The Ransom (2 page)

“I hate you! I wish you were dead! As dead as my
real
mother.”

Ellie’s mouth dropped open in shock. Olivia threw her a lethal look and stormed off toward the change rooms. Brittany shrugged apologetically and followed her.

Ellie spun away in an effort to escape the venom in her daughter’s eyes and stumbled blindly past racks of clothing, her head spinning. Dragging in oxygen, she plowed through startled shoppers, averting her eyes to avoid their curious gazes.

“Sorry. Excuse me. I’m sorry.” Aimed in the vicinity of the bodies around her, the mumbled apologies that fell out of Ellie’s mouth barely registered in her mind. The only thing she could think of was to get as far away as possible from the young girl who was slowly driving her insane.

Taking refuge behind a high display of fine cotton sheets, she tried to slow her breathing and still the trembling in her limbs. Shock rendered her brain numb. All she could see was the hatred in her daughter’s eyes as she’d hurled those vile words in Ellie’s face.

How had she let it get to this?
How had
Clayton
let it get to this? He was her biological father. He bore even more responsibility for his daughter’s attitude and actions than Ellie did. No matter how often they said they were equal in the parenting stakes, they both knew she was no match for the blood tie. There had been more than one occasion over the years when he’d stepped in and overruled a decision of Ellie’s in favor of his daughter.

Although it hadn’t happened often, the few times when it had, Ellie had been wounded to the core and had become more and more reluctant to make decisions concerning Olivia without his consent, even common-sense ones. It was a struggle and a situation she was far from happy about, but it had gone on for so long, she no longer knew how to change it.

She’d had no idea when they’d married, that six years later, she’d still be battling to befriend Clayton’s only daughter. When the boys had come along, she thought they would soften Olivia’s antagonism, that they would help her feel like she was part of a real family. But it seemed to have made things worse.

Although her half-brothers Mitchell and Damon adored their older sister, the feeling seemed less than mutual. Ellie knew a ten-year-old didn’t have much in common with a pre-schooler and a kindergarten child, but she’d been certain a couple of siblings would help Olivia feel they belonged together.

Olivia had only been fourteen months old when her mother died. Ellie knew the child didn’t have any real memories of the woman and yet she clung to her mother’s idealized memory with an almost unsettling fervor. It didn’t help that Clayton had recently allowed his daughter to install a life-sized image of her mother in her bedroom. It hung on a huge canvas and took up most of one wall.

Ellie had bitten her tongue when the portrait made an appearance though she believed it was unhealthy to so blatantly feed Olivia’s obsession with her late mother.

Ellie didn’t know if informing Olivia that her mother had committed suicide would make any difference to the girl’s adoration, but it wasn’t Ellie’s place to say anything and so far, Clayton hadn’t shown any inclination to enlighten his daughter to the truth. Not that Ellie blamed him, but his daughter’s fixation was going beyond the boundaries of normality and there was no question it was interfering with Ellie’s ability to connect with her.

Knowing that the issues between them weren’t going to be solved today, especially given the mood Olivia was in, Ellie took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and headed back toward the change rooms. There was no attendant near the entrance, so she walked on through. To her left and right stood a row of cubicles. Most of them were curtained off.

“Girls, how are you doing in there?” she asked. Her question was met with silence. Trying to stem her irritation, she lightened her tone and tried again.

“Olivia? Brittany?” She walked further inside the change room. “Olivia, I know that you’re mad at me, but let’s just find a swimsuit and get out of here. If you like, we can stop at Wendy’s for an ice cream on our way home.”

She hated offering the bribe, but right now, she was almost out of options. Short of opening each and every one of the curtains, she didn’t know how else to find them.

“Come on, Olivia. They can’t look that bad. Come out and show me.”

There was still no answer. Ellie frowned and moved further along the left side of the change room. About halfway down, she glanced down and spied a sneaker-clad foot. It was twisted sideways and was just visible beneath the bottom of one of the curtains.

Although the shoe wasn’t familiar, long-dormant instincts kicked in and her stomach clenched in premonition. She reached instinctively for the gun at her hip and came up empty.

It wasn’t there.
Of course it wasn’t there. It hadn’t been there for years. She’d given up being a detective right before Mitchell was born.

Heart pumping, she drew in a quick breath and tried not to jump to conclusions. With her jaw set and her lips compressed, she pulled back the curtain and gasped. Brittany Dowton lay slumped on the floor. Blood oozed from a nasty gash across her forehead.

Adrenaline surged through Ellie, propelling her to the floor. She immediately checked for a pulse and sighed in relief when she found one.

“Brittany? Honey, wake up. It’s Mrs Munro.” She slapped her lightly on the cheek, but the girl remained motionless.

She looked around the small cubicle. The full-piece swimsuits hung on a hook above her head. The hot-pink bikini lay crumpled on the floor. Olivia was nowhere to be seen.

“Olivia?” She tried to keep the panic from her voice. It wasn’t easy. “Olivia?” she called again, striding into the corridor. She moved along the aisle, ripping open the curtains which covered the other cubicles. In one, a half-naked elderly woman gasped and tried to cover herself. Ellie mumbled an apology, barely noticing.

One after the other, she furiously tore back the curtains of every cubicle.
Nothing.

“Olivia? Oh, my God! Olivia? Where are you?
Olivia
?” Her heart pounded. The sound of it echoed in her ears, surpassed only by the panic that thudded through her veins.

She stumbled back to the entry way and spied a young saleswoman. Clutching hold of the girl’s arm, she cried, “Did you see her? My daughter? She’s ten years old? About this high?” Ellie held her hand up near her chest.

The saleswoman frowned and shook her head back and forth, her gaze darting around in confusion. Desperation flooded through her.

“There were two of them. Two girls. You must have seen them go in. They came right past here. Blond hair, brown eyes. They both look fairly similar. They came in here to try on swimsuits. You must have seen them,” Ellie uttered, more as a plea than a question.

“Right, now I remember. They went into room three.”

Ellie’s heart skipped a beat. “One of them came out. Did you see where she went?”

The woman shook her head. “No, I had to return some stock to the shelves. I was only gone five minutes though. Are you sure they’re not still in there?”

Icy fingers clutched at Ellie’s heart. She grabbed the woman by both arms and shook her, knowing she was frightening her, but unable to stop.

“She’s
not
in there. My daughter’s not in there. Her friend’s in there and she’s bleeding from a head wound. You need to call an ambulance. The police. Hurry! Something’s happened. Someone’s taken my baby!”

Releasing the saleswoman and shoving her out of the way, Ellie bolted through the store screaming Olivia’s name. Years of training dissolved into mindless panic and she was beyond thinking rationally.

People stared at her, their eyes clouding with equal parts concern and curiosity. Confusion, fear and panic overwhelmed her. Her gaze snapped back and forth, searching, searching, searching…

Nothing.
A wild keening sound started at the back of her throat and ripped through her mouth. With her legs no longer able to support her, she collapsed in a heap on the floor.

CHAPTER TWO

Saturday, January 27, 9:50 a.m.

Detective Senior Sergeant Lane Black of the Chatswood Local Area Command scanned the half dozen new emails loading onto his computer screen and sighed. The usual assortment of jokes forwarded at least fifty times filled his inbox. He deleted the emails without giving them a second thought and wondered for the umpteenth time why people never bothered to write personal messages anymore. The jokes had been sent from various colleagues and friends—some of whom he hadn’t seen for over a year or more and yet, they hadn’t taken the time to type even a line or two of greeting or news.

He swallowed his irritation, knowing that it had become quicker and easier to simply forward the jokes rather than actually taking the time to write something meaningful. That’s was just the way it was. Every day, technology made it easier to communicate and yet people seemed to be saying less and less.

An email from Katie Leeds, a detective stationed at the nearby station of Artarmon, caught his eye. He’d taken her out a few times and was he still gauging his interest. She was keen, but he wasn’t the kind of guy that did commitment. The premature death of his father had seen to that. He never wanted to put himself in a position where he could be forced to abandon someone who relied on him. Besides, he still didn’t know if he wanted the complication of getting involved with a work colleague.

Not that Katie worked for the State Crime Command, like he did, but the police who worked the streets of Sydney’s northern suburbs were a close bunch and frequently socialized together. If things turned sour, his life could get difficult.

Still, it might be worth it. Katie was definitely a looker, with killer legs and bumps and curves in all the right places. Teamed with a smart mouth that hinted at a keen intelligence, she was pretty much the full package. A rare find, indeed. And yet, there was something holding him back. Refusing to contemplate that further, he clicked on her email and read the contents.

Saturday night, eight o’clock. Your place or mine?

Blood rushed to his groin. His cock hardened. Tugging his keyboard toward him, he replied with a single word.

Mine.

“Lane, got a minute? You too, Jett. My office.”

Lane stared at the retreating back of Detective Superintendent Michael Collins. His boss was always taciturn. It wasn’t the handful of words he’d spoken that snagged Lane’s attention. It was the way he’d said them. And the look on his face.
Something was up.

He shot his partner a questioning look. Detective Jett Craigdon pushed back the hank of black hair that had fallen across his forehead and shrugged, looking as mystified as Lane felt. Pushing away from their desks, the men made their way to the boss’ office.

Michael’s face was grave. “Emergency call just came in. Young girl’s gone missing from Myers at Westfield in Chatswood. Kid’s clothing department. Level three. Ambulance is on its way.”

Lane frowned. “Ambulance?”

“Yeah, another kid was injured in the attack.”

“We got any names?” Jett asked.

“Brittany Dowton and Olivia Munro.”

Jett pursed his lips. “Dowton. Any relation to the State Attorney General?”

Michael gave a brisk nod. “His daughter. But it appears she wasn’t the target.”

A cold feeling of foreboding stole into Lane’s veins. “Who’s Olivia Munro?”

“She’s the daughter of Clayton Munro.”

Lane’s heart sank, but he had to make sure. “The criminal profiler from the Australian Federal Police?”

Michael’s lips compressed. “Afraid so. Been with the AFP more than a decade. Relocated to Sydney earlier this month. One of the finest profilers in the country. More than that, he’s a damned nice bloke.”

Lane’s head spun. “He’s a friend of mine, along with his wife, Ellie, and his brother, Tom. Tom’s a police negotiator based in North Sydney,” he muttered.

Michael looked grim. “Both of you get on over there, ask questions. Given the people involved, as of now, we’re treating it as a kidnapping at best.” He paused and eyed them solemnly. “At worst, an act of terrorism.”

* * *

Lane tapped the steering wheel of his unmarked police vehicle and waited for the traffic to clear. Even with his lights and siren blazing, the Saturday morning traffic remained obstinately heavy. A car accelerated beside him, blocking his path and he bit back a savage curse.

“Easy, partner. We don’t want to arrive in pieces.”

With compressed lips, Lane tossed a sideways glance toward Jett who filled the passenger seat with his bulk.

“I’d be happy just to arrive. Did you see that asshole? What the hell are we coming to when lights and a siren don’t even make an impact?” He shook his head in wordless disgust.

Jett turned to stare out of the window. “Do we know who else is at the scene? Has it been secured?”

“The boss said a couple of general duty officers responded to the call. They should be there already. Let’s hope they’ve done their job.”

Swinging into the bus terminal situated on the lower level of the shopping mall, Lane pulled up alongside the curb. He flung off his seatbelt and climbed out of the car, heading toward Westfield at a jog, Jett right behind him.