[Elizabeth McClaine 03.0] A Stolen Woman

by Catherine Lea

  Footsteps echoed up from downstairs.

  She frowned. “Kiddy? Is that you?”

  A creak from the stairway sent her heart into a gallop and her stomach dropped.

  “Kiddy, will you quit screwing around?” she called, although everything in her gut told her to run. That this wasn’t Kiddy. That whoever it was, she didn’t want to be there.

  At the sound of footsteps approaching, she leapt out of the chair and backed up, eyes wide, heart in her throat.

  The footsteps halted. Just on the other side of the door. A matter of feet from her.

  “Kiddy?” she asked under her breath.

  The door swung open.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  DAY TWO—1:00 PM—ELIZABETH

  Elizabeth and Penny both peered across the street at the house. Neatly manicured lawns, huge tree in the front yard. If you asked Elizabeth, it was the kind of warm-looking family home every American deserved. But life wasn’t always fair.

  As she followed Penny up to the front door, Elizabeth couldn’t help casting an admiring eye across the gardens. Why on earth had Laney Donohue refused to allow her sister to live here? Why would she have opted for a place like Sunny Springs instead?

  The door opened a matter of seconds after Penny’s knock. Janelle Hooper must have been waiting since they’d called.

  “Come on in,” she said by way of greeting as she widened the door.

  Penny slipped a look back at Elizabeth, then stepped on inside. Elizabeth followed, giving the woman a brief smile that must have appeared as cool as the chill she felt in her heart as the door closed behind her.

  “Come on through this way.” Janelle gestured to a neat living room off to the right, then strode off past them, leading the way. Dressed in blue jeans, checked shirt under an Indians sweater with the collar pulled up, bare feet, she sat heavily in an armchair. “Take a seat.”

  Elizabeth sat and made a slightly more in-depth assessment of the woman: short, spiky brown hair around a weathered face, dirt-stained hands, callouses down the sides of her fingers. Signs of a woman not afraid of hard work.

  Janelle Hooper cocked her head. “So, tell me what this is all about.”

  Elizabeth spoke. “It’s about your niece, Kimmy Donohue.”

  “Yeah? What about her?”

  Before Elizabeth had a chance, Penny jumped in. “How did she wind up in a place like Sunny Springs? Why didn’t she come and stay with you while Laney Donohue was in prison?”

  Janelle raised her eyebrows, looking a little taken aback by the bluntness while Elizabeth slipped Penny a withering gaze for the same reason. But Elizabeth was mildly surprised when Janelle answered.

  “Whoa. Straight to the point, huh?” She drew a deep resigned breath and thoughtfully shook her head. “If I’da known Kimmy was gonna end up in that shithole…excuse my language—”

  “You’re excused,” Penny said without a second thought. Or without considering Elizabeth.

  Janelle continued. “Well, I would have had her come stay here. For cryin’ out loud, she’s family,” she said, gesturing widely. “That’s what you do with family, right?”

  Elizabeth jumped in next, cutting off Penny, who was probably going to ask the same question. “I’m sorry to be so blunt, but why didn’t you?”

  Again, Janelle considered the question, this time tilting her head back and groaning mildly, as if in self-recrimination. “We weren’t on good terms, me and Laney. Shouldn’t have been that way, but that’s how it was. Laney’s mom—my sister—she, ah…” Janelle shifted in her seat while she found the words, then she swallowed hard and looked up. “She took her own life three years back.” She paused and bit her lip, clearly fighting back a wall of emotion, then cleared her throat and swallowed hard before meeting their gazes again.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  Still fighting to contain herself, she rubbed a knuckle at the corner of one eye. “Well, I told the powers-that-be after the funeral that I’d take Kimmy. No way was I gonna let the kid down. I was more than happy to have her come live here. She’d have been happy. I’da made sure of that. But by then, Laney had already applied for guardianship. I was pissed, I can tell you.”

  “But, surely since Laney was her sister, that made the most sense. Especially if that’s what she wanted. And I know that you may not agree, but I think that’s a very noble gesture—a young woman determined to care for her disabled sister.”

  Janelle blinked at the floor a couple of times. When her gaze came up, it was flush with regret. “Ah, geez.” She rolled the back of her hand under her nose and averted her eyes briefly before answering. “Laney was always trouble. Ever since Kimmy fell in that pool and wound up with head injuries. Soon as they declared her brain-damaged for life, Laney went right off the rails. Gave her mom hell; did things I don’t even want to think about. She stole, acted out, stayed out all night worrying her mom sick.” She dropped her head, squeezed a finger and thumb to her eyes, then looked up, fighting back that welling emotion again. “I blamed her for my sister’s death.”

  An agonizing silence fell, neither Elizabeth nor Penny knowing what to say. Janelle broke it, saying in a low voice, “It wasn’t her fault. I was looking for someone to blame. Then, when she got custody of Kimmy, I was pissed as hell. I refused to talk to her. Refused to go near her. I thought she’d just screw it up. And then when she got herself arrested…” For a moment, she sat blinking hard against the welling tears, knuckles white as she wrung her hands in her lap.

  “When she got arrested, I thought, ‘There you go. I knew you’d screw up.’ Then a while after, I found out Laney had lost her job. She’d refused welfare, the stupid girl.” A tear broke, ran down her cheek, and dropped from her chin. “I thought, ‘Why didn’t she come to me? Why didn’t she ask me for help?’ But she couldn’t, could she? I’d cut her off. Didn’t even offer to help her when she had Kimmy. What kind of family does that? What kind of family turns their back on their own?”

  She sniffed hard and turned her face away to press the heel of her hand to each eye, then sat there, staring into her hands.

  “Have you seen Kimmy since?” This from Penny, her voice soft with sympathy.

  Janelle nodded, short and sharp, then met her gaze and sucked in one long, ragged breath. “I went to visit her every second day in Sunny Springs. I kept telling her that she’d be home soon, that I’d make sure she was okay.”

  “So, what did you do?”

  “I applied for guardianship. Got turned down. Then I went to see that judge that signed all the papers. He said his hands were tied, said he couldn’t do anything. I felt terrible for Kimmy. All I wanted to do was help her. But all she wanted was to be with Laney.”

  “I’m sorry. But it’s kind of understandable she’d want her sister. Especially if Laney had taken over caring for her, been like a mother to her. And it’s always tough on siblings. They get the short end of the straw. They always come in second in the family. Which is why so many of them act out.”

  “Oh, don’t get me wrong. Laney adored Kimmy. Always did. And that love went both ways. Kimmy followed Laney around like she was the second coming. Far as Kimmy was concerned, she was the perfect sister.”

  “So, what made her go so far off the rails?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Because Laney was the one who pushed Kimmy into that pool. She never forgave herself. Truth be known,” she said and swallowed hard, “neither did I.”

  They sat for some minutes while Janelle left the room, ostensibly to check something upstairs. But when she returned, her eyes were visibly red and swollen. She sat down, pulled herself together, and laid both arms along the rests of the armchair as if steeling herself against further emotional displays. “I don’t know what else I can tell you. I don’t know where Laney is now.”

  “Have you contacted David Whitcliff?”

  Janelle let out a derisive snort. “Call him? Pfft. I wouldn’t spit on that conniving skunk. Saw him when I was there visiting K
immy. Swaggering around like with his ass-wipe cronies, making out he was king of the hill. And all the time allowing someone to leave bruises all over my niece.” The moment the words were out, she dropped her eyes to her thumbnail, as if a split in it had suddenly caught her attention. Then she got up. “Anyway, I gotta get on. Gardens don’t weed themselves.”

  Elizabeth rose from her seat, eyeing her. “How did you know Kimmy had bruises on her?”

  Janelle was halfway to the front door, and stopped to busy herself, straightening a picture. She looked back in fake surprise. “Excuse me?”

  “I asked how you knew Kimmy had bruising if you hadn’t seen Laney.” Elizabeth waited, head cocked. “Or did you speak to her?”

  At the sound of a door closing somewhere upstairs, Janelle huffed and her shoulders fell. The three of them moved to the foot of the stairs, waiting. After a few soft footsteps, Kimmy Donohue appeared on the landing peering down at them, nibbling her thumbnail and looking utterly forlorn.

  “Laney?” she asked in a tiny voice.

  “Oh, Kimmy.” Janelle moved straight up the stairs towards her and took her by the hand. “I told you to stay upstairs, honey.”

  “Laney?”

  “Well, at least we know where Kimmy is.” said Elizabeth.

  On their way back to the car, Penny said, “I’d still like to know who put those bruises on her.”

  “You’re not the only one. It’s one thing to blacken my name in the papers, but when you start abusing my clients, I’m not sitting around on my hands. But there’s something more going on than what we see. And I intend to get to the bottom of it.”

  “You’re going to see Jennifer Reels again?”

  “Not right now. I need to get a few more facts straightened out. I’ll drop you back at the office. I need you to hunt out anything you can on Jennifer Reels. I’ll be making a surprise visit on Ryan Halverston. I want to know exactly how they processed my recommendations. And he’d better have some good explanations.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  DAY TWO—1:32 PM—LANEY

  Even before the door was fully open, Laney was in motion. Shoulder leading, she barged forward like a linebacker, crashing into his midriff.

  But he was ready for her. She caught a fleeting glimpse of him, ducked under his arm to make a beeline for the stairs. But before she could get her footing she felt something crack her hard on the back of the head, and she went down, her head reverberating like a bell.

  When she blinked open her eyes, he had her gripped under her arms, her feet thudding from one step to the next, vision blurred and her head thumping. He lowered her to the floor and she realized they were at the basement door. He had one hand clamped to her shoulder while he fumbled in his pocket for the key.

  Gathering whatever strength she could, she twisted and turned in his grasp until he lost his hold on her and she stumbled into the opposite wall. She got to her hands and knees, but he was already on her, standing astride her, both hands around her throat. She clawed at his fingers, desperate to pry his hands open, but he lifted her and swung her around, then shoved her. She threw out both hands, but tumbled forwards through the open doorway, down the stairway, rolling over and over until she hit the concrete floor below, and came to a halt just in time to hear the door slam shut.

  The click of the key confirmed she was locked in.

  Every bone in her body ached. Her head felt like it was twice its size. But she didn’t have time for sitting around feeling sorry for herself. If these people had taken Katarina, who knew what they’d do to her? To find her, she had to get out of this basement. So she dragged herself to her feet and began searching.

  Same basement. Everything where it was when she was last down here. Instinctively, she patted her jeans pockets while she checked the area—no phone. She tried her back pocket—no keys. He must have taken them.

  It was only now as she scanned the place for them that she caught a tiny red light up high in the corner above the drier. She moved closer, squinting up at it. A camera. Probably motion activated. That’s probably how he’d seen her. She glared into the lens, tossed her head dismissively—then began to search for a way out.

  A dirty orange curtain covered a narrow basement window high over the workbench. She climbed up on the bench and drew it back. Bars had been bolted to the outside. No way out there.

  Next, she turned her attention to the workbench, searching for anything she could use. In the bottom drawer, she found a hammer.

  After testing the heft of it, she gave the camera a sneering look and headed for the stairs again. At the top she stood back, took careful aim, and swung the hammer with all her might—like a baseball great, swinging hard and wide. The hammer hit the lock with a clang. It jarred her arms and shoulders and rang like a bell through her head. She waited for the vibrations to stop ringing through her skull, then studied the lock. The wood around the door held fast.

  “Shit!”

  In a flash of fury she smashed at the lock over and over, screaming curses at it until her energy gave out and she slumped back against the wall.

  This was hopeless. All she was doing was wasting time and energy. Standing there bent over with her hands on her knees, she could feel him watching her, laughing at her.

  She straightened, defiant. “Screw you!” she yelled at the camera, and flipped him the bird.

  It wasn’t until she turned that determined look on the door that she noticed the hinges. Old brass ones, attached with six screws on each side of the hinge, each of them. Each hinge holding the door fast.

  Casting the hammer aside, she skipped down the stairs again, giving the camera another I’m-not-done-yet look, and began raking through the workbench drawers. This time she came back with a screwdriver and headed up the stairs, flicking a smug grin at the camera. Starting with the top one, she fitted the screwdriver into the first slot. It was tight. At first it wouldn’t budge, but she wasn’t giving in, so she put all her might into it and the first screw began turning.

  After a couple of minutes, the first screw dropped onto the floor, so she started on the next one.

  Three screws out, only six more on the other two hinges. Halfway down, the second hinge let out a groan and the door dropped a fraction. By the time she’d gotten the first couple of screws out of the lowermost hinge, the door was beginning to lean inward. She eased her fingers into the crack down the side and pulled. When it creaked and fell towards her she nearly went backwards down the stairs but she jumped aside just in time to watch the door fall inwards with the crack of wood, held now by only the last screw.

  She looked up, caught the camera on her.

  “Adios, asshole,” she said, and headed for the front door.

  Right across the street Laney found her car exactly where she’d left it. Dropping to one knee by the right-hand fender, she found the spare key duct taped to the underside of the wheel arch, right where she always kept it. Still no phone. But that didn’t matter. She was on her own anyway.

  So she got in the car, plunged the key into the ignition, and started it up.

  She had no idea where that mystery man would have taken Katarina. No idea if he’d harm her, or if she’d get to her in time. But she’d made a promise to herself, that she’d find her, so she had to try.

  And she knew exactly where to start.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  DAY TWO—2:05 PM—ELIZABETH

  Ryan Halverston must have been in his early forties, if Elizabeth had to guess. With sparkling blue eyes and a pleasant smile, he’d once been one of the most eligible bachelors in Ohio, until a former Victoria’s Secret model had convinced him to put a ring on her finger. Since then, he’d all but completely slipped from the society pages.

  “Elizabeth,” he said in greeting as she entered his enormous seventeenth-story office set in a fashionable corner of the downtown area overlooking the city. He got up, offered his hand, which Elizabeth took as she leaned in for the perfunctory peck on the cheek.
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  “Wonderful to see you again. I think you just keep getting lovelier every time we meet.”

  Despite the overblown flattery, the smile she felt widening on her lips was genuine. It was that old familiar attraction she’d always harbored for Ryan. He was what her mother would have called a dandy. She’d have said he was “smiling in your face while picking your pockets down to the lint.” Elizabeth acknowledged her own fickleness for a good-looking man, and took the offered chair while he rounded his desk and sat down again, leaning comfortably back with one ankle resting across his knee.

  He briefly lifted one finger in acknowledgement. “Nice party, by the way. And thanks for the invitation.”

  Elizabeth felt her cheeks warm. For all her bluster on the night, she hadn’t even realized he’d been there. “My pleasure. I was…disappointed that I was called away in the middle of it.”

  He smiled showing perfectly formed white teeth she guessed had to be expensively constructed crowns, while he straightened his tie over his impossibly white shirt. As if not wanting anything to break the spell his good looks cast.

  His focus fell to a small bronze paperweight which he repositioned. “Matter of fact, I spent most of my time talking with David Whitcliff, one of our facility managers. I wouldn’t blame you if you’d avoided us altogether.”

  Elizabeth felt her smile drop.

  “Is that so? I didn’t know David was at my party.”

  “I have to say, I was a little surprised you’d invite him. Told me he’d come as someone’s guest. Then I got stuck with him, talking shop. Couple of times I thought I’d fall asleep.” He grinned at his own quip, then fell serious as he moved something on his desk.

  “But at the risk of sounding blunt, I doubt you wanted to see me for a guest appraisal.” His smile widened, confirming why he’d been so much in demand by all the debutants of Cleveland. Suddenly serious again, he sat forward, leaning on his elbows. All business. “So, what can I do for you, Elizabeth?”