Innocent Hostage (14 page)
She rubbed her gritty eyes. Not enough sleep last night. “Stop frigging around, Ingrid, and talk to the man,” she admonished herself. This wasn’t something she could let lie. They had to meet every day so she must try to resolve the issue. She used a pencil to tap through the contacts on her cell phone until she reached Breck’s number. She didn’t know why she was using a pencil. It was as if she were trying to avoid being bitten by his anger.
“Marchant.”
Ingrid took a deep breath. “Breck?”
“Ingrid? I was hoping to come and see you, but things are difficult here.”
What did he mean—difficult? Before she ran out of courage altogether she gabbled, “Breck, I didn’t contact your parents. Please believe me. I—”
“I know, Ingrid. And I’m truly sorry. I went crazy there for a while. It was because we’d just been speaking about my parents and…” He trailed away as if he’d run out of steam.
She breathed a little easier. She was not going to get all self-righteous with a guy who operated under the same rules as she did. “Can you find out who it was?”
“Don’t have to. They said it was Tania. That set the cat among the pigeons.”
“
Tania
?” God, would that woman never cease to plague them?
“Yeah. I’m leaving shortly to talk to the Missing Persons Unit again. My parents will be there too. After that I hope to get Kit back.”
Her heart jumped in her chest. “Back? Someone took him? Breck, what’s happening?”
“Slow down, honey. Take a deep breath.”
Oh, God. Was her anxiety that obvious? So much for trying to sound like Ms. Cool & Efficient. She sounded more like a flake with a meth problem. She took that deep breath. “Sorry. Uh, what’s happening?”
She couldn’t believe what he told her. Kit had been taken away by Child Protection because Breck’s parents had reported that he was unable to cope! And in the middle of all this Tania had reared her head. Breck’s stress levels must be at an all-time high.
“Can I come with you?” she burst out. “I might be able to help.”
“Well…I could use some help in regard to Child Protection, but I don’t think the MPU—”
“Can you pick me up? I have to give instructions to Stella Martin about today’s schedule at school, and then I’m free.”
“See you in twenty minutes,” he said and hung up.
She punched the air with her fist. Yes! He was letting her help him. At last he’d stopped thinking he could do everything himself. In spite of the trouble Breck and Kit were in, Ingrid felt almost euphoric. He was letting her get closer to him.
“Do you want to get closer to him, Ingrid? Do you?” she asked herself in the mirror over the washstand.
“Yes. Yes!” she answered herself. Lord, she must stop talking to herself.
She was still smiling like a Cheshire cat when his SUV drew up outside. Grabbing a wooden puzzle from the stack on her desk, she stuffed it into her bag. Kit would need something to take his mind off the last few days. It had been a wild ride for the poor kid.
“Hi,” she said, bouncing on to the passenger’s seat. She’d scrambled into a change of clothes and put on more makeup than usual. If she was to help Breck by facing down officials, she needed armor. Uh, huh.
Then she got a good look at him. “Did you get any sleep last night?”
He shrugged. “Some, I guess.” The purple crescents under his eyes told another story. He turned off the engine. “Ingrid, I apologize. I apologize for grabbing Kit and running, and for what I said yesterday. But Hell, we’d just been talking about my parents the day before and you’d been saying how all-fired fantastic they are. I arrived home and there they were, standing on the doorstep. I know I was way out of line, but what did you expect me to think?”
“I’d expect you to know I’d contact you first before doing such a thing. I would
never
interfere…” She trailed away. She opened and shut her mouth, feeling herself reddening. Fiddling with her handbag she admitted, “Breck, don’t hate me, but I did
consider it for a few seconds. Then I asked myself how I’d feel if someone phoned
my
parents and I knew I couldn’t do it.”
He gave her a long, considering look, those grey eyes serious and searching, then he leaned forward and turned the engine back on. “Someday you must tell me about your parents.” He flicked a sideways glance at her. “I was…” he seemed to search for a word “…devastated that you’d contacted my parents. It was as if ground I’d thought was solid had slipped away under me.” He cleared his throat. “I thought we—you and I—were at the beginning of a relationship that…” His voice died away.
Ingrid couldn’t bear the uncertain look on his face. She stopped fiddling with her handbag and stretched out a hand to cover his where it clutched the steering wheel with a death grip. “Yes. Yes.”
Looking straight ahead he said, “Yes? Yes?” with just the hint of a smile.
“You know what I mean.”
“I hope so. Ingrid, later we must take some time to talk about us. Something always seems to get in the way.” He sighed. “Right now I have to meet the squad leader of the Missing Persons Unit. Then I hope to be able to see Kit.” He grinned suddenly. “You’re my ace-in-the-hole there. I hope you brought a business card.”
“I brought every damn thing I could think of to impress Child Protection. That’s why my handbag is bulging.”
The grin turned into a chortle. “Your handbag is always bursting with stuff, Ingrid. One of my most vivid recollections of the day Marty held Kit hostage was of you delving inside your bag trying to find something. Since then I’ve sort of got used to it.”
She’d rather his memories of her were more personal, but what the heck. At least he paid enough attention to laugh at her handbags.
At the North Shore police station she was directed to a waiting room while Breck, his parents and their solicitor were ushered into a room filled with whiteboards and charts. The door stood open so she was able to observe Anna and Jeremy Marchant. They nodded to their son as if he was a distant acquaintance, yet their solicitor seemed to be on very friendly terms with Breck. Mr. and Mrs. Marchant hadn’t noticed Ingrid, and Breck had had no time to introduce her. But that was good. She was Breck’s “ace-in-the-hole,” and she was happy to stay out of sight.
At first she heard only the squad leader’s voice. She heard him say in an incredulous tone, “What? Nothing at all?” Then the solicitor spoke at length. Breck slouched in his chair, looking down at his shoes. Mrs. Marchant kept looking at her watch, and Ingrid was reminded of the white rabbit in Alice in Wonderland. Suddenly Jeremy Marchant stood up and waved his hands around, his plummy voice raised. The squad leader spoke sharply to him and he subsided.
Then her heart jolted as Breck turned and beckoned her into the room. Oh, no. She’d hoped to avoid this. They were both still too raw over the telephone call to his parents. She’d much prefer just to help him with Child Protection. Then she saw his anxious frown and stood. He needed her now. Raising her chin, she walked into the room.
Everyone stared. She felt like an exhibit in a glass case at the science museum.
“Sit here, Ingrid. Would you tell Sergeant Raker how you know Tania,” Breck said softly.
She sat down next to him with Mrs. Marchant on her left-hand side. Anna and Jeremy Marchant peered at her surreptitiously as if trying to establish her credentials. Ingrid inhaled deeply to calm herself and was assailed with a strong perfume. Chloe. Mrs. Marchant and her ex-daughter-in-law used the same perfume. Ingrid edged a little closer to Breck. He took her hand and clasped it tightly. It felt as if he was trying to anchor her to her seat so she couldn’t escape. Then he whispered, “It’s okay,” and her tension eased.
“How long have you known Tania Kerr, Ms. Rowland?”
And so it began. But it wasn’t nearly as bad as she’d anticipated. Senior Sergeant Raker was very experienced at setting people at ease. Amused, she wanted to tell him, “You don’t have to try so hard to be nice. I’ll answer the questions anyway.” Gradually he coaxed out of her the history of her acquaintance with Tania. Most of it. There were a couple of things she didn’t tell him.
Then he sat back in his seat. “Well, Ms. Rowland—of all the people in this room, including Breck, you’ve known Tania longest. My job is to establish whether Tania has disappeared of her own free will, or whether she was coerced into running away. The fact that she’s taken her children with her seems to suggest her disappearance is voluntary.”
“Yes, but one of the children is not hers,” Ingrid muttered.
Raker stared at her blankly. “Not hers? Then whose is it? Which one are we talking about, the little girl or the little boy?”
“The little girl, Pixie. Pixie is Marty Kerr’s daughter from his first marriage. I only know that because I used to teach Pixie.”
“So you would have had access to the background particulars of the children. I see.” Raker nodded. “Look, Ms. Rowland, I think we need to spend more time with both you and Breck.” He turned to the Marchants. “Thank you for your time. I wish you’d contacted us sooner—a lot sooner.”
Breck’s parents bristled with annoyance. Ingrid had the impression they were used to chewing people out, but were not used to being chewed out themselves, no matter how gently.
Breck stood. He looked his father in the eye. “Have you withdrawn that order yet?”
Ingrid stood too. She intended to add her own ten cents’ worth.
“It’s okay. It’s done,” the solicitor said.
“Thank you.” Breck wasn’t thanking his parents; he was thanking Mr. Kelly.
“Tell me,
Dad
. What happened to Natasha?”
Mrs. Marchant looked quickly at her husband, and then looked away again.
Jeremy Marchant stared deadpan at his son. “Natasha who?”
Ingrid felt Breck draw in is breath and for a moment she thought he might strike his father.
“Natasha Zhukov, the cleaning lady who turned out to be a teacher.”
For a second, Jeremy Marchant look startled. “A
teacher
?” Then he recovered. “No idea who you’re talking about.” Then he snapped his fingers. “I remember. You used to sit in the kitchen with her. A witless, fat Russian woman. God knows. One day she was there, the next day she was gone. You know what cleaners are like.”
Ingrid wondered. In spite of Jeremy’s assumed casualness, there was a cagey wariness in his attitude. And Mrs. Marchant looked downright desperate.
Breck and Ingrid stayed where they were while his parents and the solicitor left the room. Mr. and Mrs. Marchant did not say goodbye to Breck. For a moment Ingrid saw disillusion on his face as his gaze followed them from the room. Then he seemed to clamp down on his emotions and his expression returned to its usual tight control.
“Let’s get down to it,” Raker said.
****
An hour later Raker had sucked them dry of every skerrick of information he could glean. At first, Ingrid was startled when Breck confessed to Raker about his illegal visit to the Kerr house, but she realized he had no choice if the investigation was to progress.
However Raker didn’t turn a whisker. “Thanks. You’ve given me some ideas to run with. Especially that number plate. Goes without saying that if either of you hear from Tania, ask her to call me. Or find out where I can call her.”
“You’ll let Moffat know?” Breck asked him.
Raker grinned. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”
On their way out of the building, Ingrid muttered, “Your ex-wife is a grade A super bitch. She contacted your parents to stir the pot. Doesn’t like being off center stage.” How could that damned woman play around with people’s lives without a qualm?
Breck looked down at her. “It took me three years to figure that out. I’ve been wondering; besides trying to pick your brains, what did she do to make you so bitter?”
Ah, shit. She should have kept her mouth shut. Every time she was around Breck Marchant, she said things that were better left unsaid.
Breck’s cell phone buzzed. Saved by the bell. Ingrid breathed a little easier.
“Ms. Ellis? Fantastic! We’ll be there in about twenty minutes.” He turned to Ingrid, grinning from ear to ear. “We can collect Kit now. It’s been cleared.”
Thank God. Poor little Kit. She’d almost forgotten him during the strain of the past couple of hours, but she’d bet Breck hadn’t forgotten. The boy would have been on his mind every waking moment since Ms. Ellis had taken him away.
“We’re meeting on neutral ground,” Breck explained. Then he rolled his eyes. “Keeping it healthy. Outside the fast food court at Milford Mall.”
“I’ll wait in the car,” Ingrid offered. “You need to see him on your own first.”
“Hell, no. Ace-in-the-hole, remember?”
Oh, well. Good to know she was useful.
However when she saw Breck and Kit race towards each other like knights at a joust, she forgot about useful. Ms. Ellis, too, looked as though she was trying to swallow a greasy lump as she watched the reconciliation. Ingrid decided that useful or not, she was lucky to know the Marchant men.
Then Kit, swung up in the air by his father, spied Ingrid. His squeal echoed through the mall. “Miss Rowland! Miss Rowland!”
“Marchant.”
Ingrid took a deep breath. “Breck?”
“Ingrid? I was hoping to come and see you, but things are difficult here.”
What did he mean—difficult? Before she ran out of courage altogether she gabbled, “Breck, I didn’t contact your parents. Please believe me. I—”
“I know, Ingrid. And I’m truly sorry. I went crazy there for a while. It was because we’d just been speaking about my parents and…” He trailed away as if he’d run out of steam.
She breathed a little easier. She was not going to get all self-righteous with a guy who operated under the same rules as she did. “Can you find out who it was?”
“Don’t have to. They said it was Tania. That set the cat among the pigeons.”
“
Tania
?” God, would that woman never cease to plague them?
“Yeah. I’m leaving shortly to talk to the Missing Persons Unit again. My parents will be there too. After that I hope to get Kit back.”
Her heart jumped in her chest. “Back? Someone took him? Breck, what’s happening?”
“Slow down, honey. Take a deep breath.”
Oh, God. Was her anxiety that obvious? So much for trying to sound like Ms. Cool & Efficient. She sounded more like a flake with a meth problem. She took that deep breath. “Sorry. Uh, what’s happening?”
She couldn’t believe what he told her. Kit had been taken away by Child Protection because Breck’s parents had reported that he was unable to cope! And in the middle of all this Tania had reared her head. Breck’s stress levels must be at an all-time high.
“Can I come with you?” she burst out. “I might be able to help.”
“Well…I could use some help in regard to Child Protection, but I don’t think the MPU—”
“Can you pick me up? I have to give instructions to Stella Martin about today’s schedule at school, and then I’m free.”
“See you in twenty minutes,” he said and hung up.
She punched the air with her fist. Yes! He was letting her help him. At last he’d stopped thinking he could do everything himself. In spite of the trouble Breck and Kit were in, Ingrid felt almost euphoric. He was letting her get closer to him.
“Do you want to get closer to him, Ingrid? Do you?” she asked herself in the mirror over the washstand.
“Yes. Yes!” she answered herself. Lord, she must stop talking to herself.
She was still smiling like a Cheshire cat when his SUV drew up outside. Grabbing a wooden puzzle from the stack on her desk, she stuffed it into her bag. Kit would need something to take his mind off the last few days. It had been a wild ride for the poor kid.
“Hi,” she said, bouncing on to the passenger’s seat. She’d scrambled into a change of clothes and put on more makeup than usual. If she was to help Breck by facing down officials, she needed armor. Uh, huh.
Then she got a good look at him. “Did you get any sleep last night?”
He shrugged. “Some, I guess.” The purple crescents under his eyes told another story. He turned off the engine. “Ingrid, I apologize. I apologize for grabbing Kit and running, and for what I said yesterday. But Hell, we’d just been talking about my parents the day before and you’d been saying how all-fired fantastic they are. I arrived home and there they were, standing on the doorstep. I know I was way out of line, but what did you expect me to think?”
“I’d expect you to know I’d contact you first before doing such a thing. I would
never
interfere…” She trailed away. She opened and shut her mouth, feeling herself reddening. Fiddling with her handbag she admitted, “Breck, don’t hate me, but I did
consider it for a few seconds. Then I asked myself how I’d feel if someone phoned
my
parents and I knew I couldn’t do it.”
He gave her a long, considering look, those grey eyes serious and searching, then he leaned forward and turned the engine back on. “Someday you must tell me about your parents.” He flicked a sideways glance at her. “I was…” he seemed to search for a word “…devastated that you’d contacted my parents. It was as if ground I’d thought was solid had slipped away under me.” He cleared his throat. “I thought we—you and I—were at the beginning of a relationship that…” His voice died away.
Ingrid couldn’t bear the uncertain look on his face. She stopped fiddling with her handbag and stretched out a hand to cover his where it clutched the steering wheel with a death grip. “Yes. Yes.”
Looking straight ahead he said, “Yes? Yes?” with just the hint of a smile.
“You know what I mean.”
“I hope so. Ingrid, later we must take some time to talk about us. Something always seems to get in the way.” He sighed. “Right now I have to meet the squad leader of the Missing Persons Unit. Then I hope to be able to see Kit.” He grinned suddenly. “You’re my ace-in-the-hole there. I hope you brought a business card.”
“I brought every damn thing I could think of to impress Child Protection. That’s why my handbag is bulging.”
The grin turned into a chortle. “Your handbag is always bursting with stuff, Ingrid. One of my most vivid recollections of the day Marty held Kit hostage was of you delving inside your bag trying to find something. Since then I’ve sort of got used to it.”
She’d rather his memories of her were more personal, but what the heck. At least he paid enough attention to laugh at her handbags.
At the North Shore police station she was directed to a waiting room while Breck, his parents and their solicitor were ushered into a room filled with whiteboards and charts. The door stood open so she was able to observe Anna and Jeremy Marchant. They nodded to their son as if he was a distant acquaintance, yet their solicitor seemed to be on very friendly terms with Breck. Mr. and Mrs. Marchant hadn’t noticed Ingrid, and Breck had had no time to introduce her. But that was good. She was Breck’s “ace-in-the-hole,” and she was happy to stay out of sight.
At first she heard only the squad leader’s voice. She heard him say in an incredulous tone, “What? Nothing at all?” Then the solicitor spoke at length. Breck slouched in his chair, looking down at his shoes. Mrs. Marchant kept looking at her watch, and Ingrid was reminded of the white rabbit in Alice in Wonderland. Suddenly Jeremy Marchant stood up and waved his hands around, his plummy voice raised. The squad leader spoke sharply to him and he subsided.
Then her heart jolted as Breck turned and beckoned her into the room. Oh, no. She’d hoped to avoid this. They were both still too raw over the telephone call to his parents. She’d much prefer just to help him with Child Protection. Then she saw his anxious frown and stood. He needed her now. Raising her chin, she walked into the room.
Everyone stared. She felt like an exhibit in a glass case at the science museum.
“Sit here, Ingrid. Would you tell Sergeant Raker how you know Tania,” Breck said softly.
She sat down next to him with Mrs. Marchant on her left-hand side. Anna and Jeremy Marchant peered at her surreptitiously as if trying to establish her credentials. Ingrid inhaled deeply to calm herself and was assailed with a strong perfume. Chloe. Mrs. Marchant and her ex-daughter-in-law used the same perfume. Ingrid edged a little closer to Breck. He took her hand and clasped it tightly. It felt as if he was trying to anchor her to her seat so she couldn’t escape. Then he whispered, “It’s okay,” and her tension eased.
“How long have you known Tania Kerr, Ms. Rowland?”
And so it began. But it wasn’t nearly as bad as she’d anticipated. Senior Sergeant Raker was very experienced at setting people at ease. Amused, she wanted to tell him, “You don’t have to try so hard to be nice. I’ll answer the questions anyway.” Gradually he coaxed out of her the history of her acquaintance with Tania. Most of it. There were a couple of things she didn’t tell him.
Then he sat back in his seat. “Well, Ms. Rowland—of all the people in this room, including Breck, you’ve known Tania longest. My job is to establish whether Tania has disappeared of her own free will, or whether she was coerced into running away. The fact that she’s taken her children with her seems to suggest her disappearance is voluntary.”
“Yes, but one of the children is not hers,” Ingrid muttered.
Raker stared at her blankly. “Not hers? Then whose is it? Which one are we talking about, the little girl or the little boy?”
“The little girl, Pixie. Pixie is Marty Kerr’s daughter from his first marriage. I only know that because I used to teach Pixie.”
“So you would have had access to the background particulars of the children. I see.” Raker nodded. “Look, Ms. Rowland, I think we need to spend more time with both you and Breck.” He turned to the Marchants. “Thank you for your time. I wish you’d contacted us sooner—a lot sooner.”
Breck’s parents bristled with annoyance. Ingrid had the impression they were used to chewing people out, but were not used to being chewed out themselves, no matter how gently.
Breck stood. He looked his father in the eye. “Have you withdrawn that order yet?”
Ingrid stood too. She intended to add her own ten cents’ worth.
“It’s okay. It’s done,” the solicitor said.
“Thank you.” Breck wasn’t thanking his parents; he was thanking Mr. Kelly.
“Tell me,
Dad
. What happened to Natasha?”
Mrs. Marchant looked quickly at her husband, and then looked away again.
Jeremy Marchant stared deadpan at his son. “Natasha who?”
Ingrid felt Breck draw in is breath and for a moment she thought he might strike his father.
“Natasha Zhukov, the cleaning lady who turned out to be a teacher.”
For a second, Jeremy Marchant look startled. “A
teacher
?” Then he recovered. “No idea who you’re talking about.” Then he snapped his fingers. “I remember. You used to sit in the kitchen with her. A witless, fat Russian woman. God knows. One day she was there, the next day she was gone. You know what cleaners are like.”
Ingrid wondered. In spite of Jeremy’s assumed casualness, there was a cagey wariness in his attitude. And Mrs. Marchant looked downright desperate.
Breck and Ingrid stayed where they were while his parents and the solicitor left the room. Mr. and Mrs. Marchant did not say goodbye to Breck. For a moment Ingrid saw disillusion on his face as his gaze followed them from the room. Then he seemed to clamp down on his emotions and his expression returned to its usual tight control.
“Let’s get down to it,” Raker said.
****
An hour later Raker had sucked them dry of every skerrick of information he could glean. At first, Ingrid was startled when Breck confessed to Raker about his illegal visit to the Kerr house, but she realized he had no choice if the investigation was to progress.
However Raker didn’t turn a whisker. “Thanks. You’ve given me some ideas to run with. Especially that number plate. Goes without saying that if either of you hear from Tania, ask her to call me. Or find out where I can call her.”
“You’ll let Moffat know?” Breck asked him.
Raker grinned. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”
On their way out of the building, Ingrid muttered, “Your ex-wife is a grade A super bitch. She contacted your parents to stir the pot. Doesn’t like being off center stage.” How could that damned woman play around with people’s lives without a qualm?
Breck looked down at her. “It took me three years to figure that out. I’ve been wondering; besides trying to pick your brains, what did she do to make you so bitter?”
Ah, shit. She should have kept her mouth shut. Every time she was around Breck Marchant, she said things that were better left unsaid.
Breck’s cell phone buzzed. Saved by the bell. Ingrid breathed a little easier.
“Ms. Ellis? Fantastic! We’ll be there in about twenty minutes.” He turned to Ingrid, grinning from ear to ear. “We can collect Kit now. It’s been cleared.”
Thank God. Poor little Kit. She’d almost forgotten him during the strain of the past couple of hours, but she’d bet Breck hadn’t forgotten. The boy would have been on his mind every waking moment since Ms. Ellis had taken him away.
“We’re meeting on neutral ground,” Breck explained. Then he rolled his eyes. “Keeping it healthy. Outside the fast food court at Milford Mall.”
“I’ll wait in the car,” Ingrid offered. “You need to see him on your own first.”
“Hell, no. Ace-in-the-hole, remember?”
Oh, well. Good to know she was useful.
However when she saw Breck and Kit race towards each other like knights at a joust, she forgot about useful. Ms. Ellis, too, looked as though she was trying to swallow a greasy lump as she watched the reconciliation. Ingrid decided that useful or not, she was lucky to know the Marchant men.
Then Kit, swung up in the air by his father, spied Ingrid. His squeal echoed through the mall. “Miss Rowland! Miss Rowland!”
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