Monday's Child (27 page)

Luke pushed his hand through his hair. “All right. Keep digging. I’ll see you later.” He hung up and stood, stretching to ease his shoulders. The phone rang again. Luke snatched it up. “Nemec.”

“Hi, Luke. It’s Dad. Is everything all right?”

“No. I really messed up, and I can’t fix it. I got sick. The woman I was meant to be protecting got kidnapped because I wasn’t there. They can throw the book at me for this, but I don’t care. I just want her back. I have to find her somehow, but they won’t let me.”

“Why would they throw the book at you if you were sick?”

Luke pinched the bridge of his nose again. “Dad, you’re a cop. I broke rule number one. I fell in love with her.” He could hear the catch of breath in his father with that revelation. “Yeah, you heard right. I love her. I want her back and safe.”

“They’re bound to find her, Luke.”

“If we don’t find her within a couple of days, she’ll die. She’s ill. Really ill.”

“What’s wrong with her?”

Luke took a deep breath. “Pre-eclampsia. The doc wanted to admit her the day she disappeared. She’s got a week tops, and two of those days have gone.”

“She’s pregnant? Who…” His father’s voice trailed off.

Luke knew what he was thinking. “Dad.” He had to correct his father’s misconception. “Her husband was murdered on their honeymoon. They’re his babies.”

“I’m sure things will work out, son. Listen, I’ve been talking to the others. It doesn’t seem right you being on your own over there for Christmas. So I have a flight and a hotel booked where you are.”

“Really? Wow. You didn’t have to do that, but don’t waste money on a hotel. You can stay here.” Luke waved as Mary came into the room. “There’s plenty of room here, Dad. When does your flight get in? OK. Inverness is a ninety minute drive from here. Not to mention, we have several feet of snow. You know. White stuff, falls from the sky in winter.”

He broke off. That’s how Sara had described it to him. His voice faltered as he spoke again. “I’ll arrange for someone to pick you up. No, I’m fine. All right, see you soon. Bye, Dad.”

Luke ended the call and put the phone down. “Dad’s coming over for Christmas.”

Mary smiled. “That’s nice. When does he arrive?”

“Tomorrow night. His plane lands in Inverness at ten fifty. How he managed to get a flight this time of year I don’t know. He can sleep in my room. I’ll sleep in Sara’s.”

“I’ll change the sheets tomorrow,” Mary said. “They can be washed, dried, and back on the bed in no time. Shall I do Sara’s as well?”

Luke shook his head. He liked her scent on the sheets. “No.”

26

The door flung open and Austin came in. Sara pushed back into the bed as he crossed the room. She winced as he ripped the tape off her mouth.

“Are you going to behave now?”

Sara ran her tongue over her dry, sore lips. It wouldn’t matter one way or the other. “I can’t feel my feet. And my arms hurt.”

Austin untied the rope from her wrists and ankles, leaving the handcuffs on. She sat on the edge of the bed, her feet and arms burning as the blood poured back into them. She eased her wrists against the handcuffs. They were bloodied where she’d struggled so much.

“Would you like something to drink?”

“Please.”

“Stay there.” Leaving her unbound, he left the room.

As the key turned in the door, Sara pulled herself upright. She gasped with pain as her swollen feet took her weight, but she shuffled across to the window. She peeped through the curtains. She was on the shoreline, perhaps in one of those cottages Luke had photographed. Was that their house on the hilltop?

Footsteps echoed on the stairs. She shuffled back to the bed, sitting down as the door opened.

Austin came in with a tray which he put on the bedside table. Sara glanced at the tray and counted four steaming mugs. “What’s in those?”

“Soup and coffee.”

“Why four?”

He smiled. “One each. You choose which one you want, and I’ll have the other. That way you know I haven’t poisoned them. Which soup?”

Poisoned? But what choice do I have?
“The one on the left.”

His eyes fixed on her face, and he kept his voice low. “I warn you now, you try what you did to Phil earlier, and you will regret it.” He held out the cup to her.

Confused by the good villain, bad villain thing they had going, Sara wasn’t going to argue. She needed to eat if she were going to get out of here. She took the mug and sipped it. The thick, creamy soup had never tasted so good. It was hot, too, not lukewarm like she expected. She drank deep and fast, in case he changed his mind and took it away. His constant gaze made the hair rise on the back of her neck.

Austin put his empty mug down and took hers. He offered her the two coffees. Sara took one and drained it. She put it down. Austin finished his coffee and put the cup down.

He smirked at her. “Now, can I trust you not to do anything stupid if I don’t tie you up?”

Sara glared at him. “What do you think?”

Austin sighed. “I thought we were past this, Sara.”

He grabbed the long rope that Phil had used the previous night and fastened it between the headboard and the cuffs.

Sara shook her head. “Not past this and never will be.”

“You can move within this room but no further. Leave the curtains closed.” Austin put the cups on to the other tray and stacked the two trays together.

“What happened to DC Collins?”

“He’s dead.”

Sara closed her eyes, sorrow filling her. “Why?”

“He saw my face. Why else?”

“Oh…” she whispered.

“Seriously…He’s one of mine, and if I can’t kill my own bent coppers when they’ve served their purpose, who can I kill?” Austin left the room, locking the door behind him.

Sara shuffled back to the window. Collins was working for the bad guys? She hoped that was a lie, like so many of the lies she’d been told. And why did they take away the phone? She could have called for help. She had to hope and pray that her call from the war memorial made it. She glanced up at the hill, more convinced than ever it was their house. Could he see her, too? Maybe she could put something in the window…

She toed off her shoes and bending awkwardly picked them up and shoved them on the window sill behind the curtains. But would Luke understand, that’s if he could see them.

Footsteps echoed on the stairs. Sara sat on the bed and closed her eyes, trying to calm her breathing. Footsteps stopped outside the door, and the key turned in the lock. Now what did they want?

Phil stood there with a plastic bottle in his hands. “I got you a drink.”

Sara pushed herself upright. “What is it?”

“Water. The boss doesn’t want you dehydrating.” Phil set the bottle down next to her and stood back against the wall.

Sara took a deep breath. How far could she push him before he snapped? “No thanks. I don’t want it.”

“You will drink it.”

“I had coffee a few minutes ago, so no thanks.” Sara didn’t want to cooperate with these men anymore.

She sat still as Phil crossed the room and sat next to her. As he held out the bottle to her, she knocked it away. Then she lashed out at him, hitting him where ever she could, giving into her fear and frustration.

He took it for a minute, grinning at her.

“Phil. A word.” Austin’s voice came from the doorway.

Phil got up and moved to the door. “What is it?”

The two men’s voices were too quiet for Sara to hear, but watching their expressions, she knew she was in trouble.

Phil turned and moved back over to the bed. He grabbed her arm and turned her towards him. His hand moved to her neck, and he gripped her tightly, making her gasp. “I suppose you think you’re clever.”

“What are you talking about?” Sara tried to loosen his grip.

“You used your mobile phone to ring home.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You rang home. The police have the tape.” Phil’s grip tightened and he tossed her hard into the headboard.

Winded, Sara gasped for breath, stuttering an answer. “Oh….”

Phil hit the wall above her head, his fingers missing her by an inch. “That was a very stupid thing to do. They traced the call you made.”

She gave him a defiant stare. She was terrified, but they would find her. She had to hold on to that thought.

The tips of his fingers made contact with her cheek. “We know you don’t own a phone. Whose was it?”

Sara swallowed, panic rising within her. “It doesn’t matter. You took it away.”

“Who. Did. It. Belong. To?” Each word was punctuated with his hand hammering the headboard.

Sara dared not push it anymore. “I borrowed it.”

Phil dropped his hand to her throat, his tone low and deadly. “So whose phone was it?”

“My husband’s.”

Phil’s hand tightened. “Husband? You have no husband.”

“OK. It’s Luke’s.”

“Your cop friend?”

“Yes. It’s his phone. I promise.”

Phil dropped her and left the room. Sara lay where he had left her. She began to shake, more frightened than she had ever been. How long would it be before Luke came for her?
Please, Lord, keep me alive until he does.

****

Luke sat at the computer, opened the photo folder, and flicked through the pictures he’d taken the previous week. Enlarging them one by one, he remembered standing in the pouring rain taking them.

Carole sat next to him. “That’s the one she’s painting now.”

“Part of it, yes. I was wondering which photo she used for the shoreline.”

“Ye have nae found it?”

“Yes, of course I have. That’s why I’m still looking,” he snapped. Then he paused. This wasn’t Carole’s fault. “Sorry. No, I haven’t. Maybe you could help. A second pair of eyes and all that.”

“If I can.”

Luke went through the photos, slower this time.

Carole pointed. “That’s almost it but not quite. The cottages are the wrong way around.”

Luke flicked his eyes from the photo to the painting. “You’re right.” He flipped the photo a hundred and eighty degrees and compared it to the painting. “Very close, but the angle is different, not just the rotation. It’s almost as if she’s seeing it from a different view point. She doesn’t go out anywhere, so it must be somewhere she’s seen from the car en route to church or the hospital but the harbor and beach are nowhere near either place. I don’t do a detour like that enough for the detail in the painting.” He clicked through the rest of the photos. In the last one was a figure and a dog.

“Who’s that?”

“Someone mad enough to be out in a rainstorm.”

“Like ye then.”

Luke scowled. “I wasn’t walking a dog.”

“Nay, ye were standing in it taking photos. That’s a totally different scenario all together.” Carole peered at the screen. “Can ye enlarge it tae make him a bit bigger?”

“Yeah.” Luke cropped and enlarged the photo. “There you go.”

Carole frowned at it. “I’m sure I have seen him somewhere before. I don’t remember where.”

“That’s what Sara said. Told her all you Brits look the same.”

The doorbell rang. “I’ll get it.” Luke answered the door and let Dave in. “Hi.”

Dave hung his coat up. “What’s up? Ye look upset. Did something happen?”

Luke shrugged.

“Luke, talk tae me. What happened?” Still not getting an answer, Dave raised his voice. “If I find yer withholding information, Lieutenant, I don’t care if yer rank is higher than mine—”

Luke cut him off. “You’ll what? I just made the worst mistake of my career. There’s nothing you can do or say to make it worse.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake. Cut the self-pity, and tell me what happened before I really do bring charges against ye.”

“Just feel so helpless. Don’t like being this side of the desk, that’s all.”

Dave put a hand on Luke’s shoulder and softened his voice. “Then let’s pray for a few minutes.”

Luke managed a faint smile. “I’d like that. Thanks.”

27

Luke stood there as Dave prayed. Afterwards, Luke took a deep breath. “So how are things going otherwise?”

“Could be better.” Dave shook his head, following Luke into the kitchen. “Hi, love,” he said, taking Carole into his arms and kissing her.

Luke gave the view from the window his full attention for a couple of minutes then he coughed.

Dave laughed. “Nasty cough ye got there, Luke. Ye should get it checked out.”

“I have seen enough doctors to last a lifetime, thank you.” Luke poured the coffee and handed one to Dave.

“Thanks.” He glanced at Carole.

“I’ll leave ye to it. I’ll go watch the telly with Mary.” She left the kitchen, taking two mugs with her.

Luke leaned against the counter, holding the cup to his face. He studied Dave over the top of it. “What gives?”

Dave sat down and took a mouthful of coffee. “Collins is dead. Coastguard found him and the phones floating in the harbor about an hour ago.”

Luke closed his eyes. “No...”

“He’d been shot, close range. They’re going tae rush the post mortem for us. We canna locate Phil Baines. I checked out Stafford myself. The phone number they gave me is a dead end. A virus wiped the hard drives on all their computers, so there are no records on anyone. And they no longer keep paper ones. Or so the woman I spoke tae tried tae have me believe.”

Luke snorted. “That’s convenient.”

“Och, aye. Baines moved out of Daniel’s place on Tuesday and willna be back in work until January second. The firm is shut from tomorrow anyway as it’s Christmas Eve, and he was off sick today.”

“Doesn’t Daniel know where he is staying?”

“Nay. He told them he was renting a holiday cottage. We’ve checked them all.”

“Let me guess. Nothing.”

“Got it in one. I canna believe he was next door, and we missed it.”

“You and me both.” The phone rang, and Luke grabbed it. “Nemec. Yes, he’s here.” He passed the phone to Dave. “For you.”

“Thanks. McArthur. Hi, Stacie, thanks for getting back to me. What you got?” As Dave listened, his face passed through the whole spectrum of emotions, ranging from shock to incredulity to anger. “Are ye sure? Are ye absolutely positive?”