Читать книгу Dangerous Deception - Sandy Curtis - Страница 9

The blonde who emerged from the Falcon with a slam of the door and a toss of her head was built like every sailor's dream. If the blue figure-hugging knit top wasn't lying, she had breasts that had enough uplift to make a bra superfluous. Her waist didn't so much curve as flow, and Rogan would have placed bets that her jeans-encased derriere was equally delightful.

A reaction of pure lust shot through him and reminded him how long it had been since he'd been to bed with a woman. The look on the woman's face indicated the situation wasn't likely to change.

She marched up to his window and wrenched open the door.

'Where the hell have you been, Liam?' Her eyes narrowed. 'Sunning yourself on some tropical resort by the look of that tan. I thought we had a deal?'

Rogan wasn't sure if he needed to cop the flak this woman was intending for Liam, but at the moment he had no leads on Liam's disappearance, and he'd pretend to be the Pope if it would give him even one clue to his brother's whereabouts. 'And what deal was that?'

'Don't get smart with me, Liam. I got you the lead Breeanna Montgomery, now where's my exclusive interview with her?'

'What makes you think I've found her?' Rogan countered.

Exasperation showed on the woman's face. 'You told me you were following through on the lead. Then you disappear for a week! And you don't answer your phone. It was only good luck that I spotted you driving into here,' she nodded towards the research institute. She frowned at his Rodeo. 'Whose vehicle is this? It has a Queensland number plate. Is that where you've been?'

Rogan thought quickly. If what this woman said about giving Liam the information he needed to find Breeanna Montgomery was true, he had to keep her thinking he was Liam. At least for long enough to find out what it was so he could trace Liam's movements.

'Yes,' he replied. 'But I didn't find her. It looks like we'll have to go over that information of yours again and see if there's something we missed. At the moment,' he nodded towards the street where a car was negotiating its way around the Falcon, 'you're holding up traffic.'

The blonde smiled, a seductive curve to lips that just missed being labelled 'pouty'. 'All right. We'll go to my place. Just follow me.'

Rogan watched, fascinated, as the blonde returned to her car. And changed his mind about 'delightful'. Firm flesh undulating beneath clinging denim was definitely 'delectable'.

As he followed the Falcon through a maze of streets that left him knowing which direction they had taken but confused as to what suburbs they passed through, his mind raced to work out a way to find out one, her name, and two, the information that had caused Liam to disappear.

The Falcon pulled up outside a block of old, red-brick flats. The blonde got out, swung a small bag onto her shoulder, and waited at the low fence for Rogan to park. She then began walking along the path at the side of the building. Rogan caught up to her as she rounded the corner and went into an internal stairwell. When they reached the top of the stairs she picked a key from the set in her hand and stuck it in the lock of the first door.

Rogan followed her into a living room that promised concussion to the proverbial swinging cat. Even the two cloth armchairs and timber coffee table appeared to be snuggling together to escape being crushed by the walls. The blonde must have seen Rogan's expression. 'It's only a bedsit,' she snapped. 'Freelance journos don't make the same kind of money as lawyers and private investigators.'

She moved into the kitchen, where two chairs and a small table took up the tiny floor space left by benches, stove and refrigerator. To the side there was a partitioned alcove that Rogan thought must masquerade as a bedroom, and a door that led into a bathroom.

'Coffee or tea?' the blonde asked as she plonked her bag on the table, switched on an electric kettle and reached into a cupboard for mugs.

'Coffee's fine, thanks. Milk, one sugar.' Rogan glanced around, desperately seeking something to give him a clue to her name. Several unopened letters sat at one end of the table, and he edged casually around, trying to read the details on the front. The first letter was addressed to C Otten. Halfway there, he thought, and 'accidentally' bumped the stack. As the top letter fell to the side and revealed her full name on the next, he breathed his relief.

With a nonchalance he was far from feeling, Rogan slid onto one of the vinyl-seated metal chairs. 'So tell me, Carly, have you come across any other leads?'

Carly Otten shook her head. 'I've been keeping an eye on the sister and uncle since you made like a magician and disappeared. As you know, Paige is between boyfriends and she doesn't seem to have much of a social life. I guess it wouldn't be easy bringing a fellow home to that mausoleum of a house and have James and George give him the once-over. And James seems to divide his time between the institute, the family's private hospital and the Crown Casino.' She laughed, and the lines between her eyes relaxed for a moment. 'You just have to hope his losing streak at the casino doesn't extend to his medical practice, don't you.'

Rogan's mind raced. He was going to lose control of this situation unless he found out a lot of information in a hurry. One thing he'd learned in the navy - sometimes going on the offensive saved you having to dig yourself out of the shit when you were floundering.

He picked up the cup of coffee Carly placed in front of him and pretended to be deep in thought for a moment. 'Carly,' he looked at her, 'I think I must have missed something. There must be a clue I'm not seeing. Tell me everything you know about the Montgomery family and especially Breeanna.'

'Hell, Liam, we've gone through this before. But,' she flicked her hand up, 'if it will help. George Montgomery, wealthy doctor, builds research facility after his first wife dies of cancer four months after their daughter Breeanna is born. Remarries when Breeanna is two years old. Second wife gives birth to Paige, then divorces George five years later and moves to Perth with the child. George sticks Breeanna in boarding school during the week, has her home on weekends.'

Rogan waited silently as Carly took a sip of her coffee before continuing.

'Breeanna Montgomery. Thirty-three years old. Did two years of university, took two years off to travel the world. Not,' Carly punctured the air with her forefinger, 'as you might expect someone with her money would do - you know, luxury hotels, guided tours, etc, but bloody backpacking to some of the most miserable places on earth, like Delhi.'

'Doing the rebel bit, was she?'

Carly frowned. 'I don't know. From what I can gather she was a fairly solitary child, had few friends, but never went wild like some teenagers. Anyway, when she returned she finished uni and joined the family firm. A couple of years ago she moved out of the family mausoleum into the house her grandparents had owned.'

There was something disquieting in the picture Carly was painting. Growing up in a large, loving family, Rogan could only guess how the motherless Breeanna must have felt about being pushed into boarding school at such a young age. 'Did Breeanna see much of her stepmother and sister after the divorce?'

'School holidays, apparently. Which brings us to Paige. She visited her father in Melbourne each year, and two years ago also joined the family firm in a secretarial capacity.'

'Breeanna and Paige, how did they get along?'

'From what I've found out, reasonably well. But perhaps Paige is making sure she doesn't miss out on the Montgomery millions.'

Rogan thought about Paige's reaction to his question about Liam and wondered if Paige had anything to do with Breeanna's disappearance. 'If Breeanna died, would Paige be the only relative left to inherit?'

'Apart from James.'

'Tell me all you know about him again.'

A grim twist to the side of Carly's lips told Rogan she was swiftly losing patience with his questioning, but she resumed her profiling. 'James. Also a doctor. Went to the US, worked in a lab over there, came home, joined the rest of the family in the mausoleum and the research institute but in an administrative capacity.'

'You mentioned the family private hospital before. Does James practise there too?'

Carly faltered a moment, and Rogan saw a crack in her super journo veneer. 'I'm not sure. I think he must, he visits there a fair bit. But then, that's where the professor is hospitalised.'

Rogan remembered what Keith Reynolds had said. The professor had had an accident. 'How's his condition?'

'How you'd expect someone who had a stroke then got thrown from his car and snapped his neck - lousy.' Carly's tolerance was clearly at an end. 'Now tell me,' she pushed her empty mug aside and leaned towards Rogan, 'did you really not find Breeanna?'

It was a relief to answer truthfully. 'No.'

'Damn. I need that interview. I have bills to pay.'

She stretched back in the chair and put her hands behind her head. The knit top pulled tight over her breasts, and Rogan's next question flew from his mind. He'd had more than enough experience with women to know that Carly was deliberately using her very ample charms to excite his interest, and he wondered if she had been sleeping with Liam. A dismaying thought struck him. Surely Carly wasn't the person Liam had said was the woman of his dreams? Then sanity reasserted itself. If Carly and Liam had had any more interaction than that of business associates, she wouldn't have had to wait for Rogan to follow her into her flat, she would have expected him to know where to go. And Rogan knew that Liam would never take a new woman home to his unit, especially a woman he was seeing in a work capacity.

He leaned back, moving his hands from his mug. As he did so, his elbow knocked Carly's bag to the floor and the contents spilled across the vinyl. 'Sorry,' he muttered, and bent over to pick them up. Carly slid from her chair to the floor at the same time, and their hands met over her opened wallet. As Carly scrabbled to grab it before he did, Rogan noticed the photo behind a plastic cover inside.

'Nice-looking kid,' he commented on the miniature version of Carly in the photo. 'Your daughter?'

Pain flickered briefly in her eyes and she quickly gathered the wallet, notepad, pen and tissues and shoved them back in the bag. When she sat back on the chair her face was once more set in the self-contained, almost hard, expression she'd worn since he'd met her. But Rogan was intrigued. He had caught a glimpse of vulnerability that seemed at odds with her brash, confrontational manner. Perhaps she wasn't quite the pain in the arse she appeared to be.

Before he could explore the idea further, his mobile phone rang.

The surveillance camera refocused from the back of Carly Otten's head to the face of Rogan McKay as he spoke on his mobile phone.

Vaughn Waring watched intently. It was interesting to see Rogan McKay pretending to be his twin. Hopefully the man's deception would lead to the revelation of Breeanna Montgomery's hiding place. But failing that, they might discover where Liam McKay had been taken. Vaughn had a gut feeling that Liam had found the woman, and if so, it wouldn't take much to persuade him to tell them. Vaughn's methods were far more refined than the two thugs' had obviously been. And a lot more effective.

Rogan snapped his mobile phone back onto his belt and got to his feet. 'I have to go,' he told Carly Otten.

'You've got a lead,' she accused.

Rogan realised she was trying to force him off-balance so he would reveal the contents of the call. Before he could reply, she stood up and grabbed her shoulder bag. 'I'm coming with you.'

'You're not.' Hell, he didn't need her finding out he wasn't Liam. Not yet. She might still be useful for extracting information.

Smiling, she dangled her car keys. 'Then I'll follow you.' The smile dropped. 'Liam, you're not going to shake me this time. I need this interview. I need the money it will bring me. The newspapers and the mags will pay well for the story of the disappearance of an heiress, especially as she comes from one of Melbourne's most prominent families.' A fleeting desperation touched her eyes. 'If we work as a team we'll have a much better chance of finding Breeanna. And I have a lot of contacts you don't have.'

The truth of her words hit Rogan. He had no access to any of Liam's connections, and his knowledge of Melbourne and its citizens wasn't extensive, certainly not like Carly's. Perhaps he could utilise her knowledge, but keep her in the dark as much as possible. With Liam's life possibly at stake, he wasn't about to throw away any contact that could prove helpful. Even one as annoying as Carly. 'All right. You can come with me on the condition that you do what I tell you. No arguing.'

'Agreed. Now, what have you found out?'

Rogan didn't answer as he walked out the door.

Rogan thanked his lucky stars that he had a keen sense of direction. He'd visited Melbourne a few times over the years and had a fair idea how to get back to Keith Reynolds' office from Carly's bedsit.

Half an hour later he realised that in battling the now peak-hour traffic, he'd overshot the Moorabbin street by two blocks. But then he figured that wasn't such a bad thing because he didn't want Carly to know his destination. At the moment he didn't know who he could trust, so the fewer people who knew what he was doing, the better.

He parked the Rodeo, told Carly to get out, and locked the doors. Having her wait in his vehicle and poke around in his glovebox wouldn't be a wise move either. At a cafe further up the street he told her to wait there until he returned. By the time he walked into Keith's office he was sure she hadn't followed him.

The receptionist had gone and Keith was standing at her desk, glancing through paperwork. As the front door swung closed, he walked over and locked it behind Rogan. 'Come into my office.'

He motioned for Rogan to follow him behind his desk, then sat down and typed a password into his computer. A few keystrokes later, he gestured for Rogan to look at the screen. As Rogan read the statements listed there, he heard Keith cracking his knuckles in measured beats. After a few minutes he looked at Keith. 'Where did you get this?'

'I didn't want to tell you on the phone, just in case someone could overhear,' Keith explained. 'My partner's away on holidays, but I phoned him this afternoon about a case I've been handling for him, and I mentioned what had happened to Liam. That's when he told me that Liam had come into the office about a week ago and asked if we could hold this CD for him. I was in court at the time, and my partner was flying out that afternoon, so he told Liam he'd put the CD in the safe in his office.'

Rogan looked back at the screen. 'Should I give this to the police?'

Keith didn't reply immediately, and Rogan guessed he'd placed him in an ethical dilemma.

'It's up to you,' Keith finally said.

'Well, it certainly appears as though Bruin isn't making any effort to find Liam, so I can't see any point in handing it over.' He was quiet for a minute, his worry for Liam churning up a notch. 'I'll have to follow it up myself.'

Keith nodded. His eyes were sombre. 'I was hoping you'd say that.'

'Just keep it in your safe for me, would you?' Rogan asked, and turned to leave. At the door he stopped. 'Do you know anything about a Carly Otten?'

Eyebrows knitting together, Keith cracked another sonata of knuckles. 'There's something familiar about the name. Should I know her?'

Quickly, Rogan related his run-in with Carly. Face clearing, Keith snapped his fingers.

'Of course! Investigative journalist. One of the best in Melbourne several years ago, but ended up in rehab with a severe alcohol problem. Husband divorced her, won custody of the child. Haven't heard of her for years.'

Pieces of Carly's puzzle now falling into place, Rogan said his thanks and left the office.

As he walked back to the cafe where he'd left Carly, Rogan debated the pros and cons of ditching her and following the lead by himself. Where he was going, he didn't need her Melbourne knowledge, and he'd prefer to work alone.

But he finally decided he'd let her think she was going to work with him, just to throw her off the track.