The Ransom (17 page)

“I’m sorry to hear it, Mrs Dowton. I wish I had more time to commiserate with you, but I’m sure you’ll appreciate, time’s marching on and I have a little girl to find.”

“Of course, Detective, of course.” Tears welled in her eyes. She took a lace-edged handkerchief from out of the top of her Prada dress and dabbed at the moisture. “Such a dreadful, dreadful business. I can’t imagine what Ellie Munro must be going through. I thank God every second that my little Brittany was spared.” She sighed dramatically. “How, why—they’re questions only God can answer.”

Zara went to argue, but clamped her mouth shut. Years of experience had taught her that arguing with her stepmother was an exercise in futility. Lane’s expression turned grim.

“I wish it was that easy, Mrs Dowton. Unfortunately, the Almighty is playing his cards very close to his chest. I appreciate your sentiment, but I’m sure Olivia and her parents will be comforted to know my team and I don’t intend to wait around until He reveals them to us.”

The door to her father’s office opened and Zara’s father joined the small gathering in the entryway.

“What’s going on? Zara? Detective? Oh, Allison. I see you’ve made it home.” He stepped forward and pecked her on the cheek. With a wail, Allison threw her arms around his neck, and pressed herself against him. It was all Zara could do not to roll her eyes.

“Oh, David, I can’t
believe
it! How could this
happen?
Our little girl! I’d never forgive myself if she’d been harmed. Where is she? I need to see her!”

Gently extricating himself from his wife’s enthusiastic embrace, Zara’s father stepped away. “She’s resting in her room,” he murmured.

With another wail, Allison turned and headed toward the stairs. For a few moments, her father’s gaze followed her progress. His wasn’t the only one.

Lane also tracked her ascent. His gaze stayed on her stepmother’s enviable figure and Zara felt an immediate and entirely unwelcome stab of jealousy. Aided by the skills of the best plastic surgeon money could buy, Allison looked a decade younger than she was. Much to Zara’s chagrin, men never seemed to be any the wiser. To them, Allison Dowton was a unique and ultra-rare butterfly: beautiful, delicate and completely unattainable.

Zara turned away, unable to watch another man fall under her stepmother’s spell. The motion caught Lane’s attention and he turned to her. His gaze hardened.

“We need to talk.”

She glanced at her father. Emotion warred within her. She owed her father another chance to explain.
Didn’t she?
He’d lied to her about Draco and the other man who’d met with him in his study, but was he really involved in the kidnapping of his daughter’s best friend? It was too much to bear considering the implications that such actions would have for her father, his career and family. She’d already given him not one, but two opportunities to come clean, to tell her the truth. Both times he’d chosen deceit.

Lane stood still and silent, his eyes challenging her to disagree. Despite the graveness of the situation, a thrill of excitement coursed through her at the thought of spending time alone with him.

Ignoring the curious gaze of her father, she nodded decisively and whispered, “Call me.”

* * *

Lane’s text came barely five minutes later. Zara had left her father in the entryway looking melancholy and confused and had headed back up the stairs to her room to freshen up.

Lane had given her the name of a café with an address in nearby Double Bay. “Christina’s on the Bay” was small, but private. She’d been there before with her father and recalled the delicate, wrought iron garden furniture surrounded by shrubs and flowerbeds and ancient fig trees. It was like picnicking in a secluded garden and she’d been told it was a popular spot for illicit lovers seeking a discreet place to meet.

That thought sent heat rushing to her cheeks and she silently castigated herself. Lane worked in the northern suburbs. This wasn’t his neighborhood. It was unlikely he had any idea about the establishment’s reputation. Even so, the thought of spending time alone with the handsome detective had her feeling a range of unfamiliar sensations.

She looked down at her dress and grimaced. Dust and dirt from the house in Scarborough Road had soiled it in several places. If she hadn’t had such a debilitating migraine upon her return, she’d have showered and changed immediately. Lane had demanded she meet him in fifteen minutes. The café was at least a ten-minute drive away.

Moving quickly, she undressed and stepped into the shower. She prided herself on her punctuality, but she refused to meet him while she was filthy. He’d just have to wait.

It was another ten minutes by the time she’d dressed in clean clothes and leaned over the basin to apply a fresh coat of lip gloss. Picking up her hairbrush, she untangled the knots from the long, straight strands and then twisted it into a chignon that caressed the back of her neck.

She wondered about Brittany and hoped her little sister was coping. Zara hadn’t stopped in to see her since she’d arrived home and she was immediately filled with guilt. Then she remembered her stepmother had returned and was assured Brittany would be well and looked after.

Her thoughts flew to Olivia, no doubt distressed, hungry and terrified. Zara’s guilt intensified. The midnight deadline loomed ever nearer. She sent up a silent prayer that rescue was close at hand. Knowing she might be of help, determination surged through her. It was time to follow the right path to the end. With a clarity that so far had eluded her, she came to a decision.

It was time to tell the truth.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Sunday, 28 January, 3:57 p.m.

Lane sat back against the hard, wrought iron chair and wished he’d found somewhere more comfortable to meet. Like many cafés along the waterfront in the eastern suburbs, comfort had been sabotaged by fashion and he longed for the old, but relaxing booths that filled the café around the corner from where he lived. They may have been covered with cracked red vinyl, but they were big enough for a man to spread out on, to stretch his legs and take a break from the world.

Not that “Christina’s” didn’t have atmosphere or a view of the harbor that was less than spectacular, but it wasn’t the kind of place he felt comfortable in and he wished he’d suggested someplace else.

He glanced at his watch again and tried to contain his impatience. She was late. Or ignoring him. He scowled at the thought. A moment later, she materialized in front of him and his irritation dissipated in the warm summer breeze.

She wore a different dress from the one he’d seen earlier and her hair was damp from the shower. Instead of being loose, it was now pulled back behind her ears and secured low at the back of her neck. Soft pink lipstick glistened in sun, emphasizing the lusciousness of her mouth.

His gut tightened in response. He stood when she approached, hoping she wouldn’t notice his body’s reaction.

“Thank you for meeting me,” he said, remaining upright until she’d taken a seat.

She stared at him, a myriad of emotions filling her dark eyes. “I had no choice. It was the right thing to do.”

Surprise coursed through him. He leaned forward in anticipation.
She was going to confess.
A part of him felt disappointment, even as he braced himself for her admissions.

“Are you admitting you’re involved in Olivia’s abduction? That you’ve been involved from the outset?”

A frown marred the smooth skin of her forehead. She shook her head and her eyes narrowed in confusion. “Me? Involved?” She laughed without humor. “Oh, God. You couldn’t be further from the truth.”

Now it was Lane’s turn to feel confused. “But, you knew where she was being held. You were there, in the very same house. I found your scarf.”

He watched in silence while she closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. Tension gripped him. He waited for her to speak. It seemed to take a lifetime.

“You’re right about some of it. I
was
there and somehow I dropped my scarf, but I didn’t know it was where they’d been hiding Olivia.”

“Bullshit. Why the hell else were you there? You live in Point Piper. No one heads out to Milperra and especially not to a place like that, for the sake of a morning drive.”

Zara held his gaze steadily. “Please understand how hard this is for me. I-I want to do the right thing. That’s why I’m here. I could have ignored your text—”

“And I’d have hauled your sweet little ass across town and put you in the lockup,” Lane growled, impatience once again surging through him. “You’re in this up to your ears, princess. Now, start talking before I change my mind and slap some cuffs on you.”

Her eyes widened with anger that was also laced with fear. Her shoulders rose and fell in time with the rate of her breathing. Lane refused to soften his hard stare. When she spoke again, he had to lean forward to hear her.

“As much as it pains me to tell you, it’s…it’s my father. He’s the one involved in this.” The increasing burden she’d felt over the last few days suddenly lifted as each whispered word fell from her lips. While she fully understood the implications of what she’d revealed, she no longer felt inhibited.

Lane’s eyes narrowed. He sucked in some air and tried to still his racing heart. “How do you know?”

She drew in a deep breath and released it on a heavy sigh. “A couple of weeks ago, my father met with two men at home in his office. They were rough looking men—unshaven, leather jackets, dirty jeans. They looked so out of place. When I mentioned them to him, he told me they were undercover DEA officers.”

Lane made no comment. His gaze continued to drill into hers. She broke the contact and shrugged. “It seemed like a reasonable explanation. I left it at that.”

“What happened to change your mind?”

“Two things: Olivia’s abduction and Dad telling me he thought the kidnappers had made a mistake—that Brittany had been the target.”

“He told me he’d received a threatening phone call from someone identifying with the outlaw motorcycle gangs,” Lane said.

“I don’t know anything about that, but I recognized two of the men in your photo line-up. One of them was Boris Vukovic, the same man Brittany identified. The other one was Draco Jovanovic. You told me they were members of the notorious Redbacks biker gang.”

Lane nodded, his body taut. He waited for her to continue. At last, she spoke again.

“They were the men I saw a few weeks ago in my father’s office.”

Shock ricocheted through him. It explained her reaction when she’d looked at the photo line-up. He couldn’t believe the Attorney General hadn’t said a word about that meeting. The thought made him frown. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

She met his stare without flinching. “You don’t. But I have a sister the same age as Olivia. I can’t imagine the horror her parents are going through. I want to help. I
need
to help.”

She looked away, her breath coming faster. After a few moments, she looked back at him.

“After you left the second time, I questioned Dad again. Again, he denied the men in his office had anything to do with outlaw biker gangs.” Her shoulders rose and then slumped. “I knew he was lying. And what reason could he have to hide the truth…? I’ve run out of reasons to defend him.”

She looked bereft and defeated, but Lane quashed the urge to offer her comfort. He was in the middle of a breakthrough in the case. A little girl’s life depended upon it. The seconds were ticking by. Anger stirred inside him.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

Her eyes scrunched closed. Her teeth bit into her bottom lip. Lane tried to contain his impatience.

“I should have. I know that. I thought about it, but you have to understand
.
I still didn’t know the extent of my father’s involvement. I wanted to protect him as much as I could. When I found the note with Draco’s name on it, I thought—”

Lane tensed. “Hang on a minute, what did you say? What note?”

“I-I snooped around in Dad’s office. I found a piece of paper with Draco’s name on it and an address.”

“The house in Milperra.”

“Yes.”

Lane let the information settle inside his head. It made sense. It explained why the ransom note offered no contact details. It explained how she’d known about Draco’s hideout.
It explained what she was doing there.
All of a sudden, a different kind of anger surged through him.

“How could you have been so stupid? I can’t believe you put yourself in such danger. How did you know the place wasn’t crawling with armed and dangerous criminals? If you really thought it might have been where they were hiding Olivia, surely it occurred to you that you were putting your life in danger by going there? Do you really think that little of me and my colleagues?”

Zara winced and pulled away from the anger in his voice, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t believe she’d been so foolhardy. The men that ran with the Redbacks were violent criminals, some of the worst the State had to offer. And she’d waltzed into their hidey-hole alone and unarmed.

“Did you have the sense to tell anyone where you were going?”

Color bloomed in her cheeks. Tears glistened in her eyes. She looked away and shook her head. Pity tightened Lane’s chest when he saw the desolation that flooded her face.