The Ransom Read Online Free PDF Page A

aren’t any cameras in the change rooms,” Michael muttered.
    “Yeah,” Lane said, “but we’re hoping we may spot something out of place. The person or persons responsible must have entered the store some way—probably the same way they left. We know roughly what time Olivia Munro was taken. We might be lucky enough to spot them on camera.”
    “Good,” Collins replied. “Let’s hope so. I’ve organized for a group of technicians to head over to the Munro house. They should be there shortly. In the meantime, I want you to take a ride over to the Attorney General’s house. He called a few moments ago. His daughter’s been released from hospital and is now back home. He wants to talk to us. Something about him believing his daughter might have been the target.”
    Lane frowned. “Why would he think that?”
    “Wouldn’t say. Just asked for someone to go over to his house and talk to him. Pronto. His words, not mine. If there’s a possibility the AG’s involved, we’ll need to form a joint taskforce with the AFP. Given that the child taken belongs to one of their own, I’m sure they’ll be keen to be part of this, but let’s find out what’s going on first.” He handed Lane a piece of paper.
    “Here’s the AG’s address. Find out why he thinks his daughter could have been the target. I’ll let him know you’re on your way. Jett, chase up those security tapes. The sooner we take a look at them, the sooner we’ll know who we’re dealing with.”
    Lane glanced at the piece of paper he’d taken from his boss. The address was listed in Point Piper, one of Sydney’s most prestigious suburbs. He stowed it in his shirt pocket.
    “I don’t need to remind you how sensitive this is, Lane,” Collins added. “Having one of the AFP’s top profilers involved is bad enough. Throw the AG into it and it’s fast becoming a PR nightmare. Dowton’s been in the media a lot lately spouting off about law reform and not everyone’s happy about it. Until we know who’s involved in this, we have to keep things tight.”
    Lane eyed him solemnly. “You can rely on me, boss.”
    * * *
    The midmorning traffic was heavier than usual, but Lane made good time crossing the Harbour Bridge. He joined the flow of traffic heading toward Sydney’s eastern suburbs. The sun shone clear and bright across the sapphire blue of the Pacific Ocean, sending blinding shards of light off the water. A scattering of yachts and the occasional iconic mustard-and-green-colored ferry decorated the harbor, packed with carefree weekenders.
    It was a view Lane never tired of and one he wished he could afford. His two-bedroom condo, situated on the busy Pacific Highway only minutes from the Chatswood train station might have been convenient to work, but was a far cry from the luxury and old-world opulence of the lower north shore and eastern suburbs, where architecturally designed mansions with views of the harbor bunkered down behind high brick fences—with nary a train track in sight.
    Still, his condo was comfortable and didn’t stretch his modest salary to its limit and the double glazed windows took care of almost all of the noise from the busy highway below. Besides, with his crazy work schedule often comprising multiple twelve-hour shifts, it was really only a place to crash and recover for the next bout.
    Not that he regretted his career choice. Being a cop was all he ever wanted. He’d entered the Academy straight out of high school and graduated a year later with honors, ready to conquer the world.
    More than a decade later, most days he still felt invincible. He’d been smart and he’d been lucky. He’d worked hard and had come up the ranks with enviable speed and even though he’d been caught in some sticky situations, he’d managed to come out unscathed.
    Well, relatively. Give or take a few cuts and bruises and the seventeen stitches he’d received in his bicep after coming up close and personal with a burglar high on