Innocent Hostage (26 page)
Breck nodded to him and followed Hull towards his parents’ house.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The Pirates of Penzance had nothing on Hull. He definitely moved with cat-like tread. Breck followed him, wondering how the man moved so stealthily. Some members of the AOS could take lessons from him. Breck concentrated on keeping his breaths shallow and making sure that as they neared the back door, he didn’t stand on anything that would make anyone aware of their presence. If Angela had been on the lookout, she might have seen the flashlight beam when they discovered Ingrid, but hopefully she’d think they were waiting for reinforcements to regroup.
Or she might not be here at all. She could be long gone. Pray God she hadn’t taken Kit with her when she fled.
As they stepped into the kitchen, the capricious spring weather covered their approach. The wind was rising, soughing through the big trees on the perimeter of the property.
Hull turned and gestured to Breck to lead the way. This was a route Breck remembered very well. From the punishment under the stairs, to the warmth and relief of Natasha’s kitchen where she’d left their dinner simmering in the oven.
Every step towards the cupboard dragged at his feet, told him not to go there. He swallowed and reached for the intricate door fastening. Hull nudged him and indicated his penlight but Breck didn’t need light for this lock. It was a double cupboard and after he turned the key, he set to work untwisting the length of wire holding the two small doorknobs together. There was no sound from inside.
Breck’s heart was almost suffocating him. Between the dread of what he might find inside and the fear of having to return to that lonely, black space, he could scarcely breathe. God knows, he’d had to crawl into many small places since he’d joined the cops. But this one was different. This one was the sum of all his childhood fears.
“Have you got it open?” Hull breathed in his ear.
Breck nodded and yanked the door open with more force than necessary. He cannoned backwards into Hull. And something catapulted out and whacked him in the stomach. He and Hull went down in a tangle of arms and legs. “Christ,” Hull muttered as he leapt to his feet. But Breck was already grasping his aggressor. “Kit!”
“Daddy?”
“Oh, God. Kit.” Breck wrapped his arms around Kit and refused to let him go. “Are you all right?”
“Daddy.” Kit collapsed against his father, sobbing quietly. “She put us in the dark. She smacked Ingrid and smacked her.”
Time was of the essence, but Breck shut out everything except his shivering son. “I’m here now, son. And Detective Hull is here. We’ll sort things out. There are police outside too. Did she hurt you?”
“J-just once. Ingrid screamed at her. So did the other lady.”
“Marchant, ask him—”
“Don’t hurt him, you bitch!”
Someone else was in the cupboard. The words were aggressive, but the voice was quavery. Sounded like his mother.
“It’s okay, Mother. I’m here now. Where’s Angela?”
“Gone. Sh-she locked us in here—”
“Hull. Quick! Make sure she’s nowhere near Ingrid.”
But Hull was already rounding up the troops and calling an ambulance.
“You can come out now,” Breck told his parents.
No reply.
Kit whispered, “I think she’s frightened of the dark. She keeps shivering.”
“What about…Grandpa? Is he afraid of the dark too?”
Kit shook his head. “He went with Angela. Are Ingrid and Mommy okay?”
“Not sure, son. Tell you what, you hold the door open and I’ll climb inside. I’ll use my penlight.” He wriggled into the cupboard and pushed his way on his hands and knees into the storage area at the back of the cupboard. “Come on, Mother. Take my hand.”
“Breck, I’m so, so sorry. All those years ago when we…however did you breathe? I can’t
breathe
.”
Her voice was rising again and Breck knew that if he were to drag her out now, she’d resist him. He bore down on his fears and wriggled into a position beside her. “No need to worry. Together we can do it.” His years in the AOS had taught him to identify with the victim. And his mother was a victim. No doubt about it. She hadn’t cooperated with Tania or Angela. Why hadn’t he ever picked up on the strange vibes between his father and his mother? Because he hadn’t wanted to see his mother in a favorable light, that’s why.
He placed his penlight on the floor so that they had a little light, and he could feel his mother’s breathing gradually slow down. “Keep holding that door open, Kit.”
The dusky grey light at the doorway beckoned.
For the first time in his life he took his mother’s hand. “Hold on to me. When you feel better, we’ll crawl out of here.”
“Daddy?”
“It’s okay, Kit. Grandma and I are getting ready to come out now.”
“Just crawl, Grandma,” Kit advised. “Crawl towards the opening.”
“Good advice. Come on, Mother.” But as Breck tugged on her hand, his mother suddenly collapsed against him. Hell. It would be better anyway if she were unconscious, he told himself. But it was going to be difficult to drag her out and time was wasting. What was happening outside? More importantly, was Ingrid going to be okay? He snatched up the little flashlight and shone it on his mother’s face. She was sheet white. Well, he didn’t feel so chipper himself. He hated this place and the sooner he got them out, the better. As he placed the penlight at a strategic angle, his heart jumped.
A stain of red was spreading over the front of his mother’s shirt. Oh, God. “Mother!” He’d never called her Mom and even now, he found it hard to call her anything warmer. “
Please
. Come on. We have to get out of here.” He braced his feet on the end wall and pulled. She was a dead weight, and he paused, sweating and gasping, then tried again. Clenching the penlight between his teeth, he gradually eased her closer to the doorway.
Suddenly the room and environs lit up, brightness bouncing off the walls.
“Sir?”
“Chambers?”
“Yessir. Ms. Rowland’s on her way to hospital. Thought you’d like to know. She’s bad, but they got her stabilized.”
Breck tugged again and gasped, “My boy?”
“He’s right here, sir. No problems.”
The cupboard was stifling. Sweat ran down his face in rivulets and stung his eyes. One more pull should do it.
“Here. You hop out. We’ll do that.”
Raker and Chambers tried to edge Breck aside but he clung fast to his mother’s shoulders. “No. She’s mine. Nearly there.” He needed to do this. Had she been injured, trying to protect Kit?
Gasping, he floundered on the tiled floor, his mother half across him. Eager hands checked her out and Raker rang the paramedics.
“Kit?”
Kit collapsed against Breck, his arms winding around Breck’s neck.
“Easy, son. Can’t breathe.”
His chest heaved with the effort of dragging in great lungfuls of air. “D-did Grandma get hurt protecting you?”
“That woman,
not
Mummy, hit me and Grandma shoved her. She punched something into Grandma’s chest and Grandma coughed.”
Breck examined his son’s face. He thanked their lucky stars that Angela had only slapped Kit. A blue bruise and a red patch on his cheekbone were the only marks on him. Of course there was no telling what Angela had had in store for Kit, but all that mattered was that she hadn’t been able to carry out her plan.
As the paramedics tended his mother, her eyelids fluttered.
“Punctured lung,” one paramedic muttered, listening to her attempts to breathe. They propped her up and loaded her on to a gurney.
“Which hospital?” Breck asked them. “We’re just leaving to see someone else who—”
Raker grabbed his arm. “We’ve arranged for both Ingrid and your mother to go to Carlton General. I’ll take you and the boy now. Leave Angela to Hull and his men.”
“There’s another problem. Where the hell is my father?”
“Does young Kit know?”
Breck hoisted Kit up on to his shoulders where he clung like a monkey. “Kit, did you hear what Sergeant Raker just said? You told me that Grandpop went with Angela. Where did they go?”
“He lives here.”
“Yeah.” Breck waited.
“He kept talking and she said, ‘shut up, you old fool.’”
In spite of the circumstances, Breck couldn’t help grinning. “Sounds like Grandpop.”
“He likes Mommy. He doesn’t like the other one.”
“Uh, huh.” Breck was starting to wonder just how much his old man liked Tania. They’d always got on well, but… “So then what happened?”
“That woman hit Ingrid and punched her. Grandpop made her stop.” Kit swallowed tears, and Breck put up his hand and held tight to Kit’s. “Then they just left her there on the f-floor. They went outside and Ingrid moved.” His eyes big and round, Kit reiterated it. “She moved!”
He’d obviously thought Ingrid was dead.
“She whispered to Grandma and me that she was going to get help. She got away, Daddy!”
“Then what happened?”
“They came back and got very angry. They shut Grandma and me in that dark room.”
“Sounds as though Angela kept Kit and your mother for insurance while she made her getaway. She must have thought Ms. Rowland had got clear away,” Raker suggested. “Still doesn’t tell us where your father is though.”
Breck didn’t much care. It was past time he went to check on Ingrid and his mother.
The boy wuffled gently in his sleep. Breck envied him. He was way too anxious about Ingrid and his mother to fall asleep. It had been a twenty-two hour day so far and would be another few hours yet before Ingrid and his mother were out of the woods.
“How is she?” Raker put his head around the door.
“The old head wound reopened and caused most of the blood. Lost a tooth. Broke a finger. Could be worse. Brain damage is a concern though, so soon after concussion,” Breck whispered.
Raker winced.
“Got a BOLO out for Angela?”
“Yeah, but we remembered you said she was a terrible driver. We figure she’ll ditch the car and stick with public transport or just go on foot. Seems to be what she’s comfortable with. We woke Billy up and had a chat. Angela was their driver that night you went to the Kerrs’ house. He’d only just learned that Tania had a sister and next minute he found himself in a car with her going to toss over his brother’s house. I think her driving terrified him more than her attitude.”
Breck snorted in amusement. “Did you tell Billy that Tania is so severely injured she’s not expected to live?”
Raker shook his head. “He didn’t want to know anything about either of them. He’s got the two kids and he has his hands full.”
Oh, hell. He hadn’t given a thought to Pixie and Bob for days. That was something else that would have to be faced. Bob might be all right with his father, but Pixie had nobody.
“I’ll see how—”
“
How dare you!
That’s my daughter in there and I have every right to see her!” An irate but carefully modulated voice spoke in the corridor outside.
Out of the corner of his eye, Breck saw Ingrid flinch. “Raker, she’s coming round. Get someone.”
“Gladly. That’s her mother out there.”
Shit. He was too damned tired to deal with Mrs. Rowland. He’d left a message on their answerphone. Reluctantly. Last time Ingrid had been adamant that she didn’t want her parents notified that she was in hospital. This time he’d felt obligated to let them know. The specialist had mentioned possible brain damage. Anyway, her mother was cited as next of kin on her medical insurance.
“Oh, shit,” Ingrid murmured. “Is that my mother?” Her hand twitched in Breck’s clasp.
Breck snorted with both relief and amusement. “Darling Ingrid. We’re here. Kit and I are here.”
“Who called her?”
“I did. Your condition is serious, sweetheart. Just lie still.”
In a flurry of white coats the ward doctor and head nurse rushed into the room followed by a woman Breck presumed was Ingrid’s mother. He wondered where the stepfather was. Mrs. Rowland was immaculately dressed and made up even though it was getting on for four a.m.
“I demand to know what has happened to my daughter.”
“Please be quiet, madam. I’m trying to listen to your daughter’s heartbeat. Ah…” The doctor sounded satisfied. “Good. Ms. Rowland, do you know where you are?”
“Bloody hospital again?”
“Ingrid!”
Breck and the doctor grinned while the nurse giggled and pretended to fiddle with the IV tube. Breck moved aside to let the doctor check her over, but as he let go her hand, Ingrid panicked and tried to grab his fingers.
“Breck! Don’t go. Please.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
The Pirates of Penzance had nothing on Hull. He definitely moved with cat-like tread. Breck followed him, wondering how the man moved so stealthily. Some members of the AOS could take lessons from him. Breck concentrated on keeping his breaths shallow and making sure that as they neared the back door, he didn’t stand on anything that would make anyone aware of their presence. If Angela had been on the lookout, she might have seen the flashlight beam when they discovered Ingrid, but hopefully she’d think they were waiting for reinforcements to regroup.
Or she might not be here at all. She could be long gone. Pray God she hadn’t taken Kit with her when she fled.
As they stepped into the kitchen, the capricious spring weather covered their approach. The wind was rising, soughing through the big trees on the perimeter of the property.
Hull turned and gestured to Breck to lead the way. This was a route Breck remembered very well. From the punishment under the stairs, to the warmth and relief of Natasha’s kitchen where she’d left their dinner simmering in the oven.
Every step towards the cupboard dragged at his feet, told him not to go there. He swallowed and reached for the intricate door fastening. Hull nudged him and indicated his penlight but Breck didn’t need light for this lock. It was a double cupboard and after he turned the key, he set to work untwisting the length of wire holding the two small doorknobs together. There was no sound from inside.
Breck’s heart was almost suffocating him. Between the dread of what he might find inside and the fear of having to return to that lonely, black space, he could scarcely breathe. God knows, he’d had to crawl into many small places since he’d joined the cops. But this one was different. This one was the sum of all his childhood fears.
“Have you got it open?” Hull breathed in his ear.
Breck nodded and yanked the door open with more force than necessary. He cannoned backwards into Hull. And something catapulted out and whacked him in the stomach. He and Hull went down in a tangle of arms and legs. “Christ,” Hull muttered as he leapt to his feet. But Breck was already grasping his aggressor. “Kit!”
“Daddy?”
“Oh, God. Kit.” Breck wrapped his arms around Kit and refused to let him go. “Are you all right?”
“Daddy.” Kit collapsed against his father, sobbing quietly. “She put us in the dark. She smacked Ingrid and smacked her.”
Time was of the essence, but Breck shut out everything except his shivering son. “I’m here now, son. And Detective Hull is here. We’ll sort things out. There are police outside too. Did she hurt you?”
“J-just once. Ingrid screamed at her. So did the other lady.”
“Marchant, ask him—”
“Don’t hurt him, you bitch!”
Someone else was in the cupboard. The words were aggressive, but the voice was quavery. Sounded like his mother.
“It’s okay, Mother. I’m here now. Where’s Angela?”
“Gone. Sh-she locked us in here—”
“Hull. Quick! Make sure she’s nowhere near Ingrid.”
But Hull was already rounding up the troops and calling an ambulance.
“You can come out now,” Breck told his parents.
No reply.
Kit whispered, “I think she’s frightened of the dark. She keeps shivering.”
“What about…Grandpa? Is he afraid of the dark too?”
Kit shook his head. “He went with Angela. Are Ingrid and Mommy okay?”
“Not sure, son. Tell you what, you hold the door open and I’ll climb inside. I’ll use my penlight.” He wriggled into the cupboard and pushed his way on his hands and knees into the storage area at the back of the cupboard. “Come on, Mother. Take my hand.”
“Breck, I’m so, so sorry. All those years ago when we…however did you breathe? I can’t
breathe
.”
Her voice was rising again and Breck knew that if he were to drag her out now, she’d resist him. He bore down on his fears and wriggled into a position beside her. “No need to worry. Together we can do it.” His years in the AOS had taught him to identify with the victim. And his mother was a victim. No doubt about it. She hadn’t cooperated with Tania or Angela. Why hadn’t he ever picked up on the strange vibes between his father and his mother? Because he hadn’t wanted to see his mother in a favorable light, that’s why.
He placed his penlight on the floor so that they had a little light, and he could feel his mother’s breathing gradually slow down. “Keep holding that door open, Kit.”
The dusky grey light at the doorway beckoned.
For the first time in his life he took his mother’s hand. “Hold on to me. When you feel better, we’ll crawl out of here.”
“Daddy?”
“It’s okay, Kit. Grandma and I are getting ready to come out now.”
“Just crawl, Grandma,” Kit advised. “Crawl towards the opening.”
“Good advice. Come on, Mother.” But as Breck tugged on her hand, his mother suddenly collapsed against him. Hell. It would be better anyway if she were unconscious, he told himself. But it was going to be difficult to drag her out and time was wasting. What was happening outside? More importantly, was Ingrid going to be okay? He snatched up the little flashlight and shone it on his mother’s face. She was sheet white. Well, he didn’t feel so chipper himself. He hated this place and the sooner he got them out, the better. As he placed the penlight at a strategic angle, his heart jumped.
A stain of red was spreading over the front of his mother’s shirt. Oh, God. “Mother!” He’d never called her Mom and even now, he found it hard to call her anything warmer. “
Please
. Come on. We have to get out of here.” He braced his feet on the end wall and pulled. She was a dead weight, and he paused, sweating and gasping, then tried again. Clenching the penlight between his teeth, he gradually eased her closer to the doorway.
Suddenly the room and environs lit up, brightness bouncing off the walls.
“Sir?”
“Chambers?”
“Yessir. Ms. Rowland’s on her way to hospital. Thought you’d like to know. She’s bad, but they got her stabilized.”
Breck tugged again and gasped, “My boy?”
“He’s right here, sir. No problems.”
The cupboard was stifling. Sweat ran down his face in rivulets and stung his eyes. One more pull should do it.
“Here. You hop out. We’ll do that.”
Raker and Chambers tried to edge Breck aside but he clung fast to his mother’s shoulders. “No. She’s mine. Nearly there.” He needed to do this. Had she been injured, trying to protect Kit?
Gasping, he floundered on the tiled floor, his mother half across him. Eager hands checked her out and Raker rang the paramedics.
“Kit?”
Kit collapsed against Breck, his arms winding around Breck’s neck.
“Easy, son. Can’t breathe.”
His chest heaved with the effort of dragging in great lungfuls of air. “D-did Grandma get hurt protecting you?”
“That woman,
not
Mummy, hit me and Grandma shoved her. She punched something into Grandma’s chest and Grandma coughed.”
Breck examined his son’s face. He thanked their lucky stars that Angela had only slapped Kit. A blue bruise and a red patch on his cheekbone were the only marks on him. Of course there was no telling what Angela had had in store for Kit, but all that mattered was that she hadn’t been able to carry out her plan.
As the paramedics tended his mother, her eyelids fluttered.
“Punctured lung,” one paramedic muttered, listening to her attempts to breathe. They propped her up and loaded her on to a gurney.
“Which hospital?” Breck asked them. “We’re just leaving to see someone else who—”
Raker grabbed his arm. “We’ve arranged for both Ingrid and your mother to go to Carlton General. I’ll take you and the boy now. Leave Angela to Hull and his men.”
“There’s another problem. Where the hell is my father?”
“Does young Kit know?”
Breck hoisted Kit up on to his shoulders where he clung like a monkey. “Kit, did you hear what Sergeant Raker just said? You told me that Grandpop went with Angela. Where did they go?”
“He lives here.”
“Yeah.” Breck waited.
“He kept talking and she said, ‘shut up, you old fool.’”
In spite of the circumstances, Breck couldn’t help grinning. “Sounds like Grandpop.”
“He likes Mommy. He doesn’t like the other one.”
“Uh, huh.” Breck was starting to wonder just how much his old man liked Tania. They’d always got on well, but… “So then what happened?”
“That woman hit Ingrid and punched her. Grandpop made her stop.” Kit swallowed tears, and Breck put up his hand and held tight to Kit’s. “Then they just left her there on the f-floor. They went outside and Ingrid moved.” His eyes big and round, Kit reiterated it. “She moved!”
He’d obviously thought Ingrid was dead.
“She whispered to Grandma and me that she was going to get help. She got away, Daddy!”
“Then what happened?”
“They came back and got very angry. They shut Grandma and me in that dark room.”
“Sounds as though Angela kept Kit and your mother for insurance while she made her getaway. She must have thought Ms. Rowland had got clear away,” Raker suggested. “Still doesn’t tell us where your father is though.”
Breck didn’t much care. It was past time he went to check on Ingrid and his mother.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The boy wuffled gently in his sleep. Breck envied him. He was way too anxious about Ingrid and his mother to fall asleep. It had been a twenty-two hour day so far and would be another few hours yet before Ingrid and his mother were out of the woods.
“How is she?” Raker put his head around the door.
“The old head wound reopened and caused most of the blood. Lost a tooth. Broke a finger. Could be worse. Brain damage is a concern though, so soon after concussion,” Breck whispered.
Raker winced.
“Got a BOLO out for Angela?”
“Yeah, but we remembered you said she was a terrible driver. We figure she’ll ditch the car and stick with public transport or just go on foot. Seems to be what she’s comfortable with. We woke Billy up and had a chat. Angela was their driver that night you went to the Kerrs’ house. He’d only just learned that Tania had a sister and next minute he found himself in a car with her going to toss over his brother’s house. I think her driving terrified him more than her attitude.”
Breck snorted in amusement. “Did you tell Billy that Tania is so severely injured she’s not expected to live?”
Raker shook his head. “He didn’t want to know anything about either of them. He’s got the two kids and he has his hands full.”
Oh, hell. He hadn’t given a thought to Pixie and Bob for days. That was something else that would have to be faced. Bob might be all right with his father, but Pixie had nobody.
“I’ll see how—”
“
How dare you!
That’s my daughter in there and I have every right to see her!” An irate but carefully modulated voice spoke in the corridor outside.
Out of the corner of his eye, Breck saw Ingrid flinch. “Raker, she’s coming round. Get someone.”
“Gladly. That’s her mother out there.”
Shit. He was too damned tired to deal with Mrs. Rowland. He’d left a message on their answerphone. Reluctantly. Last time Ingrid had been adamant that she didn’t want her parents notified that she was in hospital. This time he’d felt obligated to let them know. The specialist had mentioned possible brain damage. Anyway, her mother was cited as next of kin on her medical insurance.
“Oh, shit,” Ingrid murmured. “Is that my mother?” Her hand twitched in Breck’s clasp.
Breck snorted with both relief and amusement. “Darling Ingrid. We’re here. Kit and I are here.”
“Who called her?”
“I did. Your condition is serious, sweetheart. Just lie still.”
In a flurry of white coats the ward doctor and head nurse rushed into the room followed by a woman Breck presumed was Ingrid’s mother. He wondered where the stepfather was. Mrs. Rowland was immaculately dressed and made up even though it was getting on for four a.m.
“I demand to know what has happened to my daughter.”
“Please be quiet, madam. I’m trying to listen to your daughter’s heartbeat. Ah…” The doctor sounded satisfied. “Good. Ms. Rowland, do you know where you are?”
“Bloody hospital again?”
“Ingrid!”
Breck and the doctor grinned while the nurse giggled and pretended to fiddle with the IV tube. Breck moved aside to let the doctor check her over, but as he let go her hand, Ingrid panicked and tried to grab his fingers.
“Breck! Don’t go. Please.”
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