Crossfire (The Clifford-Mackenzie Crime Series Book 1)

by R. D. Nixon

  Mackenzie was studying Daniel lazily over his glass. ‘So, you’ve come to take your errant wife back home then? Good luck.’

  Daniel laughed, affection written all over his face. ‘I think we’ve worked out our differences now, haven’t we, love?’

  ‘Even after what I did?’ Charis hoped the reminder might provoke him into betraying what she knew hid behind the smile, and she tried to withdraw her hand from beneath his, but he lifted it to his lips instead, and smiled at her.

  ‘Exactly! I’m the injured party, and if I can forgive you, you’ve got no reason to stay hidden away up here.’

  ‘I’m not hiding,’ she pointed out tightly, feeling his breath hot on her skin. She tried not to show her revulsion; doing so would work against her later. In private. ‘You know I’ve always wanted to come to Scotland.’

  Mackenzie looked from one to the other. ‘I’ve no notion of what you’ve done to him, Ms Boulton, but it seems to me you’ve got a very forgiving bloke there.’ He took a deep swallow of his pint. ‘Perhaps you should just listen to him and go back to Scouse City.’

  For a second Daniel’s eyes glinted at the faint distaste in Mackenzie’s tone, but then he laughed. ‘He’s right, Charis. We’ll fetch the kid tonight, from his mate’s. It’ll save you a packet on this place.’

  Mackenzie’s expression did not change, and Charis’s heart beat a little faster. He knew Jamie was upstairs, so why didn’t he seem surprised by what Daniel had said? Unless he already suspected that the charmer was not what he seemed. The little dig about their hometown, too, had almost achieved what she had not. She tried once more to catch Mackenzie’s eye, but he was smiling at Daniel in a calm, friendly manner, and it was impossible to read him.

  ‘So that’s the elusive camera?’ He nodded at it, where it sat on the table in front of Charis. ‘It’s a nice one, you’re right.’

  ‘Daft girl,’ Daniel teased. ‘All that money wasted on a gadget like that. Bet your phone takes pictures that’re just as good.’

  ‘I saved up for it!’ Charis was unable to keep her old self from blurting. ‘And Suze gave me a—’

  ‘A voucher, I know. She told me.’ Daniel sighed, drew her close, and kissed her temple. ‘Don’t be so defensive, pet. I don’t mind about you spending the money. Everyone’s got to have a hobby, and you were always great at taking holiday snaps. You can use it when I take you and the kid to Greece in September.’

  ‘May I see?’ Mackenzie reached out and picked up the camera.

  Daniel tried to grab it, but he wasn’t quick enough. ‘That belongs to my wife.’

  ‘It’ll just be a few test shots though, won’t it? Mind if I look?’

  ‘The battery’s dead,’ Daniel began, but fell into silence as the screen flared to life. ‘Well it won’t last long then,’ he muttered.

  Mackenzie began paging through the shots. ‘Ah, that must be the view from your living room, aye?’ He turned the camera so Charis could see her flat’s window seat, and a road beyond with a blurred car whizzing by.

  ‘Give it her back, mate,’ Daniel said. ‘You’ll embarrass her if they’re all as bad as that one.’

  ‘Are you embarrassed?’ Mackenzie asked her. She glanced at Daniel and saw the old, dangerous glint in his eye. Her courage failed her.

  ‘A bit,’ she confessed. ‘Don’t bother with any more.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure they’ll get better,’ Mackenzie said, and carried on paging. Charis could have thrown her arms around him, but settled for shrugging at Daniel; she’d tried, at least.

  Eventually Mackenzie put the camera down. Charis leaned over so she could see the whole screen; it was a picture of Jamie, shortly after they’d arrived, doing battle with the fly sheet, and with instructions on how to assemble their tent blowing around him.

  She remembered being helpless with laughter as she was taking it, overwhelmed by the sense of freedom after the closeness of the city, and with their holiday stretching before them. Outlander country. Now her old life was tightening its grip on her again, and thank God Jamie had had the sense not to come out of the room when he’d heard his father’s voice.

  ‘I’ve only been to Liverpool once,’ Mackenzie said at length, his eyes back on Daniel. ‘Really nice place. I remember the docks, the statue of the Beatles, the big shopping centre – Liverpool One, isn’t it? Oh, and the Liver Bird by the pier. Don’t recall seeing any mountains, though.’ He smiled, but beneath it Charis saw a fierce and even disturbing anger. His shoulders were set, and there was a muscle jumping in his jaw, but his tone was conversational. ‘You’re a lying wee bastard, aren’t you?’

  Daniel hesitated, then shook his head. He had no choice, after all. ‘All right, so I took the camera.’ He turned to Charis, his eyes pleading. ‘But it was only so I had an excuse to come and find you. To give it you back, and maybe convince you I’ve changed, that I want you and the boy to come home.’

  ‘His name’s Jamie,’ Charis said quietly. ‘Why do you never use his name?’

  Daniel gave her a pained look. ‘Maybe because you named him after some character in a book, some big hero it was impossible for me to live up to?’

  ‘He was actually named for my granddad, not that you were ever interested enough to ask. You didn’t even have one suggestion when I tried to get you to talk about it – you couldn’t have cared less, and you didn’t mind letting me know it.’

  Daniel looked as if he wanted to argue, but he subsided again. ‘Jamie, then. I do care about him, of course I do; he’s my son. I’ll prove it to you both if you just come home.’ He took her hand again, and although he was gentle, it felt as if a vice had her fingers and was crushing them one by one. ‘Okay, Charis-with-a-c-h…’ He flashed Mackenzie a quick smile. ‘She always says it like that, like it’s her whole name. Charis-with-a—’

  ‘Shut up,’ Mackenzie said mildly. ‘If you so much as open that vile mouth once more, I’ll plant my fist in it. Understand?’

  Daniel froze, and let go of Charis’s hand. She didn’t know whether to cheer or to search for somewhere to hide; if this went wrong, and Daniel was somehow still able to convince Mackenzie, the last four years of her life might as well never have happened. Including the divorce.

  ‘Go upstairs and get your wee lad,’ Mackenzie said to her, not taking his eyes off Daniel. ‘I’ll find you somewhere safe to stay for the night.’

  ‘Just a sec,’ Daniel said, incredulous. ‘Are you seriously telling me to—’

  ‘Didn’t you hear me?’ Mackenzie was on his feet in seconds, and hauling Daniel out of the booth. He pushed him towards the door. ‘Away and raffle yer doughnut.’

  Daniel tried once more to appeal to her. ‘Sweetheart, I know you still care for me. For what we had.’ When that had no effect, his voice took on a harder edge. ‘You’re being cruel to the kid you claim to love, stealing his only chance to be part of a proper family.’

  Charis’s temper instantly caught alight, but before she could snap anything back, Mackenzie spoke in a low, fierce voice, directly into Daniel’s ear. ‘Go now, or no-one’ll find the pieces.’

  Daniel flinched, but threw the Scot a furious look. He ran his hands through his hair and wiped them on his jeans – Charis could see they were shaking, but she couldn’t tell if it was anger or fear. And then he turned away, dug in his pocket for a set of keys, and left.

  Charis stared as the door swung shut behind him, stunned and relieved; Daniel Thorne had finally met someone he’d not been able to fool.

  ‘Thank you,’ she began, knowing the words sounded thin and inadequate. ‘But…raffle yer doughnut?’

  ‘My partner’s from Glasgow; it’s one of her favourite sayings.’ He gave her a brief grin. ‘Go and get Jamie and your stuff. She’ll put you both up tonight.’

  Charis mused on that as she stepped out of the lift. If he had a partner, what was he doing drinking alone in the hotel now Stein had gone? But thank God he had been; no-one else had ever seen as quickly through Daniel�
�s convincing act of tenderness and forgiveness. She put her key in the door, wondering what the partner was like, and oddly certain she would be the polar opposite of the grim-faced Scot: smiling and easy-going; humorous, judging from the doughnut thing; a home-making sort; used to reining in Mackenzie’s temper and throwing oil on his clearly troubled waters. Well, good luck to her.

  ‘Sorry to get you up again, Jay,’ she said as she went in, ‘but we’re not staying here after… Jamie?’ She gazed around, and her blood ran sluggish and chilly in her veins. The sheets of Jamie’s bed were rumpled, but the pillows were on the floor and the door to the en suite stood open, showing the tiny bathroom was empty. ‘Jamie!’

  There was no response. Charis took a deep, slow breath and forced herself to think. Had he perhaps gone to find her for some reason? Maybe he was even now down in the lounge searching for her, having taken the stairs while she took the lift? What if he’d bumped into Daniel in the lobby?

  Halfway along the corridor to the stairs, she was struck by another thought: the American was here in the hotel, and Jamie was still fixated on him. Mackenzie had sworn they were doing nothing illegal, but something was definitely up, and if Jamie had disobeyed her and been playing out in the corridors he might have seen the American and followed him again, determined to prove himself right. He could be out on the streets, and once out there anything might happen to him – especially if Daniel were still hanging around.

  Almost tripping over her own feet, Charis took the stairs at a run, leaping down the last few. She scanned the lobby, and seeing no sign of Jamie, Daniel or the American, she pushed open the door to the lounge. Mackenzie was just pulling on his leather jacket; when he saw that she was unable to speak, he came over.

  ‘What’s happened? Where’s Jamie?’

  ‘The room’s empty.’

  Mackenzie’s face darkened. ‘Gone off with your ex, d’you think?’

  ‘Maybe… No.’ Charis couldn’t believe she’d considered it, even for a second. ‘Daniel’s never wanted Jamie; the only reason he’d have tried to see him upstairs was to get to me.’

  ‘Okay. Stay calm, let’s check again – maybe he’s come back already.’

  She led Mackenzie up the stairs, to the room she’d checked into with such a sense of relief a scant hour ago. It was exactly as she’d left it, and she moved to the phone on the bedside table. ‘I’m calling the police.’

  ‘No!’ Mackenzie was at her side in a second, taking the phone off her.

  Charis snatched it back, astonished and furious. ‘What the bloody hell d’you think you’re doing?’

  ‘Listen to me,’ Mackenzie said, his tone calmer now. ‘You could file a report, fine, but the police will just tie you up with questions when we could be out there searching ourselves.’

  Charis shook her head. ‘I don’t care what you and that American are up to. I don’t care if you lied and said it was legal when it’s not. I just want my boy back.’

  ‘Then come with me now, while there’s still a chance he hasn’t gone far.’

  She hesitated, then, conceding the sense of it, she replaced the phone in its charging cradle; whatever Mackenzie’s motives for not wanting the police involved, he was right about being detained by pointless questions.

  ‘Let’s go then,’ she said. Mackenzie looked at her, and she could see he wanted to explain, but she turned away and dragged her jacket out of her bag.

  ‘Does he have a mobile?’ Mackenzie asked.

  ‘No. And nor do I.’ Seeing his incredulous expression, she scowled. ‘I left it on the charger at home, okay?’

  Mackenzie picked up the phone again and called reception, instructing them to keep their eyes out for a ten-year-old boy wandering around alone, and giving them his own mobile number to call. As he put the phone down, Charis noticed something that renewed her conviction that Jamie had gone following the American again.

  ‘His clothes are gone. All except his T shirt, anyway. And so’s his asthma inhaler.’

  ‘And he was in bed when you left him?’

  ‘Yeah, in his PJs. That means he probably left of his own accord, right? I mean, the lad deserves a thick ear for not staying in bed, but if he’s dressed, that means no-one snatched him from his bed at least.’

  ‘Aye, well, that certainly puts a positive slant on things.’ But Mackenzie’s reserved tone seemed more shadow than light, and she shook her head, exasperated and annoyed.

  ‘And you don’t want to bring in the police. Speaks volumes.’ She pushed open the fire door, and Mackenzie was right behind her.

  ‘There’s a good reason—’

  ‘Not interested, Mackenzie. If I can’t find Jamie, I’m bloody well going to them whether it’s on your list of good ideas or not.’

  They went out through the back door, emerging alongside the river that gave the hotel its name; the air out here was damp and chilly, the night almost fully on them. Charis started down the path that led along the side of the hotel, and she kept staring down to where the river flowed. What if Jamie had fallen? No-one would have seen him, his screams would have gone unheard... He might have hit his head, then there would have been no sound at all. She stopped suddenly, the horror of her thoughts dropping icicles into her blood. Mackenzie seemed to read her mind.

  ‘It’s not deep here,’ he said in a gentle voice, ‘or fast enough. You can see that in full daylight. If he fell in, even if he’d been knocked out, he wouldn’t have been carried away, not from here. We’d have found him by now, aye?’

  Charis let her breath out, nodding slowly. They reached the end of the path, where it met the car park at the front of the hotel. Charis looked around at the suddenly terrifying shapes of the mountains pressing down on them – not graceful and elegantly sculpted, like the post cards they sold in the petrol stations, but lumpy, black and hostile.

  She tried to picture Jamie, wherever he was; if he was scared, if he’d cried for her or was maybe even still crying... The thought hurt too much, and she’d be no good to him if she drove herself crazy, so instead she pictured him following the American, notebook poised, face alight with excitement. It helped a little, and she turned back to ask which way they should start walking now, but the words didn’t come.

  Mackenzie was staring away up into the dark mountains, and his face was bleakly hopeless; he’d already written Jamie off, already believed the worst. Wouldn’t she know if that had happened? She’d surely feel Jamie’s loss like the shrivelling of her own heart, with nothing left to keep it full. Wherever he was he was alive, and the moment she stopped believing that, would be the moment he died.

  Chapter Eight

  Los Angeles, California

  The sun’s rays ricocheted off the white stone veranda, and into Sarah Wallace’s eyes, the moment she stepped out through the sliding doors. Shooting an ineffectual glare at the unrelenting blue sky, Sarah fanned the open neck of her snow-white linen shirt with a hand she could barely lift, then picked up the drink she’d left on the table and moved back into the cooler – and blessedly dimmer – lounge. She sank gratefully into the couch and pulled off one high-heeled shoe, rubbing at her aching instep, then caught sight of her phone sitting on the smoked glass coffee table, smug in the knowledge that it had done its work. Sarah threw her shoe at it. It was times like this she wished she still smoked.

  Damn Andy Stein! He was a nice enough bloke, but why did he have to be so pathetically incompetent? Ever since she’d talked about this to Don Bradley she’d known she was leaving herself wide open to be cheated, but had always considered it worth the risk. Now she’d been proved right on both counts, she should have been able to send Andy in there and have him sort it out. It should have been perfectly straightforward. But letting some kid listen in on his conversation and then run to his mother... Just how careless was he? Jesus!

  She went over what he’d said when he’d called her yesterday, trying to figure out if he’d said her name or given anything else away, and one phrase stuck in he
r mind like a bit of apple in the back of her throat: I can lie to those two cops, sure. Tell them there’s a problem with the money transfer.

  God, lie to the cops? Seriously? In front of a small boy? Talk about a red rag to a bull. Then another call from him had put the icing on the cake: Don was calling her bluff. Too many interested parties poking around, apparently, so he and his little buddy were cooling off until the path was clear. What right did they have to pull out? Knowing they were screwing her over made it worse, and Sarah had hung up on Andy in a dark temper. It was one thing to have him stall things until she had a chance to get over there, but to get them spooked to the extent that they were threatening to withdraw what was already on the table... No. Wouldn’t happen.

  Her cab was due any minute, the plane left in less than three hours, and there was only one sure way to sort this out. She retrieved her phone from the floor and called Andy back. ‘I can’t have them taking control,’ she said, without preamble. ‘Get the boy, get him out of the hotel, and get the little shit out of my hair. Then get Bradley back on side. Fast.’

  ‘Sarah, I don’t—’

  ‘Shut up! You’ve fucked this up; you put it right. Listen carefully – there’s this place I knew as a kid, but it’s hard to find. And you’ll need to fix it up so he can’t get out. Got a pen?’

  In the cab on the way to the airport she turned the whole mess over in her mind until she was ready to scream. It didn’t take a genius, knowing what she knew now, to work out where Dad and his cronies had hidden those jewels they’d stolen from their friend all those years ago; she remembered spotting the three figurines in Dad’s study not long after the robbery, and how she’d been immediately drawn to them. He’d said he was arranging to auction them on behalf of a friend who’d left the country.

  They’d been so pretty she had picked one up, and, surprised at the unevenness of the weight in her hand, she had nearly dropped it. Dad had gone mad, clipped her around the ear, and sent her out of the room. Then the little statues had simply vanished; no auction, no friend. Just one day there, the next day gone. It wasn’t until a few years later that it had all clicked into place, and the recent phone call from an old friend had clinched it.