Friday's Child (26 page)

Dad came over and sat next to them. “How about we pray before Patrick leaves to find Elle?”

“Please.” Abbie snuggled into him and closed her eyes.

Patrick looked gratefully at his dad over the top of Abbie’s head. “Thank you,” he mouthed.

“Dear Jesus. We ask that You keep Elle safe wherever she is. Send one of Your angels to watch over her and protect her until Patrick and his team can find her and bring her home. Please be with Abbie as she stays here with us tonight. We also ask that You go with Patrick now, protect him, and give him the strength and guidance he needs to do what has to be done. Amen.”

“Amen.” Abbie looked up. “Will Jesus really send an angel? Aren’t they all busy in heaven singing hymns?”

Patrick smiled. “Some of them are, but the rest are busy doing what Jesus needs them to do. I’m sure He’ll send one to look after Elle.”

“Can I stay up until you get back?”

“You need your sleep.” He tucked a finger under her lowered chin. “But we’ll be here when you wake up in the morning. Or if we’re not, very soon after.”

****

Elle dragged her feet as the driver, Rick, forced her down the corridors to the office. He was gripping her arm so tightly she knew she’d be bruised in the morning. The one hope running through her mind was she’d signed into the building. There was a record of her arriving her, if nothing else.

She tried to tug free. “I can walk on my own.”

“I don’t trust you. Mr. F wants to see you.”

“So you keep saying.”

“He won’t be happy your kid isn’t here.”

“I told you, Abbie is sick. She needs to be home in bed.”

“Maybe she is now. He may want me to go and get her again.”

“You leave her alone.” She screamed finally losing the last bit of her composure.

Rick dragged her into office and pushed her towards the desk, letting go of her.

Staggering forward, she lost her footing and landed on her hands and knees, catching her head on the edge of the desk. Stars danced at the edge of her vision and she closed her eyes tightly.

“Careful, don’t damage the merchandise. Her face is worth as much as the rest of her now.” PJ gripped her arm, pulling her upright, before sitting her in a chair. A hanky was pressed into her hand.

She blotted her face with it. “What do you want?”

PJ smirked. “I want you to honor your side of the contract. You either pay for those drugs you kept or you bring them back.”

“I don’t think so.” She caught her breath.

PJ looked at Rick. “Leave us.”

The door shut behind her and PJ gripped her face, jerking it upwards. She held the dark gaze, as his hand slid to her throat and squeezed. She couldn’t breathe or swallow. Her eyes felt like they were popping out of her skull. Stars floated before her, darkness creeping around the edge of her vision.

“You’re nothing like our mother.” he hissed. “But you’re the only family I have left.”

Then the pressure eased. She leaned forwards, her hands cradling her throat, gasping for breath.

“What?” she whispered.

“Yes, dear sister. Your father had an affair with my mother…our mother. She left
us
to be with him when that Holy Roller he was married to kicked him out. She must have told you—”

Elle gasped. “Then Mum knew you…”

“Jeanette Harrison was not your mum, and of course she knew me. Our mum, yours, RJ’s and mine, wasn’t so...righteous. She had an affair with one of Dad’s accountants and left. Then after you were born, Dad persuaded her to come back home. But it wasn’t the same. She kept threatening to walk out and leave with her little princess. Baby EJ, who could do no wrong. Dad hated you, hated what you stood for. A constant reminder of the sin she committed against him. There is no betrayal greater than that of a wife against her husband. You know that? Unless it’s with his brother…but that’s a different story.”

Elle watched him pace as he spoke. His hands gesticulating, his steps firm, ice shooting from his eyes and all the time the underlying tone of hatred directed solely at her. She held her arms tightly across her middle, trying not to shake and show the fear flooding her.

“Have you any idea how many times RJ and I stood over your crib, took the blows he meant for you. So what if you weren’t his…you were still our sister. It was going to be so great. The three musketeers. RJ, PJ and EJ.”

“RJ?” she whispered.

“Robert James, my twin.”

“Where is he now?”

He shook his head. “Only things got worse and soon Mum treated you with the same contempt. You’d be left in your crib for hours to cry, while she and Dad got as high as kites. So we killed them. And your
father
took you. After all we did to make sure you were safe, RJ and I were left to rot in care home after care home. Only EJ was good enough for him.”

“I’m sorry…” Maybe if she placated him, he’d let her go once all this was out of his system. “It must have been hard—”

“Hard?” His voice rose and his face reddened. “You don’t even know the meaning of the word. You got
everything
, and we got
nothing
. But we are family, you, me, and RJ. So we rebuilt our mother’s business and we tracked you down. Your father really was a clever accountant and as dirty as they come. It didn’t take much to entice him back. He laundered money for us for years.”

“But as he grew older he lost his edge, got sloppy. I had to keep moving him in order to keep him a step ahead of the cops. He didn’t die in a hunting accident, by the way.”

“You killed him?”

“I did. It was my pleasure. And Jeanette Harrison, too. And now you will keep working for me. Either singing or delivering the drugs or both.”

She shook her head. “I’m not working for you.”

“EJ, this is a family business, always has been.” He put his finger on her lips, silencing her. “And you don’t have a choice. This is the way it’s going to be. You will continue to work for me, in whatever capacity I deem fit, and Abbie goes to boarding school. You can see her during the holidays.”

“Or?”

“She dies and you work for me anyway. What was it you said when you first came to me for a job?”

“I didn’t come to you. You came to me.”

“Technically, your father came to me. Kept raving about how proud he was of you. What a wonderful singer you were. I sent Zeke to the house, and you said if it paid enough, you’d sing. For Abbie.”

She closed her eyes. She’d do anything for her daughter, almost, but what he was asking was one step too far. She’d face the consequences with Patrick, assuming she ever got out of here. If she went to prison, so be it, but she wasn’t going to do this anymore.

She wasn’t going to compromise herself or her faith any longer.

So long as Patrick looked after Abbie. No matter what, Abbie had to be kept safe and protected.

A hand around her throat forced her mind back to the angry man in front of her. “—and pay attention when I’m speaking. If you don’t work for me, I will kill Abbie.”

“Why? What have I done? What has she done?”

“Because you were Mum’s favorite,” PJ yelled. “She loved you more than me. More than RJ. You were all that mattered and you weren’t even born a Foster.”

Tears she refused to let fall burned her eyes.

Lord, please, get me out of here, somehow. I don’t want to do this, don’t want to dishonor You. But he said he’d kill Abbie if I didn’t.
I read somewhere about angels being sent to preserve the saints. Lord, I’m no saint, so I don’t ask for protection for me. But please, please protect Abbie. What he wants me to do is wrong. It doesn’t matter what happens to me, because I’m nothing. But don’t let him get ahold of Abbie when I stand up to him and say no.

****

Patrick strode across the impressive lobby of Foster Towers to the desk. Shay and Luke walked close behind him. He stood in front of the bored looking security guard.

“We’re closed.”

“I can see that. I can also see your boss’s car parked out the front of the building.”

“Mr. Foster doesn’t like to be disturbed when he’s working late. He’s in a meeting…”

He pulled out his ID. “Now we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Personally, I’d prefer the hard way. Where is he?”

“In his office. Fifth floor. I’ll let him know you’re here.”

“Don’t bother.” Behind him more footsteps sounded as the rest of his team joined him. He pulled Elle’s picture from his pocket and waved it in the guard’s face. “Have you seen this woman tonight?”

“No.”

Patrick spun the signing in book around and looked at it. “So, who was on the desk two hours ago when she signed in? Where is she?” There was no answer, but then he didn’t really expect one. “Arrest him. Charge him with accessory to kidnapping and obstructing an official inquiry.”

One of the agents vaulted the desk and twisted the guard’s hands behind him. “You can’t do this,” the guard protested as metal cuffs were clapped on his wrists.

“Looks like we just did.” Patrick frowned seeing the gun on the guard’s belt. “Put in a call for CO19 to get here ASAP.” He and his team were armed but having the Armed Response Unit as backup wouldn’t hurt. Especially if he was right about this place. “Right, we tear this place apart looking for her. She signed in so she must be here somewhere.”

He headed to the bank of lifts. Perhaps Mr. Foster would be a little more co-operative.

“Agent Page,” called one of the other agents. “Wait a second.”

He spun around. “What is it?”

“Come and look at this.”

He crossed the lobby in six long strides to the back of the desk and surveyed the bank of CCTV screens. “What am I looking at?”

“L6. Isn’t that her?”

He peered at it. A heavily paneled office, an angry man and Elle tied to a chair, her shirt sleeves torn and bloodied.

Patrick pulled out his gun and vaulted the desk. He ran across to the guard being escorted from the building. Pulling his arm from the sling, he ignored the pain, pushing the guard up against the wall and held it to his head.

“Patrick!” The warning cry came from both Shay and Luke at the same time.

Patrick didn’t falter. His hand tightened on the guard’s throat, the gun pressed firmly against his temple. “I can see her on camera L6. Where is the feed for that coming from? I’m not going to ask again.”

“Mr. Foster’s office.” The man before him paled and his voice quivered. “Take the lift to the fifth floor, turn left. It’s the suite right at the end of the corridor.”

“Thank you.” Patrick ran to the lifts, praying hard.
Please, keep her safe until I get up there.

25

Elle pulled on the ropes tying her wrists, waiting for her brother to hit her again. How could this monster be her brother? But as she looked at him she saw the similarities in his eyes and hair. But that’s where the comparison ended.

“I provided for you. I sent you to college. All that time you thought it was your father.

“Dad?”

“Yeah, your father.” PJ spat the word out. “He ran the whole club side of the business for years, not just the accounts until he died, then that idiot Jeanette thought she was in the clear. You see he got greedy. He cooked the books, skimmed off the profits from the club, and tried to get into the drug racket as well. So he had to die. Then I worked on Jeanette. Told her that if she kept you singing, I wouldn’t press charges against her, because she knew what he was doing. After that, you only received a pittance from your sales and singing. I had to get my money back.”

“I don’t want any of your money.”

He raised a hand.

She closed her eyes, reciting the verse from Psalm ninety-one in her mind.

For He will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways; they will lift you up in their hands, so that you will not strike your foot against a stone
.

Her head slammed sideways as PJ’s hand made contact.

Bright light filled the room and she closed her eyes tightly to avoid being blinded. The brightness faded enough for her to open her eyes.

A huge figure stood over her. Clad in trousers and a shirt, he held a sword in his hand. Easily standing over six feet tall, with long golden hair that fell over his shoulders, the stranger’s physique put PJ to shame. Brightness shone around him and what looked like wings extended from behind him, wrapping around and over her.

“You will not harm her.” The voice filled the room, yet his lips didn’t move.

PJ froze. “What the—” The blasphemy died on his lips.

“You will not harm her.” The voice was louder.

Elle struggled against the ropes, desperate to get away. PJ raised a gun and aimed at her point blank. The bullet missed. He aimed and shot again.

“You. Will. Not. Harm. Her,” the voice boomed, resonating so the light fittings quivered. The empty glass vase on the table shattered.

The bright light increased around her and a breeze wafted her hair. A sense of peace filled her.

The sound of running footsteps made her look towards the door. Several armed men burst in, all shouting at once.

“Put the gun down.”

“Armed police.”

“Put the weapon down.”

“Elle?”

The light faded and the figure vanished.

“Elle?”

She looked around, relief filling her. “Patrick.” Tears ran unbidden down her face. “I thought they’d killed you.”

His trembling fingers tried to untie the rope that bound her. “No.”

“Where’s Abbie?”

“She’s safe.” His fingers worked at a frantic pace, until the rope gave. He pulled her against him, holding her tightly against his chest and injured arm.

She clung to him, hardly able to believe he was there. “Did you see him?”

“See who?”

“The tall blond man. He was right here. He wore a white shirt and tan slacks. He had a sword.”

“Sword?” Patrick’s head jerked up, scanning the room. “Is there another armed man we need to worry about?”

“No. He appeared when PJ hit me. He repeated over and over ‘you will not harm her.’”