Kitabı oku: «The Summit», sayfa 2

Lisa stuck a pencil into the light-brown hair over her ear. “But it might be. You see that stuff on TV all the time.”

Autumn relaxed and smiled. “That’s kind of what I thought. Thanks for understanding.”

“No problem. Good luck—one way or the other.”

Autumn nodded and headed for the door. All the way back to her apartment, she searched the face of every little girl she passed, thinking maybe she had seen the child on the street, but none of the small faces looked familiar.

She was tired by the time she got home.

And no closer to discovering who the little girl was than she had been before.

That night Autumn had the dream. It was exactly the same as the past three nights, though each time she noticed more details. Tonight she saw that the man with the puppy was blond and fair, with a friendly smile and eyes that crinkled at the corners.

And the little red-haired boy was named Robbie. She heard one of the other children call him that. But just as before, as the little blond girl climbed into the car and the vehicle drove away, Autumn jerked awake and the warning on her lips died as she realized none of it was real.

Leaning back against the white wrought-iron headboard of her canopy bed, Autumn raked a hand through her sweat-damp auburn hair. She tried to tell herself she hadn’t really seen anything bad—only a little girl getting into someone’s car—but she couldn’t imagine why a man would take a child he didn’t seem to know away from her friends and family unless he had some evil intent.

It was two in the morning. Autumn lay back on her pillow and tried to fall asleep, but an hour ticked past and then another. Exhaustion finally overcame her and she drifted into a restless sleep.

Three

It was Tuesday. Autumn didn’t have a climbing class this morning. Figuring a good solid workout might clear her head, revive her tired body and rejuvenate her lagging spirits, she headed for the gym. Afterward, she planned to call Joe Duffy, a fellow climber and friend who worked for the Seattle police.

As soon as she got back to her apartment, a little before noon, she left a message for Joe. Joe was a detective in the burglary division but she figured he might be able to help her. She wanted to ask him if there was a way she could look at the list of registered pedophiles living in the Seattle area to see if she recognized the blond man in the dream.

She was trying to think of what she might say to him without mentioning the dream when the phone in her apartment began to ring.

It was Joe, returning her call. “Hey, hot stuff, what can I do for you?”

“I need a favor, Joe.” Now for the lie, which she told very poorly. “…Um…just before school let out for the summer, I saw a guy loitering near the playground. At the time I didn’t think anything about it, but I was wondering if maybe you could arrange for me to take a look at your files…you know, the ones that show photos of known pedophiles in the area. I just want to be on the safe side, make sure he wasn’t one of them.”

“Sure. I’ll tell the sergeant you want to take a look at the mug book. When do you want to come down?”

“How about this afternoon?”

“You got it. Stop by anytime after…say two o’clock. That should give the guys time to get the stuff ready.”

It was two-fifteen when she walked into the modern structure on Virginia Street that housed the west precinct of the Seattle police department. She gave Joe’s name to the desk sergeant who sent her down the hall. Joe, a ruddy complexioned, dark-haired man who claimed to be at least half Irish, was waiting.

“Hey Autumn, good to see you.”

“You too, Joe.”

“This is a little out of my area, but one of the guys got the stuff together. It’s all on computer these days but we’ve also got photos—easier for lay people to use.” Joe led her into a room and she sat down at a table with several albums stacked on top. She opened the first and began to thumb through pages of pictures. There were some very rough-looking men in the books—guys with earrings and beards and long, scraggly hair—while others looked completely harmless. She figured those were probably the ones to really worry about.

She spent nearly two hours going through the photo albums, but no face jumped out at her or even looked vaguely familiar. Twice she had tried and come up empty, she thought as she left the building.

In a way she was glad.

It’s just a dream, that’s all. Even if it isn’t, you’ve done everything you can think of to stop it from happening.

She tried to convince herself, but still it bothered her. So much so she took an Ambien that night and slept straight through till morning.

For the first time in days, Autumn awakened fully rested. She said a little thank you that the pill had worked and the nightmare hadn’t come and prayed it would never come again. Deciding to forego her morning workout, she lay back against the pillow and slept for a little longer, just to indulge herself.

She had a climbing class today and a couple of private lessons in the afternoon, which made her some extra money, then she planned to meet Terri at the gym that evening, after her friend got off work. Terri was a legal secretary at Hughes, Jones, Weinstein and Meyers, one of the city’s most prestigious law firms. She wasn’t a member at Pike’s Gym but occasionally worked out using one of the guest passes Autumn got as part of her teaching deal. Terri wasn’t much on exercise, but she liked looking at the men.

At six o’clock, Autumn headed for the gym, hoping to get the serious part of her workout done before Terri arrived and they wound up sitting at one of the tables in the health bar drinking smoothies.

She had just finished using the thigh machine, stretching and working muscles that were invaluable in climbing, when she spotted her friend. Terri was wearing tight black leotards and a pink-and-black midrift top and she looked terrific. She had a fabulous figure and she showed it off whenever she could.

“Hi ya’ll!” Terri waved and walked toward her. She was born in Virginia but raised out west and her southern accent was mostly gone, surfacing only on occasion just for fun.

“I see you’re ready to sweat,” Autumn teased, knowing that was the last thing Terri wanted.

“Sure thing, honey. I’ll just go put my bag in a locker and be right back.” She disappeared for a few minutes, turning several male heads as she walked past. While she was gone, Josh Kendall, Autumn’s climbing partner, walked into the gym.

“Hey, Autumn, how’s it hangin’?”

Autumn smiled at Josh’s favorite expression and gave her usual reply. “By the thumbs, Josh, how about you?” They had met during a four-man climb up in the Cascade Mountains two years ago. Josh was long and lanky, with sandy hair and a slightly freckled face. He wasn’t killer handsome, but good-looking in a sort of nerdy way.

“We still going up next weekend?” he asked.

“You bet. I’ve really been looking forward to it. I can’t wait to tackle Castle Rock.”

“Yeah, me too.”

A climbing partner had to be someone you could trust with your life because that was literally what you had to do. Autumn had admired Josh’s skill and he had respected hers so they had decided to make a climb together. Their styles turned out to be extremely compatible. They were both certified guides and in the summer they headed for the mountains whenever they weren’t giving classes or doing private coaching.

They were friends. Close friends. Climbing together had a way of doing that. Autumn felt safe with Josh—in more ways than one. She knew he had no interest in her beyond their climbing partnership. It was Terri he wanted, Terri who snagged his attention whenever she walked into a room. Considering she saw him only as a friend and it didn’t look like that was going to change anytime soon, Autumn felt sorry for him.

Josh’s gaze darted away from her to the shapely brunette sauntering toward him. Terri’s hips swayed provocatively, her gaze moving over the guys with the bulging muscles who were working out on the weight machines.

“Hi, Terri,” Josh said, his smile a little too bright.

“Hi, Josh.”

“How’s it going?” he asked.

“Fine. Great, in fact.” She turned away from him as if he weren’t there and leaned over to whisper in Autumn’s ear. “See that hunk over there working on the bicep machine?”

Autumn glanced that way. “I see him.” She had noticed him a couple of times before, but hadn’t really paid much attention.

“Well, what’s his name, honey? Is he married?”

“How would I know?”

Terri rolled her eyes. “Lord, you are impossible.”

They both stared at the hunk whose arms bulged with nicely shaped muscle as he strained on the weight machine. Josh made a noise in his throat, returning their attention to him.

“Well, I…um…guess I better get going. I’ll see you next weekend, Autumn.”

“Call me the end of the week and we’ll go over our trip plans.”

“Sounds good.”

“So, Josh…you wouldn’t happen to know that guy over there in the corner?” Terri asked.

Josh turned that way. “I don’t know him but I’ve seen his picture in the newspaper. He owns this building. That’s Ben McKenzie.”

Terri’s dark eyebrows shot up. “Is that so?”

Terri was openly salivating and Josh looked like he wanted to slash his wrists. “Like I said, I better get going.” With a last longing glance at Terri, he headed for the climbing gym.

Terri surveyed the room, the long rows of white-and-black exercise machines, rows of treadmills each with its own TV, and racks of heavy chrome barbells at the far end in front of a wall of mirrors.

“I’m ready if you are,” she said. “Why don’t we start over there?” She pointed toward the area where Ben McKenzie was now lying back on a black vinyl bench hoisting a barbell loaded with weights.

Autumn gave him a long, assessing glance. Terri was right. The man was amazing. Not only drop-dead gorgeous, but with a lean, athletic body that looked as if it were sculpted more from sports than lifting weights in a gym. He had thick dark-brown hair, nicely trimmed, a square jaw and dark brown eyes. He was wearing shorts and Reeboks. A tank top stretched over his powerful chest and she caught a glimpse of curly dark-brown chest hair.

“Nice, huh?” Terri said.

“Very nice.”

“Probably married with at least four kids.”

“At least.”

Terri sighed. “Wouldn’t it be great if he wasn’t?”

“I thought you were madly in lust with Todd.”

Terri cast her a glance. “I was thinking of you.”

Autumn laughed. “Sure you were.”

Terri just smiled. They started out in the bike room, riding only long enough to get Terri warmed up a little but not break into a sweat. From there they moved on to the Nautilus machines.

“I really was thinking of you,” Terri said as she shoved the handles in the air, working her arms and shoulders. “Now that I’ve hooked up with Todd, I’m not looking for anyone else.”

At least for now, that was probably true. Terri really was a good friend and she was always on the lookout for a man for Autumn. “Even if the hunk was single, a guy like that would have a horde of women chasing after him from dawn to dusk.”

“All too true,” Terri agreed regretfully.

They worked out for almost an hour—a record for Terri—then retired to the snack bar for thick berry smoothies. Terri planned to stay at home that night and order pizza. Todd, of course, was coming by to join her.

Autumn left the gym, went home and made herself a plate of leftovers from the chicken she had roasted for herself on Sunday. She carried her plate into the living room and curled up on the overstuffed sofa in front of the TV.

She had a class tomorrow morning so she went to bed early. She considered taking an Ambien, but didn’t like taking any sort of drug and she could hardly take sleeping pills forever.

Instead, she hoped the glass of white wine she’d had with her makeshift supper would help her fall asleep—and that tonight she wouldn’t dream.

It was raining, the air heavy with mist. Inside the house, it was warm, the kitchen steamy from the pot boiling on the stove. A group of three women moved together with practiced ease, working to prepare the evening meal. They were a family, Autumn thought somewhere in the depths of her mind. All of them were blond and fair, girls and women of various ages, the oldest, a woman in her late thirties, all of them pretty.

Autumn watched the women chop vegetables and roll out biscuit dough. They didn’t say much as they did their jobs and began to take down cups and dishes to set the kitchen table.

Autumn might have kept dreaming if the youngest of the women, a girl of eleven or twelve, hadn’t turned just then and looked straight at her. Autumn knew that face. She recognized the pretty oval shape, the soft blue eyes and long silky lashes, the pale blond hair drifting like corn silk around her narrow shoulders.

Those eyes were staring into hers and the pain in them jolted Autumn from a deep, hypnotic sleep.

Heart pounding, palms sweating, she bolted upright in bed. It was her! The girl named Molly! It was the little girl she had dreamed about before, only she was no longer a child but a girl approaching her teens. Autumn knew it deep in her bones.

Trembling, she swung her legs to the side of the bed.

It was nearly two-thirty but she was wide awake, her mouth dry and her heart beating too fast. Images of the dream rolled around in her head. Straightening her pink silk nightie, she padded into the bathroom and turned on the tap, shakily filled the glass next to the sink with water and took a long, calming drink.

Her mind spun, replaying the images she had seen. If this was the same girl—and Autumn was convinced it was—she was somewhere around eleven or twelve. How could that be?

She tried to recall the first series of dreams, when the child was much younger. Was there something in the dream that hinted at the time frame? Nothing she could recall. Still, if the child was five or six then and eleven or twelve now, the abduction—if that’s what it had been—would have had to have happened at least six years ago.

The whole thing was crazy. Certainly tonight’s dream was nothing at all like the nightmare she’d had in her teens and yet…

There was no use trying to sleep. Instead, she walked into the kitchen, poured herself a glass of milk and carried it over to the sofa. Pulling the soft wool afghan her grandmother had crocheted off the back of the couch, Autumn covered her legs, leaned back and let her mind sift through the dream.

Maybe the dream tonight was actually that. A real dream where everything’s just a fantasy.

Or maybe neither of them were real.

Autumn finished her milk and stretched out on the sofa. If she continued to dream, maybe she would see the girl as a full-grown woman, happy wherever she had finally ended up, and Autumn could stop worrying about her.

Maybe she was wrong and—unlike before—nothing bad had happened or was going to. Warm beneath the comforter, she finally fell asleep. When she did, she began to dream.

Three women worked in the kitchen, the little girl no longer a child, but taller, beginning to develop breasts, showing the first signs of becoming a woman. And when she looked at Autumn there was always so much pain in her eyes, Autumn awakened from the dream.

She lay there on the sofa, heart thumping madly, exhausted and even more worried. This was no simple dream. This was a message—just like it had been when she was fifteen.

She couldn’t ignore it the way she had before. She refused to sit around and let something terrible happen again. Dear God, if only she knew what to do.

Four

It was early morning, almost time to get up. As Autumn lay awake on the sofa staring up at the ceiling, memories of the dream played over and over in her head. If this was the same blond child, the little girl named Molly from the first dream, maybe she was among the millions of children who went missing and were never found. Maybe she was reaching out, asking Autumn for help.

But if that’s true, why now? Why didn’t the dreams begin years earlier? So far it appeared she didn’t even know the girl. It was all so utterly confusing.

Tired to the bone and still thinking of the dream, she tossed back the afghan and headed for the bathroom to shower and dress for the gym. She needed some physical exertion, something to clear her head. Hopefully, her climbing class would take her mind off the girl. After lunch she had a couple of private lessons and around five-thirty she was supposed to meet Terri for drinks at O’Shaunessy’s Bar and Grill, an upscale local hangout that was one of Terri’s favorite see-and-be scenes.

The day passed swiftly. Autumn arrived at the bar right on time but Terri, as usual, was running a little late. By the time she got there, Autumn was sipping a nice chilled glass of Kendall Jackson chardonnay and beginning to relax.

Terri was smiling as she wove her way through the crowd at the bar and sitting at tables. She walked up and hung her purse on the back of one of the stools around the tiny table and waved one of the cocktail waitresses over.

“I’m desperate for a Cosmo, Rita. After a day like today, I really deserve one.”

“Will do, hon.” Rita sashayed away, tray propped on her shoulder, wide hips swaying, and returned just a few minutes later with the drink. Terri was a regular and always got good service and Autumn enjoyed the lively little pub as well.

Terri took a sip from her frosty, long-stemmed martini glass. “So how was your day, girlfriend? Mine totally sucked.”

Autumn sipped her wine. “My day was fine. Last night was the pits.”

Terri rolled her eyes. “Don’t even tell me. The dream, right?”

“Yes…and no.”

“Okay, tell me.”

“I had a different dream about the same person.”

“What?”

She nodded. “No kids playing ball in the yard, no little boy named Robbie. This time, the girl was five or six years older…maybe eleven or twelve. I don’t think she was a teenager yet.”

“Wow, that’s weird. And you still think these dreams are real?”

“I’m probably crazy, but yes. I think maybe little Molly got into that car and the man drove away with her, like in the dream. But he didn’t kill her—he couldn’t have if she’s older in the second dream. I think maybe he just took her off with him somewhere.”

“Maybe you’ll just keep dreaming about her until she’s all grown up and everything will be fine.”

“I thought of that. I suppose it’s possible, but…”

“But what?”

“But I don’t think that’s going to happen. I think…I don’t know but…I think Molly is trying to send me some kind of message. I think she’s asking me for help.”

Terri fixed her with a stare. “That’s a pretty far stretch, don’t you think? If she is trying to reach you, why did she wait until now? Why didn’t she send you this supposed message five or six years ago?”

Autumn hooked a curl behind her ear. “I don’t know.”

“You have to admit this is all pretty crazy.”

“No kidding.” She trailed her finger through the condensation on her wine glass. “If it weren’t for what happened in high school, I’d ignore the whole damned thing.”

Terri frowned. “The car accident…right? I see what you mean.”

“The weird thing is—what caused it to happen back then? And why is it happening now?”

Terri ignored the question since neither of them had an answer. “You know what I think you should do? I think you should go through old newspapers to see if a little girl was abducted five or six years ago. If there was and her name was Molly—”

“You’re right!” Autumn sat up straighter on the stool. “I should have thought of that myself. I’d have to make certain assumptions. I may have guessed her age wrong, so I’d need to do a spread of several years. I’ve got to assume I’m somehow connected or this wouldn’t be happening, so I’ll start looking here in Seattle.”

“It might not work but it’s worth a try.”

“It’s a great idea.” If Autumn’s hunch was right, it was absolutely worth a try.

Terri looked up just then and broke into a smile. “Todd just walked in. Isn’t he gorgeous?”

Todd was definitely a pretty boy, tall and blond, sort of the Brad Pitt type. But Autumn couldn’t help wondering if there was any substance behind that pretty face.

Terri introduced her and the three of them chatted for a while. Todd held his own. He seemed to be polite and intelligent. Still, it was too soon to make a judgment.

Autumn stood up from her stool. “Listen, I’d better get going. I’ve got classes in the morning. Nice meeting you, Todd.”

“You too, Autumn.”

Terri cast her a meaningful glance. “Keep me posted on your…research, will you?”

“Will do.” Autumn left the bar and headed down the street for home. The sun was just setting over the water and glimpses of the sea appeared between the buildings. Pretty as it was, the neighborhood she lived in wasn’t the most desirable. Transients haunted the bus stop not far away and drug deals were made on the streets, but the condo was affordable and only blocks from museums and theaters. And all of the downtown was improving a little at a time. She loved Seattle. She couldn’t think of anywhere she would rather live.

By the time she reached her building and took the elevator up to her condo, dusk was setting in. She baked a pork chop, cooking it on a rack so there would be less grease, and settled in to watch a little TV. The sitcoms were always cheery. She watched a few of those, then started yawning and decided to go to bed.

She purposely avoided the Ambien, hoping if she dreamed she might get more information, though a good night’s sleep was certainly a temptation.

Instead, she drifted into slumber and again that night she had the dream.

Since it was a good long way from her apartment to the Seattle Times on John Street, Autumn decided to phone before she made the trip. The receptionist at the Times told her that archival information could be found at the library, not the newspaper, so she made a second call and discovered that the Central Library on nearby Fourth Avenue was where she needed to go. There were old newspapers there, she was told, dating back to the late eighteen-hundreds.

A number of newspapers covered the Seattle area, but the Times was the largest. Autumn figured if a child had been abducted in the city or in any of the surrounding towns, the Seattle Times would probably have covered the story.

It occurred to her that she was a person who usually followed the news, in print and on TV, so she should have seen something if it had happened anywhere near. Still, she traveled as often as she could so she might have been out of town or maybe she had just somehow missed it.

The lady at the information booth walked up the counter. She had silver hair and wore too much powder and circles of pink rouge on her cheeks.

“May I help you?”

“I’d like to take a look through your newspaper archives. I need to search for children who might have been reported missing. I need to go back at least seven years.” That should be long enough to cover the period, since she wasn’t really sure of Molly’s age.

“All right. If you’ll please follow me.”

Autumn trailed along behind the older woman into a back room filled with equipment.

“Everything from more recent times is stored on microfilm. You’ll find copies of every paper printed and an index by subject matter. Just type in missing children and it should bring up what you need.”

“Thank you.”

Autumn sat down and set to work, going back five years, thinking little Molly might have been six then and eleven now. Since Autumn had been living in Seattle, she figured she might have seen or met her during that time.

There were stacks of articles. Unfortunately, nothing looked remotely like it had anything to do with a little girl named Molly. There were a several children mentioned, missing then found. One was lost in the mountains and rescued by local search teams.

She tried four years back, found a story about a pedophile named Gerald Meeks who had been arrested for molesting and killing several young children, but Molly’s name—thank God—was not among those mentioned.

The year 2001, six years back, would make the child six then and twelve now, which was Autumn’s strongest suspicion. She was paging through the summer issues, reading snippets here and there, when an article popped up. The headline read, Issaquah Girl Reported Missing. The paper was dated June 30, 2001 and the disappearance had happened the day before the paper went to press.

A six year old girl disappeared from her home late yesterday afternoon, the article read. According to reports, the child was playing ball in her yard with friends when an unknown man appeared on the sidewalk.

The article went on to describe the incident and included a description of the missing girl: long blond hair, blue eyes, wearing jeans, sneakers and a purple T-shirt with a picture of Barney the dinosaur on the front.

There was even a photo, one Autumn recognized the instant she saw it. And the name beneath the picture read Molly Lynn McKenzie.

Autumn’s chest squeezed so hard it was difficult to breathe. Her heart was pumping, trying to beat its way through her chest. The child was real. The dream was real. The kidnapping had really occurred.

Autumn felt light-headed. She reread the date. That summer she had been staying with her dad in Burlington before starting her teaching job in Seattle. She probably would have seen the article, which would have been carried in all the local papers, but in June she was in Europe—a graduation gift to herself—traveling with a group of climbers.

McKenzie? McKenzie? Why did the name sound familiar?

It hit her like a bolt of lightning—she had heard the name only a few days ago. Josh had mentioned it when she and Terri were working out at the gym.

Autumn quickly scanned the article and there it was: Molly Lynn McKenzie was the daughter of sporting goods retailer Ben McKenzie and his wife, Joanne, residents of Issaquah, Washington, a town in the foothills just east of Seattle.

Pieces of the puzzle began falling together. She had noticed McKenzie at the gym only recently. She tried to think back. As nearly as she could recall, the first time was somewhere around the time she had started to dream about Molly.

She studied the screen, frantically pressed the button to skip forward in time. Article after article had been written about little Molly—interviews with her parents, the desperate search to find her. As she skimmed the pages, Autumn prayed the child had been found. Yet deep inside, she was certain the little girl had not.

According to the Times, the search had continued for weeks, though the articles became more and more scarce. As far as Autumn could tell, no clue to the child’s disappearance was ever discovered.

An image of handsome Ben McKenzie popped into her head. How devastated he and his wife must have been to lose their little girl. Her chest ached. She couldn’t begin to imagine the pain, the terrible grief they must have suffered. She had to talk to Ben McKenzie, find out as much as she could about what had happened.

If Molly was still missing…

She printed the newspaper articles, paid for the copies and left the building. She had to see Ben McKenzie and perhaps speak to his wife. She needed to know if anything had been discovered about Molly during the past six years. As soon as she got home, she would call McKenzie’s office and make an appointment to see him.

God only knew what she was going to say.

Ben ended the conference call he had been having with his financial VP, George Murphy, and Russ Petrone, a real estate broker in Issaquah. The town was Ben’s home when he moved to the area, the place he had opened his first store.

According to Russ, a long-time friend who had sold him and Joanne their home then helped him lease the building for McKenzie Sporting Goods, that store was about to be put in jeopardy. Apparently his competitor, A-1 Sports, had been nosing around, sniffing out property within a two-block range of his Issaquah location, one of the top-selling stores in the chain. Rumor had it that A-1 had located a piece of real estate just across the street and was seriously interested in making a purchase.

Ben swore as he hung up the phone and leaned back in his black leather chair. Sonofabitch! He didn’t believe for a moment that A-1 wanted to operate a store in the area. But he believed completely that they would do it if they thought it would urge him to sell them the McKenzie chain. With their lower prices, A-1 was tough competition. People were suckers when it came to getting something for less, even if it meant sacrificing quality.

In the world of sports, cheap products not only didn’t last, they could actually be dangerous.

A-1 was definitely a problem, one Ben was determined to solve.

His intercom buzzed. “Your five-thirty is here,” Jenn said.

“Remind me who it is.”

“A woman named Autumn Sommers. She said it was a personal matter. You said to schedule her at the end of the day.”

He tried to remember the name but it didn’t ring a bell. He had dated any number of women since his divorce, though none of them seriously. He wasn’t interested in a long-term relationship and he always made that clear from the start. But he enjoyed women and he liked sex. And the women he dated seemed to have no complaints. “Go ahead and send her in.”

He stood up as the door opened, saw a petite young woman in her twenties, pretty but not gorgeous like the models and movie starlets he occasionally spent time with. He preferred them blond and buxom and this one was petite and dark-haired, though she seemed to have a very nice pair of breasts.