Captured Lies (17 page)

“But there was information
regarding a Donna Zajic.”

“I saw that but I’ve never heard
of her.”

“She was born January 5th, 1952.”

Bailey gasped. “No. No.”
Jesus,
she even used a fake name. So who the HELL am I?

Jumping out of her chair, she
sailed to the door but before she could open it, a tanned, nicely muscled
forearm inserted itself under her nose and Guy’s hand landed beside hers,
effectively keeping her from opening it.

She held herself rigid for several
seconds but when he made no move, no sound, she gave in. It was like pulling
the plug on the tub, all the energy was sucked out of her. Lethargy invaded her
body and her mind. She just didn’t give a damn anymore. Couldn’t take anymore.
Giving in, she rested her forehead on his arm. Taking several deep breaths, she
let go. She tried to tell herself it was the clean, soap smell but she knew it
was the healthy male scent that surrounded her but didn’t smother her. She
tried to push it away but was powerless to stop the gooey, secure feeling that
enveloped her as two strong arms wrapped around her.

For the first time in her life,
she knew she was safe.

CHAPTER
THIRTY

“What have you got for me, Graham?” Guy shoved his hand
through his hair, as he watched the sun wink at him over the top of the high
rises. A cool wind whipped around him as he made his way around Churchill
Square, careful that no one was in hearing distance of him.

“Not as much as I’d like.” There
was the sound of clicking keys on a keyboard. “Donna Zajic married to Doug
Zajic, disappeared June 30th, 1983. Never heard from or seen again. There was
speculation that her husband killed her and did away with the body but it was
never proven. There were some allegations of abuse but all charges were
dropped. Another thought is that she had help to disappear. I talked with the
police chief in charge back then but he said that he’s sure she had someone who
hid her and then set her up with a new life. Of course he could never prove it
but he’d had a gut feeling. Said that Doug Zajic was a politician through and
through. He was as plastic and authentic as a Ken doll.”

Guy chuckled. “Police Chief -
good guy?”

“Yeah. Dedicated and a straight
shooter. Liked him. Retired now. Enjoying the simple life. At least so he said
but he sure was willing to do some leg work for me if I needed it. He was mad
as hell that it had never been solved. He was sure Zajic was dirty but could
never make anything stick. He’s says it’s not too late to take him down. I didn’t
have the heart to tell him Doug Zajic died several years ago in a hit and run.”

“So we’ve got birth dates that match.
First names that match. There’s a good chance our Donna Saunders was Donna
Zajic. And it looks like Mr. Lund, an esteemed lawyer with some very dark
secrets, might have been behind her disappearing or at least keeping her
hidden.”

“Yeah. I went through some of his
files.” He whistled, long and low. “Looks like he was blackmailing a good
number of people. He was blackmailing Doug Zajic and maybe Donna as well. I
haven’t gotten through them all. I’ll let you know what I find.”

Guy shook his head as he listened.

“The guy is as dishonest as if he
was the devil’s disciple. Oh crap! Guy, that Mr. Lund is in the hospital.”

“Did someone he screwed over find
him and put him there?”

“No, it sounds like natural
causes – heart attack. I was just googling his name to see what I could find
and here is an article written… just a sec… Sunday, April 26th.”

“That’s the same day that Bailey
was there. Shit.”

“Are you saying she might have
had something to do with it?”

“You do the math. He goes into
cardiac arrest some time after she’s been there and she just happens to have
some confidential information that I’m sure he wouldn’t have shared with the
devil.” He placed his left hand over his stomach as acid poured into his gut.
He sat down on the cement bleachers and hung his head. “Now what?”

“Don’t know, man. Buddy, this is
the biggest doo-doo you’ve ever landed in, eh? ‘Ol boy, you sure know how to
pick em,” Graham said, in his charming but off, old-boy English accent.

Guy smiled. “Thanks, man. Can
always count on you to find the good in it. How about my sketch guy? Any leads?
I’m getting nervous.”

“Check your email. Stanson sent
you three revised sketches. I’ve already got them running through the police
files of known criminals. I think we’ll get a hit. Detective Bean was more than
happy to take this on. He feels we owe him. He’s still miffed at us for his
nickname. You’d think ten years would have weakened his attitude. But no.
Anyway, he was more than happy to look into this. He wants that mug shot as
soon as we get it done.”

“You want to know who it was
before you hand it over to him. Right?”

“Of course. Bean wouldn’t have
any problem using you as bait to catch this guy. And we’ll assume he’s not a
very nice man, so I’d rather you knew who was chasing you before I give Bean
the opportunity to nail him.”

Several people were walking
through and around the Square. Most seemed to be cutting across the cement
park, while others had come to loiter. Some seemed a little too interested in
what he was doing. “Gotta go, Graham. Keep me in the loop.”

“You keep your neck out of the
loop.”

“Gotcha.” Guy strode off down the
street, less than a block from the hotel the hair on the back of his neck
suddenly stood up. He thrust his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and
hunched his shoulders, while he casually looked around. The streets were
busier, which let him know it was the end of the work day. He’d spent longer than
he’d planned. Walking past the Westin Hotel, he headed west along Jasper
Avenue. There didn’t seem to be anyone following him but he couldn’t shake that
sense of unease.

Turning down 101st, he followed
it to 102 Ave. When he got to 100th Street he raced across the middle of the road,
ignoring the honking and tires screeching. When he reached the other sidewalk,
he turned quickly and saw someone jump back into the shadows of the other
building. It couldn’t have been a coincidence. Not waiting to see who it was,
he raced down the street, turning before the hotel and coming in from the other
side. As he entered the lobby he headed for the escalator, taking it up one
flight. Then he climbed the stairs another two flights. Once he was on the
fourth floor he took the elevator to the 22nd. He knocked gently before putting
his card in and opened it.

“Bailey, it’s me.”

Silence. Nothing. And no one. The
table was covered with the morning paper he’d been reading. The hot tub was
drained. He walked over to the bathroom and peeked in. Her dirty clothes still
scattered on the floor were the only sign of her. His gut tightened. He turned
and checked out the room more closely to see if she’d left him a note. Or a
clue as to where she’d gone. On the pillow of his unmade bed, as they’d asked
for no housekeeping, there was a folded piece of paper which blended with the
white pillowcase.

Opening it he read,
‘Some
things I have to figure out on my own. Bailey’
.

Swearing, he crumpled the paper
in his hand and threw it. It landed gently against the other bed right beside
Miss Piggy. Reaching down, he picked up the ugly toy. Her hair was tangled and
twisted so bad, she looked more like she had a nest on her head. He touched the
deformed nose that resembled a bird’s beak. Smiling, he clutched it between his
hands. He pressed more firmly. There was something inside her. She was lumpy
and misshapen but when he pressed hard enough, he could feel a long, hard
object. Flipping her over, he dug his fingers into the seam in the back of her head
and pulled. The old tattered material ripped but not nice and neatly along the
seam as he’d hoped but right across the back. He reached in and after rooting
around for a few seconds was able to grab something. It took a moment to
identify it, even before he saw it. The hum of excitement started to course
through him.

His eyes widened as they lit upon
what was in his hands – a cassette. If it had survived the intervening years he
knew it had to hold some valuable information. He called Graham.

“You won’t believe what I found.
A cassette tape.”

“Jolly happy for you, ‘ol boy.”

Guy rolled his eyes. “I mean I
found a tape that I think is related to this whole shmoz.” He filled Graham in
on where he’d discovered it. “So my question now is where do I find a cassette
player? Do they even make them anymore?”

“Hmmm, good question. I think so
but they’re not very popular. Find a second hand store or go to a garage sale.”

“Right! Like I’ve got time to
hunt down garage sales. Any news on your end?”

“No, ran into a bit of a glitch
with my computer. I think someone almost detected me accessing the police
files. I must have been a bit sloppy. Won’t happen again. So I should have
something for you by early tomorrow. What are you up to now? How’s your roomy?”

Guy looked around the messy but
empty room. “Gone. I’m not sure where. Oh and I think our guy is following me
again. So I’d appreciate if you could send Bean in this direction.”

“Got ya. No problem. Now get out
of there.”

Guy didn’t need to be told twice.
A chill pressed itself between his shoulder blades. He opened the door and
looked in both directions. Just as he took a step, a man got off the elevator.
Their eyes connected. It was the man who had played smash up derby with them
the day before. He didn’t wait but dashed the other way, heading for the exit.
With his hand on the railing, he was able to slide down, barely touching any
steps. There was the echoing bang of the door shutting. His assailant was
coming after him. Ripping down five flights, he opened the door and ran the
long hallway to the other end. He raced down several more sets of stairs. At
ground level he headed out the door to the parking garage. The SUV stood out
like a train wreck, with its bashed in side. Digging in his pocket he pulled
out his keys. It dawned on him that Bailey had to have taken a cab or walked
but he needed to be sure. He couldn’t leave her to deal with this nut by
herself. He headed back into the hotel, carefully scouting the area. There was
no sign of his follower. He dashed to the desk.

A young, smartly dressed man
smiled at him as though it wasn’t out of the ordinary to see someone run like a
mad man across the lobby. Guy described Bailey to him and asked if he’d seen
her. No but he’d check to see if anyone ordered a cab. Guy was breathing hard
and felt like his nerves were going to jump out of his skin, by the time he
returned. Yes, she’d ordered a yellow cab. No, he didn’t know where she was
going. Guy spun around intent on leaving, only to stop suddenly. His ‘friend’
was standing at the elevators. The way his eyes opened wide, Guy was sure that
he’d recognized him at the same time. He ran for the front door and shot out
onto the street. He had no real plan, he just knew that he didn’t want to get
any more people involved if he didn’t have to. There was no way he could spend
hours with the police, telling them this man had wanted to kill them. Did he
have proof? No. He started running south. Half a block later he was at Jasper,
a main avenue. He turned east. When he could he entered stores through one door
and out through another, hopefully onto another street. He took side streets
and back alleys. Twenty five minutes later, he made his way back to the parking
garage but not before he’d hidden in doorways, peeked around structures and
then snuck his way back to get his vehicle.

He started it and then raced out
of the parkade, not sure where the guy was hiding nor where he’d pop out of.
Shooting out on to 101 St., he headed north. Grabbing his cell phone, he dialed
the cab company. The guy was nice enough to tell him, that no, he couldn’t give
him the location of his friend. Frustrated at not being able to get it through
to the guy how serious this was he jammed his phone into his pants pocket, then
thumped his fist on the dash.

“Temper, temper.”

Jerking in surprise, the vehicle
swerved as his hands tightened on the wheel and his foot slammed on the brakes.
Horns honked and several people flipped him the bird as they maneuvered around
him. He looked in his rear-view mirror, a pair of black eyes stared at him down
the barrel of a gun. His heart pounded so loudly it echoed in his head. It was
the man he’d been trying to avoid.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

“Drive.” The words were softly spoken but there was no
denying the steel woven within his tone.

Easing forward, Guy drove to the
end of the block. He stared up at the CN Tower which loomed over him.

“Don’t even think of ramming that
building. It’ll be the last thing you ever do.” The muzzle of the gun was
jammed into his head right behind his right ear. “I want the girl.”

He was tempted to say ‘what girl’
but didn’t think the guy had too much patience left, not given the black steely
look he was getting. Breathing deeply to calm himself, he flipped on the signal
and turned left onto 104th Ave. Acting like he had some place specific to go he
maneuvered through the downtown traffic.

“What do you want with her?”

“Come now, Mr. Turner. You’re the
one who found her. If it hadn’t been for you, I would have continued to believe
that she’d died in that plane crash with my sister.”

“I’m curious how you know my
name.”

“You’d be amazed what I know
about you. You’d be amazed by what I know, period.”

Guy’s mind was on rapid fire.
Thoughts were flying so fast it was like a tornado was blowing through, ripping
at all the information he was trying to pull together. A lot of what the man
said triggered all sorts of flickers of recollections. He just couldn’t pull it
all together.

“Your sister died?”

“A long time ago. And now I can
tie up the last loose end. She can rest in peace.”

“So your sister’s the one who
stole Bailey.” He glanced up into the hard black glint of his eyes. It was like
looking into a coal mine. The message was very clear. His days were numbered.

He snapped forward, clamping his
hand onto Guy’s shoulder. “She was doing right by that baby. My sister was a
good woman.” He emphasized his last statement, by squeezing, with the force of
a vice.

Guy tried not to wince as his
fingers tingled and then went numb.

“I have more strength in this
hand then you do in your whole body. Care to test that?”

The man looked like he’d just
stepped out of a body building gym. He might have gray tinting his black hair
but he was definitely in much better shape than any man his age or even those
twenty years younger. At least any that Guy knew. Gritting his teeth, Guy
stiffly shook his head.

The man chuckled and sat back.
The gun was still pointed at Guy’s head. “We found a loving couple who would
have been good to her.”

“And they paid you a lot of
money.”

He laughed again, like it was the
best joke he’d heard ever. “Ah but that was the whole point of it. To get
rich.”

Guy turned right onto 109th St.
He still had no clear plan of where he was going but some ideas were at least
coming clear.

“So, how many infants did you
borrow?”

“Borrow, I like that. Funny man.
Funny.” He sat forward. “We had something good going until that baby messed
everything up. Too much publicity. Had to sit tight for a long time. Then when
we do move the squalling infant, they crash. Go figure. We should have held her
for ransom.”

“Where was she going?”

“What?”

“Where would you have sent
Bailey? Where was the family she was supposed to go to?”

“Diamonds. A girl’s best friend
you know. Let’s just say, she’d love surfing and have a nice tan now.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You’re not meant to. Okay enough
with the nice chat. You know all you’re gonna know. Where’s she at?”

Slowing down, he stopped at the
red light. A large mall was situated off to his right, he glanced towards it. There
was something there but he just couldn’t figure out how it would help him. The tip
of the gun was shoved into soft tissue of his neck. He lifted his hands in
surrender.

“I’m headed there. Just hold on.
A few more minutes.”

He eased forward as the light
turned green. His eyes darted from side to side but he didn’t see anything that
would help him. Approaching the north end of 109th he realized it came to a T,
he had to turn. This may be his only chance. He slowed making sure that there
was no one ahead of him at the intersection. Then he hit the gas. They surged
forward, throwing them back against the seats and then just as fast he hit the
brakes. He floored the vehicle, opened the door, hit the lock button and jumped
out. It all happened in the blink of an eye. He tucked as he flew out of the
SUV landing hard on his shoulder. He flipped over onto his back into oncoming
traffic. Even though his first instinct was to lay there and feel sorry for
himself he jumped to his feet and trotted with a bit of a limp and a hanging
right arm across the street of honking vehicles, towards the nearby mall.

Dialing 411, he got the phone
number he needed. He was too scared that 911 would be able to trace him.
Calling the Edmonton Police, he left a brief message about the accident. After
he’d made that call he hit his speed dial.

“Graham. Graham.”

“You’ve reached the man. Leave me
a message.”

“Dammit. I need you to get a hold
of Detective Bean. He can catch the guy at the corner of 109th St. and Queen
Elizabeth Ave. If he gets a hold of the Edmonton Police, whom I’ve already
called, they should be able to get there quick enough to catch him. He’s locked
in a smashed up SUV. With a small green car sticking out of the side of it.
Can’t miss it, really. Call me asap. And yes I’m fine.”

He entered a store in the mall
and cut through clothing, dodged around the perfume counter, coughing as he did
so and shot out into the main part of the mall. The odd looks he was getting
did make him pause but it was the throbbing in his hand that had him stop long
enough to look down. Blood dripped off the tip of his index finger. The trail
behind him was a perfect dotted path leading right to him.

Crap. Nothing like giving my
friend a map to follow.

Zipping into a pharmacy, he
bought some band aids and quickly fixed up the scrapes on his wrist and hands.
He ran through the long building. The hallway took a bit of a zig and then a
zag, so he followed it rather than enter a large department store. It would
have hid him better but would also slow him down. Right now he wanted some
distance between them. Every now and then he’d look back over his shoulder to
see if anyone was pursuing him. Since no one was giving him much attention,
beside weird looks and no one was running other than a few kids who thought it
was great to get to do that too, he zipped out a side entrance. Hardly
believing his luck, he saw a row of taxis. He jumped into the first one.

“Westin Hotel. Please.”

“All right sir.” The guy flipped
his meter, adjusted his mirror and cautiously pulled out.

“I’m in a hurry.” Guy looked out
both side windows and then the one behind him. The sound of sirens caught his
attention. The cabbie pulled up to a set of lights, signaling to turn left. Guy
sat forward trying to see where the sound was coming from. An ambulance went flying
by.

He sat back but turned so he sat
sideways. They drove down the street, keeping up with traffic.

“What will it cost me for you to
floor it? I need to get there now!” He pulled out his wallet and leaning
forward, he showed him two twenties. The driver picked up the speed some. Guy
took out another twenty. He was slammed back against the seat as the cabbie hit
the gas and started to swerve in and out of traffic. “Without getting a
ticket.” He slowed marginally but Guy couldn’t complain when the man pulled up
outside his hotel within three minutes.

Paying him and then adding a
twenty to get him to wait, he climbed out and carefully took full stock of the
area. There didn’t seem to be any strangers. Not sticking around he raced into
the hotel, up the escalator and took the elevator to the 22nd floor. He shoved
the card in the lock and flew into the room, slamming the door behind him. He’d
barely gotten it closed when he found himself spun around, punched in the gut
and flattened on the floor. Flipping quickly, he was ready to retaliate when he
realized who his assailant was, at the same time she did.

Her eyes wide, her breathing
hard, she had her fist in a position to give him a short but quick, and he was
very sure, effective punch to his nose or throat. Rolling away from her he
jumped to his feet. “Hi honey, couldn’t find anyone else to kick the crap out
of?”