The Ransom (7 page)

Sliding his business card out of her pocket, she looked at it again. Her fingers moved over the plain black text that described his name and rank and the contact details where he was stationed. She flipped it over and stared at the handwritten scrawl on the back.
His home number.
Her heart fluttered. She pressed the small card to her breast and tried to slow her breathing.

She wished she had a reason to call him, to hear his voice again. Deep but gentle, it had caressed her skin like a whisper-soft kiss. She’d barely been able to concentrate on the content of his questions earlier, her distractedness something that secretly astounded her.

The description her little sister gave the detective of the attacker rang a chord of familiarity in her mind and her thoughts turned to the men she’d spied in her father’s office a fortnight earlier. Such a contrast to those he usually met with—they were rough, dangerous looking men she’d never seen before. When she asked her father about them later, he assured her they were undercover police officers, but as he said it, he’d paled and she’d briefly recognized unconcealed fear in his eyes.

Now, she could only wonder if their visit had something to do with the disappearance of Olivia Munro. She wondered if her father had mentioned the visitors to Lane. She could call him and make sure. It would give her the excuse she was looking for.

Lane.
Already, she was calling him by his first name.

Heat crept up her neck and suffused her cheeks. She bit her lip against the strange rush of desire that suddenly weakened her. She’d never felt this way before about any man,
ever.
Nothing came close. The scariest thing was, she didn’t have a clue what to do about it.

She was a twenty-five-year-old woman who was well on her way to an illustrious career and yet she’d never known a man in the most intimate of ways. She’d never had the time to date anyone seriously; she’d never had the inclination. She didn’t understand why her feelings about all that had changed in the seconds and minutes since she’d met Detective Senior Sergeant Lane Black of the Chatswood Local Area Command.

Her heart leaped with nerves and excitement at the possibility of talking to him again, but her head issued a cautious warning. Dark undercurrents tugged at her consciousness. A fortnight ago her instincts told her that all was not as it seemed and the feeling of dread hadn’t diminished with time. After listening to Brittany’s description of the man who’d attacked her, Zara’s disquiet had magnified.
Why was that?

Everything came back to her father, a man she loved more than anyone in the world.

She needed to speak to him. She needed him to explain to her a second time the reasons for the presence of the rough-looking men in his office. Her gut told her he hadn’t been honest with her and she wanted to give him a chance.

A chance to tell the truth.

CHAPTER SIX

Saturday, January 27, 1:03 p.m.

Olivia Munro curled herself tighter into a ball and tried to hold the sobs at bay. She didn’t know where she was or how long she’d been unconscious. The only thing she could clearly remember was arguing with her stepmother about a stupid bikini. After that, there was nothing.

A rough-looking man dressed in dirty jeans had come and checked on her twice. Both times, she pretended she was still sleeping. He’d come over to where she lay on the floor and had shoved her with his boot, turning her onto her back to face him. Though he no longer wore the leather jacket, she recognized him as the man who’d kidnapped her. It had taken everything she had to remain silent and motionless.
 

Eventually, he’d sauntered out again, locking the door behind him with a jangle of keys. She groaned at the pain in her arms and wriggled in an effort to get more comfortable. The bindings around her wrists were tight and she’d lost all feeling in her hands. She swallowed a sob and tried to hoist herself upright, using the wall behind her for leverage.

With a grunt and a hard shove, she managed it. She was left panting from the effort, but at least her head was now off the floor and she was better able to take in her surroundings.

The single window had been boarded up and only the tiniest slivers of light escaped inward from underneath. It was barely enough to dent the dimness, but as her eyes grew accustomed to the dark, she slowly made out the rest of the room.

The space was smaller than her bedroom and was bare of furniture. Cobwebs hung from every corner of the ceiling, their long strands swaying gently from an unidentified source of moving air. They reminded her of the dark and scary caves she’d seen in the
Indiana Jones
movies she’d watched with her dad. All she needed was a gigantic, hairy spider to appear.

With a shudder, she lowered her gaze and tried not to think about it and wished her daddy was near. Dust lay thick on the floor. She looked down at her once-white shorts and grimaced, upset for a second that they were ruined. Then her situation really hit home. She was captive—she had no idea where—and guarded by the frightening thug who’d shown her no mercy.
How had all this happened?
From her fear, memories slowly began to emerge.

Her head was fuzzy. She wondered where Brittany was.
Had she been taken, too?
Perhaps she was here with her, somewhere in the house? The thought gave her hope that she wasn’t alone with the short, thickset man who’d attended her earlier. Through her squinted eyes, she’d seen the bulging muscles in his arms and the array of tattoos that covered his skin. She’d also sensed the menace coiled inside of him and that terrified her. The danger of him had been there in the change room before he pressed a sweet-smelling cloth over her mouth and nose and the world went suddenly dark and blank.

Tears welled in her eyes and slowly leaked down her cheeks. She wanted her daddy.
Where was he?
Surely he knew she was missing? Her stepmother would never have kept something like this from him. She must have told him. He was on his way. He’d find her. He’d rescue her. She was sure of it.

The rattle of the key in the door once again stole her breath. Heart thumping, she tried to slide sideways, to pretend she was still asleep, but though she tried, she couldn’t get the impetus she needed to topple. Panic clawed at her throat. She watched, as in slow motion, the door opened and revealed the bulky shape of her captor.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Saturday, January 27, 1.10 p.m.

Before she knocked on the door to her father’s office, Zara took a deep breath and tried to quell the nerves that tumbled around inside her belly.

“Dad, it’s me. May I come in?” Not waiting for a reply, she opened the door and found him at his desk, frowning behind a mound of papers. He looked up as she entered.

“What is it, darling? How’s Brittany?”

“She’s fine. She’s sleeping. I think today’s events and the visit from the detective wore her out.”

“Not surprising, after all she’s been through.”

Zara nodded her agreement and took a seat opposite her father’s desk. Needing to occupy her hands, she picked up a heavy glass paperweight and moved it from one hand to another.

Her father watched her in silence for a few moments. “What’s troubling you, Zara?”

The nerves she’d almost managed to suppress returned full force, tightening her throat and turning it sandpaper dry. She licked her lips and tried to form the words. In the end, they came out in a rush.

“It’s about those two men who visited you a couple of weeks ago. You heard Britt describe the man who abducted Olivia. The men who were here looked like him. I-I was wondering if they could have had anything to do with Olivia’s disappearance?”

Her father stopped writing on the notepad in front of him and gave her his full attention.

“Why would you say that?”

Zara broke the eye contact, suddenly filled with uncertainty. “I don’t know. They were dressed in much the same way and seemed so…so menacing.”

With a nod of understanding, her father resumed writing. “I told you. They’re police officers. They’ve been working undercover for a long time. Sometimes the lines get blurred and they forget who they really are.”

He glanced up at her and grimaced. “It’s a danger our undercover operatives constantly face and one we keep a close eye on. It makes them really good at their job, but the change can wreak havoc on their families.”

Zara digested his explanation. It made sense—kind of—but something was still a little off. She continued to juggle the paperweight in her hands. Her father looked up at her again, an eyebrow raised in query. “Is there anything else?”

She drew in a deep breath and released it in a rush, needing to ask the question before she lost her courage. “If that’s the case… If they were really undercover officers…why did they scare you?”

His eyes widened in surprise and then he laughed. “Don’t be silly, darling. Of course they didn’t. I’ve known those men for years.”

“But—”

He came around the desk and pulled her to her feet. Putting his arms around her, he gave her an indulgent hug and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Thank you for caring about me, darling, but you have enough to worry about. Don’t look for issues where there are none.”

Releasing her, he stepped away. “Go on up and check on Brittany. I have a few things to do down here and I don’t want our baby girl waking up and finding herself alone.”

“Of course.” Turning, Zara left the room. If she hadn’t seen firsthand how much the men had frightened him, she would have been inclined to believe his explanation. Although it was unusual for officers to come to their home, it wasn’t unheard of. She wished she could simply accept his explanation and forget about it. Perhaps, at the time, she’d imagined the fear she’d seen in his eyes? Perhaps, as he suggested, she
was
finding issues where there were none?

With a sigh, she headed up the stairs, hoping his reassurances would settle her concerns, but more than a little disturbed that they might not.

* * *

Lane scrolled through the entries on the computer screen in front of him. He glanced at the clock on the squad room wall and cursed. Another hour had passed since Olivia Munro had disappeared.

Although the security camera footage had identified a man who generally fit Brittany’s description, the angle had been wrong and the camera too far away to make a positive identification viable.

There were still a number of general duty officers canvassing shoppers in the mall, but so far, they hadn’t turned up a credible witness. Lane had reported back to his boss about Dowton’s threatening phone call, but they still didn’t have enough evidence to indicate his daughter was the target. So far, Lane’s team was dealing with the matter on their own.

“What did you find?”

Looking up, Lane spied Jett walking toward him from the direction of the tea room, a cup of steaming coffee in each hand. Setting one on Lane’s desk, he propped a hip on the adjoining desk and took a sip out of his cup.

“Thanks, mate,” Lane murmured, sliding his coffee toward him and taking a grateful sip.

“Thought you could do with some caffeine. So, what’s happening?”

Lane grimaced. “Not much. The officers at the mall still haven’t come up with anything. I’ve run the tattoo through the database. It’s come up with five hits.” He grimaced. “It would be asking for too much to have just one.”

“I think the redback spider image is pretty common, as far as tattoos go. I’m surprised that’s all you got.”

“Brittany Dowton said it was on his left hand. I think the location has narrowed it down some.”

“Yeah, well it could have been worse. You could have gotten fifty.” Jett leaned over the desk and scanned the names on the screen. “Some of those sound familiar.”

“From Brittany’s description of the attacker and from the tattoo, I’m running with the theory our guy’s part of a biker gang. The tattoo search supports that theory. Three out of the five hits I got belong to members of the Redbacks.”

Jett shook his head. “Surprise, surprise.”

Lane took another sip of coffee and clicked on one of the names on the screen. A few moments later, the file opened.

“Here’s the first one. Tim “Toothpick” Todd. A rap sheet as long as your arm for serious assaults, drug offences and robbery. Known associate of the Redbacks. Has a distinctive redback spider tattoo on his left hand.”

He returned to the search file and clicked on another name. “Boris “Beefcake” Vukovic. Another prolific law-breaker. Did a stint in Long Bay for manslaughter. Just the kind of bloke you’d want to date your sister. Also a member of the Redbacks with a distinctive redback spider tattoo on his left hand. Last but not least, we have Draco Jovanovic.”

Jett sidled closer. “Why have I heard that name before?”

Lane compressed his lips into a grim smile. “He’s the president of the Redbacks. Surrounded by a club full of violent and lawless members, he’s risen to the top.”

“What’s his form?”

“The usual. Assaults, numerous drug offenses, unlicensed firearms, intimidation of a witness, the list goes on. Several visits to the big house.”

Jett shook his head again, his tone derisive. “And yet, we keep on letting them out.”

Lane frowned. The remark triggered an idea in his mind, sending a surge of adrenaline through his veins. He sat upright and turned to his partner. “Let’s print out the mug shots of all five and do an identikit up for Brittany. She might recognize one of them.”