Pitch Black: A Romantic Thriller (Blackwood Security Book 1) (27 page)

I had to talk to them, sooner rather than later. But first I needed to help Luke.

When I reached the village, I parked on the other side of the woods behind Luke’s house and assembled my kit. I wanted to check for prying eyes.

An hour later, I’d been through the woods and neighbouring properties with infrared goggles and the transmission scanner. I was alone, save for several hundred rabbits and a couple of deer. I checked the front of the house for completeness’ sake, but nobody was watching. They just wanted Luke to think they were.

My next job was to get into the house. I swapped out the goggles for a handful of Nate’s custom bugs. They incorporated a tiny camera and microphone and worked on motion sensors. I’d selected the battery-operated version as they didn’t need to last long. If Tia was missing for more than their natural life, we had bigger problems.

I did a quick circuit around the outside of the house. Luke was sitting in the den, staring into space as he tore pages of a notepad into pieces. I’m not sure he even realised he was doing it. I squinted through the window at the computer in front of him. He’d been trying to track Tia’s cell phone, but he hadn’t had any luck. Hardly surprising—the kidnapper would have to be stupider than a rock to leave the phone on. Any teenager with an internet connection could track them nowadays.

My chest seized as I watched him. Emotion. Before my husband’s death, I’d locked that firmly away, but I’d gone soft in my little sabbatical. I wished I could offer Luke some comfort, but my presence would only make things worse.

A few minutes later, I swung myself up onto the terrace attached to my old bedroom and picked the lock on the sliding door. Before venturing into the rest of the house, I packed everything I wanted to keep into the rucksack I’d brought and left it outside on the balcony. There wasn’t much—my old phone, a bit of cash and Ashlyn’s passport. While I was at it, I put my wedding ring back in its rightful place. I’d missed it being there.

I inched open the door to the upstairs hallway and tiptoed to Luke’s bedroom. It took me seconds to install a bug in the light fitting. I wasn’t expecting Luke to get a lot of sleep until Tia was found, but I had the opportunity so I took it.

Next, I crept downstairs and hid another device in the kitchen, hidden behind a stack of plates in the dresser. I wished I could put a camera in the den, but even though Luke was now dozing over his desk, I didn’t want to risk going in there. I had to settle for putting a third bug in the flower arrangement opposite the den door.

With that done, I fitted tracking devices to both his cars then went back to my own vehicle to watch and listen. I set an alarm to alert me to any sound or movement and lay back under the blanket to wait.

At 8 a.m. one of the sensors woke me with its insistent beeping. Luke was moving through the house. On the screen in the receiving unit, I watched him open the safe hidden behind a Picasso print and count the cash inside. Why? Had a ransom demand come in? If it had, it must have been by text message, as I hadn’t heard the phone ring.

At eight thirty, he did get a call. Arabella wanted to know where Tia was. Tia normally walked to her house in the morning so they could ride to school together.

“She’s not feeling well,” Luke said. “She ate something that disagreed with her.”

A pause.

“Yes, I’ll tell her. I’m sure she’ll be very grateful if you take notes.”

Another beat.

“No, I don’t think she’ll be in for a few days. She’s sleeping at the moment, but she’s been really sick. I’ll get her to call you when she’s feeling better.”

His voice shook as he spoke. He was a terrible liar.

Not like some people.

At nine, Luke left the house carrying a briefcase—empty from the way he threw it into the back of the car. I followed him to the bank, staying well back and letting the tracker do its work.

It wasn’t difficult to work out he’d gone to pick up more money for the ransom.

How much? What story had he come up with? Banks tended to get a bit funny about handing over large bundles of cash in this day and age of electronic transfers. I knew Luke kept £150,000 in the safe, because I’d watched over his shoulder and memorised the combination then looked while he was out, but obviously that wasn’t enough.

After he left the bank, Luke went straight home. He piled up the cash from the briefcase and the safe, counting as he went. I estimated he packed £250,000 into the battered holdall he dug out of a cupboard.

That was it? That was all Tia was worth? Luke could and would pay a lot more. Why such a low amount? Was the kidnapper being sensible, knowing the tricky logistics of obtaining cash under the radar? Or was there a bigger picture?

Luke piqued my curiosity when he disappeared into the den. He was only in there for a few minutes, but when he came back he added a memory stick to the bag. What was on there?

As he stood up, he looked directly at the camera. Haggard and scared, he was a shadow of his former self. When he started pacing, I wanted to tell him to rest, or at least eat something. He’d need his strength later. My frustration had no outlet, and I made myself unclench my teeth.

Heeding my own advice, I had a snack then relieved myself in the bushes. Oh, the joys of being on a stakeout. Not for the first time in my life, I questioned my sanity. Why hadn’t I bought myself a tropical island and marooned myself on it? I could have been getting a tan instead of frostbite.

I sighed. Who was I kidding? No matter how uncomfortable I might be, I’d stop at nothing to get Tia back. I settled back in the front seat to play the waiting game.

Chapter 27

THE SUN SET and Luke was still inside the house. He’d paced so much the bottom of his shoes must have worn thin. I covered my mouth as I yawned, out of both tiredness and boredom. There was a good reason I delegated surveillance work whenever possible. I’d much rather be out shooting people.

Relax, I was just kidding. Maybe.

At six, he lay back on the bed and dozed, which meant I got some sleep myself without bloody movement alarms going off. That relief was short lived, though, because at nine he got up and resumed his now familiar route. Through the hall to the kitchen. Turn. Back to the front door. Turn. In every step, his fear and frustration was evident. It hurt to watch.

I got out the car for a stretch and another pee then huddled back under the blanket. The car thermometer said six degrees. I swore under my breath—the bloody kidnapper could at least have picked the summer to make his move. Throughout his torturous routine, Luke kept glancing at his watch. What was he waiting for?

I found out at midnight when he climbed into his SUV, carrying the holdall. A ransom drop?

I sure hoped so. All that waiting had given me too much time to think, and there were only so many times I could go through things in my head without second guessing myself. I was always happier getting on with things.

With the tracker in his car, I didn’t need to follow Luke too closely. I hung back and watched the other vehicles instead, but I didn’t spot anyone else tailing him. The M40 motorway was quiet at that time of night, and it didn’t take long for Luke to drive north a couple of junctions before winding his way through the countryside again.

I dropped back further on the narrow lanes. It was either that or turn my lights off, and I didn’t fancy crashing. I didn’t even know who this car was registered to—sorting out the aftermath of an accident would be a bureaucratic nightmare. Luke was two miles ahead when his car stopped moving. I sped up to catch him, flicking my headlights off when I got close. Three-quarters of the moon bathed the countryside in a dim glow. The only thing pitch black was my mind.

The tracker put Luke’s vehicle in a woodland car park, and I pulled up at the entrance. What was waiting in there? I needed to find out, so I scooted ahead and reversed the BMW up an overgrown track before returning on foot.

That sodding nursery rhyme came into my head again. “If you go down to the woods tonight…” The last time I had a surprise in the woods, I’d discovered Tia wasn’t actually Satan’s daughter. I was certain tonight’s wouldn’t be quite so pleasant.

The pale moonlight threw long, soft shadows over the waiting forest. It was hard to make anything out in the foreboding tangle of tree limbs rising up in front of me, the night time playground of rabbits, foxes, deer, and of course, little old me.

Luke was nowhere to be seen, and I swore under my breath. I’d have given my Aston Martin to have a tracker in the bag. Ahead of me, paths branched off into the woods. Which one did he take?

I listened out for a clue. The crack of a twig, maybe, or the soft thunk of footsteps on the humus-strewn ground. Nothing. Just the low hoot of an owl as it whispered through the bare branches overhead.

Messy footprints littered the damp ground—evidently the place was popular with walkers. Which were Luke’s? He wore a size nine, but that didn’t narrow it down. After debating with myself, I decided to return to the car for the infrared goggles. 

I didn’t know who else was around, and the need to remain stealthy slowed me down. I’d only got halfway when shouts echoed from the woods to my left. The words were unclear, but the tone was argumentative, and I recognised Luke’s voice.

I turned and ran towards the noise. There was enough moonlight for me to leave my torch in my pocket, and I’d rather have the element of surprise than the assistance of its beam. Over the years, I’d become proficient at moving through difficult terrain, and I doubted they’d hear my approach over the yelling in any case.

I was almost at the voices when…nothing. They stopped. I crept forward, and the path opened up into a clearing ahead of me, beams of moonlight slanting through the trees. A body lay on the ground, sprawled motionless among the rotting leaves. A second figure loomed over it, pointing a gun towards its head. I could tell from the build the standing figure wasn’t Luke, which meant it must be him on the ground.

I didn’t hesitate.

I flicked on my torch, hitting the standing man in the face with the beam. The torch was in my left hand, held to my side at arm’s length. If the dude shot at me, hopefully he’d aim at the light rather than my head. A bullet through the arm I could recover from. Through the brain? Not so much.

My CQC-7 had found its way into my right hand—an automatic reflex. As soon as I confirmed it was Luke on the ground, I let the knife fly towards the man trying to kill him.

It was good to see I hadn’t lost my touch—the knife embedded itself in the top of the arm holding the gun just as the man fired at Luke.

His arm jerked and the shot went wide. Dirt kicked up a foot from Luke’s head.

“Aaaaaah!” The man’s startled yowl cut through the night, and he took off, keeping the hold of his gun. I started after him, but paused to check on Luke, who hadn’t moved.

He was unconscious, blood seeping from a gash across his temple, but his breathing was steady, and his pulse beat strongly. He’d be fine for a few minutes, but would Tia? The best chance of finding her was crashing through the woods ahead of me, and I sprinted after him.

Muffled curses came from the darkness ahead of me as the arsehole crashed into branches. He didn’t appear to have brought a torch. Sloppy.

I was gaining, but he had a good head start, and a moment of silence was interrupted by the slam of a door and the growl of a car engine.

Shit! I reached a second car park just in time to see a transit van disappear out the entrance. Before it disappeared from view, I burned the registration number into my mind. There was no chance of catching it—my car was half a mile away, and I didn’t know the area. With a heavy heart, I returned to Luke.

On my jog back, I almost tripped over the holdall. It was still heavy, unopened. Now the kidnapper would be doubly pissed—no ransom as well as a damaged arm. What if he took his anger out on Tia? Bile rose in my throat at the thought of it.

I tamped it down. Emotion would cloud my judgement in situations like this.

When I reached the clearing, Luke was regaining consciousness, flopping from side to side. He tried to get up, but I held him down while I checked for damage.

“He’s going to spill the tea,” he mumbled.

“Tea? What tea?”

“Kill the tea.”

“Tia? Do you mean Tia?”

“Kill Tia.”

Great. Tell me something I didn’t know.

Before I could help him to his feet, he doubled over and threw up, reminding me of my first night at his house. It seemed like somebody had a touch of concussion. I gave him a few more minutes on the ground then pulled him up. He couldn’t stay in the woods all night. Blood was running from his head, and he needed it stitched. I took my jumper off and pressed it against the wound to try and stem the flow.

“Can you try getting up again?”

“I think so.”

Between us, we got him to his feet, where he swayed and clutched at a nearby sapling.

“We need to get to the car.”

He gritted his teeth. “Okay.”

With me half-carrying him as well as the bag, we made our way to the BMW. It was slow going. The woods closed up behind us, hiding their secrets in the inky blackness. Those trees had seen more than most humans ever would.

When we reached the car, I propped him up in the passenger seat and retrieved the first aid kit from the boot—company rules, everybody carried one. Luke’s gash was nasty, most likely inflicted by the sight on his assailant’s pistol. I wound a temporary bandage around the cut until I could clean it up properly. He’d be sporting a scar in years to come if he didn’t get professional help. That wasn’t his only injury—the back of his head had a cracking lump on it. No wonder he’d ended up unconscious.

Ready to go, I did up his seatbelt. Safety first, right? He was still groggy, his head lolling to one side, but his faculties were returning.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he slurred.

“Currently? Making sure you still have a head on your shoulders.”

Although whether he had a fully functioning brain in it was debatable. What the hell had he been thinking, skipping through the woods at night carrying quarter of a mil?