Innocent Hostage (20 page)
“Ah, hence the private all-girls school.”
“Private all-girls boarding school, actually.”
Breck watched the paramedic examine the head wound. “How old were you when they sent you to boarding school?”
“Nine.”
“
Nine
? What the hell were they thinking? Were you a handful?”
Ingrid tried to shake her head. “Hold still,” the paramedic growled.
“Sorry. No, I think it was because Mother and Tom wanted some time together.” Then she subsided. Too much information. Why was she telling the world about her childhood? Breck—maybe. The paramedic—definitely not. She knew why. Her defenses were down, not just down, but down and out. She felt as if someone had found every pulse point in her body and was grinding away at them with sandpaper. She wanted to lie down and sleep but she was too antsy. “I think I’m going to—”
The paramedic held a bag in front of her.
Whoosh!
Great. Now Breck had seen the very worst of her. Perhaps her mother had something after all, about being a lady and maintaining self-control. On the other hand, it was damned hard to maintain self-control when your stomach rebelled. And rebelled. She grabbed the bag again and felt a hand holding her hair back.
“It’s okay, Ingrid. I’m here.”
Breck. The man was as reliable as sunrise. And he didn’t seem the least bit put out. Must be the police training. Perhaps there
was
something to be said for cops after all.
She leaned back against his arm and the paramedic wiped her face with a damp cloth. “Miss—umm, Ingrid, you need to get stitches in this scalp wound. We have to take you to hospital
now
.”
Embarrassed, she felt hot tears trickling down her face. “I don’t wanna go to hospital.”
“I know,” Breck answered her. “But it’s for the best. Kit and I will follow the ambulance and wait till you’re fixed. And don’t worry about tomorrow. Stella Martin and I can handle the museum trip.”
“The museum trip! Oh, no! Breck—”
“Ingrid. Shut up and go with the nice man.” She shut up and watched as the paramedic winked at Breck.
“I’ll get you for that, Breck Marchant,” she muttered as she was assisted on to a stretcher.
She’d needed to contact her insurers.
She’d wanted to paint the graffiti off the walls of the preschool and get quotes from builders for the reconstruction of the floor.
She’d wanted to supervise the visit to the museum.
She hadn’t actually pouted when the nurse pointed out to her that she would not be doing any of those things. She’d just subsided down the bed and looked miserable.
Breck had promised to take up the slack. And he had. Now he could hardly keep his eyes open. How did she do it? He’d contacted Stella Martin at six a.m. and asked her to phone all the parents. They’d hoped that some parents would keep their kids home. But no. Most of the parents were working parents and almost the full quota of kids were at the gate at 8:30, psyched up ready to go to the museum. The bus driver looked terrified at the sight of thirty preschoolers standing in two neat rows waiting to climb on to the bus, so Breck had had to accompany the group, even though the requisite number of assistants were there. He’d hoped to have time to paint a second coat over the graffiti while they were away. He’d been at the doors of the local hardware market when they’d opened at 7:30. At least he’d managed to get one coat of paint finished before the hordes arrived.
At the museum, while the kids stared in awe at the prehistoric section, he’d borrowed Stella’s iPhone and spoken to Ingrid’s insurance company. Then he’d lined up several builders to quote for repairs. He emphasized the need for urgency, but that backfired on him. The insurance assessor and a couple of builders were prepared to meet him on site that afternoon. So he’d had to abandon Stella and the twitchy bus-driver and dash back to the school. Then he’d reported back to Ingrid. He’d also checked up on the man who’d been hit on the back of the head, but he’d not yet regained consciousness. They were none the wiser who he was or what he had been doing at the preschool in the middle of the night.
After running around like a maniac, he sat down to have a cup of coffee and discovered it was time to collect Kit.
At that stage he decided that a day in the life of a non-working Dad was not for him. He’d rather be setting up a sting to catch a bunch of break-and-enter thieves, or hunker down in wet undergrowth waiting for a hostage situation to simmer down than drive around chasing his tail.
But Ingrid had needed his help. God knows, she’d helped him often enough, but it wasn’t a tally thing. He
wanted
to help her.
As soon as Kit was asleep, Breck settled down in front of the computer and sent detailed emails to Raker and Hull about the recent developments. No doubt there was an incident report somewhere in the system about the attacks on Ingrid and the security guard, but neither Raker nor Hull would see them for several hours. He also informed them about the mysterious man in the hospital who carried no ID.
Once he’d done that, he created a document for all the people who might be involved in the puzzle that was Tania Kerr. Angela whoever, Albertine Reynolds and Billy Kerr were the main ones. They might lead him to Tania or they might not. Even if he only managed to make minimal contact with them, they could hold clues to Tania’s behavior or whereabouts. He would pass the information along to Hull and Raker. And the next time he saw his ex-wife, he hoped she’d be behind bars. He still swallowed a truckload of saliva every time he thought of Ingrid struggling to protect Kit.
He wondered if Tony Hull had checked out the elderly Ms. Reynolds yet. Glancing at his watch, he saw it was almost ten o’clock. Oh, what the hell. Hull was no timekeeper. He’d still be working.
Hull answered after the first ring. “Yeah? Who’s that?”
Breck explained why he was calling but Hull had no fresh news. “Sent some uniforms out. Nobody home.”
“When was that?”
“The day after you told us about her. Why are you poking into the old lady’s background?”
“Well…since I’ve been dragged into this drama whether I like it or not, I’d rather be proactive than reactive.”
Hull grunted. “Can’t argue with that. How much more time do you have on leave?”
“Ten days.”
“Go for it then. Keep me up to date. I’ll send a couple of uniforms around to Reynolds’ place again tomorrow and let you know the outcome. ’Night.”
Good. That was Ms. Reynolds covered. Breck would rely on Ingrid to find out what she could about the mysterious Angela. In the meantime he’d delve further into Billy Kerr’s background.
Ingrid shivered. Tania was more than a loose cannon now. She seemed to have lost touch with reality. Why had she attacked them? Tania had always made sure that she was the sun around whom others revolved, but with her latest escapade she was a wanted criminal. At least before she’d just been missing.
The good thing was that Breck was no longer a suspect in her disappearance. First Tania had contacted his parents; now she had come out of nowhere to attack Ingrid and vandalize the school. Why? Along with all the other parents, Tania had known about the trouble with the school alarm system when it was first installed. It had become a standing joke. Tania had capitalized on that. She didn’t miss a trick. Tania was good at capitalizing on anything she could get her hands on. Right down to framing Ingrid for plagiarism at exam time. She’d almost destroyed Ingrid’s career before it got off the ground. Tania had been so angry that Ingrid had avoided sharing her assignments with her, that she’d set Ingrid up to take a fall at exam time.
Their final exam consisted of interpretation and attitude rather than cognition, so the students were notified prior to exam time about the type of questions they would encounter. Most students prepared the answers on their laptops. It couldn’t have been hard for Tania to access Ingrid’s laptop because when she bothered to turn up for lectures, she insisted on sitting next to Ingrid.
Ingrid had found out why Tania had become so chummy when she was hauled into the principal’s office and asked to explain how her exam answers were an exact copy of those of ‘another student.’ It had taken Ingrid several weeks of wrestling with Education New Zealand to clear her name. She’d had to employ an expensive lawyer. Even then they’d delayed their decision so long that the teaching year had already begun by the time they’d exonerated her. Their exoneration had been perfunctory at best, and Ingrid had spent the last few years making sure she didn’t put a foot wrong. She had never told her parents, scared of their reaction if they discovered she had become a kindergarten teacher by the skin of her teeth. But perhaps she
should
have mentioned it to Tom Rowland. His team of smooth, vicious lawyers could have eaten Tania alive. Maybe if that had happened, they would not all be faced with Tania’s erratic behavior now. Then again, a team of lawyers might not be enough to control Tania. Whereas they would play by the book, Tania had
never
played by the book.
Ingrid wriggled restlessly. God,
everything
hurt. Even so, she would be glad to get out of here. She didn’t know anyone who actually liked hospitals, and she was chomping at the bit to get on with her life. There was so much to do. Had the walls at the preschool been painted? What about the repairs to the main room? Had the police caught Tania yet? Her mind ran on a treadmill until a nursing assistant popped in with a cup of tea.
“
Thank
you. I’m sick of doing nothing,” she admitted.
The nurse laughed. “That’s what most of our patients say. Except, of course, the new mothers with a couple of kids at home already. Anyway, you’re going home soon.”
And even before breakfast was served, Breck and Kit arrived. They took one step inside the room and Breck held up both hands. “Yes, ma’am. The wall has had two coats of paint. No, the builders haven’t yet begun the repairs because the insurance company didn’t come till late afternoon. Yes, Kit is fine. Yes, I’m fine. No, they haven’t caught Tania yet.” He took a breath. “And how are you, Ms. Rowland?”
Kit giggled. He was fine.
“Better now, thanks.” She grinned. “You sound like a police report.”
He rolled his eyes, then bent over and kissed her. Just a peck, but at the same time he palmed his hand to the back of her neck and rubbed gently.
Ingrid clasped her hand over his for a second and cast a quick look at Kit. But Kit seemed to take it all in his stride. He hopped up beside her on the bed and announced, “We think Mom’s gone nuts.”
Ingrid coughed to hide her amusement. “Is that so?”
“Yeah. She must have.”
Ingrid understood that was Kit’s method of coping with the strange behavior of his mother.
Breck said nothing, just let Kit ramble on. Kit nodded solemnly. “She needs a doctor. But the police can’t find her. When are you coming home?”
“As soon as I say she can,” a voice said from the doorway. The doctor was doing his rounds early. Perhaps it was part of the new austerity measures. Did he hope to release her before breakfast?
Breck’s eyes met hers. He grinned. He was obviously having the same thoughts. “We’ll be outside.”
“Aw, Dad. I wanted to see what the doctor does when he…” Kit’s voice died away as his father hauled him into the corridor.
The doctor’s lips twitched. “At that age they’re little ghouls. Got one just like that.” And he proceeded to give Ingrid a thorough inspection. He wasn’t happy with her determination to quit the hospital and go straight to work, but as he said, “I can’t stop you. If I try to keep you here, you’ll just walk out. I guess stubbornness is your middle name, huh?”
Unwillingly, Ingrid gave a half-laugh. “It’s been said many times.”
He cautioned her, wrote out a prescription and signed the release form.
“Thank you,” she said fervently.
“Breakfast!” The nursing assistant burst into the room with two trays.
Ingrid risked a glance at the congealing oatmeal before saying brightly, “Oh, what a shame! I’m just leaving.” She scooted into the shared bathroom as her roomie called out, “So can I have your breakfast?”
“Go ahead.” Ingrid knew very well that oatmeal was good for you, but she and oatmeal were on very bad terms.
An hour later she was spitting tacks when Breck dumped her at her apartment with a warning. “No, you will not come to preschool today. Yes, everything is under control. Yes, you will lie on the sofa and take your pain pills and antibiotics. Any questions?”
“Private all-girls boarding school, actually.”
Breck watched the paramedic examine the head wound. “How old were you when they sent you to boarding school?”
“Nine.”
“
Nine
? What the hell were they thinking? Were you a handful?”
Ingrid tried to shake her head. “Hold still,” the paramedic growled.
“Sorry. No, I think it was because Mother and Tom wanted some time together.” Then she subsided. Too much information. Why was she telling the world about her childhood? Breck—maybe. The paramedic—definitely not. She knew why. Her defenses were down, not just down, but down and out. She felt as if someone had found every pulse point in her body and was grinding away at them with sandpaper. She wanted to lie down and sleep but she was too antsy. “I think I’m going to—”
The paramedic held a bag in front of her.
Whoosh!
Great. Now Breck had seen the very worst of her. Perhaps her mother had something after all, about being a lady and maintaining self-control. On the other hand, it was damned hard to maintain self-control when your stomach rebelled. And rebelled. She grabbed the bag again and felt a hand holding her hair back.
“It’s okay, Ingrid. I’m here.”
Breck. The man was as reliable as sunrise. And he didn’t seem the least bit put out. Must be the police training. Perhaps there
was
something to be said for cops after all.
She leaned back against his arm and the paramedic wiped her face with a damp cloth. “Miss—umm, Ingrid, you need to get stitches in this scalp wound. We have to take you to hospital
now
.”
Embarrassed, she felt hot tears trickling down her face. “I don’t wanna go to hospital.”
“I know,” Breck answered her. “But it’s for the best. Kit and I will follow the ambulance and wait till you’re fixed. And don’t worry about tomorrow. Stella Martin and I can handle the museum trip.”
“The museum trip! Oh, no! Breck—”
“Ingrid. Shut up and go with the nice man.” She shut up and watched as the paramedic winked at Breck.
“I’ll get you for that, Breck Marchant,” she muttered as she was assisted on to a stretcher.
Chapter Twenty
She’d needed to contact her insurers.
She’d wanted to paint the graffiti off the walls of the preschool and get quotes from builders for the reconstruction of the floor.
She’d wanted to supervise the visit to the museum.
She hadn’t actually pouted when the nurse pointed out to her that she would not be doing any of those things. She’d just subsided down the bed and looked miserable.
Breck had promised to take up the slack. And he had. Now he could hardly keep his eyes open. How did she do it? He’d contacted Stella Martin at six a.m. and asked her to phone all the parents. They’d hoped that some parents would keep their kids home. But no. Most of the parents were working parents and almost the full quota of kids were at the gate at 8:30, psyched up ready to go to the museum. The bus driver looked terrified at the sight of thirty preschoolers standing in two neat rows waiting to climb on to the bus, so Breck had had to accompany the group, even though the requisite number of assistants were there. He’d hoped to have time to paint a second coat over the graffiti while they were away. He’d been at the doors of the local hardware market when they’d opened at 7:30. At least he’d managed to get one coat of paint finished before the hordes arrived.
At the museum, while the kids stared in awe at the prehistoric section, he’d borrowed Stella’s iPhone and spoken to Ingrid’s insurance company. Then he’d lined up several builders to quote for repairs. He emphasized the need for urgency, but that backfired on him. The insurance assessor and a couple of builders were prepared to meet him on site that afternoon. So he’d had to abandon Stella and the twitchy bus-driver and dash back to the school. Then he’d reported back to Ingrid. He’d also checked up on the man who’d been hit on the back of the head, but he’d not yet regained consciousness. They were none the wiser who he was or what he had been doing at the preschool in the middle of the night.
After running around like a maniac, he sat down to have a cup of coffee and discovered it was time to collect Kit.
At that stage he decided that a day in the life of a non-working Dad was not for him. He’d rather be setting up a sting to catch a bunch of break-and-enter thieves, or hunker down in wet undergrowth waiting for a hostage situation to simmer down than drive around chasing his tail.
But Ingrid had needed his help. God knows, she’d helped him often enough, but it wasn’t a tally thing. He
wanted
to help her.
As soon as Kit was asleep, Breck settled down in front of the computer and sent detailed emails to Raker and Hull about the recent developments. No doubt there was an incident report somewhere in the system about the attacks on Ingrid and the security guard, but neither Raker nor Hull would see them for several hours. He also informed them about the mysterious man in the hospital who carried no ID.
Once he’d done that, he created a document for all the people who might be involved in the puzzle that was Tania Kerr. Angela whoever, Albertine Reynolds and Billy Kerr were the main ones. They might lead him to Tania or they might not. Even if he only managed to make minimal contact with them, they could hold clues to Tania’s behavior or whereabouts. He would pass the information along to Hull and Raker. And the next time he saw his ex-wife, he hoped she’d be behind bars. He still swallowed a truckload of saliva every time he thought of Ingrid struggling to protect Kit.
He wondered if Tony Hull had checked out the elderly Ms. Reynolds yet. Glancing at his watch, he saw it was almost ten o’clock. Oh, what the hell. Hull was no timekeeper. He’d still be working.
Hull answered after the first ring. “Yeah? Who’s that?”
Breck explained why he was calling but Hull had no fresh news. “Sent some uniforms out. Nobody home.”
“When was that?”
“The day after you told us about her. Why are you poking into the old lady’s background?”
“Well…since I’ve been dragged into this drama whether I like it or not, I’d rather be proactive than reactive.”
Hull grunted. “Can’t argue with that. How much more time do you have on leave?”
“Ten days.”
“Go for it then. Keep me up to date. I’ll send a couple of uniforms around to Reynolds’ place again tomorrow and let you know the outcome. ’Night.”
Good. That was Ms. Reynolds covered. Breck would rely on Ingrid to find out what she could about the mysterious Angela. In the meantime he’d delve further into Billy Kerr’s background.
****
Ingrid shivered. Tania was more than a loose cannon now. She seemed to have lost touch with reality. Why had she attacked them? Tania had always made sure that she was the sun around whom others revolved, but with her latest escapade she was a wanted criminal. At least before she’d just been missing.
The good thing was that Breck was no longer a suspect in her disappearance. First Tania had contacted his parents; now she had come out of nowhere to attack Ingrid and vandalize the school. Why? Along with all the other parents, Tania had known about the trouble with the school alarm system when it was first installed. It had become a standing joke. Tania had capitalized on that. She didn’t miss a trick. Tania was good at capitalizing on anything she could get her hands on. Right down to framing Ingrid for plagiarism at exam time. She’d almost destroyed Ingrid’s career before it got off the ground. Tania had been so angry that Ingrid had avoided sharing her assignments with her, that she’d set Ingrid up to take a fall at exam time.
Their final exam consisted of interpretation and attitude rather than cognition, so the students were notified prior to exam time about the type of questions they would encounter. Most students prepared the answers on their laptops. It couldn’t have been hard for Tania to access Ingrid’s laptop because when she bothered to turn up for lectures, she insisted on sitting next to Ingrid.
Ingrid had found out why Tania had become so chummy when she was hauled into the principal’s office and asked to explain how her exam answers were an exact copy of those of ‘another student.’ It had taken Ingrid several weeks of wrestling with Education New Zealand to clear her name. She’d had to employ an expensive lawyer. Even then they’d delayed their decision so long that the teaching year had already begun by the time they’d exonerated her. Their exoneration had been perfunctory at best, and Ingrid had spent the last few years making sure she didn’t put a foot wrong. She had never told her parents, scared of their reaction if they discovered she had become a kindergarten teacher by the skin of her teeth. But perhaps she
should
have mentioned it to Tom Rowland. His team of smooth, vicious lawyers could have eaten Tania alive. Maybe if that had happened, they would not all be faced with Tania’s erratic behavior now. Then again, a team of lawyers might not be enough to control Tania. Whereas they would play by the book, Tania had
never
played by the book.
Ingrid wriggled restlessly. God,
everything
hurt. Even so, she would be glad to get out of here. She didn’t know anyone who actually liked hospitals, and she was chomping at the bit to get on with her life. There was so much to do. Had the walls at the preschool been painted? What about the repairs to the main room? Had the police caught Tania yet? Her mind ran on a treadmill until a nursing assistant popped in with a cup of tea.
“
Thank
you. I’m sick of doing nothing,” she admitted.
The nurse laughed. “That’s what most of our patients say. Except, of course, the new mothers with a couple of kids at home already. Anyway, you’re going home soon.”
And even before breakfast was served, Breck and Kit arrived. They took one step inside the room and Breck held up both hands. “Yes, ma’am. The wall has had two coats of paint. No, the builders haven’t yet begun the repairs because the insurance company didn’t come till late afternoon. Yes, Kit is fine. Yes, I’m fine. No, they haven’t caught Tania yet.” He took a breath. “And how are you, Ms. Rowland?”
Kit giggled. He was fine.
“Better now, thanks.” She grinned. “You sound like a police report.”
He rolled his eyes, then bent over and kissed her. Just a peck, but at the same time he palmed his hand to the back of her neck and rubbed gently.
Ingrid clasped her hand over his for a second and cast a quick look at Kit. But Kit seemed to take it all in his stride. He hopped up beside her on the bed and announced, “We think Mom’s gone nuts.”
Ingrid coughed to hide her amusement. “Is that so?”
“Yeah. She must have.”
Ingrid understood that was Kit’s method of coping with the strange behavior of his mother.
Breck said nothing, just let Kit ramble on. Kit nodded solemnly. “She needs a doctor. But the police can’t find her. When are you coming home?”
“As soon as I say she can,” a voice said from the doorway. The doctor was doing his rounds early. Perhaps it was part of the new austerity measures. Did he hope to release her before breakfast?
Breck’s eyes met hers. He grinned. He was obviously having the same thoughts. “We’ll be outside.”
“Aw, Dad. I wanted to see what the doctor does when he…” Kit’s voice died away as his father hauled him into the corridor.
The doctor’s lips twitched. “At that age they’re little ghouls. Got one just like that.” And he proceeded to give Ingrid a thorough inspection. He wasn’t happy with her determination to quit the hospital and go straight to work, but as he said, “I can’t stop you. If I try to keep you here, you’ll just walk out. I guess stubbornness is your middle name, huh?”
Unwillingly, Ingrid gave a half-laugh. “It’s been said many times.”
He cautioned her, wrote out a prescription and signed the release form.
“Thank you,” she said fervently.
“Breakfast!” The nursing assistant burst into the room with two trays.
Ingrid risked a glance at the congealing oatmeal before saying brightly, “Oh, what a shame! I’m just leaving.” She scooted into the shared bathroom as her roomie called out, “So can I have your breakfast?”
“Go ahead.” Ingrid knew very well that oatmeal was good for you, but she and oatmeal were on very bad terms.
An hour later she was spitting tacks when Breck dumped her at her apartment with a warning. “No, you will not come to preschool today. Yes, everything is under control. Yes, you will lie on the sofa and take your pain pills and antibiotics. Any questions?”
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