Riding the Storm (13 page)

Although there was blood on both of them, it was Harry who sagged in Ryan’s grasp and collapsed to the ground. Tim knelt beside him, sobbing and using his hands to try and stop the blood flowing up between his fingers from the wound in his father’s chest. Harry had taken a bullet at very close range.

‘God – oh, God, get an ambulance. Don’t let him die!’ Tim pleaded with Ryan who stood rooted to the spot staring down at them, equally shocked. ‘You did this, you bastard! You shot my father.’

Ryan shook his head. ‘No, no. The gun just went off. I don’t know who pulled the trigger.’

Grim-faced, two policemen emerged from their vehicle, assessing the scene. One of them was quick to retrieve the revolver, placing it carefully in a plastic bag. By this time another squad car with two more policemen had arrived as backup.

By now an ambulance had also arrived at the scene. When Harry, now barely conscious, had been stabilized sufficiently to load into it with Tim and the paramedics beside him, it took off at speed, sirens blaring.

The police quickly gathered up the money and pushed it back into the briefcase.

Ryan had his arms around Chrissie’s shoulders and he could feel her whole body still shaking as she put an arm
round his waist to steady herself.

‘You’re quite sure you’re not hurt?’ she whispered. ‘When that gun went off, I was certain you must be dead.’

‘Oh, it takes a lot to kill me,’ Ryan said uncertainly, enjoying her concern.

‘Ahem – sorry to break up the touching reunion.’ It was the police sergeant who spoke, regarding them both with suspicion. ‘But a man has been seriously injured here and we have to find out who owns this.’ He held up the gun in the plastic bag.

‘It belongs to the man who was shot,’ Chrissie said.

‘We’ll need statements from both of you so you’d better accompany us to the station – now.’ The sergeant was unimpressed by her outburst. ‘You can lock up your car and leave it where it is.’

‘Wait a minute,’ Chrissie said. ‘You’re behaving as if we’re the criminals here. Those people are kidnappers and I was their victim. The money in that briefcase belongs to my parents. They raised it to ransom me.’

‘Really?’ The policeman looked sceptical. ‘How do I know that’s the truth? That it isn’t a piece of quick thinking on your part to cover up a drug deal gone wrong? We’re dealing with things like this all the time, especially around here—’

‘If that’s what you think – where’s the dope?’ Chrissie said. ‘I don’t have it and neither does he.’ She nodded towards Ryan.

‘Could be in the ambulance with the injured guy. Or the truck driver.’ The policeman smiled. ‘People are good at finding ways to dump anything incriminating when the police turn up.’

After all they’d been through, Chrissie groaned, feeling close to tears.

‘Why can’t you believe me?’ she said. ‘Talk to my parents. Please. They’ll tell you I’m speaking the truth.’

‘Give us your phone, then.’

She patted her pockets, forgetting she’d lost it. ‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘The kidnappers threw it away.’

‘I have mine,’ Ryan said, producing it.

‘Fine.’ The policeman confiscated it. ‘You’re still coming with us. We can call your relatives from the station.’

Exhausted after all they’d been through, Chrissie and Ryan sat in the police car holding hands; for now, they were just relieved to be safe and didn’t want to say too much within the hearing of the officers. Unfortunately for them, that particular lay-by had been the scene of many a drug deal and the local police were used to catching both users and dealers there.

At the station, Ryan and Chrissie were interviewed separately and were finally allowed to make a phone call to Val, who arrived in a borrowed car an hour or so later. Although the policemen had been unwilling at first to let go of their drug-dealing theory, Val’s anger soon convinced them otherwise.

‘My daughter has been through enough already without being treated like a criminal,’ she ranted. ‘And this young man is my nephew.’ She indicated Ryan. ‘I can vouch for him, too. You need to let these young people go.’

‘Your daughter can leave,’ the sergeant said. ‘She has no charges to answer. But not the young man.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because we’ve had word from the hospital that the man who was shot has just died. And if the weapon used in the shooting turns out to belong to your nephew—’

‘But it doesn’t, Officer. It belongs to the kidnapper,’ Chrissie said. ‘Ask the truck driver, he saw what happened – or most of it. Speak to the boy who went to the hospital with the kidnapper – he’s his son. Tim’s really just a kid. He isn’t a criminal like his father – not yet anyway.’

‘These matters will all be investigated – in due course. For now, Ryan Lanigan must remain in custody. He could be facing a charge of murder.’

‘He was trying to rescue me – to protect me,’ Chrissie pleaded, once more close to tears. ‘Why can’t you believe me?’

‘Come on, Chrissie,’ Val whispered. ‘They’re not going to change their minds now. We need to get in touch with Uncle Henry – see what he can do.’

Val’s uncle Henry was a sharp mind; an elderly lawyer who still had a practice, although it was mostly run by his junior partners. He would know what to do in this situation. She had the feeling that the police, cheated of an open-and-shut case of drug dealing, would like to pursue the charge of murder instead.

W
HEN
C
HRISSIE AND
her mother arrived home, instead of hiding in his study as usual, Robert was waiting for them downstairs. He pulled the front door open, the moment he heard their approach.

‘Come on, then, tell me what happened,’ he said, scarcely glancing at Chrissie. He made no move to embrace her or even to ask how she felt after such an ordeal. Instead, he pulled a face and recoiled, waving his hand as if there was a bad smell under his nose. ‘Christ, but you reek! You need to get a shower.’

‘So would you, if you’d been held in one room for nearly a week and scarcely allowed to go to the bathroom.’ She was close to tears, her emotions still raw and close to the surface, and she was in no mood for criticism.

‘So, since you’re here in one piece and unharmed, everything must have gone according to plan?’

‘Not exactly,’ Val sighed, remembering that he didn’t yet know the whole story. He had been upstairs in his study when she took the call from the police station. In a panic because she had no transport as the old yellow taxi had gone to be serviced, she was forced to borrow a car from a stable hand
who had come in to work early. He wasn’t happy about lending his car to a woman on the verge of hysteria but she left him no choice; she was the boss’s wife, after all. It had been a long night for everyone and Val could think only of sleep but now she must stay awake long enough to tell Robert the whole sorry tale.

‘Go on, then. What happened?’ he said, raising his voice. ‘Did Ryan give them the money?’

‘If you’ll stop yelling for a moment, I’ll tell you.’ Val was in no mood for one of his tantrums and after all the drama, the adrenaline had worn off and she was exhausted. ‘But first I need some tea or a stiff drink – probably both.’

Impatient with her father’s line of questioning, Chrissie pushed past him, steering Val towards the kitchen where the fire in the Aga was still in, keeping the room warm.

‘I’ll make some tea and then you can get to bed for an hour or so,’ she whispered. ‘It’s too late now but you’ll need to talk to Uncle Henry first thing in the morning.’

‘What do you need Henry for?’ Robert demanded, following in the wheelchair, angry at being ignored. ‘And where’s the boy?’

‘Finally,’ Chrissie said, turning to look at him. ‘I thought you’d never ask.’

‘What happened, then? Is he injured? In hospital?’ Robert seemed more eager than anxious. ‘He isn’t dead?’

‘Of course Ryan isn’t dead.’ Val glared at him. ‘What gave you that idea? But he is in trouble. The police were involved and they’re holding him because one of the kidnappers was shot and they’re not sure how it happened. And to make matters worse, the man died on the way to the hospital.’

‘So what are you saying? That Ryan shot Harry?’ Robert whispered, eyes glittering as he absorbed this news. With Harry dead and gone, most of his troubles would be over.

‘It wasn’t like that.’ Chrissie closed her eyes against the unwelcome memory. ‘Dad, we’ve been through hell in these last few hours. Can we talk about this in the morning?’

‘No, we can’t,’ Robert insisted. ‘I’ll pour us all a shot of whisky and you’ll tell me everything. Now!’

Val and Chrissie looked at each other and sighed. Robert wasn’t going to let them rest until he had a full account of the night’s events. All the same, he listened impatiently, scarcely able to wait until Chrissie reached the end of her tale.

‘So, if you don’t have the briefcase and the kidnapper’s dead, who has my money now?’

‘Our money,’ Val reminded him gently.

‘Who do you think?’ Chrissie said, irritated that his concern appeared to be more for the missing money than for his nephew’s return. ‘The police, of course. They’re holding it as evidence, their favourite theory being that it was money involved in a drug deal gone bad.’

‘Then you get old Henry down there first thing in the morning and set them straight,’ Robert growled. ‘I’ll go myself if I have to.’

‘I’m sure we can manage without you, Dad.’ Chrissie sighed. ‘I’m having a long, hot shower now and then I’m looking forward to sleeping in my own bed.’

The old yellow taxi was returned before nine the next morning and Robert insisted on going to the police station with them although Val tried to persuade him otherwise. She had spoken
to her uncle, who wanted to meet them before they confronted the police, to make sure they were all on the same page. They were already on the road when Sir Henry called to say he had been delayed. He told them not to go into the police station on their own but to wait for him on a bench in the street outside. He apologized yet again and said he would be there as soon as he could.

‘If I’d known he was going to be so late, I’d have had breakfast before we left,’ Robert grumbled, having no patience to wait for anyone. ‘That old fool should learn to get out of bed in the morning. Maybe it’s time we hooked up with a younger man with more modern ideas.’ He shivered. ‘And it’s chilly out here.’

‘I did tell you not to come,’ Val said, irritated by her husband’s criticism. ‘And my uncle may be old but his mind is as sharp as ever. I trust him implicitly because he’s the best there is. And I’m sure he’ll have a good reason for being late.’

He did. Arriving just over an hour later, Sir Henry apologized yet again. A distinguished little man with grey hair in a style he had worn for years, neatly trimmed moustache and old-fashioned clothes, Val had always thought he looked like a forties film star. He exuded confidence and she began to feel better already now he was here, taking charge. He hugged both Chrissie and Val but scarcely acknowledged the man in the wheelchair – in fact he seemed surprised to see him at all. There had never been any affection lost between them. Henry knew just how much of Robert’s prosperity was owed to Val’s inheritance from her father and he enjoyed cutting the younger man down to size.

‘I would have been here sooner,’ he said. ‘But I wanted
my contacts to do some research on the man who was shot. And when they started digging, there was plenty to find. Ex -military gone bad – as they sometimes do – and operating under more than one alias. Psychiatric issues combined with a complete lack of remorse; a man who enjoyed killing. Getting paid for it was just the cherry on the cake. You were lucky to get away from him, Chrissie – he didn’t often leave witnesses around to identify him. And he had three surnames – Green, Brown or Black, with a passport to match each identity. A hired killer who covered his tracks very well so it took us a while to put it together today.’

‘But how did you manage to do it so quickly?’ Val said.

‘Oh, I have my sources.’ He smiled. ‘And I had some luck. His son was ingenuous enough to give their present address to the hospital. Yes, yes – I know all about privacy laws but there are ways around that. I spoke to Tim this morning and understandably he’s distraught. Harry was the only relative he had left. I’m afraid I took advantage of his misery to get to the bottom of their recent activities. He was only too ready to pour his heart out to a sympathetic ear.’

‘Tim isn’t a criminal, Uncle,’ Chrissie put in. ‘Just rather naïve. I don’t think he realized the extent of his father’s activities or how far he was prepared to go. He knew only that his father had issues with mine – hence the abduction. Harry convinced him the payment was owed and justified.’

‘I still think he should rot in jail,’ Robert said. ‘His father’s a common criminal and the boy an accessory to a kidnapping that could have escalated to murder. I shall press charges.’

‘I’d think carefully before doing that, Rob,’ Henry said. ‘The police might already be wondering how you came to the
attention of such a man, in spite of the low profile he managed to keep. Awkward questions may be asked. I’d play the innocent, if I were you—’

‘No!’ Robert smote the arms of his chair in frustration. ‘I want to see justice done! And I want my money back, too.’

‘Calm down,’ Henry said, unimpressed by this show of temper. ‘Justice has already been done – the man is dead. My best advice would be for you and Val to tell the police you have no idea why your family has been targeted in this way. Nothing like it has ever happened before. As for the boy – forget him – he’ll have trouble enough getting on with his life after this. Let him go.’

‘Dad, listen to me.’ Chrissie had to speak up, crouching by his chair to look into his face. ‘I’m the one who was kidnapped and I spent a lot of time with Tim. He isn’t a bad kid and he’s already suffered enough. His mother is dead and losing his father is going to leave him in pieces. What good will it do to send him to jail? He might not be a criminal now but he’ll learn enough to embrace a life of crime by the time he gets out.’

‘Trust you to put a sentimental spin on it,’ Robert sneered, leaning away from her.

‘Come on,’ Henry said. ‘We can argue about all this later. Right now I have to convince the cops that your nephew isn’t a criminal and they should let him go.’

This didn’t happen easily. The police were disappointed to have their drug-dealing theories blown out of the water, but they couldn’t get past the persuasive arguments of Henry Wheeler. He soon worked his magic and Ryan was allowed to leave the police station without being charged, although
he was warned not to leave the state and to remain at his current address. All the same, the police were in no hurry to release him and all this took until mid-afternoon. There would be an inquest into the death of Harry Green, as his son had named him, and Ryan would be needed to give evidence at the very least. Sir Henry left, promising to keep an eye on any developments. Robert continued to object because his briefcase containing the money was to remain in police custody for the time being, but his complaints fell on deaf ears.

Fortunately, Val’s car was still at the lay-by where they left it. Happy to avoid Robert’s company, Ryan offered to drive it home, pleased when Chrissie volunteered to accompany him. Meanwhile, Val had to drive her disgruntled husband in the old taxi, forced to listen to his catalogue of complaints. Having missed two meals, he said he was starving and made her stop on the way home to buy fish and chips. Then he proceeded to devour them greedily from the paper, filling the car with the smell of fried fish and cooking oil. From time to time, Val glanced at him in the rear-view mirror. You’ll keep, old fella, she thought. You think you’ve got away with everything, but you’re wrong. There are some very big holes in your story and I’ll have some very pertinent questions for you when we get home.

Alone with Chrissie for the first time in a very long while, Ryan was suddenly shy, not knowing what to say to her as they joined the freeway, travelling home. She saved him the trouble by speaking up first.

‘Ryan, I haven’t thanked you properly for what you did last
night. You put yourself in danger and took a tremendous risk for me.’

‘Think nothing of it, Chrissie. Anyone who loved you would have done the same.’

‘Oh Ryan, I wish you wouldn’t keep saying those things. It’s too painful when you know it can’t come to anything. I will always be your friend but there mustn’t be a romantic attachment between us.’

‘But it’s there, Chrissie, whether we want it or not. We’re not brother and sister, we’re cousins, that’s all. And now we have some time to ourselves without other people, I need to talk to you properly without any intrusions. And I don’t think I can do that while I’m driving.’ So saying he moved into the left lane and started signalling, ready to leave the freeway.

‘Ryan. You’re just making things worse for both of us. We need to get home.’

Ignoring her protests, Ryan came off the busy highway and looked around for somewhere secluded to park. He didn’t really know this suburb but he had chosen well if he wanted a quiet place to talk. There was a stand of ancient pines lining the road and he was able to pull off and park in a lay-by beside them.

‘Now, then,’ he said, turning to face her. ‘Tell me again why you can’t or won’t let me love you. Is it really because you can’t stand the sight of me?’

‘How could you think that? No!’ she said, forced to laugh at the directness of his approach. ‘But it’s wrong for so many reasons, I don’t even know where to start.’

‘OK. Name them. I’ll bet I can shoot them all down in flames.’

‘In the first place, you’re too young. You’re not even twenty-one and I’m twenty-six—’

‘Wrong already. I had a birthday last week.’

‘Oh, Ryan, why didn’t you say something?’

‘Because it was the same day you disappeared and I didn’t feel like celebrating. I suppose the next thing you’ll say is that I’m a bad prospect. A stable hand with no money—’

‘Give me a break. That’s the last thing that would matter to me.’

‘Good,’ he said. ‘Because it turns out that I might have some money, after all. Glen Harrison – Mike’s father – wants to make me an offer for the old farm up north.’

‘I didn’t know you wanted to sell it.’

‘Nor did I, until all this happened with you. I’ll never go back and live there again. Not if it means I have to leave Tommy – and you.’

‘Oho – I see you put Tommy first.’

‘Only to tease you. Oh, Chrissie, I’m so in love with you that it hurts. And I know I’ll never love anyone else, not if I live to be a hundred.’

‘And I’d be 106—’

‘Don’t make fun of me. If you really can’t love me, I’ll have to accept it but don’t make a trivial thing of it, please.’

‘Look, I’m not denying that what you’re feeling is real—’

‘I have no doubt about it. But you keep dodging the question. You still haven’t told me how you feel.’

‘Because I have to be the voice of reason. Think, Ryan! Think it through before we get carried away on this tide of emotion. We’re first cousins, which is the largest stumbling block. We’re just too closely related.’

‘And if we weren’t related at all, could you love me, then?’

‘Don’t go there, please. Just don’t ask.’

‘I will. I’ll go on asking you all day and all night until I have your answer because you still haven’t said no.’

‘All right, for all the good it will do you. I feel the same as you do. I’ve fought it because I didn’t want to face it but I’ve loved you since the day you kissed me so clumsily on the way home from the races.’