Captured Lies (9 page)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Bailey’s heart felt like it was being held in a fist, slowly
squeezing the life out of it. Maybe she knew what he was going to tell her
would rock her world, more than it had ever been rocked before. Or it could
have been the threat to her peace of mind. Or maybe she’d just flipped out. Or
it could have been that she’d never learned to trust. Whatever it was, it was
enough to compel her to hit reverse, stomp on the gas and zip out onto the
street. She’d always been in this alone. She’d find her own answers.

His eyes opened wide in shock and
then settled into a disappointed, knowing look. It was a look she’d perfected
when her mom had told her yet again they were moving. The look he had on his
face, reminded her of too much. She burned out of there, going well over the
speed limit. She whipped in and out of lanes, turned down side roads, drove
around, sometimes kind of lost, until finally she pulled up in the back alley
of her mother’s place. It was just something she did on instinct, which she
didn’t question. Her sixth sense had saved her on many occasions. Some of the
men she’d encountered as a teenager had thought they’d be the ones to initiate
a virgin. It had only been because she’d listened to her gut that she’d saved
herself. They’d been sorely disappointed when they’d been arrested by the cops
for being nude in public. The police had listened carefully to their story
about being with a woman. They could never explain how she’d disappeared. Of
course they couldn’t tell the police that really they were trying to rape a
minor.

Blowing out her breath, she let
go of those old memories, grabbed her purse and keys, quietly creeping across
the lawn to the side door, to let herself in. She unlocked and opened the door,
gently closing it behind her. She was grabbed from behind, one hand clamped
over her mouth while an arm wrapped around her middle, like a band of steel.
She was almost overwhelmed by the stench of smoke, alcohol and who-knew-what.

Not again.

“Where’s the picture, bitch?”

Long ingrained instincts kicked
in; she lifted her right leg forward, then drove her sneakered foot back into
his knee. At the same time she smashed her elbow into his ribs. He yelped and
swore but didn’t break his hold on her. They stumbled backwards, crashing into
the table. She took advantage of his loosened grip, ripping it from around her.
She made it to the door and got it open a few inches before his body slammed
into her, pinning her there. His hands encased her wrists. “Try that again and
I’ll kill you. I don’t care what I’ve been told. Got that?”

She held herself perfectly rigid
but didn’t respond.

“Good. Now where is that
picture?”

“At the photo store?”

“What?” He grabbed her arms with
one hand and yanked a handful of hair, pulling her head back at an awkward
angle. “Listen, lady, I’m not here to play games. The picture I’m looking for
is old. Where is it?”

Bailey snorted in disbelief.
“Pictures. You want pictures. Well, let me tell you something you big
over-stuffed–”

He smacked her wrists against the
door.

“Listen… uuuuhh.”

He jammed his knee into the back
of hers. She closed her eyes for a second, trying to will away the pain. “There
have been no photos in my life. My mom didn’t believe in them. I… DON’T… HAVE…
ANY.”

Grabbing her left arm, he twisted
it behind her back which brought her around. He marched her into the living
room. In the dim light she could barely see her way and stumbled over the mess
on the floor.

“What’s in those bags?”

“The garbage bags? Newspapers my
mom collected over the years.”

“Where’s your mom’s room?”

“Kiss mine.”

He jerked back and up.

She tried not to respond but she
was sure her shoulders were but one thread away from being dislocated. Tentatively
walking down the hallway, she tried to avoid the overturned bags of stuff that
now littered the floor. The son-of-a-bitch who did that could clean it up. When
she tripped and almost took him down with her, he jerked her arm halfway up her
back. She stood on tiptoe to ease the pain and the blackness that was
threatening to engulf her.

“Do that again and I’ll rip both
arms out of their sockets.”

Biting her lip so she wouldn’t
scream, she said, “Then turn on some damn lights. I can’t see a thing and since
you saw the need to redecorate, it’s your fault.”

“All right, turn on the bathroom
light. Don’t do anything funny.”

She almost laughed at that
because when he let go of her wrist, her arm flopped to her side. It took a
moment for her to be able to lift it. It protested loudly when she raised her
hand so she could flip the switch. She allowed him to shove her into the
bedroom and although flopping on the bed was preferable to him having his hands
on her, she wasn’t staying there in case he got ideas. A quick move and she was
back on her feet. He immediately backhanded her. She fell backwards onto the bed;
the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. She swiped at her lip with her
hand, as she propped herself onto her elbows. He pulled open dresser drawers
and dumped them. It wasn’t how she’d have tackled emptying them but it might
save her time in the long run. There was banging, crashing and smashing. It
made her cringe, she had no idea what was being destroyed but she also didn’t
want to attract his attention.

The man’s right hand shook like
he was thirty hours into a detox. He sure didn’t smell like that though.
Soaking for a week in a bathtub might have been able to loosen the caked dirt,
grime and other things she didn’t even want to guess at what they might be,
coating his body and his clothes. Of course he’d first have to soak just to get
the clothes off that looked like they’d been worn so long, they were becoming
part of his skin. “Where’d your mom hide pictures?”

We don’t have any pictures.
Not even of me growing up. So I don’t know what…

Bailey’s eyes opened wide. The
only photo she’d even seen in thirty years were the ones in her purse – which
was somewhere on the kitchen floor. What would he want that picture for? It was
really old. There was nothing… The tiara. Had someone stolen it? Was someone
going to steal it? Why want the photo?

She sat upright. He was so busy
ripping apart the room he wasn’t paying any attention to her. She lifted her
feet and rammed them as hard as she could into the butt that was pointed in her
direction. Then she took off running, she headed out through the kitchen, yanking
open the door and hitting the lock on her way out. It wouldn’t stop him for
long but it might slow him down. As she was about to close it, she noticed her
purse off to the right. Scooping it up, she ran out, slamming the door behind
her and sprinted across the back lawn. She spit out a mouthful of stale blood,
as she went. Once in her car, she hit the gas and drove away, the back tires
spitting dirt and grass. Winding her way through the streets, she looked for a
main road that would take her west.

Flipping open the glove box, she
pulled out the two envelopes. Someone had answers. She feared it might just be
her.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Guy sprinted across the street when he saw Bailey race
through the living room, past the open front door. “Wait!”

She didn’t slow down nor act like
she’d heard him.

Leaping up the stairs he crashed
into a small, wiry man who came barreling out. The two men stumbled then caught
their balance. The smaller man moved quicker. He lashed out with his left foot,
catching Guy just below the knee, sending him stumbling backwards into the
railing. The man was already running down the block.

Fear hit Guy like a punch to the
gut.
Where was Bailey? Who was that guy?

He ran through the house
following the direction he’d seen Bailey run. Zipping out the side, he looked
toward the street and then ran toward the back fence looking up and down the
back alley. There was no sign of her. Or her car. She was long gone. Turning
around, he walked back inside. Picking his way over the littered floor, he
looked for something that might tell him where Bailey might have gone.

What the hell happened?

Boxes were overturned, bags
ripped open, drawers piled on the floor, blood spots on the bed. Since there
were only a few drops he was going to assume, at least for the present, that
the person wasn’t seriously hurt. Scared? Probably. The question was, was it
Bailey’s?

He pulled out his cell phone and
made a quick call. “Graham. I need you to do some more digging into Bailey’s
background. I need you to go back more than ten years and retrace some of those
steps. I skimmed over the history surrounding her mom, thinking they were just
the moves of a woman who was looking for love. In all the wrong places.”

“Hello to you too. And I’m on it.
What’s going on?”

“Not sure. But someone broke into
her mom’s house and she’s on the run. I need to know if this was a random
burglary or related to her or her mom. I’m thinking the latter.” He knew that Graham
wouldn’t question his gut instinct. It had served them enough times when there
was no evidence to go on. Like the time he’d caught the accountant with the
impeccable record, who was walking out each day, with hundreds of thousands of
dollars in his lunch bag.

“On it.”

Guy filled him in on what had
occurred that evening. “I’m not sure where to look for her. Let me look around
here and see what I find. I’ll get back to you.”

Following her a few days before
had at least given him something to work with. The only person she’d met with
had been a lawyer.
Would she go to him if she was in trouble?
Clicking
off his phone, he headed back down the hall. The unmade bed and clothes
scattered around in the spare bedroom caught his attention. It wasn’t exactly
clean but it had a less determined, destructive mess about it.

Lifting the suitcase onto the
bed, Guy carefully looked through the items.
Nice underwear.
Shoving the
black lace bra and panties aside, he continued to sift through her clothes. He
unzipped the zipper on the inside of the top lid. Airline ticket – old one.
Double Bubble supply – which made him smile. A business card – Creative
Interiors. Another one – Mr. Robert Lund, Lawyer. Lund, the lawyer’s office
Bailey had gone to a few days before.

Holding both cards in his hand,
Guy walked back to the living room. He made his way to the window by stepping past
the overturned items. Outside, he didn’t see anything that was cause for
concern. It looked like the uninvited guest was long gone. He went with his gut
instinct and pulled out his cell, hitting the redial button. “Graham, I need
you to get me a home address for a Mr. Robert Lund. Lawyer.” He rattled off the
information on the business card.

“Right. Give me ten.”

His hand clenched into a fist, as
a tightly coiled unsettled feeling sat heavy in his gut. He absently rubbed his
stomach.
How come I didn’t see this one coming? Nice and easy my ass,
Gramma.

He placed his hands over his face
and rubbed hard as though trying to wash paint off. This was not going to be
simple. Blowing out an exasperated breath, he turned with the intention of
getting out of there quickly, only he tripped. With nothing to grab onto, he
soon found himself sprawled on the floor. Since that was a dangerous place to
be, he quickly twisted around and jumped to his feet. He booted one of the
offending large bags aside.

“Ouch.” He reached down and
ripped open the plastic. Newspaper spilled out. Grabbing the top one, he
glanced at the topics and then the date.

1985. Who the hell keeps the
news that long?

1995. 1999. Who gets that
many?

There were only some from each
year but they were papers from all across the country. Not something you could
go down and buy at the local store. He flipped through the stacks of them,
getting caught up in the stories.

Da-da-dum.
Da-da-dum.
Da-da-dum. Charge.

He jerked violently, ripping a
paper in half. Sighing in disbelief when he realized it was his phone, he
pulled it out. Why he’d let Graham’s sister program that ring, he’d never know.
It caught him off guard ever time. Not quite like this, though.

“Yeah?”

“Got a pen and paper?”

A pencil was sitting on a stand
by the couch. He grabbed it and ripped off a piece of newspaper.

“Go.” After scribbling down
Lund’s address and stuffing it in his pocket, he straightened. “What else?”

“You do realize it’s after
midnight?

“Yes and I also know that you’ll
be up until the wee hours of the morning getting all the information you can
about all the players that we know exist so far. So give.”

Graham’s fingers clicked over the
keys. “Man you annoy the hell out of me. Mr. Charles Emerson Lund. Upstanding
citizen. Lawyer since 1970. Clean as a whistle.”

“So far.”

“Yeah. So far. He’s too clean. I
get the feeling there are some deep dark secrets hidden in this guy’s history.
I have a few feelers out with my buddies on the police force. There’s some
speculation that he may be flying on the light side.”

A gay lawyer?

“We’ll see what comes back. Being
married is one thing, being married into the Filmore family? They’re
multimillionaires but speculation is that they are a hair’s width from being
billionaires. That has to be tough for a guy who came from a family that
marginally made the millionaire mark. The Filmores have their hands in many
pies. Besides buying up dying companies, turning them around and reselling
them, they own sports teams, have their hand in the shipping business and many
things I’m sure that don’t show up on the radar. Meeting and marrying Betty
Filmore had to do wonders for Lund’s career. He’s had some really high stakes
cases. There’s question though why he didn’t join a big law firm and make
partner. If his sexual preference is true, it’s not something he’s really going
to want the in-laws to know about. My thought is that if he’s got that slant
then someone at some time has probably used it against him. It’s too classic.
Who wouldn’t take advantage of it?”

After securing the house, Guy
walked across the street to his SUV. “Do you ever miss it?” They had met when
they’d both started out in the police force. Fresh out of university they’d
both decided they had wanted to be the men in blue. Two years was all Guy had
lasted. Fourteen months for Graham.

“Police work?” There was a pause.
“No. I miss the guys though. If that doped up, crazy man hadn’t shot me, I’d
still be there. Not sure that was really the right place for me... I’m better
at behind the scenes snooping. How about you?”

“Nope. I was the worst rookie cop
ever.”

“That’s only ’cause you didn’t
like all the rules.”

Guy laughed along with Graham. It
was a standing joke between them that Guy would choose law enforcement when he
was one of those people who could not do shift work nor handle the stress of
what he’d been through that day. Getting sleep had become an issue. He’d started
nodding off, all over the place. It hadn’t gone over well with the Staff
Sergeant or anyone he partnered with.

“Thanks for the info. Keep me
informed.”

“Don’t park your ass out there.”

Guy took in a deep breath. He
didn’t plan on getting shot and although he never would have guessed it from
the start, he was now questioning what really lay in store for him. This
situation was not what it seemed.

****

John was about to stand up when
someone came out the side door. His knees were starting to cramp, his tall,
muscled frame not lending itself to be folded down into a pretzel for long
periods. Well that and his age, even though he kept himself fit, age showed
itself in the graying of his hair and the etched lines in his face. He stayed
crouched until he knew he was alone. The woman had left. She’d almost ran him
down, in the alley, when she’d driven out of there like a maniac. A quick dive
over the fence had kept her from seeing him and saved his hide. But just. He
hadn’t been expecting her to come out. He could have killed her then. But it
would have been messy and he didn’t want any witnesses. He would decide when
and where. This would be done right. No more mistakes. This time he’d make sure
she was gone.
What a freaking zoo. No one had said anything about having to
deal with two men fighting over the broad. She’s kind of skinny.

John had been scouting the house
when one guy had barreled out the front door and the other had tried to stop
him. The shoving match hadn’t been much. The little guy had won hands down but
knew enough to get the hell out of there in a hurry.

He had been told to find and get
rid of the girl. From all he’d been given she was pretty much a loner. No real
friends. That seemed to have changed. He’d have to be a little more cautious.
But he would succeed. He wasn’t in any hurry to follow her. The tracking device
he’d attached to her car would let him know where she was at, at all times.
Besides he was curious as to who her 'friends’ were and if they’d be a
problem.

He’d get to her soon enough. She
was the last person who had all the answers. Only she didn’t know that. And she
may never know. He smiled, loving the quirkiness of it – she’d die and never
know why. The thought of sharing her history with her was tempting, just to see
the anguish, the tears, the fear. He let that image wash through him and
shuddered as goose bumps covered his body. Killing wasn’t his first love and
not one he’d done often but when someone had done him wrong, they paid. And she
had done him wrong. She’d taken away his only family. The sister he’d tried to
protect from his alcoholic father and overzealous,
turn-your-head-and-don’t-notice-what’s-happening-to-your-children, religious
mother.

He had to do this quickly, get
his money and get out of the country before the police finally tracked him
down. They had a warrant out for his arrest. His latest roofing scam had given
him hundreds of thousands of dollars and a line on the need-to-question list of
the local RCMP. He laughed as he thought about all that they had no clue about.
All the other things that were probably of a much greater interest to them, if
only they knew. He’d been caught once but never convicted. He wouldn’t go there
again. Once he was done with the girl, he would leave the country for good. Go
find some fresh people to bilk of their money.

He waited another ten minutes
before he stood up. Hugging the darkness of the six-foot high fence, he walked
to the side of the house. His hand shaking slightly, he took out his pick.
Thirty seconds and he was in. A bit disgusted that at one time he’d have been
in within five seconds, he shook that off. He moved stealthily through the
house, not making even a whisper of a sound, priding himself on the fact that
he might have aged a bit but he still had what it took. Even if he hadn’t been
gainfully employed this way in a long, long time.

The place was a mess and had
obviously been well searched. Regardless, he still did a careful check of all
vents or ceiling tiles that might have been moved but found nothing. He needed to
make sure that there was no link from the past to her. Nothing that the cops
could use at a later date to try to extradite him. Even countries that didn’t
believe in that practice could be bribed. As his flashlight flipped over the
spilled newspaper covering over half the living room floor he noted two
crumpled cards. Bending, he picked them up. Two business cards. One was the
girl’s, the others was a lawyer’s. Acid burned in his gut as he thought about
the lawyer he’d had to get rid of. The man who’d figured he was above the law
and had decided he could slip evidence to the prosecution. He’d wanted John to
go down for defrauding an old woman of her life savings.

He smiled as he remembered how
easy it had been to set up that situation.

John pulled out his cell phone
and called an old acquaintance, even though he knew he’d be charged heavily for
the information. Five minutes later he had the home address. He left the Bailey
house, moving stealthily along the alley for two more blocks to where he’d
parked his black car. The fine tremor in his hand was almost unnoticeable but
was enough that the key didn’t slide in smoothly the way it should have.

A drink would have been a nice
but he’d never allowed himself to indulge. Not while he was in the middle of
something big. And this was big. The end to a thirty-five year career. Which
had really ended when his sister Mary had been killed. Thinking of her still
made him sad. Made him mad. He still blamed that infant for being responsible
for her death and keeping him from collecting thousands of dollars from her new
family. Mary had looked after that baby for months and finding out that toddler
was alive was too much. He would have killed the girl for nothing but he was a
business man. He planned to get paid and get paid well. That child had robbed
him of the best career he’d come up with - snatching kids from wealthy parents
who had an enemy they often didn’t even realize. He’d been hired by family
members, relatives, business partners. It hadn’t been easy to steal from the
rich but that’s why whoever wanted his services had to have very deep pockets
and very deep resources. He’d had to abandon his prolific career when Mary
died.