Crossfire (The Clifford-Mackenzie Crime Series Book 1)

by R. D. Nixon

  ‘It won’t be for long, and you’ve got your...thing that you need.’

  The grip on Jamie’s arm hurt badly, and he twisted to get away, but the American jerked him forward and he fell, skinning his knees even through the jeans and pyjamas. He sobbed harder, terrified both for himself and that, in his extreme fear, he would do something that would end up hurting his mother.

  The car’s headlights shone right into this room, and Jamie saw into the far corner where a heavy-looking door stood open, waiting to swallow him.

  ‘No!’ He pulled back again. ‘You can’t put me in there. Please, I won’t run away, I promise, just please don’t make me go in there!’

  ‘You want to get your mom killed?’

  ‘No!’ Jamie struggled harder, so hard that he took the American by surprise and actually managed to wrench free. He stood for a second, as stunned as the man in front of him, before they both came to full awareness at the same moment. Jamie broke and ran, out into the narrow passage, his heart hammering wildly… He could actually get away! He even felt the mountain breeze from the open door brush his skin, then there was a weight on his back, and the stone floor came up and smacked him on the jaw as he was brought down from behind. The pain and disappointment were too big for him to brush away, to pretend it didn’t matter, and he felt fresh tears flood his eyes.

  The American pulled him to his feet, and the voice in Jamie’s ear drove the fear still deeper into his bones. ‘You better hope Mackenzie doesn’t find out about this – he’s just itching for an excuse, and it may be you just gave it to him.’

  Jamie pictured his mother, grown up, yet as vulnerable as a child next to the looming spectre of the man he now knew was called Mackenzie. His hatred for the man flared until he felt sick, and he stumbled into the tiny room, helped by a none-too-gentle shove from the American. He looked around through the heavy curtain of tears, but the American had become just a blurred shape, a darker shadow among the grey.

  The shadow spoke. ‘Sit down.’ He did so. ‘Someone will be here to check on you tomorrow. Here...’ Jamie felt a plastic bottle land heavily in his lap. ‘It’s just water but it’ll keep you going. Don’t think about trying to get out; you’ll just hurt yourself and get nowhere. And your mom won’t thank you.’

  The door slammed, plunging Jamie into crushing blackness. He closed his eyes, trying to pretend that was the only reason it was so dark, as the chill of the long-unused room started to seep through his clothes – he’d never known such pure, heavy darkness. He wasn’t even sure he’d opened his eyes again, and had to feel them with trembling fingers to convince himself.

  He felt a tickle in the back of his throat and reached for his inhaler just in case it proved to be more than a normal cough. It didn’t, but he still felt a surge of panic when he couldn’t find what he was looking for. In rising panic, he slapped his pockets and at last found the little plastic tube, which he gripped tightly as he sat back against the wall, too scared to move any more.

  Before long he felt the inevitable sensation again, and the more he worried about it, the harder it got to breathe. He held off using the inhaler for as long as he could, and when he couldn’t ignore the pressure any longer, he fired off a dose, gasping it into his lungs gratefully. He breathed out, then triggered it once more to be sure, and his scalp prickled in horror: nothing left, just the faint, medicinal taste, and an empty container.

  Numbed by this new fear, Jamie let the tube drop into his lap, heard it hit the plastic bottle and took a small sip of the water, barely able to swallow it for the tightness of his sob-swollen throat. The attack passed – eventually. Through the confusion of thoughts that tumbled like displaced waterfalls in his head, he found one standing out clearly; whether through her death or his own, he was probably never going to see his mother again.

  Chapter Nine

  Maddy hit send and logged out of her private e-mails. A quick check to make sure nothing with Kilbride’s name on it had found its way into the agency account, and she finally felt able to draw a sigh of relief. Lying to your closest friend was like lying to yourself, but now the job labelled Macnab was done and dusted, and there was no reason for Paul to find out.

  She switched off the laptop and checked around to make sure the desk was as tidy as she liked it. Left to Paul it’d be permanently buried under piles of crap, newspapers and ancient letters from grateful clients; Tas had more of a sense of order, and no-one could call him a finicky child. At least on the days she worked later than Paul she could go in to a neat office the next day and actually find what she needed, when she needed it. He’d left a pile of freshly laundered, but very crumpled clothes on the edge of the desk, and, resisting the temptation to fold them, she picked them up to put them in the cupboard.

  The office landline rang and she hesitated, then stifled a groan, dumped the clothes again and answered it, grabbing a pen with her free hand. ‘Clifford-Mackenzie.’

  ‘Hi, it’s Dad.’

  Maddy sat back down and began to doodle on the pad in front of her. ‘Hi, everything okay?’

  ‘Fine. I couldn’t get you on your mobile.’

  She looked around, and patted her coat pocket. ‘Sorry, I’ve left it in the car again.’

  He gave an audible sigh, but she could imagine him rolling his eyes as he chose not to pick her up on that. ‘I’m at Nick’s,’ he said instead. ‘I just wanted to check you and the lad are still coming over for Nick’s birthday on Sunday?’

  ‘Try and stop us. Tas is already demanding advance intelligence of what kind of cake there’ll be. He’s put a vote in for Marshall.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Paw Patrol, Dad. Honestly!’

  He laughed. ‘Excellent. Right, I’ll see you both then. Nick’s new, uh, boyfriend, do we say? Seems wrong to use that word for a fifty-year-old. Anyway, he’s coming too.’

  ‘Nice. I’ve met Max – you’ll like him.’

  ‘Good. I trust your judgement. ’Til Sunday then.’

  ‘Hang on. Before you go, I’ve been thinking about what we were talking about last night. About Don Bradley.’

  ‘What about him?’

  She doodled a decorative DB on the page. ‘His name’s come up in that job I told you about.’

  ‘What, the Wallace girl and her inheritance?’

  ‘It turns out she was seeing him at the time her dad was arrested for some robbery or other back in the late eighties. An investigation that was flawed because of a mistake he made.’

  ‘That would have been before my time at Abergarry,’ her father mused. ‘I was still based in Glasgow then. But... hang on, late eighties? She’d have been a child, surely?’

  ‘Sixteen. Paul’s older brother was at school with her, and he knew about it.’ There was a pause, and Maddy doodled an equally ornate SW. ‘Dad?’

  ‘What?’ He sounded distant, and Maddy frowned.

  ‘Don’t you think it’s odd that Bradley was dating the Wallace girl, and somehow managed to mess up the evidence that might have convicted her father?’

  ‘Very.’

  ‘You’ve never said what your suspicions about him were. Was this it?’

  ‘No, like I said, this was before we moved north.’ He sighed. ‘All right. You’ll think this is a bit mad, but I suspected him, at the time, of having something to do with the death of Dougie Cameron.’

  Maddy blinked, and the question she had been going to ask flew out of her mind. ‘Really? You were seconded to CID for that, right?’

  ‘Aye. And I know it was a so-called “break-in that went badly”,’ Tony went on, ‘but there was something about Bradley over that weekend that bothered me. He lied about where he was, to me and to his wife. It wasn’t until I challenged him that he admitted it, and tried to cover it as a mistake. Now you’ve said this about Sarah though, if they were still together—’

  ‘He was probably off with her somewhere.’ Maddy doodled DC, and circled all three sets of initials with a flourish. ‘Well, at least now
I know what kind of bee’s been in your bonnet all this time.’

  He let out a sigh. ‘Simple explanation, after all.’ There was a pause. ‘Nick’s said he’ll help me get evidence that Bradley lied about covering a couple of shifts in Inverness that weekend.’

  Maddy tensed and carefully replaced her pen. ‘Is that fair on him?’

  ‘It’s nothing major, and he might not be able to check that far back anyway. He refused at first, but I remembered he was friends of a sort with young Ben Cameron back in the day, or acquaintances at least. So when I told him what I suspected, he agreed it wouldn’t hurt to at least make sure Bradley wasn’t doing something job-related when he said he was. Just as a start. Plus,’ he went on, sounding surer of himself now, ‘if we can shake him even a little bit, reputation-wise, it’d help your own investigation, wouldn’t it?’

  Maddy pursed her lips and reluctantly conceded that point. ‘If we could prove he had a motive for screwing up that Wallace investigation, whatever it was…’ She lifted her head as she heard the downstairs door open. ‘Damn. Sounds like Paul’s back for something; I’d better go before my evening’s shot altogether. Don’t make Nick do anything he doesn’t want to. Promise?’

  ‘I promise. But, Maddy, he’s a grown man.’

  ‘And one who’ll do anything for you,’ she reminded him. ‘Okay, got to go. We’ll see you both on Sunday.’

  Paul’s voice floated up from the stairwell. The voice that replied was feminine, and since they had no women on their books at present, that meant she was either a new client, when they were stretched work-wise as it was, or a female distraction that Paul could certainly do without just now. Either way this wasn’t particularly good news.

  The first person through the door confirmed her fears; no-one but Paul could get himself entangled with a woman like this, and at a time like this. She was clearly ten feet of trouble compressed into a tiny, five-foot frame, and all the more ferocious because of it. Like an enraged kitten.

  The kitten glared at her, then turned to go. ‘I’m not here to meet your girlfriend, Mackenzie; this is just wasting time.’

  ‘Wait.’ Paul blocked the doorway, and Maddy suppressed a sigh; why not let the woman go, since she was so keen? She herself just wanted to go home and see what Gavin had cooked for dinner; it’d been a long day, and finally finishing off the Macnab report had left her drained. Her famous people skills were going to be tested to the limit on this one.

  ‘Can I help or not?’ she asked, politely.

  ‘No you can’t,’ the woman snapped,’ this is nothing to do with you. Mackenzie, why did you bring me here? I don’t need somewhere to stay now, and you can say whatever you’ve got to say while we’re out there, doing something useful.’

  ‘Just sit down a minute. Please?’

  It was so unlike Paul’s usual gruff tone that Maddy looked more closely at them both. Paul brought the woman further into the room and, catching Maddy’s eye, indicated the sectioned off area where four small sofas faced each other. He seemed tired, worried, and far too old, and Maddy tightened up in response; he’d been like this on his bad days. His worst days. The days when even she had been unable to reach him.

  She sat down next to him, but he didn’t appear to notice, and she could see his anxiety mirrored in the woman’s pale, pinched expression.

  ‘This is Maddy Clifford,’ he said to the woman, who frowned.

  ‘Clifford? I think I met your husband earlier.’

  ‘I haven’t got a husband,’ Maddy began, but Paul briefly raised a quietening hand.

  ‘Maddy, this is Charis Boulton. Her little boy’s gone missing.’

  Suddenly his expression made perfect sense. She squeezed his wrist, feeling the tension there and forcing him to look at her. When he did, she was at a loss to ease the dread she could see in his eyes, and could only imagine what was going on in his head.

  The woman was a living echo of that fear, and Maddy turned to her, taking care to appear calm and positive. ‘Okay. You came to the right place, Charis. We’ll do our best to help.’

  ‘What do you mean, “we”? How on earth could you possibly help?’

  Maddy frowned, puzzled. ‘Well, that’s why you’ve come to an investigation service, isn’t it?’

  ‘A what?’ Charis turned back to Paul. ‘So you’re… The American—’

  ‘Andy Stein is a client, yes. But there’s more to this case than I realised when I took it on.’

  Charis was still fixing him with a look that clearly said: this had better be relevant or I walk out right now.

  Paul nodded. ‘Okay, simply put: Stein’s girlfriend grew up near here, on the Glenlowrie Estate. Her name’s Sarah Wallace. She moved to America when her family home burned down twenty-some years ago. Anyway, she’s heard about some old family heirlooms that have turned up, and is negotiating a deal with the guy who’s found them. Our favourite police officer.’

  ‘The one I saw?’

  ‘I don’t know. Was the one you saw a bit overweight, fifty-ish, red in the face?’

  ‘No, younger. About your age. Thin.’

  ‘Right, well that’s his pet sergeant, Mulholland. They don’t work together, but he’s in Bradley’s pocket, and he’d have gone straight to him the moment you gave him my description.’

  ‘How was I supposed to know—’

  ‘Let him finish!’ Busy with the Macnab case, Maddy wasn’t clued in on all of this herself and wanted to hear it. Charis glared at her, and she glared back. Neither backed down, but when Paul spoke again Maddy was privately relieved; she’d been on the verge of caving in under that stare.

  ‘Right, well the thing is, Stein’s found out that the heirlooms, three porcelain figurines, are fakes. So he’s hired me to find the originals. That’s supposed to be my only involvement in this.’

  ‘How did he know they’re fake?’ Maddy wanted to know.

  ‘Who cares?’ Charis half-rose to leave, but Paul gestured her back into her seat.

  ‘Sarah says that, according to what her godfather told her years ago, there’s a minute flaw built into the base of each one. Hardly more than a nick in the finish, but she told Stein to check for it in the ones Bradley showed him: no flaw. When Stein told her that, she instructed him to stall the deal until she can get over here herself and sort it out.’

  ‘Are these things that valuable then?’

  ‘Stein says they’re mostly sentimental; they’re all Sarah has left of her family.’

  ‘Cobblers.’

  ‘Quite.’ He focused on Charis now. ‘Stein’s a twitchy wee bastard though, and he noticed Jamie sneaking around when he was on the phone to Sarah. Just playing, I know.’ He held up a hand to forestall another heated interruption. ‘But playing or not, he put the wind up Stein.’

  ‘So you’re saying that Stein went upstairs tonight while we were talking, and persuaded Jamie to let him in?’ Charis’s voice was tight. ‘How did he know which room was ours?’

  ‘Didn’t you see him looking at your key fob when we were all in the bar tonight?’

  ‘I thought he was just…’ Charis shook her head. ‘Yeah, I saw him. But I still can’t believe our kid would be that stupid, after all I’ve said about opening the door to strangers.’

  ‘Maybe he was too excited to think about that?’ Paul said gently. ‘Boys being boys.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Charis conceded, ‘but excited enough to go off with him? No. Not voluntarily.’ She was sitting bowed on the very edge of the sofa, as if poised to leap up and run without warning. Maddy felt desperately sorry for her; she talked too much, and too loudly, but she looked worried out of her mind. Maybe if she just let Paul get on with things, he’d be able to help her.

  ‘You think Stein’s taken him somewhere then?’ Charis repeated.

  ‘I do, yes. We just need to make sure, because if he has, I’m as sure as I can be that Jamie’ll be okay’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Stein’s an annoying little shit, but I’d lay
bets he’s no killer.’

  Charis flinched at the word, and Maddy shot Paul a glance that bypassed him completely; he was rubbing at his forehead as he always did when he was trying to think around noise.

  ‘He needs to know about Jamie’s asthma,’ Charis fretted. ‘Jamie might not tell him.’ Or not be able to, was the unspoken end to that sentence, but they all heard it.

  Paul nodded. ‘We’ll make sure he knows, somehow. Leave that to me. First we have to find out for sure if he’s got him.’

  ‘Call him now,’ Maddy said.

  ‘What, you think he’s just going to own up?’ Charis looked disgusted at the idea, and Maddy was about to bite back, but thankfully Paul was tuned in.

  ‘Of course he won’t, not right away. But if I can convince him I’ve changed my mind, that I think he was right about the boy, and offer to go after him myself, we can gauge his reaction.’

  ‘And in any case,’ Maddy put in, ‘you should be able to tell by the sounds whether or not he’s in the hotel. If he pretends to be, you’ve got him.’

  Charis turned back to Paul. ‘So what are you waiting for? I’ll be quiet, I promise, just get calling.’

  ‘I’ll use the landline, so he knows I’m not following him.’

  Paul went to the desk and found Stein’s mobile number in the client index. Then he held up a hand for silence, looking particularly hard at Charis, Maddy noted with an inward smile.

  ‘Mr Stein, it’s Mackenzie. Sorry, is that the shower I can hear? Don’t want to disturb you.’ He shook his head, his sour expression indicating he’d just been lied to. ‘Anyway, I was sitting here in the office, thinking about what you said about that bloody woman with her annoying kid.’

  Charis’s big blue eyes blazed fire at him. Talk about a test of keeping quiet – Maddy was reluctantly impressed.

  ‘Well, I was thinking, maybe since Bradley’s going to pull out of the deal otherwise, it might be worth sort of – removing the boy, just for a little while? You know, nothing too intense, just keep him out of the way for a bit... Oh, I see.’ He paused, suddenly pale, his hand tightening on the phone. ‘What makes you say that?’