Read Online The Hostage: BookShots (Hotel Series) by James Patterson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: James Patterson
Tags: Fiction, General, Suspense, Thrillers, Mystery & Detective, Crime, Mystery, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Crime Fiction, amateur sleuth, Murder, Serial Killers, International Mystery & Crime, Noir, Thrillers & Suspense, Kidnapping, Amateur Sleuths
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Harlington, who was staring at the screen as she saw her father dragged to the front of the balcony. At that point the news network had the decency to cut the clip and Anna watched Jacqueline slowly drop her head. As she did, the news network flashed another ‘BREAKING NEWS’ banner across the foot of the screen. The image cut away from the exterior of the hotel to a small terraced house in a northern suburb of London. The banner continued, ‘New developments in Harlington murder.’
Anna sat forward and clicked up the volume on the television. ‘Jon, I think you need to see this.’
Everyone in the room turned their attention to the news reporter standing outside the north London house.
‘Right now the timetable of events is pretty unclear,’ she began. ‘What we do know is a young man and a young woman, both believed to be in their late teens or early twenties, have been freed this morning from a hidden underground basement, where it is believed they have been held captive for the past ten or possibly fifteen years. It is our understanding they were kidnapped when no more than six or seven years old. At this point in time we don’t have any identification on them, as police are trying to contact their immediate families, but police sources have told us they are urgently seeking the owner of the house, a Mr Richard Winn. And I can tell you that our own sources have revealed that a possible third captive, who is believed to be two or three years older, was also held with them for the past decade or more. That third captive is believed to have escaped a number of weeks ago and may well have been instrumental in the freeing of the two remaining hostages this morning. And our sources have confirmed to us that that third captive is in his early twenties. He is believed to be Joseph Harlington.’
CHAPTER 20
JOCASTA HARLINGTON DROPPED her head forward, releasing an anguished cry. Her daughter quietly placed her arms around her mother as Oscar Miller stumbled backwards to lean against the office desk. Jon Roscoe looked across at Anna, both of them still trying to comprehend what they had heard. Jon knew he had to speak to Mrs Harlington to try to understand what he was dealing with.
‘Mrs Harlington, I need to—’
Jocasta lifted her head, looked first at her daughter and then at Roscoe.
‘No, Jon, it’s me who needs to talk.’ She took a breath, summoning every ounce of her inner strength. ‘It was sixteen years ago,’ she began, telling a story she had carried with her throughout those years and releasing a pain so deep it had never left her for a single day. ‘We were living in London at the time. Tribeca Luxury Hotels was already well established. We had bought all the artificial trimmings which came with that success. The cars, the clothes and an imposing house in Kensington, a short walk from the palace. I soon learnt it was all worth nothing.’ She paused, gasping for air.
An intolerable pain shot through Jocasta and she started to sob uncontrollably. She felt her daughter wrap her arms tightly around her before carrying on, falteringly, tears streaking down her face.
‘We’d been out late. I’d been drinking but Jackson hadn’t, so he’d said he’d drive us. We were at a function for potential investors. Jackson wanted to open a London hotel. We were home so very late. I was exhausted. I went straight upstairs. I never went to bed without checking on Joseph and then Jacqueline. That night I didn’t.
‘I was asleep in seconds. I remember Jackson getting into bed but nothing more. Next morning I was awake early. I don’t know what time it was – probably around five. I was so thirsty. I made my way down to the kitchen and as I did I noticed the outside door was slightly open. I thought it must have been Jackson from the night before but it made me nervous. I went straight back upstairs.’ She howled in pain and clasped hold of her daughter’s hands. ‘Joseph was gone.’
Roscoe nodded.
Anna sat forward and clicked up the volume on the television. ‘Jon, I think you need to see this.’
Everyone in the room turned their attention to the news reporter standing outside the north London house.
‘Right now the timetable of events is pretty unclear,’ she began. ‘What we do know is a young man and a young woman, both believed to be in their late teens or early twenties, have been freed this morning from a hidden underground basement, where it is believed they have been held captive for the past ten or possibly fifteen years. It is our understanding they were kidnapped when no more than six or seven years old. At this point in time we don’t have any identification on them, as police are trying to contact their immediate families, but police sources have told us they are urgently seeking the owner of the house, a Mr Richard Winn. And I can tell you that our own sources have revealed that a possible third captive, who is believed to be two or three years older, was also held with them for the past decade or more. That third captive is believed to have escaped a number of weeks ago and may well have been instrumental in the freeing of the two remaining hostages this morning. And our sources have confirmed to us that that third captive is in his early twenties. He is believed to be Joseph Harlington.’
CHAPTER 20
JOCASTA HARLINGTON DROPPED her head forward, releasing an anguished cry. Her daughter quietly placed her arms around her mother as Oscar Miller stumbled backwards to lean against the office desk. Jon Roscoe looked across at Anna, both of them still trying to comprehend what they had heard. Jon knew he had to speak to Mrs Harlington to try to understand what he was dealing with.
‘Mrs Harlington, I need to—’
Jocasta lifted her head, looked first at her daughter and then at Roscoe.
‘No, Jon, it’s me who needs to talk.’ She took a breath, summoning every ounce of her inner strength. ‘It was sixteen years ago,’ she began, telling a story she had carried with her throughout those years and releasing a pain so deep it had never left her for a single day. ‘We were living in London at the time. Tribeca Luxury Hotels was already well established. We had bought all the artificial trimmings which came with that success. The cars, the clothes and an imposing house in Kensington, a short walk from the palace. I soon learnt it was all worth nothing.’ She paused, gasping for air.
An intolerable pain shot through Jocasta and she started to sob uncontrollably. She felt her daughter wrap her arms tightly around her before carrying on, falteringly, tears streaking down her face.
‘We’d been out late. I’d been drinking but Jackson hadn’t, so he’d said he’d drive us. We were at a function for potential investors. Jackson wanted to open a London hotel. We were home so very late. I was exhausted. I went straight upstairs. I never went to bed without checking on Joseph and then Jacqueline. That night I didn’t.
‘I was asleep in seconds. I remember Jackson getting into bed but nothing more. Next morning I was awake early. I don’t know what time it was – probably around five. I was so thirsty. I made my way down to the kitchen and as I did I noticed the outside door was slightly open. I thought it must have been Jackson from the night before but it made me nervous. I went straight back upstairs.’ She howled in pain and clasped hold of her daughter’s hands. ‘Joseph was gone.’
Roscoe nodded.
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