Innocent Hostage by Vonnie Hughes Page B

normal course of action would be to go to the North Shore cops to pick up a key. But he wanted to keep a step ahead of that dick-brain, Moffat. If Moffat got to hear that he’d requested a key, the idiot would presume the worst.
Tip-toeing down the hallway, he felt like an elephant trying to walk on eggshells. Only the tick-tick of the clock and the faint squeak of his rubber-soled shoes on the floor tiles broke the silence. He worked on controlling his breathing, the way they did on a mission. This was a lot more nerve-wracking than any call-out.
He paused. Some of the cartons stacked at the end of the hallway had been opened and tossed aside. He didn’t think the cops would have left the place so untidy. His squad rarely left a mess when they instituted a search. The strange thing was that even though the house had been locked up for a couple of weeks, there was a pleasant perfumed smell in the air.
He pushed open the laundry door and discovered the source of the smell. Laundry powder was scattered over the floor and the hard-to-reach top cupboard doors stood open. Tania’s hiding place was bare.
Breck stepped over the sprinkle of soap powder so as not to leave prints and turned in a circle, looking around the small room. The lock was still snibbed on the inside, so nobody had entered from the garden. Whoever had been here must have had a front door key.
He blew out a breath. This was getting complicated. What was going on with the Kerrs? Had Tania’s past caught up with her? Or was it something more recent?
He’d follow Ingrid’s advice and search for anything pertaining to little Bobby. Then he’d scarper. Something was very wrong here.
Toeing the inside of each stair tread, he climbed the stairs that led to the bedrooms. As he got near the top, he hesitated. More perfume, different from the smell of soap powder hung in the air. Tania’s perfume, strong and poignant. It was called Chloe. He ought to know. He’d bought enough of the stuff.
He stopped. Was she here? Had she been here? That stuff lingered for a long time. Their apartment had stunk of it for weeks after she’d left.
“Tania?” he whispered.
A disturbance in the air was his only warning. He ducked as something whizzed over the top of his head. Then he was shoved aside as a dark figure pushed past him. Breck clutched at the banisters, his feet shooting out from under him on the slippery carpet. Shit! Scrambling to his feet, he bounced down the last couple of stairs and chased the stocky figure careening down the hallway.
His quarry wrenched open the front door. Dusk had settled and it was almost dark outside. He managed to grab his attacker’s coat and began reeling in the interloper like a fish. But the man wriggled out of his plastic raincoat and fled towards a blue pick-up truck waiting at the curb. His balding head gleamed under the streetlights. Someone inside the vehicle leaned over and flung open the passenger door, revving the engine just as Breck aimed a solid punch at the back of the attacker’s neck. Reeling against the car door, the man half-collapsed on to the front seat of the truck, his legs hanging out the door. The driver floored the accelerator and the blue truck jerked out from the curb as if the driver was unfamiliar with the gears. It hiccupped along the road. Breck raced behind it, clutching the tattered plastic raincoat in one hand. The driver finally found second gear and the truck picked up speed and was swallowed in the dusk.
His chest heaving, Breck came to a halt. Two people: one man, one woman. Numberplate AC2431. The woman had hunkered low in the seat. She hadn’t looked much like Tania. For starters, her hair was different. Of course, Tania often changed her hair color and style. The Tania he knew wouldn’t hide from view. She liked to be seen. Except it seemed he hadn’t known Tania at all, and a getaway driver sure would not want to be seen.
The guy was in his forties, balding and a little on the tubby side.