The Ransom (The Munro Family Series Book 7) Read online

  THE RANSOM

  Book Seven of the Munro Family Series

  Chris Taylor

  Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive…

  When Ellie Cooper married Clayton Munro six years ago, she hoped his daughter Olivia would accept her into her life, but despite all of Ellie’s efforts, the ten-year-old has rejected her at every turn. When Olivia is kidnapped while shopping with Ellie, she’s beside herself with guilt. To add to her devastation, Clayton’s blaming her for not taking proper care of his daughter.

  Detective Senior Sergeant Lane Black of the Chatswood State Crime Command is put in charge of the case. A child is missing and time is of the essence. To further complicate matters, the New South Wales Attorney General’s youngest daughter was present at the time of the kidnapping. The girls look very much alike. Could it be a case of mistaken identity? Could the abduction be politically motivated?

  When interviewing the Attorney General, Lane’s disquieted by the man’s nervousness. His oldest daughter, Zara Dowton, is also on edge. Immediately drawn to her exotic beauty, Lane does his best to remain unmoved and impartial, despite his body’s urgings.

  What are the Dowtons hiding…and why?

  This book is dedicated to Kylie Griffin, who from my very earliest days, encouraged and supported me in my dream to be an author and as always, to my sexy, real life hero, my husband, Linden.

  The Munro Family Series

  (in order)

  THE PROFILER

  (Book One—Clayton and Ellie)

  THE INVESTIGATOR

  (Book Two—Riley and Kate)

  THE PREDATOR

  (Book Three—Brandon and Alex)

  THE BETRAYAL

  (Book Four—Declan and Chloe)

  THE DECEPTION

  (Book Five—Will and Savannah)

  THE NEGOTIATOR

  (Book Six—Andy and Cally)

  THE CHRISTMAS VIGIL

  (A Munro Family Series Novella)

  THE RANSOM

  (Book Seven—Lane and Zara)

  THE DEFENDANT

  (Book Eight—Chase and Josie)

  THE SHOOTING

  (Book Nine—Tom and Lily)

  THE MAKER

  (Book Ten—Bryce and Chanel)

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  Read the back cover blurb of each of the Munro Family stories by visiting Chris Taylor’s website at: http://www.christaylorauthor.com.au/about/books

  PROLOGUE

  Sydney, Australia

  Saturday, January 13, 11:45 p.m.

  Rivulets of cold sweat tracked a path down the sides of her head and leaked into her eyes, ruining her carefully applied mascara. The salt of her perspiration burned into her pupils, as did the bright, round flashlight that shone in her face. Her tightly bound hands ached, both from fear and a lack of blood flow.

  Despite the physical discomfort, she eyeballed the man who loomed over her with a confidence she was far from feeling. “Tying me up, Draco? Is that really necessary?” She followed her truculent tone with a well-rehearsed pout.

  To her chagrin, he remained entirely unaffected. If anything, his expression got harder. “Where. Is. My. Money?”

  Each word was bitten off and spat at her, accompanied by the vile stench of breath rank with nicotine and a lifetime of dental neglect. He leaned over, his face inches from hers. Anger reverberated off him in palpable waves. She no longer recognized him.

  “I’ll-I’ll get it, Draco. I promise,” she stammered and silently cursed the fear in her voice.

  The slap snapped her head backward and she gasped. Her cheek erupted into flames. She bit her lip and stifled a sob. It could have been worse. Much worse.

  Draco eyed her with contempt, his upper lip turning up in a snarl. “Two weeks.”

  “That’s not enough time,” she protested. “We’re talking about a million dollars.”

  “Two weeks. Or else.”

  CHAPTER ONE

  Two weeks later

  Sydney, Australia

  Saturday, January 27, 9.35 a.m.

  The Westfield Mall in Sydney’s leafy northern suburb of Chatswood appeared ahead of Ellie and Olivia Munro and Olivia’s friend Brittany Dowton as they made their way on foot from the car park. After an unseasonable week of wet weather, the sun had at last made an appearance and the general atmosphere of the mall was light and positive. It was so far removed from the mood between Ellie and her stepdaughter that it took all of the self-control Ellie could muster not to call the scheduled shopping expedition off and come back another time.

  She stared at the stiff retreating back of her stepdaughter and bit back a sigh. The girl might only be ten years old, but already, she’d perfected the sulky pout and could flounce away with all the attitude of a teenager. It was only early, but with Olivia already in a mood, the day promised to be beyond trying.

  As if she could read Ellie’s mind, Olivia came to a sudden halt in front of her and swung around, a mutinous expression on her pretty face.

  “I want more credit on my iTunes account.”

  Ellie bit her lip and curbed her anger, hoping to avoid another eruption of the argument that had begun last night. Drawing in a deep, steady breath, she forced herself to remain calm.

  “Olivia, we’ve already talked about this. We agreed your pocket money would be set at ten dollars a week. And that’s only if you do your jobs,” she added.

  Olivia’s eyes narrowed. She crossed her arms and stared Ellie down. “Ten dollars isn’t enough. I’ve already spent this week’s allowance and I only got it yesterday.”

  “Well, then you might need to learn how to budget, so that it lasts longer.”

  The young girl stamped her foot. Sun glinted off the bling on her silver Havaianas flip flops.

  “None of my friends gets a measly ten dollars a week,” she whined. “Even Brittany gets fifteen.”

  Ellie shot Brittany a look. The girl flushed and averted her gaze.

  “I don’t care what your friends get. Your father and I spoke to you about this last night and again this morning and now you’re raising it for the third time. I don’t want to talk about it again. We’re here to buy you a swimsuit. Summer break’s nearly over. You’re back at school next week and you’re going to need it. Can we please just get on with it?”

  Without waiting for a reply, Ellie pushed her way past the girls and headed toward the entryway to the mall. Olivia called out to her, raising her voice above the hubbub of the crowd around them.

  “Ellie, I can’t download any more music off iTunes until you pay me again. I have to have the new One Direction song. I just have to!”

  Grinding her teeth together, Ellie ignored the use of her first name and wished she could be as dismissive of Olivia’s rudeness as Ellie’s husband, Clayton, was. Determined to remain unruffled, Ellie swung around to face the recalcitrant child.

  “No, Olivia. I told you last night. You’ll have to wait.”

  “No, Olivia. I told you last night,” Olivia mimicked in a sing-song voice, rolling her eyes as she did so.

  Fury erupted in Ellie’s chest and gushed through her veins. Her hands clenched into fists in an effort not to lash out and connect with her stepdaughter’s smug face. She’d never struck the girl, ever. But she’d never felt such an uncontrollable urge to do so, either.

  Keeping a tight rein on her temper, Ellie turned away from the girls and forced her feet forward. How on earth was she ever going to survive Olivia’s teenage years, when hormones would
be running rampant around the girl’s body and she actually had an excuse to be a bitch?

  Ellie bit back a sigh and prayed Clayton would be up to the task, or at least show her a little more support than he had in the past twelve months. They’d been married nearly six years. She’d known from the outset there would be some adjustments. Olivia had been four when Clayton and Ellie married and even though she was the only mother Olivia had known, Ellie hadn’t deluded herself into thinking it was going to be easy.

  Until Ellie’s arrival on the scene, Olivia had been the center of her father’s world. Ellie had been acutely aware of the need to ease her way into the little girl’s life and had been determined to win her over.

  It had been tough, but over time, Olivia had come to grudgingly tolerate her. With Clayton’s love and support, they’d managed to form a fragile bond, but even after six years, Ellie still felt a distance. Lately, it had become a chasm.

  Living with a ten-year-old who could barely bring herself to speak to her stepmother with even a modicum of courtesy was taking its toll. The days when Ellie wished she were still a detective for the New South Wales Police Service were becoming more and more frequent and that scared her. She hated to admit it, but she was almost on the verge of giving up trying to connect with the child.

  She wished she could talk to Clayton, like she used to in the early years of their marriage. Back when she could count on him to be there for her, to understand and care about her needs and to want to do something to help. But lately, he’d been drifting away, physically and emotionally, and she didn’t know what to do about it.

  A little over a month earlier, Clayton’s father, Duncan Munro, a former District Court judge, had suffered a ruptured brain aneurysm. For more than twenty-four hours, he’d been in a coma and no one had known when or if he’d wake up, but even the hospitalization of his father hadn’t gone far in bringing them closer and it seemed they were both at a loss with how best to deal with Olivia.

  It was Clayton who’d suggested the move to Sydney. Ellie had jumped at the opportunity to return to her hometown. Both of them hoped that the change of city would be good for Olivia. The girl had lived in Canberra her entire life. Sydney would be a fresh start—a place for new memories, new experiences untainted by whatever memories she thought she had about her mother.

  They’d moved straight after Christmas, but if anything, Olivia’s belligerence had gotten worse. Ellie could only hope that Olivia’s budding friendship with the sweet and accommodating Brittany Dowton would make a difference in her attitude. So far though, it hadn’t happened.

  Ellie sighed and tried to push the depressing thoughts away. The automatic doors of the shopping mall slid open on a whisper of sound at her approach. Stepping inside, she was enveloped by the temperature-controlled air conditioned comfort of the mall and sighed again, this time in relief. With a deep breath, she turned to wait for the girls. Surly reluctance was evidenced in Olivia’s every step.

  With the girls trailing behind her, Ellie made her way into Myer and headed straight for the swimwear section. Now her goal was to get the shopping expedition over with as quickly as possible. Finding a rack with brightly colored full-piece swimsuits, Ellie chose a couple and turned around to face Olivia.

  “How about these?” she asked, plastering a smile on her face.

  “I want a bikini.”

  Ellie tried not to show her shock—or her anger. “You’re ten years old. I’m not buying you a bikini.”

  Olivia’s bottom lip jutted out and her expression turned sullen. “I want a bikini.”

  “You’re not getting a bikini.” She held up the swimsuits in her hands. “Now, which one of these do you like?”

  Olivia pushed past her without responding and walked over to a nearby rack. After sliding several swimsuits out of the way, she selected a tiny, hot pink bikini. Smiling triumphantly, she lifted it up and waved it before Ellie.

  “This is the one I want.”

  Fury once again flooded Ellie’s veins. “I’m not buying you that, Olivia,” she ground out.

  “Then I’ll get Daddy to buy it,” the girl said flippantly.

  “No, you won’t.”

  “You’re not my mother. You can’t tell me what to do.”

  Ellie gasped and tried to ignore the hurt her daughter’s words caused. “I’m the only mother you have and yes, I can tell you what to do.” Taking hold of the girl’s arm, she steered her in the direction of the change rooms. Shoving the swimsuits she’d selected into Olivia’s arms, she said, “Go and try these on. Now.”

  “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.