Kidnapped: BookShots (A Jon Roscoe Thriller) Read online

  ‘Mama,’ said Marika, softening her voice in front of her daughters. ‘You know Jon and I are separated.’

  ‘And it breaks my heart every day. You’ve taken my precious granddaughters four hundred miles to hide away up in Scotland.’

  ‘It’s where I work.’

  ‘Don’t tell me we don’t need doctors here in London. We need one right here in St Barnham. All I see is young mothers walking round the pond with their sickly children. None are so bright and beautiful as my granddaughters.’ She paused. ‘He is your husband, Marika, the father of your children.’

  ‘Mama, enough,’ said Marika, wanting to bring an end to the conversation.

  ‘Okay, no more,’ said Umi. ‘But I know he still loves you.’

  A moment later, Marika’s father, Ken, walked into the kitchen and kissed his daughter on the back of her head.

  ‘Papa,’ said Marika. ‘You’ve arrived just in time to save me.’

  ‘Don’t expect me to save you,’ he said with a smile.

  ‘I’ve already told her we will look after the girls this evening while she and Jon go for dinner,’ said Umi, getting to her feet and pouring her husband a mug of coffee.

  ‘But Jon will want to see the girls.’

  ‘He’ll want to see his wife as well,’ said Ken.

  ‘Papa!’

  ‘What do we know?’ said Ken, turning to his wife. ‘What possible advice could we give after thirty-eight years of wonderful marriage?’

  ‘I give in,’ said Marika, hiding her exasperation with lightness in her voice. ‘Jon and I will have dinner together over Christmas, only perhaps not tonight.’

  ‘You promise?’ said Umi.

  ‘I promise,’ said Marika, thinking of the seven years’ bad luck she would suffer for lying to her mother.

  CHAPTER 14

  NOTWITHSTANDING THE FACT he hadn’t slept for close to twenty-four hours, Roscoe felt surprisingly alert as he travelled from London’s Heathrow Airport in the mid-morning holiday traffic. Sitting in the rear of a chauffeur-driven Tribeca Luxury Hotels car, he was delighted to be home. And he knew waiting for him in the village of St Barnham would be his two wonderful daughters along with their mother, whom he still missed every single day.

  As the car pulled into the village he spotted his daughters chasing ducks around the ice-covered pond. Leaning forward, he asked the driver to pull over and he quickly made his way across to them. Seeing their father approach, Lauren and Aimee rushed towards him and Roscoe scooped them up, one in each arm, as they hugged him tightly around his neck.

  The two girls peppered him with questions, mostly about what gifts he had brought them from America. He told them they would have to wait to see what presents Santa Claus brought them that night, although if they looked in his bags they might find one or two things they could open now.

  Each of the girls gave him one more squeeze before he set them back on the ground and they raced across to rifle through his luggage. As he put Lauren down he flinched, feeling the torn muscles in his shoulder. Looking up, he watched his wife walk towards him, his heart still racing the same way it did the very first time he met her.

  ‘Hello,’ said Marika as Roscoe kissed her on the cheek. ‘Did I see you wincing?’

  ‘It’s nothing, doctor, I promise. You look great,’ he said, wanting to reach across and run his hand through her smooth, dark hair.

  She pressed her fingers into his damaged shoulder. He flinched again.

  ‘Jon?’

  ‘I had a bit of a bump, nothing serious,’ he said, touching the cut on his forehead. ‘The ligaments need a couple of days to settle down, that’s all.’

  ‘You need to get it looked at,’ she said, pulling her coat tight around her.

  ‘The girls seem excited.’

  ‘Very,’ she said. ‘They can’t wait for tomorrow.’

  ‘Neither can I.’

  ‘How was Chicago?’

  ‘Bit of a wasted journey,’ said Roscoe. ‘The Ginevra trial collapsed. Matteo got to some of the witnesses, I’m sure of it. But he needn’t think this is over.’ He thought of the tears in Cal’s eyes when she had walked away from him on the plane. ‘I’ll find more evidence.’

  Marika took a band from her pocket and tied her hair back. ‘Jon, you can’t fight every battle.’

  ‘I know he’s guilty.’

  ‘Then let somebody else prove it!’

  They walked on as Aimee and Lauren discovered the two plush bears along with T-shirts, colouring books and a copy of How the Grinch Stole Christmas! They hugged their father again before heading inside to show their grandmother.

  ‘How’s it going with Umi?’ asked Roscoe.

  ‘You know what my mum’s like.’

  ‘She has strong views on many things.’

  Marika smiled. ‘We had quite a drama here last night – a brick was thrown through a glass door at Dame Annabel’s.’

  ‘Not nice,’ said Roscoe, ‘but I’m guessing it was the usual religious crew?’

  ‘Looks like it,’ said Marika. ‘Her car was vandalised as well with some pretty nasty graffiti. Funny thing is, I’m sure I saw someone hanging around the car around half past one in the morning, but the alarm wasn’t raised until four.’

  ‘Somebody doing a recce?’

  ‘Maybe,’ she said.

  Roscoe stopped at the gate to his in-laws’ garden. ‘I want to ask you something before we head inside.’

  ‘Go on,’ said Marika hesitantly.

  ‘Have dinner with me tonight, at home, in our house, just you and me.’

  ‘Jon—’

  ‘Please.’

  Marika turned and put her hand on Roscoe’s arm. ‘It’s Christmas Eve. I’ve got so much to do for the girls. Maybe later in the week.’

  ‘I’m going to hold you to that,’ he said, trying to hide his disappointment. They watched as a black cab stopped outside the Montgomerie house. ‘Looks like Annabel’s daughter and her husband.’

  ‘You know them?’ asked Marika.

  ‘Let’s say we ran into each other at O’Hare. Turned out we were on the same flight.’

  As the couple stepped out of the cab, Emily carrying her son Brayden, Roscoe called across to them, ‘Hello again.’

  ‘Oh, hi,’ said Emily. ‘Small world. You made it back okay?’

  Roscoe nodded.

  ‘So this is Brayden,’ Marika said, walking across to them. ‘How old is he now?’

  ‘Coming up to three. Wyatt, this is Marika, and you know Jon.’ Wyatt raised his eyebrows in acknowledgement. ‘It’s Brayden’s first visit to London so we’re all very excited.’

  ‘Too right it’s his first visit,’ said Wyatt. ‘Cost of the flights alone, I could’ve bought a new car.’

  ‘My mum helped out,’ said Emily.

  ‘That’s nice of her,’ said Marika.

  ‘If Dame Annie wants to throw some charity my way I’m not going to say no, am I? Looking at this place again, it’s clear she’s not short of cash.’ Wyatt laughed bitterly, and Roscoe could see the anger in him that was never far from the surface. ‘She didn’t want me here in the first place – tried not to include me in the family reunion. Well, ho, ho, ho, here I am!’

  ‘I’m sure she’ll be delighted to have all her family here at Christmas,’ said Marika.

  ‘I’m not sure Christmas is a big thing for the dame,’ said Wyatt. ‘And it isn’t as if she hasn’t been over enough times to see us. Not that she ever stays anywhere nearby – more of an uptown gal.’

  ‘We only have a small apartment,’ said Emily.

  Wyatt laughed. ‘Apartment? It’s one room in a basement.’

  ‘One day we’ll have more, honey.’

  ‘Sure, when the dame is dead,’ said Wyatt, ‘and we get our hands on this place.’

  Standing at his window, under the guise of decorating his Christmas tree, Julian Templeton watched the new arrivals. From his living room he was able to observe most of the occupants of th
e village.

  Now his final preparations were complete. The room had been readied; the bed had been made. It was little more than cushions and blankets on the floor but they would have to suffice.

  His little visitor was in the village.

  And Julian was ready for tonight. Christmas Eve. The most exciting night of the year.

  CHAPTER 15

  DARKNESS HAD FALLEN and a damp winter cold sat in the air as Roscoe took a cab to the London Tribeca Luxury Hotel. Walking into the foyer in the early evening, he thought how magnificent the building looked. He was awestruck by the glorious Christmas tree, stretching up through the atrium, its brilliant lights throwing sparkle across the marbled entrance.

  Open for six months, in the city’s Mayfair district, the hotel offered the most exclusive accommodation in London. With lavish suites individually decorated, restaurants serving some of the finest cuisine offered anywhere in England and a heated infinity pool on the fortieth floor providing breathtaking views across the city, the hotel represented the ultimate in luxury.

  As global head of security, Roscoe had accountability for each one of the group’s twenty-eight hotels around the world but for the first six months of opening he had taken personal responsibility for the London location. The death of the group’s chairman, Jackson Harlington, in the days directly before the opening of the London hotel had left him with a challenging six months. Now, with the hotel’s reputation fully established and every suite reserved, he was delighted the Christmas holiday was set to be such a resounding success.

  Crossing the marbled floor, he spotted Anna Conquest, the hotel’s lobby manager. He had worked closely with Anna over the past year, first in Edinburgh and then at the opening of the London hotel. More and more he found himself enjoying the time he spent with her.

  ‘Welcome home,’ said Anna as they exchanged a brief kiss.

  ‘Good to be back,’ said Roscoe.

  ‘I’m guessing Chicago didn’t go quite according to plan.’

  ‘You’ve heard?’ He took a seat on one of the luxurious sofas in the entrance lobby. ‘You must have good sources.’

  ‘I don’t need sources,’ said Anna, perching on the arm of the sofa. ‘Matteo Ginevra checked in just before lunch.’

  Roscoe said nothing.

  ‘You okay?’ she asked, touching his shoulder.

  ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘I knew he’d be here. Doesn’t mean I have to like it. Was his sister with him?’

  ‘Is that Calpurnia?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘They’re sharing a suite on the twenty-eighth floor,’ said Anna. ‘Their father, his wife and their little girl, Harper, are in the neighbouring suite. You know, the wife, Kellie, is only twenty-three, twenty-four at the most. She must be younger than Matteo.’

  ‘How did Cal seem?’ asked Roscoe.

  ‘Cal?’ replied Anna.

  ‘The sister. Everyone calls her Cal.’

  ‘I didn’t realise you knew all the family so well,’ said Anna. ‘She sat across the foyer when they arrived, kept her baseball cap pulled down over her face. I didn’t really notice her. Why?’

  ‘No reason,’ said Roscoe, ‘but I worry about her. Matteo was capable of killing two men in Chicago. I wonder what else he might be capable of.’

  ‘She seemed okay to me,’ said Anna. ‘Oscar Miller arrived soon after them.’

  ‘Really?’ said Roscoe, surprised that the new chairman of the hotel group was in London for Christmas.

  ‘Yes, Enzo Ginevra came down to the foyer to welcome them all and took Miller and Matteo straight into the gin bar. I’m not sure they’ve come out since.’

  ‘I don’t think the Ginevra family would be my choice of Christmas companions.’

  ‘Mine neither,’ said Anna, ‘although since I’m working most of tomorrow I’m sure I will have the pleasure of their company at some point.’

  ‘You drew the short straw for Christmas Day?’ said Roscoe. ‘How long are you working for?’

  ‘Until early evening.’

  ‘I’m having dinner here tomorrow night with Martin and Aunt Jessie. You should join us.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Absolutely. Martin and I are in St Barnham most of the day and Aunt Jessie is spending the day with her son Alvin and his wife, so we’re getting together in the evening.’

  ‘I would love to come,’ said Anna with a smile, then she leant across and kissed Roscoe on the cheek.

  CHAPTER 16

  LATE IN THE evening, Roscoe walked through the hotel while its guests enjoyed the finest possible festive hospitality. He took a seat in Tribeca’s London Gin Bar and as he did Oscar Miller hastily crossed the room towards him. Uninvited, he pulled up a chair at Roscoe’s table.

  ‘Mr Miller?’ said Roscoe to the man who thirty years before had partnered Jackson Harlington in establishing the luxury hotel group.

  ‘You need to draw a line under Chicago,’ said Miller.

  ‘I’m sorry, sir?’

  ‘You heard me,’ said Miller. Roscoe realised Anna had been right in her supposition that the hotel chairman hadn’t left the bar all afternoon. ‘There are no more witnesses. There is no case to answer.’

  ‘I’m sorry, sir, but—’

  ‘Tribeca Luxury Hotels has worked with Ginevra Construction for over thirty years. Enzo Ginevra was a partner of ours from the very beginning. He helped us build our very first hotel. This ends now.’

  ‘But Mr Miller, this isn’t about Enzo, this is about Matteo. And Matteo is guilty. There is no doubt in my mind.’

  ‘Listen, Roscoe, I don’t know how to make this any clearer. Either you leave the Ginevra family alone or you’re going to be back on the beat plodding round the streets of London. I don’t employ you to upset our most important business partner.’

  Miller stood up from the table, stumbled back across the bar and resumed his seat at the right hand of Enzo Ginevra.

  Two gin martinis were served to Roscoe’s table as Anna entered the bar to join him in a Christmas toast. She was closely followed by Matteo Ginevra.

  ‘I don’t know why you’re wasting your time with him,’ he said, brushing up behind Anna.

  Refusing to acknowledge him, Anna took a seat beside Roscoe.

  Roscoe was riled. A surge of anger raced through him and he started to rise until he felt Anna press a warning hand against his leg.

  He knew she was right.

  ‘Your boss has given you your instructions,’ Matteo said in Roscoe’s ear as he moved past the table. ‘Now stay away.’

  ‘You don’t even have to tell me he isn’t worth it,’ said Roscoe, turning to Anna. ‘I left Chicago nearly twenty-four hours ago but Chicago doesn’t seem to have left me.’

  ‘Relax,’ she replied.

  ‘You’re right.’ Roscoe raised his glass. ‘Here’s to the most wonderful, happy and peaceful Christmas ever.’

  PART 3

  Christmas Day

  CHAPTER 17

  MARIKA ROSCOE KNEW it was going to be a long day.

  Christmas Day with her parents, her estranged husband, her stepson and her young daughters – all thrown together under one roof. Everyone’s expectation was for the most wonderful day – and she was the one who would have to deliver it.

  Awake early, she crept downstairs, picked up her jacket and opened the back door of her parents’ home. Glancing at the clock on the kitchen wall, she saw the hour hand was approaching seven. The girls would be awake any minute.

  She stepped out onto the frost-covered lawn, reaching into her pocket for her lighter as she did. One cigarette wouldn’t kill her, she told herself. The girls’ presents were under the tree, and Santa Claus had done his work. Jon and Martin would be with them before breakfast and she was looking forward to seeing her stepson, whom she hadn’t seen for the last three months. For the past nine years Martin had been like a son to her and whatever the future might hold, she never wanted that to end.

  The calming warmth of her
cigarette kept away the biting cold as she ran through her plans for the day. Nothing would stop the girls opening their presents as soon as they were awake. Chaos would ensue as boxes were ripped open and new toys discovered. She and Jon had bought presents together for their daughters and she wondered if she was being naive in hoping this would always be the case.

  Christmas lunch would be in the early afternoon and she had already done most of the preparation; the rest she would hand over to her mother. Umi would have her own way of doing things and that meant there was really only room for one of them in the kitchen. Marika told herself she could cope with that as she reached into her pocket for a second cigarette.

  After all, it was going to be a long day.

  Surrounded by silence, she stood in the darkness at the rear of the house, looking up at the clear night sky. Anticipating the excitement her daughters would bring to the day, her contentment was abruptly shattered as the Montgomeries’ house alarm once again burst into life. Its penetrating wail cut through her and she felt a growing sympathy for her mother’s point of view. Did this alarm go off every night?

  But as quickly as it had started the alarm was silenced.

  Marika took one last draw from her cigarette, then dropped it to the ground and crushed it under her foot. About to step back inside the house, she heard a woman’s scream coming from next door.

  The scream was repeated over and over, and Marika quickly made her way through into Dame Annabel’s garden towards the back of the house. For a second she paused when she saw that the rear door, boarded up since the attack the night before, had been forced open. Was an intruder still inside?

  In the darkness, Marika pushed through the door to find herself standing in the now silent kitchen.

  She called out. Was anyone there?

  Warily she walked through the kitchen and into the hallway. She called again, before another terrifying cry came from behind her on the stairs.

  Marika felt along the wall for a light switch and as she lit up the hallway she discovered Emily Lee staggering down the stairs. Convulsed with tears and unable to catch her breath, all she could do was call desperately for help.