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

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.

  * * *

  Lane caught sight of Ellie Munro, seated near the change rooms of the children’s department and moved quickly toward her. She turned and spied him approaching and leaped to her feet. Racing to his side, she grabbed his sleeve.

  “Oh, thank God! Lane, you have to help me. Someone’s taken my baby. Someone’s taken Olivia!”

  Despite her years of police training and more than her fair share of horrifying experiences, Ellie was ashen. Black rivulets of mascara ran down her cheeks. Her breath came fast. Panic clouded her eyes.

  Lane fought back the urge to hold her. Though she was the wife of his friend, right now, she was a witness and he was the lead investigator. As gently as he could, he removed his arm from her grasp and led her back to the chair she’d vacated. A young female store clerk stood nearby, wringing her hands.

  Jett came up beside him and murmured, “The paramedics have already taken Brittany Dowton to Royal North Shore Hospital. We’ll have to speak with her there.”

  Lane frowned. “They didn’t waste time. Is she all right?”

  “Yeah, apparently she’s conscious but she has a nasty graze on her forehead. They’re taking her in for observation. Given who she is—”

  “Of course. They’d rather play it safe. I guess that’s understandable.” Lane indicated Ellie with his chin. “That’s Ellie Munro, Olivia’s mother. See if you can round up any staff members that were in the vicinity at the time the girl disappeared. You never know who might have seen something. I’d start with that young girl over there.”

  He looked toward the young store clerk who had remained standing near Ellie’s chair. “And get someone to locate the security vision.”

  “Sure thing.” Jett moved away and tugged a notebook out of his jacket pocket. Lane drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, steeling himself for what was to come. He walked back to Ellie and kneeled beside her. Taking her hands in his, he gave them a reassuring squeeze.

  “Ellie, you need to take some deep breaths and listen to me. Have you called Clayton?” Her gaze lowered and she nodded.

  “I take it he’s on his way?”

  “Yes, yes of course. He’s been at home with the boys. I-I was supposed to be taking Olivia shopping.”

  Her voice caught on the last word. Lane felt for her, but right now he had a job to do.

  “Ellie, I need to know everything. Everything you saw. Everything you heard. Can you tell me?”

  She stared down at her hands where they were clenched in her lap, and finally nodded.

  “Get out of my way! Where the hell are they?”

  Ellie’s head snapped up and her eyes widened in distress. Clayton Munro stormed toward them, his eyes dark with barely concealed panic.

  Ellie slowly came to her feet. Lane stepped forward and held out his hand in somber greeting. Clayton shook Lane’s hand, his expression grim. “Lane. Thank Christ you’re here.”

  Lane nodded in acknowledgement and looked from him to Ellie. She’d moved a short distance away and now had her arms folded across her chest, her gaze pinned to the floor. Nervous tension radiated from her in waves.

  Glancing back at Clayton, Lane cleared his throat and directed his first question to Ellie. “I have to ask you what happened. I need you to tell me every detail you remember.”

  He moved closer to her and tugged out his notebook. Without warning, Clayton turned on her.

  “See, this is what I don’t get. How can you lose a child on a shopping trip? For Christ sake, how does that happen?”

  Ellie shook her head and pushed her fist against her mouth. Lane gaped in surprise. Tom had hinted the two of them were having difficulties, but the confronting anger in Clayton’s eyes came as a shock. Fear made people react in extraordinary ways, but Clayton was a trained police officer, with years of experience. He ought to know better than to let his emotions take control. Lane cleared his throat, a little nervous at the thought of what he was going to have to do.

  “Ellie, I’d like you to have a seat and take some time to think about what you saw. It’s very important you think about everything you remember, no matter how insignificant. I’m going to give you a few moments alone while I talk to Clayton. Is that all right?”

  Ellie nodded, her eyes wide and uncertain. The instinctive urge to offer her comfort rose up inside him again, but he resolutely pushed it away and focused on what had to be done. He led Clayton a short distance away and took advantage of a wide rack of clothing to muffle their conversation.

  “Talk to me, Clayton. What’s going on?”

  Clayton paced the short confines of the aisle beside them, anger apparent in every line of his body. Running a hand through his disheveled, blond hair, he groaned aloud his frustration.

  “It’s Ellie. She and Olivia haven’t been getting along. They’ve been arguing about the stupidest things every minute of the day. Every time I turn around, they’re at each other. I had no idea it had gotten to this; that Ellie couldn’t even be bothered to watch out for her.”

  Lane frowned. “That seems a bit harsh, mate. You can’t possibly believe Ellie has anything to do with her disappearance? Besides, the last few times I saw Olivia, she wasn’t making things easy.”

  Clayton cursed savagely. “She’s ten years old, Lane. You can hardly expect her to act with the maturity of an adult. That’s Ellie’s job.”

  “From what I saw last week when you were over at Tom’s, it was Olivia who was the one pushing away. All she talked to me about was her dead mother.”

  Clayton closed his eyes. His lips thinned.

  “Does Olivia know Lisa committed suicide?”

  Clayton turned on him, his eyes blazing. “Of course not! How the fuck could I tell her something like that? She idolizes her mother!”

  Lane forced himself to remain calm. “Her mother’s dead.”

  “So?”

  “One day, she’ll find out how it happened.”

  “Not from me.”

  Drawing in a deep breath, Lane exhaled slowly and opened his notebook to a fresh page. “When Ellie called you, did she say anything about what happened?”

  Clayton shook his head abruptly. “Just that they were in the swimwear department and she’d argued with Olivia about what kind of swimsuit she could have. Olivia went to the change rooms with her friend, Brittany Dowton.”

  “Brittany’s been taken to the hospital.” He held up his hand to ward off the questions he saw in Clayton’s eyes. “She’s fine. A knock to the head. They’ve taken her in as a precautionary measure.”

  “Thank God for that. David Dowton would have my balls if anything happened to his daughter.”

  “I’ll talk to her as soon as I can and find out what she knows. Let’s keep going. What else did Ellie tell you?”

  Clayton turned away and resumed his pacing. “Ellie says she waited outside the change rooms. The first time she knew something was wrong was when she went in to check on the girls and found Brittany unconscious on the floor. There was no sign of Olivia.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Yeah, that’s it. I called the neighbors and asked them to watch the boys for me and then I hightailed it over here.”

  Lane glanced across the top of the clothing rack to where Ellie sat hunched over the chair. Her face was drawn and pale, her eyes red and swollen. Turning back to Clayton, he noticed the tension in his friend’s jaw and the anger that still lingered in his eyes.

  Lane’s gut tightened. He hated to see them so at odds with each other. He’d known Clayton’s older brother, Tom, for years. The two of them were stationed in neighboring Local Area Commands in Sydney. He’d spen
t many a night on the couch at Tom and his wife Lily’s, recovering after a big night out.

  It was through Tom that Lane had met some of Tom’s brothers, including Clayton. As one of the country’s top criminal profilers, Clayton was often seconded to assist some of the most difficult State investigations and had usually stayed with Tom during his visits to Sydney.

  Although Clayton’s first wife had died before Lane met her, he still recalled how shattered his friend’s brother had been and how concerned the Munro family had been for Clayton’s welfare.

  He’d also been privy to Clayton’s relationship with Ellie Cooper. Tom had shared the news of his brother’s marriage to the New South Wales detective with unbridled joy. At last, his brother had come out from under the black cloud that had followed him since his first wife’s death and had learned to love again.

  It was something straight out of the movies and far too sappy for Lane to get excited about, but it had made his friend happy and had put a smile back on Clayton’s face and for that, he was grateful to the woman who’d made it happen.

  The obvious strain between them was so different from their usual happy family unit—tensions with Olivia aside. He was used to watching Clayton and Ellie interact with each other and had felt envious over their closeness, their ability to sense the other’s needs without a word spoken.

  He’d thought that kind of thing existed in the realm of fantasy, to be found only between the covers of sappy romance books, but he’d witnessed it himself and had come to the conclusion that it not only existed, but was worth waiting for.

  But now wasn’t the time to be wasting thoughts on things like that. A little girl was missing. Every hour she stayed away, lessened their chances of finding her alive. He cleared his throat and spoke again.

  “I’m going to talk to Ellie. I’d prefer it if you stayed here, out of the way. I need her to remember everything she can think of. With you standing over her, glowering and ready to bite her head off any minute, she’s likely to forget. You don’t want us to miss something important.”

  Anger flared again in Clayton’s eyes and his fists clenched. He opened his mouth as if to protest. Lane stared at him, hard. Clayton’s mouth closed and he turned away. Spinning on his heel, Lane made his way back to Ellie’s side. Kneeling again, he flipped over to a fresh page in his notebook.