation.
Tabby was garbed in a long, shapeless gown, and her eyes looked wild. “Shoot him. He’s going to kill me.”
Braytoun jerked her closer. “Shut up, you stupid bitch.”
“Put down the knife and let her go, Braytoun.” Harry’s voice was perfectly calm, but uncompromising.
“I want a deal.”
“Drop the knife, then we’ll talk about a deal.”
“If you let me go, I can give you someone you want a lot more than you want me.”
Tears streaked Tabby’s young face. “You can’t let him go. He hurt Lizzie, and he tortured Sofia.”
“Stay calm, Tabby. Braytoun, we can talk, but first put the knife down and let the girl go.”
Allison was pretty sure the man hadn’t seen her yet. She slid out of sight, going back through the study, taking care to keep her steps quiet, gambling that there was another entrance to the drawing room from the back. She found what she was looking for, an open door from which she had a clear view of Albert Braytoun’s back. Harry was keeping the man talking.
Allison took a deep breath, advanced to within a couple of feet of him, then pointed her gun at the back of the man’s head. “Drop the knife, Braytoun.”
He whirled on her, but in doing so, lost his hold on Tabby. Tabby ran to Harry and threw her arms around him. He pushed Tabby behind him. Allison hit Braytoun’s hand with her gun, causing the knife to fall, just as Harry got away from Tabby.
Harry had Braytoun on the floor, cuffing him, before Allison even realized it.
Allison went over to Tabby. “Are you all right?”
Tabby didn’t look happy. “You should have shot him. He kidnapped me and Lizzie, and he tortured Sofia, and I think he’s done something to Rebecca.”
Harry held up a hand. “Is there anyone else in the house?”
“I don’t think so.”
“What about the Sofia you mentioned?”
“I think she’s dead. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come. Albert killed my guards and another man, the man in the kitchen.”
Braytoun glared at her. “You lying little bitch. They were dead when I got here.”
“Shut up, Braytoun, you aren’t doing yourself any favors. Tabby, do you know who the man in the kitchen was?”
“I never saw him before. Have you found Lizzie?”
“I’m sorry, Tabby. Lizzie’s dead.”
“Oh, no. Poor Lizzie.”
“Yes.”
“What about Rebecca?”
“Rebecca?”
“She was supposed to come get me today, but she never came.”
Harry said, “Rebecca Pomeroy?”
“Yes.”
“She’s in hospital.”
“What happened?”
“Someone tried to kill her.”
A voice Allison recognized as PC Barlow called out. “DS Ross?”
“In here.” Harry nodded at the officer and his partner, a female, then indicated the man on the floor. “Meet Albert Braytoun. Put him under arrest for the kidnapping of Tabitha Low. We’ll add other charges later, but that’s a start.”
After Braytoun was escorted away, Harry turned back to Tabby. “Tell us about Rebecca. What was her role in all of this?”
“They forced Rebecca to help them, but she was really helping me escape. She was going to pretend to take me where they told her, then we were going to get away. She said I could stay with her and she’d take care of me.”
“She wasn’t one of your captors?”
“No, I told you. She was being forced to help them, but she wasn’t going to let anything happen to me.”
“Tell us what happened the day you disappeared.”
“Albert kidnapped me in front of the MacTavishes’ house.”
“Was he by himself?”
“No, there was someone in the back seat that put something over my mouth that made me pass out, then they gave me a shot of something to drug me. When I woke up, I was here. They kept me in a room and made me make films. They were going to sell me.”
“Who was they?”
“Walter was the one in charge.”
“Do you know Walter’s last name?”
She nodded. “Rebecca told me. It’s Von Zandt.”
Allison tried to keep any hint of triumph out of her face. Tying Walter Von Zandt to the kidnappings, and Lizzie Frost’s death would ensure that he’d never be free again.
Harry went on. “What about the man in the kitchen? You said you’d never seen him before. Are you sure of that?”
“Yes. He said he and Albert were going to take me to the men who were supposed to buy me.”
“The man in the kitchen was Henry Von Zandt, Walter’s son. Did Walter ever mention him to you?”
“No.”
“How did you come to be outside the MacTavish house that night?”
“Peter told me he’d send a car for me, and that we’d spend the weekend together. But the car I got in brought me here.”
“Peter MacTavish?”
She nodded.
“Did you see him while you were here?”
“No.”
“Do you think he had
something to do with your kidnapping?”
“I thought so at first, but now I don’t.”
“Why do you say that?”
“When I first got here, I thought he must have. How else would someone know I was going to be there? I’d only told one other person, and that was Lizzie. But Rebecca told me it wasn’t really Lizzie who was emailing me, and that Lizzie hadn’t really gone off with a boyfriend. She’d been kidnapped, like me. Rebecca said Albert had been writing the messages from Lizzie.”
“Who else was with you here besides Braytoun and Rebecca?”
Tabby shook her head, as if trying to bring herself back to the moment. “The other two men who are dead. My guards. A doctor came to examine me, but he left.”
“Who else?”
“Sometimes Walter was here, and the men who made films of me. My throat is so dry. Can I have some water?”
Allison went to the kitchen and brought back a glass of water.
Tabby took the water. After she’d drunk about half the glass, she said, “You said Rebecca’s in the hospital. Is it bad?”
Harry grunted. “She’ll live.”
“I need to go to her.” Tabby’s voice quavered.
Allison interrupted, “We need to let your mother know you’ve been found. We can call her and let you talk to her.”
“You can tell her I’m okay, if you want, but I don’t want to talk to her.”
“All right. We’ll let her know you’re okay. Later, when you feel up to it—”
“I don’t ever want to talk to her.”
Allison wondered if maybe the girl felt ashamed at what had most probably been done to her while she was in captivity. Just then the Superintendent and Sebastian appeared in the study door.
Tabby perked up. “Lord Reid, is Lady Anne with you?”
The guv smiled. “No, lassie. I left her with her mother and Michael at a pub on my way here. But she’ll be glad to hear you’re all right.” He turned to Allison. “Can you please take Tabby out to my car? I’ll be there in a few minutes.”