The Ransom (The Munro Family Series Book 7) Page 6

  “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.”

  “Good idea. It might give us the break we need. I’ll get right on it.”

  “Thanks, Jett. I appreciate it. Make sure you throw in a few extra headshots so that we don’t get any hassles when this thing goes to court. I hate it when good evidence gets tossed out on a technicality.”

  “I’m hearing you, mate.”

  Lane reached for the phone. “I’ll call Clayton and Ellie and give them an update.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Saturday, January 27, 1:45 p.m.

  Clayton stared out the window of his study and tried to ignore the dread that clawed at his gut. Every minute, every hour that crawled past was another hour they’d lost in their search for his baby.

  The technicians had arrived and had made short work of setting up their equipment. Over cups of black coffee and murmured conversation, they manned the phones in the kitchen.

  The sound of muted laughter in the backyard beyond his study window drew his attention. The afternoon sun bounced off the swing set where his young sons played. Ellie stood nearby, staring off into the distance, her face stark with uncertainty and barely controlled panic.

  His heart ached. He hated to see her so troubled, but he seemed powerless to help her or offer her comfort. He was holding onto his own senses with an ever loosening grip. He had nothing to give her. The anger he’d felt earlier had long since dissipated, but he still couldn’t comprehend how she hadn’t seen anything. Or, at the very least, heard something during the abduction.

  From what he understood, Brittany had received a reasonable injury to her head. Surely the girl had screamed? Or, at the very least, called out? And yet Ellie remained adamant she’d heard nothing.

  It was no secret Ellie and Olivia had been butting heads. His daughter was growing up; she was struggling with the rapidly approaching onset of puberty. He guessed most girls got into arguments with their mothers when hormones were running rampant and they were struggling to come to terms with the transition from child to young woman.

  For some reason, in the last year or two, Olivia’s loss of her biological mother had become more and more important to her. She’d barely mentioned Lisa over the last six years and then suddenly it seemed she slipped his first wife’s name into every other conversation. He could only assume his daughter was lashing out at Ellie because she represented the mother she would never have; the mother she couldn’t have—the one who had given her life.

  He didn’t condone Olivia’s brattish behavior. It was rude and disrespectful and it was hurtful to the woman who loved her as her own. He realized, that as a family, they needed some intervention. He hadn’t told Ellie, but he’d determined last month over Christmas while he’d been with his family in Grafton, to arrange for Olivia to see a counselor.

  And then there was the other side effect of Olivia’s increasing obsession with Lisa. Her repeated outbursts stoked the embers of the long-dormant guilt he thought he’d buried forever. His first wife had swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills while he’d been at work. The knowledge that he’d failed her had tortured him for years afterwards because in the months after the birth of his daughter, he’d failed to recognize that his wife was suffering from postpartum depression. He’d failed to realize she needed help. He’d failed her when she needed him most. And then, it was too late…

  When Ellie came into his life, he’d been wracked with guilt, but her understanding nature and kind and gentle loving had prised open the claws around his heart and had lightened the burden of his shame. He’d never dreamed he’d be happy again, let alone fall in love.

  And yet, he had and he loved Ellie more than he ever thought possible. He’d done his best to largely ignore Olivia’s occasional eruptions or rude snipes at Ellie. Until recently he’d refused to acknowledge it could be more than a passing phase, but it seemed the last few weeks had been more than difficult. When his daughter begged him to allow her to enlarge a photo of Lisa to hang on her wall, he’d been startled at her request, but had reluctantly agreed.

  Mulling it over later, in the privacy of his study, he’d acknowledged once again that there were several signs over the last year that Olivia needed help. Once again, he’d determined to do something about it, as soon as he found the time. But the time hadn’t come and the appointment hadn’t been made and now his little girl was missing. Pain speared through him. Once again, he’d failed someone he loved: This time, it was his daughter.

  With a moan of despair, he clenched his fists and turned away from the window. Dragging in a breath, he tried to ease the tightness in his chest. The phone in his pocket rang and he snatched it like a lifeline.

  “Clayton Munro.”

  “Clay, it’s Lane. How are you holding up?”

  “Yeah, you know,” he managed.

  “I take it there hasn’t been a ransom demand?”

  “No, not yet.”

  “Well, I may have something.”

  Listening to Lane’s explanation about the tattoo and its links to the Redbacks, Clayton frowned and shook his head. “Lane, it’s been more than two years since I had anything to do with biker gangs. Even then, I was involved in a sting against the Hornets up on the northern beaches, not the
Redbacks, close to home. We both know there’s no love lost between them. It doesn’t make sense that the Redbacks would seek retribution on behalf of a rival gang.”

  “I agree. But we can’t ignore the connection. According to Brittany, the man who attacked her had a distinctive tattoo on his left hand. Out of the five hits I’ve had on similar tattoos, three of them came back to members of the Redbacks. We know they have a substantial number of members in Canberra.”

  Lane paused and took a breath. “On top of that,” he continued, “in the security footage we obtained from Myer, we’ve managed to locate a man entering the store shortly before the attack that matches the description given by Brittany. He’s dressed in the standard biker gear.”

  Clayton’s voice sharpened. “Have you identified him?”

  “No, we’re still working on it, but hopefully it won’t take us long. This is the strongest lead we’ve had. The AG gave me some information that supports the idea that the perpetrator could be a member of an outlaw motorcycle gang.”

  “Why, what did he tell you? Just because someone’s wearing a leather jacket doesn’t make them a biker.”

  “You’re right. What you don’t know is that the AG received a threatening phone call last night. Although he couldn’t identify the caller, the gist of the threat related to his recent quest to tighten controls on these gangs. The papers have been full of it. It’s no surprise it’s pissed some of them off.”

  “Fuck.” Clayton mulled over the implications. A few moments later, he said, “Do you believe him?”

  “About the phone call?”

  “Yes.”

  Lane sighed. “I have no reason not to.”

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  “It’s as good as I can give you right now. Dowton’s been more than cooperative. Until he proves himself untrustworthy, believing him is all we can do and you have to admit, it makes sense.”

  “Maybe. What happens now?”

  “We’re putting together a photo line-up to show Brittany which will include all five of our tattoo-wearing suspects. With a bit of luck, she might identify one of them. It might help us narrow down our search for the abductor.”

  “Call me as soon as you know anything. I want to be involved as much as I can. If you send me what you have, I can start putting together a profile. Something. Anything. This sitting around, just waiting, is killing me.”

  There was a pause on the other end of the line, almost as if Lane could feel the weight of Clayton’s pain. And then Lane spoke again, his voice low but full of feeling.

  “I understand, Clay and I appreciate your offer, but we need you right where you are. You want to be there if a call comes through for the ransom.” Lane paused again. “And you need to be there for Ellie.”

  Clayton’s shoulders slumped on a heavy sigh and he collapsed into the nearest chair. “You’re right, Lane, and thanks. For everything.”

  “We’ll find her, Clay. We’ve done it before.”

  Memories washed over Clayton and he bit his lip against a surge of emotion. Three years earlier, Tom’s daughter, Cassie had been abducted. Thankfully, she’d been found in less than twenty-four hours, alive and relatively unharmed.

  Lane was right. He had to trust the police. They’d done it once; they could do it again. They could find his daughter and bring her back to him, safe and sound.

  After ending the call, he immediately dialed his brother’s number. Tom would come over and help him. Tom would know what to do.

  * * *

  Zara tenderly brushed the hair off her sister’s forehead, her heart filling with love and gratitude. For all that her heart ached for Olivia’s parents, she was selfishly glad Brittany had escaped unharmed. Zara’s relationship with Brittany’s mother might be less than ideal, but she’d never felt anything but an overwhelming sense of love for and from her baby sister.

  From the moment Allison and her father returned home with the squalling bundle wrapped securely in a fluffy, pink-and-white blanket, Zara had been in love. Most fifteen-year-olds were too self-absorbed to notice or care about a newcomer to the family, but for Zara, the feelings generated inside her by the tiny, red-faced infant with the swirl of velvet-soft golden curls couldn’t have been more different.

  That first night, alone with Brittany in the nursery, she’d vowed to protect her baby sister with everything she had. It was a promise she’d meant and had kept over the past ten years and although the little girl was now growing up and less inclined to seek out her much-older sister, their bond was as strong as ever.

  Beneath the quiet stroking of Zara’s hand, Brittany stirred. Her eyes blinked open and for one moment, they were unclouded by the day’s events. Zara watched as realization slowly dawned and the light in the young girl’s eyes dimmed. She reached blindly for Zara’s hand and clutched it tightly to her face.

  “It’s all right, baby. I’m here. It’s all right,” Zara whispered in a lulling tone.

  Brittany quieted under Zara’s soothing hand. After awhile, the young girl drifted back off to sleep. Zara sighed. She got to her feet and stretched her arms above her head. They’d cramped from being in the same position for so long. Walking over to the window, she peered down at the parking bay below. Had it only been an hour or so since she’d watched Lane walk away? It seemed like a lifetime ago.

  Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t immediately notice the boy who pedaled a bicycle down the driveway. He’d passed the bed of begonias and the rose display before she spied his slight figure. She frowned and wondered at the reason for his visit.

  The long hours she put in at work precluded her from knowing much about the children inhabiting the neighbourhood, though properties in Point Piper had remained in the same families for generations. She thought she knew most of the people in the vicinity but the boy who jumped off the bike and ran toward the front door wasn’t familiar.

  Perhaps he was a friend of Brittany’s? From what Zara could tell from this distance, he looked about the same age. She glanced back toward the bed and was pleased to see her sister’s chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. It wouldn’t do for Emily or Mrs Harrow to disturb her sister with a knock on the bedroom door.

  Zara strode across the carpeted floor and slipped quietly out of the room. She eased the door closed and then hurried down the stairs. She found the puzzled housekeeper in the entryway. The woman held a folded piece of paper.

  “Mrs Harrow, was that a visitor for Brittany?”

  The woman turned in surprise. “No, at least, I don’t think so. I’ve never seen the boy in my life. He knocked on the door and handed me this. He told me to give it to the Attorney General.”

  Zara stepped forward. “Here. I’ll see that he gets it.” Taking the paper from the housekeeper, she turned and headed toward her father’s office. When Mrs Harrow disappeared in the direction of the kitchen, Zara opened the note.

  Scanning the letter, her blood ran cold. Fear turned her feet to lead. It was like her life had become a slow motion movie and a horror one, at that. The words of the note seared into her brain.

  Finding her breath at last, she screamed for her father.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Saturday, January 27, 2.53 p.m.

  Lane turned both the lights and siren on inside his unmarked police car and sped through the early afternoon traffic. Jett rode beside him, hanging on while Lane once again negotiated his way across the Harbour Bridge and headed toward the eastern suburbs.When they turned into New South Head Road and started climbing, Jett glanced across at him. “How much further?”

  “We should be there in about seven minutes.”

  “What did Dowton say?”

  “Not much. Just that he’d received a ransom note and we needed to get over there. Pronto.” Lane grimaced. “It looks as though he was right about his daughter being the target. The kidnapper snatched the wrong kid.”

  Jett shook his head, frowning. “Shit, what a mess. I guess we’ll get that joint t
askforce, after all.”

  Lane nodded grimly. “Yep, now that we know for sure the AG’s involved, we don’t really have a choice. The boss was making the calls to the AFP as we left. No doubt the whole thing will be in full swing by the time we get back.”

  “Did you get a chance to take a look at the identikit photos?”

  “Yeah, thanks for putting it together so fast. Too bad the three Redbacks look so much alike. Skin heads with muscle. All we can do is hope Brittany recognizes one of them.”

  Lane swung the car into Dowton’s street, keeping his foot on the accelerator. The tires squealed in protest. He turned into the paved driveway that led to the Attorney General’s residence and pressed the intercom button. Before he could announce his presence, the imposing double gates opened inward. The two gardeners he’d spotted earlier were no longer in sight. The huge fig trees now cast long afternoon shadows across the driveway. Lane’s gut tightened at the sight, acutely conscious of how much time had elapsed since Olivia disappeared.

  “Wow, this is some kind of hacienda.” Jett’s voice was full of the same surprise and admiration that had filled Lane on his initial visit.

  “Wait until you see inside. The place is full of expensive artwork. The AG told me his old man left him most of the paintings. His father was some hotshot lawyer from the old days. He must have been worth a fortune.”

  Jett whistled low under his breath and continued to take in the impressive property. “I’d like to be able to afford something like this on a government salary.”

  “That makes two of us.” Lane parked the car where he’d left it a few hours earlier and tried to shrug off the feeling of déjà vu. Returning here so soon was a good thing. It meant they were making progress. Besides, a part of him also hoped he’d catch another glimpse of the AG’s beautifully exotic daughter.