Boxed Set: The Deadly Series: Detective Jack Mackinnon: Books 1-3 Read online

  Both girls mumbled, “Hello,” as they moved toward the table.

  Mackinnon pulled out a chair for Chloe. “Did you have a nice day?”

  Chloe nodded. “Fantastic. We hit the shops, then went to see the Wicked matinee at the Apollo. I’m thoroughly worn out now, though. I’m starving too.” She looked around and waved to get the waitress’ attention.

  The girls both ordered Cokes, burgers and fries. Chloe asked for the Italian-style chicken and a coffee, and Mackinnon went for the twelve-ounce sirloin steak.

  After the drinks arrived. Katy took a sip of Coke, then looked up at Mackinnon. “Mum said you’re a policeman.”

  Mackinnon nodded. “I am.”

  “Have you seen any dead bodies?”

  “Katy!” Chloe shook her head. “That isn’t an appropriate question to ask when we are about to eat. Sorry, Jack.”

  Katy gave Mackinnon a smile that looked more like a grimace. “Sorry.”

  Sarah looked down at her fizzy drink and used her straw to bash up the ice cubes. Coke sloshed over the sides of the glass.

  “Sarah, stop that,” Chloe said.

  Sarah dropped the straw, slumped back in her seat and stared down at the table.

  Chloe, who seemed oblivious to the fact both girls seemed to hate Mackinnon on sight, launched into a detailed description of their day shopping in London.

  Mackinnon was glad. He had no idea how to make small talk with two teenage girls who wanted to be here even less than he did.

  4

  HENRYK BLONSKI WAS STILL reeling from his out-of-control reaction to the detective that morning. He remembered how the detective’s shiny suit fabric had felt screwed up in his hands when Henryk had grabbed him. He couldn’t understand where the anger had come from. It had risen up inside him, crushed his ribs like a boa constrictor, and set his blood alight.

  He felt a flush of mortification when he considered the fact he could be in prison right now, locked up, instead of looking for Anya. What good would he be to his sister then?

  Still, on the plus side, maybe he had convinced DC Collins to take Anya’s disappearance seriously. If not, then Anya still had Henryk. He would never give up. He would find his sister.

  No matter what the police officer said, he knew there was something wrong. Anya would never make him worry like this.

  Henryk called home this morning and spoke to his parents in Poland to check if Anya had been in touch.

  As he usually rang home once a week, on Sunday evenings, his mother immediately suspected something was wrong. He didn’t want to worry his parents, so he didn’t dare tell them Anya was missing. He told them she was fine, working hard and doing well with her dance classes. He said he just wanted to check if she had been in touch because he was working late this week and hadn’t seen much of her over the past few days.

  Unfortunately, his mother knew him too well. She could tell he was keeping something from her and asked him over and over again to tell her what had happened. He spent twenty minutes trying to convince her that everything was fine, that he just wanted to see if Anya had called home, and made a feeble joke about the phone bill.

  He finished the phone call feeling even worse. Anya was missing. Their parents hadn’t spoken to her since last week, and now Henryk had made his mother panic. He could tell from her voice she didn’t believe him when he said everything was okay. And he knew his mother. She wouldn’t let it rest. She would call him again tonight, and he didn’t know if he had the energy to make up more lies.

  If something had happened to Anya, his parents would want to know immediately. But if she turned up tomorrow, and he had upset them for nothing, Anya would be furious.

  Now, Henryk Blonski paused outside a narrow door with peeling, red paint. He raised his hand to knock, then lowered it again. He needed to collect his thoughts first.

  As he stood outside Victoria Trent’s flat, he tried to plan what he would say. Victoria was a student with Anya at the Star Academy, and Henryk had found her telephone number in Anya’s notebook.

  When he spoke to Victoria on the phone, she insisted Anya had been offered a great career opportunity, and told him she was sure Anya would be in touch soon.

  Of course, Henryk didn’t believe it.

  Anya had stars in her eyes. She had dreams of being a singer or on the stage. She may have been tricked by a job offer that sounded exotic. She could have been fooled into working as a lap dancer. Or worse…

  Anya didn’t have many friends in London. There were a few people she knew from her dance classes. She mentioned them now and again, but there was no one Anya was really close to. All of her friends were back in Poland. That was a problem. Henryk couldn’t think who Anya might have confided in.

  He wasn’t convinced that Victoria Trent was a close friend of Anya’s, but as he didn’t have much else to go on, Henryk wanted to speak to her in person. Maybe Anya told her something, some clue that Henryk could use to find his sister.

  Henryk knocked on the door.

  The door opened a few centimetres. The safety chain was still on. Two blue eyes, laced with heavy mascara, peered out at him.

  Henryk moved closer to the door so she could see him.

  “It is Henryk,” he said. “Anya’s brother.”

  There was a pause before the door opened to reveal a girl not much older than Anya. She was slim and short, barely five feet tall. Her fair hair was tied back in a messy ponytail, and she wore a loose green top over black leggings. She smelled of violets.

  “Victoria?”

  The girl nodded.

  “Have you heard from her?” Henryk asked, walking into the hall.

  Victoria sighed and closed the door behind him.

  “No, Henryk,” she said, her flip-flops smacking the floor as she walked along the hallway. “I told you. Anya’s busy, that’s all. She has a new job. She’ll be in touch once she’s settled.”

  Henryk gritted his teeth in frustration. She sounded just like that stupid police officer. He wanted to shake some sense into her. Why couldn’t anyone else see that Anya must be in danger? Anya would never leave for a new job without telling him.

  “What is this job?” Henryk asked. “If it was good, she would have told me. I think it must be bad.”

  Victoria put her hands on her hips and sighed. “I’m sure Anya’s okay, Henryk. Can I get you a drink or something?”

  “No.” Henryk folded his arms across his chest.

  Victoria rolled her eyes. “Well, I need one.”

  Henryk followed her to the kitchen. Victoria poured a hefty slug of vodka into a pink glass, dropped in two ice cubes and topped it up with Coke, which fizzed over the ice. The foamy bubbles threatened to run over the side of the glass. She picked it up and took an unladylike slurp to avoid the spillage.

  “So, tell me about Anya’s new job, Victoria.”

  Victoria took another sip of her drink. “Well.” She paused to think. “I don’t know that much about it. But she was going to be an entertainer.” Victoria’s face brightened. “She said it paid very well.”

  Henryk scowled. “Entertainer?”

  Victoria sighed and leaned back against the door of the chrome-coloured fridge. “I know what you’re thinking, Henryk, but really, it’s not like that. Anya is a sensible girl. She wouldn’t do any of that kind of stuff.”

  He knew Victoria thought he was being overprotective, acting like an annoying older brother, out to spoil Anya’s fun. It wasn’t like that. Victoria thought she knew Anya, but she didn’t. Not really, not like he did.

  His sister would never make him worry like this. If she hadn’t been in touch, it must be because something was stopping her.

  Or someone, Henryk thought, and a shiver of dread crept along his spine.

  “Do you fancy a brownie?” Victoria asked. She pushed forward a pack of four supermarket-brand brownies. The chocolate had melted, smearing the plastic packaging.

  “No.”

  Victoria gazed down at
them, then pushed them away. “No. You’re right. I shouldn’t either.”

  She left the cakes behind and carried her drink into the front room, and Henryk followed. She perched on the arm of the sofa and crossed her legs, a flip-flop dangling from her foot.

  “Don’t you want to sit down?” she asked.

  “No,” Henryk said. “I don’t want to sit down. I want to find out what has happened to my sister.”

  Victoria ran a hand through her blonde hair. “Nothing, Henryk. Nothing has happened. She probably just needs a bit of space. And I’m not surprised, with you chasing her like this!”

  Henryk slumped down into an armchair. He knew he was going about this the wrong way, with the police, as well as Victoria. He needed to get their sympathy, make them understand why he was so worried. Acting like this, he wasn’t helping things at all.

  Her expression softened, pity shining in her eyes. “I’m sure she’ll be in touch soon. Somebody mentioned something about a cruise ship. Perhaps, she had to leave quickly. She’ll probably give you a ring as soon as the ship gets to the next port. Just give her a bit of time. She’s a big girl. You have to give her space. She’s following her dreams, Henryk.”

  As Victoria raised the glass to her lips, the sleeve of her green top slid a little way down her arm, revealing an angry, red mark. Victoria noticed him looking and yanked the material down to cover it.

  Henryk was about to ask how she had hurt herself, then thought better of it. It didn’t concern him.

  “Did Anya meet a man?” Henryk asked.

  Victoria narrowed her eyes. “If she did, it’s none of your business. If she wanted to confide in you, she would have.”

  Henryk got to his feet so quickly, Victoria flinched.

  He stepped towards her. “She’s my sister, Victoria. Something is wrong. I feel it.”

  5

  MACKINNON SNUCK A GLANCE at his watch. Where was the food? At least, if he were eating, he wouldn’t have to talk.

  “Right,” Chloe said, standing up. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  She touched the back of his hand and smiled, then walked off in the direction of the ladies’ toilets.

  Mackinnon watched her go with a rising sense of panic. Great, now he’d have to talk to the kids on his own.

  He turned away from Chloe’s retreating back, to find both girls staring at him.

  “So,” he said. “Sounds like you guys had a great time today.”

  Mackinnon cringed. Even to his own ears, he sounded like a crummy kid’s TV presenter. He sounded false, and kids picked up on that sort of thing. They sensed insincerity, like sharks sense blood. He’d read that somewhere.

  Sarah picked up her straw again and started stabbing the ice cubes.

  Katy shrugged. “Yeah, it was a nice day.”

  Mackinnon found himself warming to Katy, if only because she looked as uncomfortable with this meeting as he was.

  “So you’re a policeman,” Sarah said. The way she said policeman made it sound like she thought it was a bad thing.

  Mackinnon nodded. “Yes, I am.”

  “My father’s an entrepreneur.”

  “Really?” Mackinnon said. He had heard all about Sarah’s father from Chloe. Lots of names had been mentioned, but entrepreneur was not one of them.

  “Yes,” Sarah said and waved her straw around, then pointed it at Mackinnon. “Mum said he’s quite brilliant. He’s invented all kinds of things.”

  “Nothing that’s any good,” Katy said and grinned at Mackinnon.

  “Oh, my God,” Sarah said, turning on her sister. “Take that back!”

  “No.” Katy smirked.

  “You’re just jealous because your dad doesn’t want anything to do with you!”

  “Hey,” Mackinnon said.

  Surprised at his interruption, both girls stopped arguing and turned to look at him.

  “That’s not a nice thing to say.”

  Sarah pulled a face, and Mackinnon felt Katy’s brown eyes fixed on him, weighing him up.

  He pushed his chair back from the table and took a deep breath. Please, God, he thought, don’t let World War III start while Chloe’s in the ladies’ toilets. That would not make a good first impression.

  When Mackinnon saw Chloe walking back towards the table, he sighed with relief.

  “Mum, Katy’s saying nasty things about my dad,” Sarah said the moment Chloe pulled out her chair and sat down.

  Chloe pursed her lips and looked disappointed, probably just as disappointed in Mackinnon as she was in the girls.

  He knew he should say something to clear the air; but he had no idea what.

  Chloe sat down, shook out her napkin, and placed it on her lap.

  The waitress arrived with the first two plates of food. She set down Mackinnon’s steak and chips.

  “Can I get you guys any sauces? Any more drinks?” the waitress asked.

  When no one else replied, Mackinnon shook his head and said, “No, thanks, we’re fine.”

  They ate their meals in miserable silence.

  Mackinnon cut into his steak and took a large bite. The evening wasn’t a complete failure. The steak was pretty good.

  ***

  Henryk Blonski’s mind was whirring when he left Victoria Trent’s flat. Victoria didn’t realise it, but she had given him an idea.

  Victoria was a nice enough girl, but she didn’t know where Anya was any more than he did. That didn’t matter. He was still glad he had spoken to her because their conversation triggered a memory.

  Now Henryk was sure he had the information he needed to find his sister. One phone call would be enough to confirm his suspicions. His stomach churned with nerves.

  As soon as he left Victoria’s flat and began walking toward the stairwell, Henryk reached for the mobile in his pocket. Then he stopped abruptly and looked behind him into the empty corridor.

  He shivered.

  There was no one there, but he had the uncanny sensation of being watched, like an antelope stalked by a predator on one of those TV wildlife documentaries.

  Henryk loosened the grip on his phone and left it in his pocket. He wouldn’t make the call in here. Outside would be safer. He didn’t want to risk being overheard by anyone who might be lingering in the flats.

  Outside in the cool night air, Henryk strode across the square and climbed over the three-foot tall, spiky, black railings that cordoned off the grass. He stood under the rustling branches of a beech tree and leaned back on its smooth bark. He took out his phone and dialled another number that had been in Anya’s notebook.

  When the man answered, Henryk shouted at him down the phone. He told him he knew what had happened to Anya. To his surprise, the man didn’t deny it.

  Instead, he laughed, a cold, grating laugh that chilled Henryk to the bone.

  Henryk started to beg and plead for his sister. If only he would release her, give Anya back to him, Henryk promised to tell no one. The man on the other end hung up and Henryk was left listening to the cold, dull sound of silence.

  It was enough evidence for Henryk. Now he knew who had Anya. He was sure of it.

  His limbs trembled. He wiped his hands, slick with sweat, on his jeans. He’d known there was something wrong. He’d felt it. But this? He had never expected this. He stared with hatred at the phone in his hand and wanted to smash it.

  He raised his palms and clamped them against his ears. He could still hear the man’s cruel laughter in his mind.

  Hundreds of ideas crowded Henryk’s mind at once. What could he do? Go to the police? They weren’t interested before, would they even believe him now?

  No. The police would take too long. Henryk didn’t have time to waste. He had to act now.

  Maybe he could ask a friend to help? But who did he know in England that he could trust with something so important? Henryk took a deep breath.

  No one.

  He would have to do it alone.

  He wasn’t afraid. He just needed to be p
repared. That evil man would regret the day he ever even looked at Anya. Henryk would make sure of it.

  He looked up and saw the light on in Victoria’s flat. She was peeking through the frothy, net curtains. She lifted her hand. Henryk waved back, then turned away, jumped over the railings and strode across the green.

  He walked fast, slightly out of breath. He had to get back to his flat. He couldn’t confront this man unarmed. That would be madness.

  Henryk stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and hunched his shoulders as he turned onto the main road, completely unaware that he was being followed.

  6

  MACKINNON GOT BACK TO his Docklands studio flat at just after seven pm. He opened the front door, tapped his code into the alarm and leaned down to pick up the post.

  He elbowed the door closed behind him, put the mail on the kitchen counter and walked straight to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of Tiger beer.

  What an evening.

  He moved across to the bar and picked up a bottle opener, frowning as he hooked it over the cap. The bar was one of the few pieces of furniture he owned. Bottles of spirits were lined up along the polished wooden top. Mackinnon’s studio flat was perfect for a single bloke.

  Mackinnon took a couple of gulps of beer and headed over to the bedroom area. Within seconds, he’d stripped off his work suit and pulled on jeans and an old, comfortable t-shirt. He picked up his beer and wandered back into the open plan living area, remembering how Chloe’s girls had stared at him tonight, weighing him up, judging him. He had a feeling he came up short.

  He looked around his compact flat. If things did get serious with Chloe, he could say goodbye to this kind of lifestyle.

  Chloe was just past forty with two kids already, so if things worked out with her, chances were he’d never have kids of his own.

  He took another mouthful of beer and stood beside the floor-to-ceiling window, looking out at the London skyline.

  Why was he thinking like this? It wasn’t like him. Trying to plan things out in advance, worrying about the details. Maybe because if it didn’t work out, it would affect more than just the two of them. Maybe because he really did want things to work out this time.