Running on Envy

Nisbet

Chapter 1

I had always heeded the warning that if something appeared too good to be true, it usually was. But now that my life seemed to be moving along so near to perfection, I was rethinking that adage.

My son Matthew was in his junior year at a local university. My daughter Holly was studying and dancing her heart out on the East Coast, soon to arrive home for Thanksgiving. Josh, the teenage boy whom I had recently rescued, was safe and happy spending most of his time assisting my father, Detective Charlie McNair, or playing his sax in Charlie’s band, The Covenant Stompers. And my dog Rocky, another rescue project, was assuredly mine.

I currently had no bizarre mysteries to solve or cases with which I was assisting my father Charlie. I was very happily divorced and newly engaged to a man with whom I had been friends and had admired and adored for more than twenty years. And I had shed those excess fifteen pounds—well, ten of them anyway. Life was good.

MacGregor came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me as I stared out his kitchen window toward the park that overlooked Puget Sound. Good morning, McNair.

I savored the feel of his chest against my back for a moment before turning in his arms to kiss him. I was still bewildered that I had not known that he had been loving me for the past twenty years. He claimed that he had been smitten when I first walked into his physics classroom at the University. Charlie had known, but because I was married to Joe Campbell, he had failed to mention it. During those twenty years, MacGregor and Charlie had become best friends, both hailing from Scotland. Once MacGregor bought the house across the street from Charlie’s, they were neighbors as well.

Their neighboring days were only part time now because MacGregor and I were spending more than half of our time in the Anamcara Island cottage I had inherited from my Great Aunt Winnie. We were yet to settle on a permanent routine but were content as long as we were in the same place at the same time, at least for the most part.

Mmm, I like your hair this way. He nuzzled my neck.

How?

Not sure what it is, but it seems a wee bit longer than you used to wear it and something else? Layered?

He had noticed. I had given in and allowed my new island hairdresser to do something different with my boring brown hair.

What the hell!

Startled by MacGregor’s sudden expletive, and hoping he hadn’t spotted something nasty in my hair, such as lice, I looked up and followed his gaze toward the park in time to see a figure cloaked in a dark hooded sweatshirt. My eyes shifted to the woman on the ground, a baby stroller beside her.

He’s taking the baby! I blurted out as MacGregor ran for the kitchen door. One step behind, I headed straight for the woman as he gave chase to what I assumed was a kidnapper. Unfortunately Rocky was across the street with Josh and Charlie. The kidnapper wouldn’t have had a chance against my Australian shepherd-Bernese mountain dog. But, despite being in his late forties, MacGregor had been a top class rugby player in his day. He was fast. Hopefully fast enough.

Ally! the woman was screaming as she struggled to stand up. He took my baby!

I reached into my pocket, coming up empty. Do you have a cell phone?

She nodded and pointed to the back pouch of her stroller. I dug around inside and when I felt that familiar size, shape, and texture, I grabbed it. I quickly dialed the police and gave them the crucial information. I then called Charlie and repeated it. Seconds later I could see him, followed by Rocky and Josh, heading across the street toward us.

It was unusual that Charlie’s number wasn’t the first one I dialed in an emergency. But this appeared to be a kidnapping. Even if MacGregor caught the kidnapper which I had to admit was unlikely with the head start the culprit had on him, we would still need the police. And if he didn’t, we needed all the help we could get. If I knew anything from working with my detective father for the last several years, it was that time was of the essence, particularly in a kidnapping.

The police are on their way, I told the woman as I helped her to her feet. By the time she was standing, it was clear that she had injured her ankle. She held onto the stroller for support.

Do you have any idea who it was? Charlie asked when he reached us ahead of dog and boy.

Are—are you the police?

This is my father, Charlie McNair. He’s a private detective. I’m Jenny McNair, his assistant.

Partner, Charlie corrected.

Thank you so much for coming. Who is—

Malcolm MacGregor. I nodded in the direction they had run. He works with us on occasion.

The woman’s eyes had not left the trees into which kidnapper and pursuer had disappeared. Do you think he’ll—?

Charlie looked at me and I shook my head. As much faith as I had in MacGregor, I had to remember that he was human. Despite the kidnapper’s running with a baby, there was a daunting distance between them.

Can you describe the kidnapper? Charlie asked.

Not really. I didn’t see his face. I don’t even know if it was a he. It just seemed like it. Young. He seemed young, from his build. He was wearing jeans and a brown hooded sweatshirt. It had some kind of design on it.

Design? Charlie asked.

You know, like— Her expression was stricken as if she had realized that she couldn’t remember the most important detail. I don’t know. It all happened so quickly. I was singing to Ally— She smiled. That’s my baby’s name, Ally. She loves it when I sing. She was kind of fussy because she’s teething lately which is why I brought her out here in the first place. It didn’t help so I started singing and that calmed her down and then suddenly I felt this hand on my back pushing me, and I fell to the ground. When I looked up this—this person was grabbing Ally from her stroller and running. Her volume was increasing along with the speed with which she was frantically spewing out words. She wiped at her tears but I knew it would be a battle that would not end until she had her baby back in her arms.

I wanted to reassure her that we would find Ally, but I couldn’t. My stomach was as tight as a drum. A dark cloud was pressing down on us and it had nothing to do with the grey West Seattle sky. A moment later when I spotted MacGregor, I knew why the cloud was hovering so low.

Breathlessly he apologized for his failed attempt. I chased them through the trees and along the path. I had them in my sight until the path curved and I couldn’t see them around the wall. Then suddenly they vanished.

But how could that be? The woman’s hand covered her chest. The park isn’t that big. And the path is open.

He gained more distance on me when I was running through the brush. I don’t know how— MacGregor’s bewilderment would remain with him until he had definitive answers. He was like Charlie that way. And, I had to admit, like me. Add to that his being a physics professor and he was doomed to examine, scrutinize, analyze, evaluate, and ponder every detail of the last few minutes.

He must know the park well, he said.

And it must have been planned, was my next thought.

The woman broke into sobs and I found myself holding her up so she wouldn’t collapse onto the damp grass. Oh, my God! What’s going to happen to my baby? Where would he take her? Why would he take her?

We’ll do our best to find out, lass, Charlie said. And the police should be here any minute. Is there someone we can call?

Your husband? I asked.

She nodded and I scrolled through her most recent calls and found two in the past couple hours to a Greg Rallings and four to someone named Carter Elliot.

Carter? I asked.

Again she nodded.

I motioned for Charlie to take my place beside her so I could step away to make the call.

Hello, darling, the voice answered. And no, you’re not disturbing me. A loving husband. This was good. She would need that.

Mr. Elliot?

Uh, yes? Who is this? Why are you calling me from my wife’s phone?

I’m a neighbor. My name is Jenny McNair. Your wife is okay.

I heard the sigh in his breath and knew where his mind had gone.

We found her in the neighborhood park. I’m sorry. It appears that your baby has been kidnapped.

What! Ally?

Yes, I’m afraid so.

My God! Who? Why? Where are you? Where is Shelby? Why didn’t she call—?

Assuming that was his wife’s name, I answered, Her ankle is hurt but she’s okay, considering . . . We’re at the park on Pleasant Beach Drive.

Have you called the police?

They’re on their way.

Could you take Shelby home? Please? I’ll be there as soon as I can, but it will take me at least twenty minutes to get there.

Of course. Where is your house?

He gave me the address which was only a couple doors down from Edward Sharkey’s, a friend of MacGregor’s and Charlie’s. I’m sure the police will want to speak with her though.

Of course, but could you ask them to do it at the house? Shelby is—well, let’s just say, she’ll do better in the comfort of her own home.

I glanced over at the petite woman who had to be older than she looked. She was leaning against Charlie for support now. There was something helpless about her, something that I was certain made men want to take care of her. I’ll ask the police to come to your home then. You can meet us there.

Thank you! Thank you so much.

The phone went silent and I imagined he was running out the door of his office. I told Shelby that he was on his way. Why don’t I take you home? I suggested. It will be more comfortable for you there.

I’m not sure I can walk that far.

Do you think you need to have a doctor look at your ankle? I asked.

Charlie answered for her. Malcolm and I took a look at it. We both think she twisted it when she went down. However, she’ll need to ice it.

MacGregor nodded in agreement and trotted off to fetch his Range Rover. He pulled it up to the curb as close as he could get. We agreed that Charlie would stay and wait for the police while I drove Shelby the half block home. MacGregor was anxious to retrace his steps from the chase, and Josh and Rocky were more than willing to accompany him.

Just as I was helping Shelby up the stairs of her home, the front door opened and a teenage girl appeared. Mom! What happened? You’re hurt!

The girl ran to her mother’s side to help me get her the rest of the way up the stairs. She looked somewhere between fifteen and seventeen, confirming my thought that Shelby was definitely older than she looked.

The sobbing started again when the girl hugged her mother. Mom! Tell me! What happened?

They took Ally! she sputtered.

Took Ally? Who? The girl looked to me for answers.

We don’t know yet. But hopefully the police will find the kidnapper.

Police? Kidnapper? The girl’s voice was timid. It was as if the severity of what had occurred was now kicking in.

I nodded toward the two police vehicles that had turned onto our street and were headed toward the park, sirens blaring. Once inside, we helped Shelby over to the couch.

Could you get some ice for your mom’s ankle? And maybe make her a cup of tea? I didn’t know if it would have the same effect on her, but having been raised by a Scotsman, tea was always a comfort to me.

The girl nodded and started toward the kitchen. A helpless voice whispered, Jillian?

Yes, Mom?

Shelby motioned for her daughter to give her a hug which she obligingly did. Then she whispered, Some tissue too?

Your husband will be here any minute, I assured her. Carter Elliot was wise, I realized, to ask that we escort her home before the police arrived to question her. She had already pulled a lap blanket from the back of the couch and was hugging it against her chest, much the way a child would do in order to comfort herself.

A moment later Jillian appeared with an ice pack which she’d wrapped in a dishtowel, and a box of tissue which, judging from her tear-streaked face, she too needed. She placed it on her mother’s ankle, waiting for her to nod assurance that it was in the correct spot. Then she ran back to the kitchen to fetch the cup of tea. When she returned, she pulled the coffee table slightly closer, set a coaster on the table, and placed the cup squarely in the center of it.

Efficient young girl, I thought. She had her mother’s big brown eyes and wavy golden brown hair. Her build was slightly larger than her mother’s, and although a very beautiful girl, she was not quite as strikingly exquisite as her mother was.

Thank you, darling, Shelby said as Jillian helped her hold the cup up to her mouth to take a sip of the hot tea. Chamomile, my nose detected. A good choice. Always soothing.

Then she sat down on the floor between the couch and table. What happened, Mom? She was speaking softly in order to not further upset her mother.

Shelby shook her head and buried her face in the lap blanket.

I came to her rescue. Your mom was pushing your baby sister through the park in her stroller. They were on the path that runs through the grass when someone ran up behind your mother and pushed her down. Then he took Ally and ran.

Oh my God! Poor Ally! She must be so scared. Who did it? Do you know?

Unfortunately not. Your mom thought it was someone young. And obviously fast and agile, I said.

You mean because he ran away?

Right. My friend chased him but whoever it was is a very fast runner. And apparently, carrying a baby hadn’t slowed him down a bit. We were standing in our kitchen when it happened, too far to see much. And unfortunately your mom was pushed down so she didn’t get a good look at him. He had a hood up which didn’t help.

Jillian reached for the cup to hand it to her mother again. It was easy to see that this was not the first time that she had played parent to her mother.

The door opened and I was certain it was Carter, rushing to his wife’s side before dealing with the police. Shelby!

Jillian quickly stood up, and I expected her to jump in for a hug from her father first, but instead she stepped aside so he could get to her mother. He kneeled down and pulled his wife into his arms. What happened? Have the police found out anything?

They only arrived a few minutes ago, I told him. I’m sure they’re blockading the street. Did you see them?

See them? Oh. Yes. They let me through.

Fortunately it was a dead-end street. Unfortunately it was unlikely that they had arrived in time to stop the kidnapper, if he had escaped by automobile.

They’ll be here at the house shortly then, I’m sure. I automatically turned to glance out the window as if that would influence their arrival. I should probably go talk to them, tell them what I saw.

Carter looked across the room at me and I realized that, although he had spoken to me on the phone, he had no idea who I was. I’m sorry. Your name again?

Jenny McNair.

His forehead wrinkled. Your father lives across the street, doesn’t he?

Yes, Charlie McNair.

Detective?

I nodded.

Would you stay? Wait for the police here?

Of course.

Thank you. Thank you for all your help. He motioned toward an antique chair that blended with, but did not match the couch. Someone had put a lot of thought into decorating this house. Tasteful blends without quite matching, a popular concept. I sat in the chair which was opposite the couch and watched the family of three.

Jillian was quiet now, having scooted to the end of the couch where she could tend to her mother’s ankle. Would you like some tea? she asked me.

No, thank you. I would have felt more like the third wheel except that I was struck with the sense that Jillian had taken that role. Is there anything I can do for you?

Carter looked at his wife who shook her head and whispered, Find my baby.

The police will be on it immediately, I’m sure. Particularly since Charlie would be pressuring them.

I know, but you said— She swallowed against her cracking voice. Your father is a detective. And you said you work with him. Again she appeared younger than her age as she looked up at me.

Yes.

Could you help, do you think?

Both she and I glanced at her husband, seeking approval, I suppose.

Would you? Would you and your father help find Ally? His mouth moved into a deeper frown. I have to admit, I don’t have a lot of faith in the police. I would feel much better if we had someone else who was working on our behalf.

I’ll speak to my father, I said. And MacGregor. After all, I had promised him I would not take any cases until after our wedding and honeymoon which were quickly approaching. But I had a feeling he would be as indulgent as Carter Elliot was of his wife, particularly since he would take it personally that the kidnapper had escaped.

A moment later the doorbell rang and Jillian went to answer it. Returning to the living room, she said, Carter, it’s Jenny’s friend, Malcolm MacGregor and her father. Should I let them in? Carter. He was her stepfather.

Considering that I had been calling my father by his first name for several years, I of all people should not assume that was the case. When I was a teenager and had gone to live with my father during his short-lived second marriage, my stepmother had referred to him as Charlie instead of your father or Dad, I had run with it. But in this instance there was more evidence to support my theory. Jillian had not turned to Carter for comfort.

So, assuming her father was still alive, the next question that popped into my curious mind was, where was he?

Of course, Carter answered Jillian and started toward the door, but Shelby grabbed his hand.

Carter! Don’t leave me.

No, of course I won’t, darling. I’m right here. He leaned down and hugged her before introducing himself to Charlie and MacGregor whom Jillian had escorted into the house.

Have the police found anything?

Not so far, Charlie answered. But they’re on it. They’ve set up a blockade at the road’s end and have detained everyone at the park to question them. They’ve isolated the crime scene so as not to compromise any evidence.

What kind of evidence? Shelby sat up straighter on the couch and turned to look at us.

Anything, particularly footprints, Charlie said. He ran through the brush. A branch could have torn his shirt. Perhaps a hair sample. And they’ll examine the stroller for fingerprints.

It was a long shot but part of police procedure. The shirt they were talking about was a sweatshirt. It would hold up against most of the twigs and branches in the park. And it had a hood.

Shelby’s mind took the same track. He was wearing one of those hooded sweatshirts so I doubt any hair— The tears started up again and she snatched a tissue from the nearby box. I’m sorry. It’s just that it all seems so hopeless. I can’t believe this is happening. She looked up at her husband. Someone took my baby. Someone took Ally! She must be terrified! What’s going to happen to my sweet baby? Her voice was bordering on hysteria now as the reality sank deeper. I didn’t blame her a bit.

Carter sat on the edge of the couch and pulled his wife into his arms and held her while she sobbed. The rest of us looked on helplessly.

They’ve found nothing? Carter asked, looking up as if pleading for us to come up with something, anything with which to comfort his wife, even if it was manufactured.

There is something, MacGregor offered.

He released his wife only slightly. What?

The sweatshirt he was wearing was from one of the local colleges.

How do you know that? Carter asked.

I didn’t see the insignia which would be on the front, but there was a white circle within another white circle on the back. The name of the school is written in between the circles.

You could read the name? Jillian asked.

I didn’t need to. It’s the only local college that has those circles and name on the back.

That’s something, isn’t it? That could help, don’t you think? Carter offered.

It could. Charlie’s response was tentative. I was certain he too was thinking that the college was not necessarily local and that anyone can purchase college sweatshirts.

Do the police know about this?

Yes, I told them, MacGregor said. They’ll look into it.

What else are they doing?

They’re focusing on how the kidnapper got away, MacGregor said.

I knew the routine. A forensics team would be checking fingerprints, footprints and looking for any other evidence. Someone would be on a computer checking for any parolees in the area, particularly child molesters, and the data base for pedophiles would be checked and all would be brought in for questioning. The neighborhood would be scoured for any type of surveillance cameras and all neighbors would be questioned. And then the real interrogation would begin—of the kidnapped child’s family.

I lost sight of him along the concrete path that runs along the wall, MacGregor continued, so they’re trying to figure out how he disappeared. That would either be by boat or through the backyard of one of the homes on the edge of the Sound.

Which do you think it is? I stood up and walked over to MacGregor.

I’m certain that a boat would not have escaped my notice. That leaves the neighborhood homes.

It could have been a neighbor? Shelby’s voice was bordering on frantic again.

But the truth was, if it was a neighbor, that would be a good thing. It would narrow the search considerably. But I knew where her thoughts had gone—directly to betrayal.

It could have been, MacGregor said. Or he may simply have run through a neighbor’s yard to make his escape to a car that was waiting on the street. The police are searching for footprints in the yards of all the homes that are adjacent to the Sound. He glanced out the window and I knew his thoughts. This would have to be a rare dry November week in Seattle. Fresh footprints would be more difficult to detect. But not impossible.

MacGregor placed an arm across my shoulder. They’re also talking to everyone in the park—including anyone at the tennis courts and soccer field even though the kidnapper went in the other direction. Just in case someone saw something. And they’re going door to door as well, searching for surveillance cameras and questioning everyone in the neighborhood.

How many? I slid my arm around his waist, finding comfort there.

Two teams of detectives arrived initially, Charlie said. The other coppers showed up shortly after. Twelve are combing the park now. I would say there are upwards of twenty scouring the neighborhood.

Jack and Rochelle? I asked.

They’re working the case but the lead detective is— His grimace told me exactly who it was. Ben Blaine.

Do you know them? Carter asked.

Och, aye, Charlie said. We go way back. Jack Sawyer and Rochelle Turner had been his students at the University. On the other hand, from what I could glean, he had known Ben Blaine from working some of the same cases in the past and having stepped on his toes. The senior detective seemed to have very long toes.

Are they good?

Very good. He left out the part about Ben Blaine’s stubborn inclination to insist that things be done his way, not that Jack and Rochelle always bowed to his command.

Will you help them? Shelby was clutching her lap blanket more tightly now. Will you help them find my baby?

Charlie glanced from me to MacGregor. The three of us needed to talk. MacGregor squeezed my shoulder. Maybe talking wasn’t necessary. I nodded, and although reluctant to subject himself to working with Ben again, Charlie answered Shelby in the affirmative. We’ll do what we can.

Carter bent down to kiss his wife’s forehead, then looked to Jillian and said, Will you stay with your mother for a moment?

Jillian stepped forward to sit on the edge of the couch beside her mother.

Where are you going? Shelby clasped her husband’s hand.

He kissed the back of hers and made a valiant effort to give her a reassuring smile. I won’t be long. I promise.

He led the three of us into his study where he motioned for us to sit down in the neat office-style leather chairs that formed a circle. We all declined. None of us was in a sitting mood.

I need to know, what are the chances of getting Ally back?

MacGregor and I let Charlie take that one. I knew the odds, the percentages, and they weren’t good. There are too many unknown factors for me to answer that.

What do you think?

This time Charlie looked to me for an answer. He tended to depend on my intuition which he claimed was stronger than his. I knew better. I had inherited mine from him, after all. Still, I checked in with my sixth chakra before answering. I did not like giving anyone false hope. Relatively good.

His hand combed through his thick brown hair, and his blue eyes looked more hopeful than they had since he’d arrived home. They were as blue as the ocean, and I would have thought them beautiful if I didn’t have an aversion to men with blue eyes. I could thank my ex-husband for that.

I quickly cautioned myself to take responsibility for my feelings. Yes, Joe had betrayed me. Yes, he had blue eyes. But wasn’t it time I forgave him? And wasn’t it time I stopped assuming that all men with blue eyes were betrayers? Especially considering that I was a spiritual counselor. I needed to rise above these things. Hmm. There was always tomorrow.

Carter released a deep sigh in response to my answer. There’s hope. That’s something.

Yes, but time is of the essence, Charlie said. The sooner we get going, the better.

Will the police tell you what they find?

MacGregor and I looked at Charlie. His smile was impish. He was thinking of Rochelle and Jack’s loyalty—and their dislike of their superior officer. Aye, they will indeed.