Kat Martin
The Summit

To those who attack the mountains,

who live for the joy of ascending a peak,

live for the challenge, the thrill of conquest.

And to those among us who fight so hard

to protect and preserve the last wild places

in this magnificent land God has given us.

Keep up the fight!

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Epilogue

One

Autumn Sommers tossed and turned, an icy fear creeping over her. Gooseflesh rose over her skin and moisture popped out on her forehead at the vivid, fightening images expanding into the corners of her mind.

A little girl raced across the freshly mown front lawn of her suburban home, laughing as she played kickball with her friends—a child five or six years old with delicate features, big blue eyes and softly curling long blond hair.

“Get the ball, Molly!” a little red-haired boy shouted. All of the children were around the same age.

But Molly’s curious blue eyes were fixed on the man standing on the sidewalk holding a fuzzy black-and-white puppy. Ignoring the ball, which rolled past her short legs into the shrubs at the edge of the yard, she hurried toward the man.

“Molly!” Angry, the little boy raced after the ball, picked it up and gave it a sturdy kick back toward the other children, who squealed with delight and chased after it.

Molly saw only the adorable little puppy.

“You like Cuffy?” the man asked as she reached up to pet the dog with gentle, adoring strokes. “I have another puppy just like him. His name is Nicky, but somehow he got lost. I was hoping you might help me find him.”

Lying in bed, Autumn shifted restlessly beneath the covers. “No…” she muttered, but the little girl couldn’t hear her. She moved her head from side to side, trying to warn the child not to go with the man, but little Molly was already walking away, the puppy held snuggly in her arms.

“Don’t…go…” Autumn whispered, but the little girl just kept walking. Still clutching the puppy, the child climbed into the car and the man closed the door. He made his way to the driver’s side, slid behind the wheel and started the engine. An instant later, the vehicle rolled quietly down the street.

“Molly!” shouted the red-haired boy, running toward the disappearing auto. “You aren’t supposed to go off with strangers!”

“Molly!” One of the girls clamped her small hands on her hips. “You’re not supposed to leave the yard!” She turned to the red-haired boy. “She’s really gonna be in trouble.”

Worried now, the boy stared down the empty tree-lined street. “Come on! We’ve got to go tell her mom!” The children started running toward the pathway that led to the house.

When the boy reached up and slammed the knocker down hard on the door, Autumn awakened from the dream.

Her heart was thundering in her chest. Staring up at the ceiling, she blinked several times as the dream slipped away. Then she dragged in a couple of calming breaths; the dream was over. Yet she remembered it clearly and was still unnerved by what she had seen.

With a sigh, Autumn glanced at the glowing red numbers on the digital clock beside her bed. It was almost 6:00 a.m., her usual time to get up. She was a fifth-grade schoolteacher at Lewis and Clark Elementary, though the summer break had just started and she was off work until the first of September. She punched off the alarm before it buzzed and swung her legs to the side of the bed.

Grabbing her quilted pink robe from the foot of the bed, she raked back her short auburn hair. It was naturally wavy; she only had to shower and towel herself dry and her hair fell into soft russet curls around her face. For her busy athletic lifestyle it suited her perfectly.

Autumn thought of the dream as she headed for the bathroom of her twelfth-floor condo. Were the images she had seen a result of something she had watched on TV? Maybe something she had read in the newspapers? And if they were, why had she experienced the same dream three nights in a row?

The shower beckoned, steam rising tantalizingly up inside its glass doors. She stepped beneath the soothing spray, then spent several minutes soaping and washing her hair, indulging herself in the warm, caressing water.

A few more minutes spent in front of the mirror to apply a light touch of make-up and fluff out her hair, then she headed back into the bedroom to dress for the day. In jeans and a T-shirt, she went into the living room, a cozy, sunny area with sliding glass doors at one end leading out onto a balcony overlooking downtown Seattle.

With her father’s help, she had purchased the condo five years ago, just before real estate values had gone completely out of sight. She would have preferred one of the small Victorian homes near the Old Town district, but the condo was all she could really afford.

As a compromise to living a high-rise lifestyle, she had furnished the interior with antiques and hung lacy curtains at the windows. She had pulled up the carpet in the living room and replaced it with hardwood floors, then covered them with floral rugs and painted one of the walls a soft shade of rose. The bedroom was done in a floral print and she had bought a canopy bed.

The apartment was homey, nothing like the house in her dream, which, she had noticed last night, appeared to be a large custom-built, beige stucco tract home with fancy brick trim. She had only gotten a glimpse or at least remembered only enough to get the feeling the area was fairly exclusive, the children nicely dressed and obviously well cared for.

Autumn sighed as she grabbed her purse and headed for the elevator in the hall. She was meeting her best friend, Terri Markham, at Starbucks for coffee before she headed over to her summer job at Pike’s Gym. One of the things she liked best about living in the city was that everything was in walking distance: museums, theaters, libraries and dozens of restaurants and cafés.

The grammar school where she taught was only a few blocks away, the gym just up the hill and Starbucks—her favorite—sat down on the corner.

Terri was waiting when she arrived, twenty-seven years old, the same age as Autumn, a brunette who was slightly taller and more voluptuously built than her own petite, five-foot-three-inch frame. Both women were single, both career women. Terri was a legal secretary at one of the big law firms in town. They had met five years ago, introduced by mutual acquaintances. They say opposites attract and maybe that explained the friendship that had grown between them.

Autumn pushed open the glass door leading into the coffee shop. Terri shot to her feet and waved from the back of the room.

“Over here!” she called out.

Autumn wove her way through the tables that were packed with morning coffee drinkers and sat down in one of the small wrought-iron chairs, gratefully accepting the double-shot, non-fat latte that Terri shoved toward her.

“Thanks. Next time it’s my turn.” Autumn took a sip of the hot foamy brew that was her favorite morning drink and saw her friend frown above the rim of her paper cup.

“I thought you were staying home last night,” Terri said.

“I did.” Autumn sighed, catching the concern in Terri’s glance. “But I didn’t sleep very well, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“Honey, those dark circles are a dead giveaway.” She grinned. “I didn’t get a whole lot of sleep, myself, but I bet I had a lot more fun.”

Autumn rolled her eyes. Everything about the two women was different. Where Autumn was interested in sports and loved being out of doors, Terri was obsessed with shopping and the latest fashions. And when it came to men, they couldn’t have been more opposite.

“I thought you stopped seeing Ray.” Autumn took a sip of her coffee. “You said he was dull and boring.”

“I wasn’t with Ray. I’m through with Ray. Last night at O’Shaunessy’s I met this really hot guy named Todd Sizemore. We really clicked, you know. We had this, like, incredible karma or something.”

Autumn shook her head. “As I recall, you said you were going to reform. No more one-night stands. You said from now on you were going to get to know the guy, make sure he wasn’t just some deadbeat.”

“Todd’s not a deadbeat—he’s a lawyer. And the guy is terrific in bed.”

Terri always thought the guys were great in bed the first time they made love. It was after she got to know them that the problems began. Autumn’s emotions were too fragile to handle casual sex, but Terri was far more outgoing and spontaneous. She dated as many men as she could fit into her busy schedule and slept with whomever she pleased.

Autumn rarely dated. Except for her two teaching jobs—one at the grammar school and the other at exclusive Pike’s Gym where she gave classes in rock-climbing, her passion in life—she was kind of shy.

“So I know why I didn’t get any sleep,” Terri said. “What about you? You didn’t have that weird dream again, did you?”

Autumn ran a short, neatly manicured nail around the rim of her cup. “Actually, I did.”

After the second time it happened, she had told Terri about the dream, hoping her friend might have seen or read something that explained the occurrence.

“Was it the same? A little girl named Molly gets into a car and the guy drives away?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“That’s weird. Most people have recurring dreams about falling off a cliff or drowning or something.”

“I know.” She looked up, a tight feeling moving through her chest. “There’s something I’ve never told you, Terri. I hoped I wouldn’t have the dream again then I wouldn’t have to worry about it.”

Her friend leaned across the table, shoulder-length dark brown hair swinging forward with the movement. “So what haven’t you told me?”

“This same thing happened to me once before—when I was a sophomore in high school. I began having this nightmare about a car wreck. My two best friends were in the car. And another kid, a new kid at school. I dreamed the new guy got drunk at a party and drove the car into a tree. It killed all three of them.”

Terri’s blue eyes widened. “Wow, that really was a nightmare.”

“Back then I didn’t say anything. I mean…it was a dream. Right? I was only fifteen. I thought if I mentioned it, everyone would make fun of me. I knew they wouldn’t believe me. I didn’t believe it myself.”

“Please don’t tell me your dream came true.”

Autumn’s chest squeezed. She never talked about the nightmare. She felt too guilty. She should have done something—said something—and she had never forgiven herself.

“It happened exactly the way I dreamed. The new guy, Tim Wiseman, invited my friends Jeff and Jolie to a party. Tim was a year older and apparently there was liquor there. I guess they all got a little drunk, which Jeff and Jolie had never done before. On the way home, Tim was driving. It was raining and the streets were wet and slick. Tim took a curve too fast and the car slid into tree. He and Jeff both died instantly. Jolie died a couple of days later.”

Terri stared at her in horror. “Oh my God…”

Autumn glanced away, remembering the devastation and overwhelming grief she had felt back then. “I should have said something, done something before it was too late. If I had, my friends might still be alive.”

Terri reached over and captured Autumn’s hand. “It wasn’t your fault. Like you said, you were only fifteen and even if you’d said something, no one would have believed you.”

“That’s what I tell myself.”

“Has it happened again anytime since then?”

“Not until now. The first time, before my friends died, my mom had been killed two years earlier in a car wreck, so I figured maybe that’s why I dreamed the dream, but now I don’t think that was it. I keep hoping this isn’t the same, but what if it is? What if there’s a little girl out there somewhere who’s about to be kidnapped?”

“Even if there is, this isn’t like before. You knew those kids. You don’t have any idea who this little girl might be. Even if she exists, you don’t know where to find her.”

“Maybe. But if I knew the people in the dream before, maybe this little girl is someone else I know. I’m going to check the school records, take a look at student photos. Maybe the face or name will click.”

“I suppose it’s worth a try.”

“That’s what I figure.”

“You know I’ll help in any way I can.”

“Thanks, Terri.”

“Maybe you won’t dream it again.”

Autumn just nodded, hoping that was true. But she couldn’t help remembering how vivid the dream was and how clearly she could recall it.

She finished her coffee as she got up from her chair. “I’d better get going. Class starts at nine and I’ve still got to change into my climbing clothes.”

Terri smiled. “Maybe this summer you’ll meet someone interesting in class. With all those hard bodies around, there’s got to be someone.”

Autumn ignored the remark and waved as she headed for the door. Terri was always trying to help her find the right man, but Autumn steered clear of most men. Since high school, she’d had nothing but disastrous relationships. In college she had fallen in love with Steven Elliot, a fellow student at Washington University. She and Steve had dated seriously their sophomore through senior years. Autumn was madly in love with him and they talked a lot about marriage and kids.

It seemed her future was set until that afternoon just before graduation when Steve told her he wanted to end the relationship.

“I just don’t love you, Autumn,” he had said. “I thought I did, but I don’t. I never mean to hurt you, but I have to get on with my life. I hope things work out for you.” He had left her standing in the quad, crying like an idiot, hating herself for having fallen in love with him.

She had gone on to graduate, then continued school long enough to get her teaching degree, but it had taken years to get over losing Steve.

Standing on the corner, she pulled her sweater a little closer against the breeze and waited till the stoplight changed to green. She crossed from Second Avenue to Third then continued toward Pike Street. The sun was out today but the air was damp and clouds had begun to gather on the horizon. Seattle got more than its share of rain but Autumn never minded. She had grown up in Burlington, a little town north of the city. The beautiful pines and nearby ocean were worth the clouds and rain.

As she walked the few blocks up the hill, Autumn enjoyed the feel of the wind tugging at her hair. Up ahead, the McKenzie building took up half a block. It was an old six-story structure that had been expensively remodeled and now served as headquarters for McKenzie Enterprises, a chain of upper-end sporting-goods stores. Pike’s Gym occupied the second floor. A few other tenants rented space, and there were shops and boutiques on the first floor along the street.

On her teacher’s salary, Autumn couldn’t afford the exclusive gym’s pricey fees, but she earned an annual membership in exchange for teaching summer rock-climbing classes. It was actually a lot of fun, she had discovered, teaching the skills she had begun to learn as a child from her father.

The double glass doors of the building appeared and Autumn walked into the sleek, marble-floored lobby, past Jimmy the security guard, who recognized her, nodded and waved, then she took the elevator up to the second floor.

A wall of glass revealed the gym and Autumn pushed through the door.

“Hey, Autumn!” It was Bruce Ahern, a muscle jock who worked out at least four hours a day and was already lifting weights. Blond and sun-tanned year-round, he was a nice guy who was always friendly but never pressed her for a date, and instead seemed content just to enjoy her friendship.

“Hi, Bruce. How’s it going?”

“Same ol’, same ol’.” He grinned, carving a dimple into his cheek. Then he hoisted a barbell loaded with a ridiculous amount of iron and began his bicep routine.

Autumn kept walking along the blue-and-gray carpeted floor, passing walls of mirrors. In the bicycle room, long rows of TVs entertained the men and women pumping away on bikes that went nowhere. Eighties music played in the background. Sometimes it was country; sometimes hard rock or hip hop. The staff was very fair about the gym’s musical selections.

Making her way into the women’s dressing room, Autumn headed for her private locker where she kept her climbing clothes. She pulled on stretchy black pants, perfect for climbing—not tight, but not so baggy they got in the way—a black T-shirt and a pair of soft leather climbing shoes that closed with Velcro tabs.

Once she finished changing, she stored her purse and street clothes in the locker and left to teach her second class of the summer.

Two

The headquarters of McKenzie Enterprises took up the entire sixth floor of the building. The president’s office looked out over the city streets all the way across the bay.

Seated behind his oversized mahogany desk, Ben McKenzie studied one of the half-dozen files stacked in front of him. His large, private office was done in dark wood accented with brushed chrome and deep dark burgundy carpets. There was a wall of windows behind his desk and a built-in bar in one of the sleek mahogany cabinets that lined one wall.

The intercom buzzed and Ben hit the button, allowing the voice of his secretary and personal assistant, Jennifer Conklin, to flow into the room.

“Your nine o’clock appointment is here,” she said. “Kurt Fisher with A-1 Sports.”

“Thanks, Jenn, send him in.” Ben rose from his leather chair and shot the cuffs on the crisp white shirt beneath the jacket of his navy-blue suit. His clothes were expensive and perfectly tailored to fit his tall frame, but he had earned every dime it took to pay for them and he was a man who appreciated quality and design.

He glanced toward the door. He wasn’t sure what Fisher wanted, but the man was head of acquisitions for A-1 Sports, a successful chain of low-end retail sporting-goods stores, so the conversation might prove interesting. With seventy-six stores around the country—and more popping up every day—A-1 posed tough competition for McKenzie’s more expensive, higher-quality merchandise, but so far his stores were holding their own.

The door swung open and Ben caught a glimpse of Jenn’s light-brown hair as she waited for Fisher to walk into the room. She was thirty-seven-years-old, married with two kids and had been with him for the last seven years, ever since he had incorporated the company. Jenn closed the door behind Fisher—slim, forty-something, with a reputation for being an aggressive, don’t-take-no-for-an-answer kind of guy willing to do whatever it took to reach his financial goals, which by the look of his flashy Armani tie were extremely high.

“Would you like a cup of coffee?” Ben asked. At six-foot-two, he was taller than Fisher, wider through the chest and shoulders, more athletically built. Though they both had dark brown hair, Ben’s was thicker and slightly curly.

“No thanks. I’m fine.” Fisher seated himself in one of the black leather chairs in front of the desk. Ben unbuttoned his suit coat and sat down across from him.

“So what can I do for you this morning, Kurt?” Ben smiled. He was always polite but he didn’t believe in wasting time.

Fisher lifted his leather briefcase onto his lap, popped the latches and pulled out a manila folder. “I think it’s more like what I can do for you.”

He set the folder on Ben’s desk and shoved it forward. “It goes without saying what a fine job you’ve done in building McKenzie Sporting Goods into the successful company it is today. As you know, A-1 has been equally successful in selling its line of less expensive merchandise. The company is growing by leaps and bounds and we’ve decided the next logical step is to add stores that sell more expensive, higher quality goods. Stores like yours, Ben.”

Ben made no comment, just leaned back in his chair.

Fisher tapped the folder. “This is an offer to purchase your stores, Ben—all of them. I know you’ll want to take it to your accountant and lawyer, but you’re going to see that the price and terms are more than fair.”

Ben didn’t bother to open the file, just pushed it back across the desk. “Not interested. McKenzie Enterprises isn’t for sale.”

Fisher smiled thinly. “Everything’s for sale—at the right price.”

“Not McKenzie. At least not today.” Ben rose from his chair. “Tell your people I appreciate their interest. If I change my mind, they’ll be the first to know.”

Fisher looked stunned. “You aren’t even going to look at it?”

“Like I said, not interested.”

Fisher picked up the file, shoved it a little too firmly back into his briefcase and rose from his chair. “A-1 wants your stores, Ben. You can expect to hear from us again.”

“The answer will be the same.”

Fisher made no reply as he marched rather brusquely toward the door.

“Have a good day,” Ben called after him, then smiled to himself as he sat back down. It was a measure of all he’d accomplished that a company as successful as A-1 wanted to buy his stores. Still, he had worked hard to achieve his success and there was still so much more he wanted to accomplish.

From the time he was a kid working for his dad at McKenzie Mercantile, his family’s rural mid-west department store, he knew business was what he wanted to do with his life. He had studied hard, been determined to go to college, excelled at nearly every high-school sport and been the president of his senior class.

The effort had won him a scholarship to the University of Michigan, and the sports he had loved helped him zero in on which direction to take. Nike had recruited him to work in a management position right out of college but after a few years he realized he wanted to work for himself.

His mom passed away when he was twenty-four, then his dad died and left him the family business. Ben sold the mercantile, moved to the Pacific Northwest and opened his first sporting-goods store.

He smiled. He was as good at business as he always thought he would be and the rest, as they say, was history. He now owned twenty-one stores and had invested his earnings wisely in both the stock market and real estate. His financial portfolio had a net worth of twenty-five million and it was growing every day.

He had the life he had always wanted.

At least, he had until six years ago. That was the year he lost his daughter, Molly…the same year his wife divorced him, the year that had left him devastated and grieving and on the brink of losing his sanity.

He’d survived—barely—by burying himself in his work. McKenzie Sporting Goods had saved his life and he wasn’t about to sell it.

Not now, nor anytime soon.

Standing in front of the climbing wall in an area in the southeast section of the gym, Autumn looked at her half-dozen students, two women and four men.

“Any questions?”

Today was the second in a series of basic rock-climbing classes that would take place over the summer. Once the group had progressed far enough, there would be actual forays into the nearby Cascade Mountains. They would do some bouldering then progress to top-roping: safe, easy ways to build confidence and improve their skills. Maybe they would even do some more difficult technical climbing.

In her first session, she had addressed the general nature of the sport, some of its history and topics to be discussed in future lessons: getting your body in shape and the right nutrition, choosing the proper clothing; mountain hazards; climb rating systems; and the proper equipment and how to use it.

This morning they were discussing weather forecasts and navigation, which included the use of USGS maps and GPS instrumentation.

“I use my GPS all the time,” said Matthew Gould, a tall, string bean of a guy with shaggy brown hair. “Are you saying I’m better off hauling out a map? That’s kind of old-fashioned, isn’t it?”

“A GPS is an invaluable piece of equipment—I won’t argue with that—and some of the newer devices are pretty fantastic. But for the most part the information on a USGS map is far more extensive than what’s on the equipment most people own. The maps show vegetation, rivers, streams, snowfields and glaciers, as well as roads, trails and less tangible features, like boundaries and section lines. Learn to read them well and it may save your butt when the rest of your planning goes south.”

A few chuckles rumbled from the group.

“There are sample maps on the counter over there. I know most of you are hikers so you probably already have some experience using them. Take a look at the maps and go over what we’ve discussed. See if you understand everything that’s printed on them. If you need any help, I’m right here.”

The students rose from their places on the floor and ambled to the counter. Autumn stayed for questions, then once her students had left, changed into her shorts and went into the weight room to do her morning routine.

She usually worked out before class but sometimes she went to the gym in the evenings. It didn’t really matter, as long as she got her workout done. As a climber it was essential to stay in shape. Her small frame was solid and compact, with strong muscles in her arms, legs and thighs. But her breasts were nicely rounded—one of her most feminine features—and she was proud of the way she looked in a pair of shorts or a bikini.

She usually did a ninety-minute routine four or five days a week, which gave her weekends off to climb or to simply relax and enjoy herself.

Today, as soon as she had finished on the Stair-Master and the Nautilus machines, she showered, dressed and set out to see if she could find the mysterious little girl who had appeared in her dreams.

She had decided to begin at the school, which wasn’t far away. Summer school was in session, though she hadn’t offered to teach. The summer was hers and she loved every minute of it. Shoving through the door of the main office building, a flat-roofed, two-story brick structure, she walked over to speak to her friend, Lisa Gregory, who worked as office manager.

“Hi, Lise, sorry to bother you, but I was hoping you might do me a favor.” Lisa was in her thirties, a pretty woman with short brown hair who was efficient and always friendly.

“What kind of favor?”

“I need to get into the school’s computer files. I want to take a look at photos of the girls between five and seven years old.”

“What for?”

“I’m trying to find a particular child. I know what she looks like, but not her name. I’m not even sure she’s a student at Lewis and Clark.”

“Do I dare ask why you’re doing this?”

“I wish you wouldn’t. Even if I told you, you wouldn’t believe it. But it’s important I find her, whoever she is. Will you help me? You’re way better at this computer stuff than I am.”

“Sure. As long as it doesn’t get me into trouble.”

They walked into the back room and Lisa sat down at one of the office computers. The school was proud of its cutting-edge technology. Everything was computerized and updated every year.

“What else do you know besides her age?” Lisa asked as she typed in the information. “Maybe we can narrow the search.”

“I know she’s blond and blue-eyed. I think her first name is Molly. Besides my guess at her age, I’m afraid that’s just about it.”

“Every little bit helps.” Lisa input the information, hit the search button and waited for the results to come up. There were several pages of photos of students who fit at least some of the criteria and Autumn studied each girl’s face. Some she had seen on the playground but none of the others looked familiar, none were named Molly and none resembled the little girl she had seen in her dreams.

“Does your information go backward?” Autumn asked. “Maybe she was a student here last year but her family moved somewhere else.”

“We have the names and photos. We’ll have to adjust for age, though, if you think she’s only six. She would have been five then.”

Autumn sighed. “I suppose she could be younger now or maybe she could be older, I don’t know.” In fact, she had no idea if the little girl actually existed.

“I’ll bring up the photos for the past three years and you can see if you recognize her.”

“Thanks, Lise.”

But a search of the pictures led nowhere and after a thorough examination of each possible child, Autumn ignored a kink in the back of her neck and straightened away from the screen.

“Well, that’s it,” Lisa said.

“I really appreciate your help, even if we didn’t find her.”

Lisa slid her chair back from the computer. “So tell me why you’re looking for this girl.”

Autumn studied her friend, trying to decide whether or not to tell her the truth. She sighed. “I’ve been having dreams about her. It’s weird because it’s the same dream over and over. In the dream, a man she doesn’t know convinces her to get in his car and drives away with her. The dream doesn’t go any further but I get the feeling something bad is going to happen. I was thinking maybe I should try to find her, warn her parents. Of course, it’s just a dream and it probably isn’t even real.”

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.

She wasn’t really his type and he was almost positive he had never been out with her. That was something of a relief.

“My assistant says you wanted to see me on a personal matter. I don’t believe we’ve met, Ms. Summers. What can I do for you?” He motioned for her to have a seat in front of his desk, but she walked over to the window and looked out across the city. He could tell she was nervous. He wondered why.

“Spectacular view,” she said. “I live close to here but my condo looks over the city, not out at the water.”

“It’s a very lovely view. Now as I said, what can I do for you?”

She turned to face him, but still didn’t take a seat so neither did he.

“You can start by calling me Autumn, though you’re right we haven’t met. I’ve seen you at Pike’s Gym a couple of times. I didn’t even know who you were until a few days ago.”

He didn’t remember seeing her, but she wasn’t really the sort to catch a man’s eye…not at first glance, at any rate. “Autumn Summers. Interesting name.”

“It’s Sommers with an O. My parents thought it was cute.” She walked back his way and sat down and Ben sat down across from her. There was something intriguing about her. She had big green eyes that tilted up at the corners, a heart-shaped face and thick, short, softly curling hair that was almost red but not quite. In the overhead light, there were streaks of russet and gold—autumn colors, just like her name.

“So who are you, Autumn Sommers, and why are you here?”

She took a deep breath and released it slowly, as if she searched for exactly what to say. “I’m a fifth-grade teacher at Lewis and Clark Elementary School. I’m here to talk to you about your daughter.”

“Katie?”

Her russet brows inched up. They were perfectly formed, he noticed, adding a nice symmetry to her face.

“You have a daughter named Katie?” she asked.

“Yes. That’s her photo over there.”

“She’s lovely. How old is she?”

“Ten.” He was beginning to get annoyed. His time was valuable. Only his daughter took precedence over work. “You’re a teacher. I figured Katie was the reason you were here.”

“I’m here because of your other daughter. Molly.”

For an instant, Ben couldn’t breathe. No one had mentioned his older daughter in years. He wouldn’t allow it, couldn’t stand the shock it brought whenever he heard her name. The swift jolt of memories, the harsh stab of pain.

He stood up. “My daughter Molly is dead. She was abducted from our home six years ago. What the hell are you doing here?”

“I know about the abduction. I read the articles in the newspaper archives. As far as I can tell, they never found any trace of her and if that’s the case—”

“Molly’s dead!” Ben rounded the desk, his hands balling into fists as he tried to hang on to his temper. “Gerald Meeks killed her—along with God knows how many other children before he was captured and sentenced to life in prison. Now get out of my office!”

In an effort to avoid his wrath, Autumn slipped out of her chair and took a few steps backward as he advanced. “Please…I don’t believe Molly was murdered. I think she may still be alive and if she is, she needs your help.”

His insides contracted into a painful knot. Just talking about Molly made his stomach roll.

“Are you telling me you’ve seen her? Because if you are, I don’t believe you.” It had taken him years to convince himself but he had finally accepted the fact she was dead and no one was going to dredge up the awful heartbreak again.

“I haven’t seen her…not exactly, but—”

“Why the hell did you come here? What are you, some kind of charlatan? Or maybe you’re some kind of nut. Either way I want you out of here.” He walked past her and jerked open the tall mahogany door. “Ms. Sommers’s business here is finished,” he said to Jenn. “See her down to the lobby, will you? Make sure she leaves the building. Make sure she doesn’t return.”

“But I teach classes at the climbing gym,” she said quickly. “I’m also a member of the club. I’m there almost every day of the week.”

“Fine.” He fixed his eyes on Jenn, who was glaring at Autumn Sommers like a she-wolf protecting her cub. “See that she has access to the building, but not to any of the offices above the second floor.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Jenn said. “Come with me, Ms. Sommers.”

“I didn’t come here to cause trouble. I wanted to talk to you or your wife—”

Ben’s temper snapped. “Joanne and I have been divorced for nearly four years. You call her, you bother my family in any way, I’ll get a restraining order against you. Now get out!”

The woman said no more, just cast him a pitying glance and walked ahead of Jenn toward the elevator. Ben didn’t release the breath he had been holding till the elevator door slid closed and Autumn Sommers disappeared.

He didn’t know how long he stood there staring into space. Long enough for Jenn to return from her trip to the lobby.

“You all right, boss?” She had always been protective.

“I’m fine. I just…the woman’s some kind of nutcase. Or maybe she was trying to extort money from me or something. I don’t think she’ll show up here again.”

At least he hoped not. His brief encounter with Autumn Summers—Sommers with an O, he mentally corrected—had his stomach churning with acid. He’d have to pop a Pepcid before he’d be able to eat.

“You want me to have her checked out?” Jenn asked.

“Let it go for now. Like I said, I don’t think she’ll be back.” The woman was gone, but the memories were stirring. They were hovering in his head, threatening to come to life. He couldn’t afford to let that happen.

The best solution was to put his mind on something else…something that had nothing to do with his family or the past or involved his emotions.

Ben walked back into his office, sat down at his desk, opened the file on the Issaquah store, picked up the phone and went to work.

Five

Autumn trembled as she walked the few blocks to her apartment. She had known her meeting with Ben McKenzie wouldn’t be easy, but she hadn’t expected to be tossed out of the man’s office into the street!

The jerk wouldn’t even talk to her, wouldn’t give her the least chance to explain. She remembered the article she had uncovered about Gerald Meeks, a pedophile and serial killer who had been active in the Seattle area. He had been arrested and eventually convicted.

First thing in the morning, she was going back to the library to run Meeks’s name. Maybe she would find a reference to Molly, something that would explain Ben McKenzie’s belief that Meeks had killed her.

If she found proof that Molly was dead, she would drop the whole thing. She would take a sleeping pill every night until she stopped dreaming about the girl. Even if it took the rest of her life.

The following morning she dressed and headed for the gym. She would have to wait until afternoon to go back to the newspaper files. She worked out, then began her climbing class. In the last session, they had talked about getting the body in shape and discussed proper nutrition, then she’d spent the rest of the lesson getting her students familiar with the climbing wall.

Today she discussed proper clothing and equipment then demonstrated some climbing techniques. Throughout the class, Autumn was careful to keep her mind focused on her students and helping them learn the best and safest methods for addressing the climb. She didn’t allow her mind to stray toward little Molly McKenzie and what might have happened to her at the hands of Gerald Meeks.

Autumn suppressed a shudder, but the thought remained in the back of her head. As soon as class was over, she changed into street clothes and left for the library.

Running through the microfilm, she approached the search as she had before. Dozens of articles on Meeks surfaced in the newspaper files, from his arrest, all the way through his long, drawn-out trial. In the end, he had been sentenced to life in prison.

Autumn paused as Molly McKenzie’s name popped up in one of the articles. It appeared again in several more.

Though Meeks has only confessed to the murders of the two children whose bodies were found in what appeared to be his dumping ground at the bottom of a ravine, it is believed he is also responsible for the death of six-year-old Molly McKenzie, who also went missing in the area around that time.

Apparently Meeks never admitted to the crime, but he never denied it either. One article mentioned that the description of the man given to police by witness only vaguely matched that of Gerald Meeks, but the age of the witnesses, all of whom were children under the age of seven, and the disparity of the descriptions were a factor in concluding that Meeks was the man responsible for Molly’s abduction and murder.

In a later paper, Autumn saw again that efforts were made to get Meeks to give up information about the location of Molly’s body. Though he seemed to be the man responsible, Meeks never confessed and he never gave the police the location of the victim’s grave.

Because he didn’t kill her!

The thought arose and wouldn’t go away. The photos of Gerald Meeks convinced Autumn further. Though as near as she could guess, he was about the same height as the man in her dreams, he was thinner and had brown hair, a gaunt man with the sunken eyes of a predator, not the warm, friendly eyes of the man in her dream.

Also, according to the information, Meeks had used chloroform to render his victims helpless before dragging them into his car.

Not like Molly, who, according to her dream, had been lured away by a man with a puppy.

More determined than ever, Autumn vowed to convince Ben McKenzie to at least hear her out.

But how to reach him?

She was no longer welcome in his office. She could try to speak to his ex-wife, but that might involve their younger daughter, Katie. It wouldn’t be fair to a child who must have already suffered a very great deal. And Autumn believed that if she approached the family, McKenzie would go after that restraining order.

Besides, Autumn was convinced Ben McKenzie was the link. She had never seen or met his ex-wife and she had only started dreaming about Molly after she had noticed Ben at the gym.

What to do?

It wouldn’t be easy but maybe if she tried again, McKenzie would at least hear her out.

Since the gym was the most likely place to find him, she headed there first thing the following morning. She didn’t usually work out on weekends, but she needed information and made a beeline straight for the sign-in desk.

To get into the gym, you had to flash a tag with a bar code over a lighted glass plate. The bar code reader analyzed the code and checked to see if your membership was paid up and active. Autumn knew Mike Logan, one of the staff guys who worked behind the desk. He was sitting a few feet away, inputting something into his computer.

“Hi, Mike.”

Mike looked her way, saw her and smiled. “Hey, sweet cheeks.” He jogged over to the counter in his white shirt and shorts, his dark hair neatly combed. The uniform was a requirement. All the guys on the staff looked like they just came off the tennis court at Wimbledon. The women dressed the same, in a white knit shirt and shorts with Pike’s Gym embroidered in black letters on the pocket. The climbing instructors were the exception. To attack the wall, they needed to wear more flexible clothes.

“Listen, Mike, I’ve got a problem. I was hoping you might be able to help me.”

“Name it.”

She pointed to the bar code reader. “That machine keeps track of everyone who goes in and out, right?”

“Right.”

“I presume the information goes into a computer. Can you pull up a person by name, see what times he checks in each day?”

“Sure.”

“I need to know the days and times for Ben McKenzie.”

“Whoa! Wait a minute, Autumn. Ben’s our landlord. I don’t think he’d appreciate someone nosing into his business.”

“It’s no big deal,” she lied. Again. “I just want to talk to him. It’s about his daughter.” Not the live one. The one he thinks is dead.

“Why don’t you just go up to his office?”

“It’s kind of personal. I’d rather make it less formal. Besides, I’ve seen him here before. He’ll just think my bumping into him is a coincidence.”

“I don’t know…”

“Come on, Mike. Didn’t I give you a couple of free climbing lessons last month?”

“Yeah, but…you sure you aren’t stalking him or something?”

She cast him a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me look. Everyone knew she hardly ever dated and mostly avoided men in general. She had even heard a rumor she was gay, which was definitely news to her.

“Okay, okay. Hang on a minute. I’ll print out his sheet for the past two months and you can take a look at it. Just don’t mention my name, okay?”

“Cross my heart.”

It didn’t take long to figure out Ben’s schedule. He came in every weekday and never on weekends, usually got there even earlier than she did. There were gaps, of course, several missing days clumped together. She figured those days he was probably away on business. In the past few weeks, he had started working out in the evenings on Tuesday and Thursday nights.

Autumn tapped the page. “Thanks, Mike. This is great.” She grinned. “I’ll destroy the incriminating evidence as soon as I’m done with it.”

Mike looked relieved. He was a good guy. She didn’t blame him for not wanting to risk his job and she had no intention of betraying his trust. She studied the list, trying to decide the best approach.

She remembered how furious McKenzie had been in his office and decided not to confront him at the gym, where there would be people around. Instead she would wait outside, hoping she could speak to him alone.

At seven-forty-five Tuesday evening, Autumn parked herself on Pike Street in a little coffee shop with a clear view of the McKenzie building. According to the log, Ben was a man who adhered to a very strict schedule. He went into the gym at seven p.m., probably coming straight from his sixth-floor office, and though she had no way of knowing what time he left, she figured he probably worked out for at least an hour.

Eight o’clock came but no Ben. At eight-thirty on the nose, he walked out the door, dressed in slacks and a shirt unbuttoned at the throat, sleeves rolled up, his coat and tie draped over one arm.

Autumn set her white porcelain coffee cup down in its saucer and scrambled for the door. She caught up with Ben at the corner, stood there beside him a moment before he realized she was there.

“Mr. McKenzie?”

His head turned. His square jaw hardened. “You!”

“Please don’t be angry. I have to speak to you. I know you don’t want to talk to me. I know how painful thinking about Molly must be, but you have to listen.”

Several people walked up and stood next them, waiting for the light to change. Ben took one look at them, gripped her arm and dragged her back against the wall of a nearby building.

“What the hell do you want? Money? Do you think you’ve found some way to extort me for cash? Because it isn’t going to work.”

“I don’t want your money! I just want you to listen to me!”

He took a steadying breath, let it out slowly. The set of his jaw said he was fighting for control. “You’ve got three minutes.”

Her mind spun, frantic to think where to begin. “I’ve been having this dream,” she started. “It isn’t a regular dream, not like the kind we all have every night. This is different, so real it’s as if it’s actually happening. And it’s the same dream every night.”

“This is bullshit. Everyone dreams.”

“This isn’t just any dream. This is a dream about Molly.” Even in the faint yellow light shining down from the street lamp she could see his face go pale.

She hurried on, afraid he would walk away. “Of course, I didn’t know who she was at first. In my dream, I saw this little girl get into a car with a man she didn’t know and I was afraid for her. I thought this was something that hadn’t happened yet but was about to and maybe I could find out who the little girl was and somehow prevent it.”

He checked his watch. “You’re time is up, lady. I’m leaving and if you try to talk to me again, I’ll have you arrested for stalking.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “You don’t understand. I think Molly is still alive. Please…won’t you at least hear me out?”

But Ben was already walking away, his broad shoulders slumped forward, perhaps against the breeze but Autumn thought it was the weight of his terrible memories.

Dear God, she had to reach him. Ben McKenzie was Molly’s father and Autumn believed he was the key that had set the dreams in motion. With his help, maybe they could find her.

She wiped the tears from her cheeks, hating herself for crying. Dammit, why wouldn’t he at least give her a chance?

But in her heart, she understood. She knew that every time she brought up Molly’s name, the old pain surfaced. She needed proof—something that would convince Ben McKenzie there was at least a chance his daughter was still alive.

She went to bed that night, her mind still churning. She dreamed the kitchen dream again, saw the pain in Molly’s face. By morning, she knew what she had to do.

Ben cancelled his late-night date with Delores Delgato, an exotic, Hispanic fashion model with the Allure Vreeland made any sort of statement?” Agency who had just finished a photo shoot down at the wharf. He had met Dee through a mutual friend when he was in L.A. on business and they had gone out a few times.

This week Delores was here in Seattle and tonight was the last night of her magazine shoot. She had called wanting to celebrate. At the time it had sounded like a good idea.

But after his encounter with Autumn Sommers, Ben wasn’t in the mood to be sociable. He wasn’t even in the mood to get laid.

He walked the few blocks to his penthouse apartment on the top floor of the Bay Towers in the trendy Belltown neighborhood. He had purchased the luxury condo last year. He could afford it and as he grew more and more successful the extra security the building provided had become a necessity.

He used his passcard to access his private elevator and rode to the twentieth floor. As he walked into the marble-floored entry, the lights of the city shone through the wall of windows in the living room. Down the hall to the left, there was a powder room and two bedrooms, each with a private marble bath. The master suite and bath and his home office were down the opposite hall.

Ben headed that way. As soon as he walked into the office, he picked up the phone on his desk. All the way home, he told himself the call could wait until morning, but he knew he wouldn’t sleep if he left this business unfinished.

His mind strayed to the woman who had accosted him on the sidewalk. It was her tears that had gotten to him. Either the woman was a hell of an actress, a magnificent con, or she really believed the crap she was spewing about Molly.

He dialed Pete Rossi’s cell number and heard the man’s gruff voice on the other end. “Yeah?”

“I’ve got a job for you, Pete.”

“Must be important for you to call this time of night.”

“I want you to find out everything you can about a woman named Autumn Sommers. She says she’s a fifth grade teacher at Lewis and Clark Elementary. She also teaches a rock-climbing class at Pike’s Gym.”

“Not exactly your usual type.”

“Hardly. I have no idea if any of what she’s told me is true. I’d appreciate knowing as much as you can by tomorrow.”

“Not in a hurry, are you?” Pete said sarcastically.

“Can you handle it?”

“I’ll talk to you before the end of the day.”

Ben hung up the phone and ran a hand through his thick dark hair. There was no use stewing over Autumn Sommers, at least not until he had more information. Walking to the wet bar, he poured himself a snifter of Courvoisier and sat down in the deep leather chair behind his desk.

He swirled the brandy in his glass and took a drink, then felt the liquid burn down his throat and the slight relaxation of his muscles. He tried not to think of Autumn Sommers, but her heart-shaped face and deep green eyes popped into his head.

Who the hell are you? he thought, his mind beginning to churn with questions again.

And what the hell do you want?

“You have got to be kidding.” Terri eyed her across the small round table at Starbucks.

“I’m not kidding. I called the prison directly. They told me Gerald Meeks was recently moved to the Federal Correctional Institution in Sheridan, Oregon. Apparently, the guy’s been a model prisoner. Sheridan is just south of Portland, so it’s not all that far. I spoke to a man named Deavers and he submitted my name to Meeks requesting a visit. Apparently, Meeks agreed to see me.”

“I can’t believe this. You’re telling me this guy Meeks agreed to meet with Seattle’s resident psychic?”

“I’m not a psychic. I’m not anything except a woman stuck with a dream that won’t go away. And Meeks thinks he’s meeting with a friend of the McKenzie family who’s trying to help them gain some kind of closure. That’s what I told Mr. Deavers.”

“Cute…like you’re the family’s personal shrink or something. You’d better hope Ben McKenzie doesn’t get wind of this.”

Autumn swallowed, remembering the dark rage on McKenzie’s face when she had mentioned his daughter’s name.

“I guess Meeks doesn’t get many visitors. Mr. Deavers thinks that’s the reason he agreed to see me.”

“When are you going?”

“I’m driving down to Sheridan early Saturday morning. It’s about sixty miles south of Portland. I’m meeting with Meeks late in the afternoon.”

“I thought you and Josh were supposed to go climbing.”

“I had to cancel. I think Josh found someone else to go with him.”

Terri pinned her with a disbelieving stare. “So you’re actually going into a federal prison to see this guy.”

Autumn nodded. “On the way back, I’m spending the night in Portland with Sandy Harrison. You remember—my roommate in college? I’ll be driving back to Seattle on Sunday.”

Terri sipped her latte through the hole in the plastic lid of her cup. “I’ve heard those places are pretty awful.”

Autumn suppressed a shiver. “I don’t even want to know.” Going into a federal penitentiary wasn’t going to be any picnic but Autumn was determined to find out if Meeks knew anything about the McKenzie girl. “I have to do this, Terri. If I come up empty-handed, I’ll let the whole thing drop.”

Terri cast her a look that said what a crock of bull. She knew Autumn could be a real bloodhound when she was set on something. This was a major something.

“Call me when you get back,” Terri said, rising from her chair. “I’ll worry until you do.”

“I’ll let you know how it goes.” Autumn grabbed her paper cup in one hand and slung her small brown leather purse over her shoulder with the other. “Wish me luck.”

Terri nodded. “I have a feeling you’re going to need it.”

Six

According to plan, very early Saturday morning, Autumn pulled her red Ford Escape out of its narrow space in the garage beneath her apartment building and drove the small SUV toward the Freeway 5 on-ramp, heading for Portland. The traffic wasn’t that bad. Most people left the city on Friday night and she was getting out of town long before the Saturday shoppers hit the road.

It was a four-hour drive to Portland. Once she got there, she turned onto Highway 18 for the sixty-mile drive to the Sheridan correctional facility. On the seat beside her sat four pages—single-spaced—of visitor regulations.

Autumn had read them thoroughly, making sure not to wear anything khaki—expressively forbidden since the prisoners wore khaki pants and shirts—or anything metal on her person.

Her nerves began to build as she drove into the lot in front of the tile-roofed main building, parked in a visitor’s space, got out and locked her SUV. Then she took a deep breath and headed for the entrance marked Visitors. Inside the lobby, security cameras were everywhere, watching every inch of the building.

Autumn walked to the information counter and a woman in a white uniform shirt and pants walked over at her approach.

“Name, please.”

“Autumn Sommers…with an ‘O’.”

The guard, a bulky matron with heavy breasts and short black hair, looked down at the pages on her clipboard. “Your name’s on the list. You’re here on a special pass to see Gerald Meeks?”

“That’s right.”

“You’ll still have to go through security check-in just like any other visitor.”

“I was told I would.”

“Follow me.”

The matron led her along a linoleum floor waxed to a polished sheen, toward a door that led to the check-in area. There were even more cameras inside and three male guards who looked as if they took their jobs in deadly earnest.

Visiting hours ended at three o’clock and it was almost two now, so most of the inmate visitors had already checked in. Still there were a couple of beefy guys dressed like bikers with stringy hair and tattoos in line behind a heavyset Hispanic woman who was accompanied by a chubby girl of about fourteen.

As Autumn took her place at the rear of the line, the bikers’ attention swung from the girl and they eyed her as if they had just been served a fresh piece of meat. Autumn’s nose wrinkled at the sour smell of body odor and the foul breath of the man standing beside her, his lecherous gaze creeping rudely over her breasts.

“Nice tits,” he said to his buddy.

“Nice ass,” the other man said.

“Keep a civil tongue,” ordered the guard, “or you won’t be seeing your good-for-nothing brother.”

The men said no more but the curl of their lips and their heavy-lidded gazes made it clear what they were thinking. Wishing she were anywhere but in that room, Autumn fixed her attention on the guard and set her purse on the conveyor belt that carried it beneath an X-ray machine like the ones at the airports. She was asked to remove her shoes and jacket, which also went through the machine.

She had read in the regulations that visitors were subject to random drug tests and prayed she wouldn’t be chosen. But she only had to walk through a metal detector—which thankfully didn’t go off—and make her way to the opposite end of the conveyor belt.

“First door to your left down the hall,” said one of the guards as she picked up her purse and slung it over her shoulder.

Eager to escape, she walked out the exit door, made a left and spotted a door with a small window in it. When she opened the door, she saw that it wasn’t the main visiting area, but a narrow room that accommodated only four inmates at a time. It was set up much the way she had seen on TV, with the prisoner seated on one side of the glass and the visitor on the other.

Three of the four spaces were currently in use. An obese woman with dirty, coarse black hair sat on one of the stools talking to a huge, dark-skinned man with earrings in both ears. There was a skinny white guy talking to his girlfriend, who looked like she was on drugs but couldn’t be because they wouldn’t have let her in.

The third guy was talking to a man in a cheap striped suit who seemed to be trying to conduct some sort of business, though Autumn couldn’t imagine what. The entire scene was depressing and she began to think coming here was the worst idea she’d ever had.

Then the door on the opposite side of the glass swung open and Gerald Meeks walked in. He was wearing the khaki inmate’s uniform and looked exactly like his picture—thin to the point of being gaunt with hollow, sunken eyes. His hair was a faded brown, not blond like the man in her dreams.

He took a seat across from her. When he looked into her face, Autumn shivered.

“Take it easy, lady. You’re way too old to interest me.”

She sat up a little straighter. She had come here to talk to the man. She wasn’t about to let him intimidate her.

“Thank you for seeing me,” she said.

“I don’t get many visitors. I figured it might help pass the time.”

“I came here to ask you some questions about Molly McKenzie.”

He smiled, a thin slash across the lower half of his face. “A lot of people have asked me about her. What makes you think I’ve got something new to say?”

“I don’t know…I was hoping…It’s been six years since Molly disappeared. You’ve been locked up for most of that time. I thought maybe by now you might be more forthcoming where Molly is concerned.”

“What’s it to you, one way or the other?”

“I’m a…friend of the family. I’m just trying to find out if Molly is really dead.”

Dark eyes bored into her. “You don’t think so? Everyone else is sure I killed her.”

“Did you?”

He didn’t answer for the longest time. “It took guts for you to come. The guys in here would eat you up with a spoon if they had the chance. They’ll all be jealous when I tell ’em what my visitor looked like.” Those sunken eyes moved over her, making her skin crawl. “I bet you were a real pretty little thing, Autumn Sommers, when you were a little girl. Those bright green eyes and all that silky red-gold hair. If I’d seen you back then—”

“I came here to talk about Molly,” Autumn interrupted, ignoring the sick feeling in her stomach and the suddenly too-fast pounding of her heart.

Gerald Meeks looked her in the eye. “I would have told ’em, but they wouldn’t have listened if I had, so I just kept quiet.”

“Told them what?”

“You want the truth? I never laid eyes on Molly McKenzie. I didn’t kill her. I wasn’t anywhere near her. I just figured…let ’em keep guessing, what do I care? Kind of gave me a chuckle in the middle of the night, those cops all thinkin’ it was me.”

For several seconds Autumn just sat there. Of course, there was no way to know for sure if Gerald Meeks was telling the truth, but Autumn believed him completely.

From what she had read, after his arrest Meeks had bragged about the murders he had committed but he had never mentioned little Molly.

“Thank you for your candor, Mr. Meeks.”

“My…pleasure…” Meeks rose and so did she. She could feel his eyes on her all the way to the door.

Relief washed over her as the door closed behind her and she headed back down the hall. She returned to the screening area to be re-checked before being allowed to leave.

As she pushed through the doors of the main building and walked out into the sunshine, she took a deep breath of clean Oregon air. Though no one had physically touched her, she felt as if she needed a long, hot shower. She couldn’t wait till she got to her friend Sandy’s house so she could bathe and put on fresh clothes.

It was ridiculous. The facility was clean and well cared for but that didn’t change the way she felt. In truth, it was a dismal experience, but the trip had been worth it.

Autumn was even more convinced that Molly McKenzie was alive and reaching out to her for help.

She had to see Ben. This time Autumn had something to tell him that might make him listen. Or at least she hoped he would.

Sitting in the Coffee Bean Café across the street from the McKenzie building after work on Monday night, she felt like the stalker he believed her to be. She had no idea what time he might leave his office, but she had arrived at five-thirty, determined to wait until midnight if she had to.

Fortunately, Ben walked through the glass lobby doors onto the sidewalk at six-thirty. Autumn waited until he reached the corner, then slipped out of the café and followed him down the street, careful to keep her distance and stay in the shadows. She shuddered to think what McKenzie might do if he realized she was there.

She had no idea where he might be going, but she was hoping to find a place where she could corner him, make him listen without creating a scene. She kept pace with him—she didn’t want to lose him—but didn’t get too close.

She wondered where he was headed. Wherever it was, he walked with purpose as he always seemed to do, his long legs carrying him rapidly down the street. Another few blocks and she saw him go into a little Italian restaurant called Luigi’s. She had been there a couple of times and had enjoyed the food and the quiet atmosphere.

She was wearing black slacks and a black V-neck sweater so she wouldn’t stand out in the darkness, nice enough clothes that she wouldn’t look out of place in Luigi’s. She walked into the bar and stood just out of sight until she spotted him at a quiet booth at the back of the main dining room.

No one was with him. Perhaps he was waiting for someone. McKenzie wouldn’t want to make a scene in nice place like this. It was the perfect time to approach.

Autumn crossed the room and slid into the booth beside him.

“Don’t yell and don’t get mad. What I have to tell you will only take a minute.”

His jaw clamped down. He looked like the top of his head might blow off any minute. “Get out of here or I’m going to have you thrown out.”

“I went to see Gerald Meeks. I talked to him and he told me he didn’t kill Molly. I think he would be willing to tell you the same thing if you went there and asked him yourself.”

Something shifted in his features. “You went to the federal penitentiary to see Gerald Meeks?”

“Meeks was transferred to the facility in Sheridan, Oregon for good behavior. I drove down on Saturday.”

He sat back in the booth, his face an unreadable mask. “I hired a detective to check you out. You really are a teacher. In fact you have an extremely good reputation at the school where you work.”

“I’m not crazy. And I swear I’m not after your money.”

“So what do you want?”

“I think your daughter Molly is alive. I’ve seen her in my dreams. I don’t know where she is, but I think she is reaching out to me for help.”

“Why you? And if she really is alive, why would she wait until now?”

“I haven’t figured that part out. I think it has something to do with you…with me seeing you at the gym. I probably wouldn’t believe any of this myself except…”

“Except what?”

“This happened to me once before. I had a dream about my two best friends—the same dream over and over. In the dream, Jeff and Jolie and a third kid were killed in a car accident. I was only fifteen. I didn’t believe it would actually happen and I thought that even if I said something, no one would believe me, that they would just make fun of me.”

“What happened?”

“They went to a party and their car went off the road into a tree, just like in my dream. All three of them were killed.”

A long silence followed.

“I’m sorry,” Ben said.

“I can’t ignore it this time. I won’t. In my dream, I saw your daughter taken that day from in front of your house but the man I saw wasn’t Gerald Meeks. I’ve seen Molly as she is now, six years older, a lovely young girl approaching her teens. It’s her, Ben—the same pale blond hair, the same big blue eyes. She’s alive. I know it.”

He swallowed and glanced away. When he looked at her again, the pain in his eyes made an ache throb in her chest.

“Do you have any idea how hard this is for me? Can you begin to know the way I suffered when Molly was abducted? If I believe you, all that pain will surface again, all the terrible grief. If you’re wrong or even if you’re right and I can’t find her—I don’t think I can survive that kind of pain again.”

Autumn didn’t know what to say. She knew what she was asking, knew the terrible price Ben McKenzie would pay if she was wrong. But there was a lost young girl to think of. A child who seemed desperate for her help.

“We have to try. I lost three friends the last time. There was pain there, too, Ben.”

“If you’re wrong, I swear to God—”

“I could be. I won’t lie about it. This has only happened to me once before. But the dreams are so clear, so real. I see her face—the same face I saw in the newspapers. I hear the little boy, Robbie, calling her name.”

His head whipped toward her. “Robbie? Robbie Hines?”

“I don’t know his last name. They were playing together in the yard that day.”

He tightened his hand into a fist to keep it from trembling. “Robbie was there that day. It wasn’t in the papers.”

“Red hair and freckles?”

“That’s him.”

“You have to help me, Ben. You have no other choice.”

He took a deep breath and slowly released it. “I need to sleep on this. Pete came up with your address and phone number. Unless I regain my senses, I’ll be in touch with you soon.”

Autumn gave him a tentative smile, fighting to hold back tears. “Thank you.”

She started to get up from the booth as an exotic, olive-skinned woman walked up to the table. She was tall and elegantly thin, her skin silky smooth, the most beautiful woman Autumn had ever seen.

“Sorry I am late, querido, but the limo got tied up in traffic.” Her nearly black eyes swung to Autumn. “I see you have kept yourself entertained.”

“Autumn Sommers this is Delores Delgato.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Autumn said. “I didn’t mean to interfere with your evening, Ms. Delgato. I just needed to speak to Mr. McKenzie about a personal matter.”

“That is all right, chica. If it hadn’t been you it would have been someone else.”

Ben frowned.

“I look forward to your call,” Autumn said to him, feeling awkward and desperate to escape.

Ben just nodded. As Autumn turned to walk away, he helped Delores Delgato remove her burgundy cashmere jacket then seated her beside him in the booth.

Winding her way through the tables toward the front door, Autumn stepped out into the crisp Seattle night air. She had accomplished her goal: convinced Ben McKenzie to listen and perhaps begin to believe her at least a little.

From now on, she didn’t think he would be able to turn away. Molly was his daughter. From the pain Autumn had seen in his face, it was obvious how much he loved her. If Molly was alive, he would have to try to find her.

He would have no other choice.

Ben endured his evening with Delores, all the while wishing the night would end. His mind was on Autumn Sommers and on Molly and whether or not he dared to believe she might still be alive.

Though Delores made it clear she expected him to join her in her suite at the Fairmont Olympic Hotel, he declined. Sometime over the past few days, sex with the exotic model had lost its appeal. Like most of the women he dated, Delores required a lot of attention. Currently his attention was fixed somewhere else.

Leaving Delores fuming in the grandiose lobby of the five-star hotel, he walked the few blocks to his penthouse. The answering machine in his office was blinking. Next to it, a stack of papers waited in the fax machine.

He played back the phone messages, including one from Pete Rossi explaining the fax: more information Pete had collected on Autumn Sommers. Ben lifted the pages out of the machine, walked over and sank down in his butter-soft leather chair.

He skimmed through Pete’s report, the high points of which the detective had given him over the phone.

Autumn Kathleen Sommers. Born June 3, 1980 to Kathleen L. and Maxwell M. Sommers.

Kathleen Sommers had died in 1993 when Autumn was thirteen. Max Sommers, a fireman, had raised her. He was retired now, giving him more time to devote to his hobby, rock climbing. It was Max who had sparked his daughter’s interest in the sport. At twenty-seven she was a certified member of the American Mountain Guides Association and apparently an extremely qualified climber.

According to the report, Autumn had gone to the University of Seattle—partly on scholarship, partly school loans—graduated at the top of her class and then went on to get her teaching degree.

In a subparagraph, her relationship with a guy in college named Steven Elliot was mentioned and two other men with whom she’d had brief affairs, neither of them recent. Pete was extremely thorough.

Ben almost smiled. From the looks of the report, Autumn hadn’t dated a lot. He didn’t believe for a minute she hadn’t been asked.

There was something about Autumn Sommers, something that reached out and snagged a man’s interest. She might not be a buxom blonde with a movie star face, or an exotic, olive-skinned brunette, but with her silky russet curls, green cat-eyes and tight little body, in a different sort of way the woman was sexy as hell.

Ben ignored the unwanted shot of desire that came with the thought, just as he had the surprising physical attraction he had felt for her the moment she had walked into his office. He had clamped down hard on it then, certain she was some kind of crazy. But tonight, when he had seen the quick flash of tears in her eyes, he had felt the pull again.

Autumn was different from the women he dated. She seemed more passionate about life, more vital. If he was honest with himself and circumstances were different, he wouldn’t mind taking Autumn Sommers to bed.

It wasn’t going to happen. Though Pete’s report showed nothing out of the ordinary, past or present, it didn’t mean he could trust her. She could be the world’s smoothest charlatan or simply a nutcase who believed what she was telling him was real.

He made a note to call Pete in the morning to have him check whether Autumn had really made a trip to the prison in Sheridan, find out if she had actually talked to Meeks. In fact, if she had, he would have Pete go up there himself, see if he could confirm what Meeks had said about Molly.

The name whispered though his head as he hadn’t allowed it to in years. What if Molly were actually alive? She’d be twelve years old on August first. If she was alive, what horrors had she suffered in the years since she had been taken? Had she been abused? Molested? Brutalized in some terrible way?

God, he couldn’t bear to think that she was being mistreated. It was one of the reasons, after the long, hopeless search, he had grasped onto the theory that she had been murdered by Meeks. Better to think her dead than alive and suffering.

But the Sommers woman had raised that possibility and he realized that whatever had happened to Molly over the years didn’t matter. If she was alive, he just wanted her home, back where he could take care of her and heal whatever wounds she might have suffered.

A memory arose of the last day he had seen her, standing in the door to his study.

“Daddy! Daddy will you come out to my dollhouse and play with me?”

He was busy. There was always so much to do. But he always made time for Molly.

“All right, angel, what shall we play?” Scooping her up in his arms, he carried her toward the door leading out to the backyard.

“Let’s have a tea party!” Molly said, hugging his neck. A make-believe tea party was her favorite pastime.

“Okay, but you have to pour.”

Molly giggled and rested her head on his shoulder.

Ben closed his eyes against the memory. During the first years after his daughter’s disappearance, he had thought of that day a thousand times. But in the past several years, he had learned to block the memories. They were simply too painful, too destructive.

Now, because of Autumn Sommers, the memory had returned. Ben ignored the burning behind his eyes, leaned back in his chair and fought not to give in to his grief.

Seven

Autumn didn’t hear from Ben on Tuesday. He didn’t call on Wednesday. By Thursday night, she was resigned—if he didn’t get in touch with her by Friday afternoon, she was going to brave his secretary’s wrath, go up to his office and force her way in to see him.

Autumn sighed as she pushed through the door leading into the climbing gym. At least for the past few days she hadn’t been dreaming. Well, except for Monday, the last time she had seen Ben.

Four of her students were already there. As she set her notes on the table, the other two walked in. She was ready to begin the day’s lesson when a tall male figure strode through the door dressed in khaki shorts and a dark green T-shirt with the picture of a kayak plunging through white water and COULONGE GORGE printed on the front.

Autumn tried not to admire Ben McKenzie’s wide shoulders and powerful biceps and the long bands of muscle in his suntanned legs. He was wearing a pair of Reeboks but carried rubber-soled climbing shoes in one hand.

Autumn spoke to him as he walked toward her. “Mr. McKenzie. I’ve been hoping to hear from you. Unfortunately, we’re about to start our lesson. Perhaps after—”

“I signed up for your class at the front desk. I’ve bought the book you recommended and studied the first few chapters…the parts of the class I’ve missed. I’ll be joining your sessions from now on.”

Her mind was spinning. He hadn’t called all week and now he was here? “Could I speak to you for a moment outside?”

“Of course.”

He set his shoes on the floor and followed her.

As soon as the door was closed, Autumn spun to face him. “All right, McKenzie, what’s going on? I’ve been waiting to hear from you all week but you never called. Now you join my class? I’d like to know why.”

Ben shrugged those wide shoulders. “I’m in the sporting goods business. I like hiking, canoeing, kayaking, just about everything. We sell some of the finest climbing gear money can buy but I’ve never tried the sport. I figured this was a good opportunity.”

She clamped her hands on her hips. “Fine. Now, what’s the real reason you’re here?”

Ben’s gaze locked with hers. “You really want to know? I’ll tell you. You came to me with some cock-and-bull story about Molly. I don’t know you from Adam but just because you say so, I’m supposed to believe she’s alive after all these years and you think that together we can find her. If I’m crazy enough to believe you, it will turn my life upside down. There’s a chance my family will hear about it. And if they do, they’ll suffer. You say you need my help? Here’s the deal. I’m not committing to anything until I know who the hell you are.”

She opened her mouth but Ben cut her off.

“I’m not talking about the standard things—that you’re a twenty-seven-year-old schoolteacher or that your father is a retired fireman who lives in Burlington. I mean who you are in here.” He set a fist over his heart. “I need to believe you’re telling me the truth—not just what you believe is the truth. You want something from me, Autumn? Well, I want something from you.”

“How did you know about my father? Did you have me investigated like some kind of criminal?”

“You didn’t think I would?”

Of course he would. With his money and connections, it wouldn’t be that hard to do. “So exactly what is it you want?”

“I want time to get to know you, find out if you’re for real. Once I’m satisfied, you’ll have my complete cooperation.”

“What about Molly? Every day lost is a day we could be looking for her.”

“Molly’s been gone six years. Odds are she’s dead, just like the police believe. I have to think of Katie and Joanne. If this all starts again, questions will be asked, word will get back to them sooner or later. Neither of them or anyone else in my family deserves to suffer through all that again.”

It was a very good argument. His family had to come first and he had no real reason to believe her. He had to be certain he could trust her. If the situation were reversed, she would feel exactly the same.

“All right, we’ll do it your way. If that means you’ll be learning to climb, then I guess that’s what you’ll do.” She gave him a challenging smile. “You might even discover you like it. It’s an extremely exciting sport.”

Ben just nodded. “Then I guess we had better get started. You’re students are waiting.”

Autumn studied him a moment more. Not for the first time, it occurred to her what a handsome man Ben McKenzie was. Solid jaw, nicely formed lips, straight nose and dark brown eyes that seemed to take in more than you meant for them to see. He was tall and bronzed and extremely fit. She didn’t like the little curl of heat that slid into her stomach when he looked at her the way he was now.

Autumn steeled herself. She had seen the kind of women Ben McKenzie dated. Delores Delgato was on the cover of this month’s Vogue magazine. Autumn wasn’t anywhere close to their league, and that was just fine with her. She was a failure where men were concerned. She wasn’t about to be taken in by a guy like Ben.

Ben watched Autumn at work. As soon as they had entered the climbing gym, her entire concentration fixed on the students who had come to her to learn.

“Before we begin, we have a new student. This is Ben McKenzie. You might recognize the name, since he’s in the sporting goods business and the owner of this building.”

Several people nodded.

Ben followed her gaze toward the women in the group. “Ben, meet Courtney Roland and Winnie Caruthers.” A tall rangy blonde and an attractive brunette with muscular arms and legs. “This is Ian Camden and Bruce Lansky.” Ian blond, early twenties; Bruce dark-haired and at least fifteen years older. “And these two guys are Matt Gould and NedWheaton.” Matt was tall with shaggy brown hair. Ned was a lanky, good-looking black man with a shaved head and small silver earrings.

“Good to meet you,” Ben said to the group.

“All right, let’s get to work,” said Autumn.

He could see she took her job seriously as she led her students over to one of the tables and began to go through the gear spread out on the top.

“We’ve been talking about equipment in general. As you can see, I use mostly Black Diamond. It happens to be my personal favorite, but there are other companies that make good products as well.” She flicked a glance his way. “Maybe Ben can give us his opinion.”

“We don’t sell anything in our stores that isn’t top of the line and our staff is knowledgeable and helpful. I know we sell Black Diamond, so it must be good. Since I’m new to the sport, for the present I’ll defer to Autumn on the subject.”

For an instant Autumn’s green eyes moved over his face and he felt a tug of awareness low in his groin. She looked back down at the equipment. “What you see here are the basics: harness, carabiners, camalots, wired hexes, stoppers, a helmet, a chalk bag and a couple of different types of belay devices.”

The group gathered round as she went over each of the different items. She held up a bundle of rope. “This line is static—no give. It’s used for jugging up or rappelling down a mountain.” She held up another bundle. “This is a seventy-meter bundle of climbing rope. It’s a light, strong, dynamic line with low impact force—designed so that if you fall, there’s enough give to help your body absorb the shock when you hit the end.” She gave them a few moments to examine the items and answered a couple of questions.

“You’ve all got climbing slippers,” she said. “Go ahead and put them on. And if you have your own harness, put that on. If not, we’ve got some here for you to use.”

The group suited up. Autumn was wearing trim-fitting khaki shorts with oversize pockets and a sleeveless, orange, scoop-neck top that said I LEAD, YOU FOLLOW. Since Ben had anticipated needing them, he had picked up a pair of leather-topped, rubber-soled climbing shoes at his downtown store. He sat down on a bench to put them on, making a mental note to follow Autumn’s suggestions for the rest of the gear he would need.

He had told her the truth. He had been seriously thinking of giving the sport a try and this presented the perfect opportunity.

Far more important, this gave him some time. He wasn’t ready to involve himself in what was surely a wild-goose chase that could cause more misery for him and his family. Then again, as crazy as the whole thing sounded, after the lengths she had gone to, he wasn’t prepared to discount the slim possibility that Autumn Sommers might actually have some sort of bizarre psychic connection to his daughter and there was a chance Molly was still alive.

He had to ferret out the truth about Autumn and the only way to do that was to spend some time with her.

He looked down at the gear on the table. He would check with the guys in the climbing department but he had a feeling Autumn knew as much about choosing the right gear as they did. Maybe more.

“I’ll go first,” she said. “That way you can watch the way I take the wall.” She looked over at Ned. “You’ve handled a line before, Ned. How about working the rope for me?”

“No problem.” There was a length of rope looped over a bar at the top of the wall. Ned, apparently the most experienced student in the group, ran one end of the line through the belay device on his harness while Autumn tied a double figure-eight into hers, securing the rope to the belt around her waist.

“When I come down, it’ll be your turn,” she said to the group. Her gaze ran over the cluster of students until she came to him. “I think today we’ll start with Ben.”

Autumn’s eyes locked with his and Ben almost smiled. She was testing him. He could see it in those tilted cat-eyes. She didn’t like the ground rules he had set, but she had no choice except to go along with them. He took a look at the wall. It was forty feet high. Some walls went to eighty.

The floor in front was protected by a thick foam-rubber vinyl-covered mat but it wouldn’t be enough to prevent injury if the climber took a fall from the top. Autumn coated her small hands with the dry, white, resin-like climber’s chalk and headed for the wall.

Autumn’s sure hands and small feet searched and found the tiny niches and crevices in the holds as she made her way up the wall with skill and a fluid grace.

Ben found himself watching with fascination the movement of the muscles in her arms and legs and the way her buttocks tightened under her shorts as she moved higher and higher up the wall. Her waist was small, her breasts nicely rounded. His groin clenched almost painfully and he muttered a curse.

The last thing he needed was any sort of physical attraction to Autumn Sommers. He had no idea who she really was or if any of what she had told him was real.

He fixed his concentration on Autumn who had reached the top of the wall and was now smoothly riding the rope Ned held back down to the bottom. She was good. That much was clear. She made the sport look easy and he knew damned well it wasn’t.

Once she returned to solid ground, she centered those green eyes directly on him. “Your turn, Ben.”

Eight

Class was finally over. Thinking that everyone had left the gym, Autumn began to bag her gear, concentrating on stowing everything properly.

“I enjoyed your class today.”

She looked over her shoulder to find Ben McKenzie just a few feet away. “I didn’t realize you were still here. I thought you’d be anxious to get back to work.”

“I am. I wanted to ask if you were busy tonight.”

Autumn eyed him warily. “Not really.” Not unless watching an old movie on Turner Classics was busy. “Why?”

“I told you before—I need time to get to know you. I’ll come by your place after I leave the office…say six-thirty? We’ll go over to my downtown store and you can help me pick out the climbing gear I’m going to need. It shouldn’t take all that long.”

She didn’t want to go with him. He made her nervous in a way she couldn’t quite explain. But she needed his help and she couldn’t think of a reason to say no. “All right.”

Ben left her to finish her task and she carried her gear back to her locker. She had a couple of private lessons that afternoon then afterward stopped in at Barnes and Noble to pick up a few new paperback books, since she felt at a loss if she ran out of something to read.

Ben arrived in her lobby at six-thirty, but insisted on coming up instead of letting her come down to meet him.

“I want to see where you live,” he said over the intercom. “A person’s home says a lot about them.”

She didn’t like the idea. She didn’t want Ben McKenzie barging into her home—her life—but she didn’t see any other way to get his help. Without it, Molly would never have a chance to be found.

She was nervous as she opened the door. She loved her cozy apartment, but Ben McKenzie was rich and used to living in far higher style. Since their discussion at Luigi’s on Monday, she had gone back to the library and run his name. Over the past few years, article after article had appeared in the society section, showing Ben at benefits, plays and opening night concerts—escorting some of the most glamorous women in the world. Apparently, he was wildly successful in his business endeavors and equally successful with women.

He stepped through the open door, his eyes darting into the compact kitchen with its sparkling white countertops and cheerful white-and-rose flowered wallpaper, moving past the breakfast bar that separated the area from the living room. “So this is the place you call home.”

She managed a smile. “This is it. Would you like a glass of wine or something else? I keep a bottle of Jack Daniels up in the cupboard for my dad. He isn’t really supposed to drink, but he’s pretty hard-headed about it and I figure a little whiskey once in a while isn’t really going to hurt him.”

“Wine sounds good.”

“Red or white?”

He eyed her with interest. “White is good for right now.”

She pulled out two stemmed wine glasses, took an opened bottle out of the fridge and filled the glasses with chardonnay.

Ben took a sip and savored it slowly. “Not bad. Local vintner?”

“Columbia Crest. This is an estate vintage. I guess you figured I’d pour it out of a box?”

He laughed. “Not at all. You don’t strike me as quite that down-home.”

He lifted his glass off the breakfast bar and wandered toward the windows overlooking the city, pausing here and there to consider an antique Victorian clock, a porcelain figurine, a hundred-year-old green glass plate she had fallen instantly in love with and bought for practically nothing at a garage sale. The molded ceilings drew his eye, the sheer lace curtains, the floral rugs on the hardwood floors.

“The place is amazingly feminine,” he said. “I have to admit I’m a little surprised.”

Her posture tightened defensively. “I like sports. That doesn’t mean I’m not a woman.”

Those brown eyes drifted over her, seemed to warm with appreciation. She was wearing dark-gray, low-slung bell-bottom pants, a pair of black heeled boots and a deep pink sweater that hugged her curves.

“No,” he said. “You are definitely a woman.” His rich baritone rolled through her, sent a curl of warmth into her stomach. Autumn forced herself to ignore it and took a steadying sip of her wine.

Ben glanced into the bedroom, saw the canopied bed with its white eyelet bedspread and matching dust ruffle. “Very pretty. That’s where you’ve been having your dreams?”

She nodded.

“Any lately?”

“Last Monday, after I spoke to you.”

“None since then?”

“No.”

“So you think there’s a connection between me and the dreams.”

“I think it’s the most likely explanation.”

He wandered into her bedroom, went into her bathroom and eventually returned to the living room.

“You know,” she said, “it’s rude to enter a woman’s bedroom uninvited.”

The edge of his mouth faintly curved. “From the look in your eye, I imagine I’d be waiting a good long while.” The amusement faded. “You know my terms. I find out what I need to know or I’m out of this.”

Autumn shook her head. “I don’t think you’re going to back out. I don’t think your conscience will let you. Just like mine won’t let me.”

He said nothing for a while. “Nevertheless. Until I believe I can trust you, I’m going to stick to you like I’m your shadow.”

Autumn set her glass down a little too hard, making the crystal ring. “What if I say no? What if I just tell you to go away and forget the whole thing?”

“You won’t. You just said your conscience won’t let you.”

Autumn bit her lip. He was right—but so was she. They were in this together, whether they liked it or not. She would do what she had to in order to make this easier for both of them.

They sat at the counter and talked for a while: a little about her family, her father and what sort of parent he was as she grew up but mostly about climbing.

“You did okay for your first time,” Autumn said, speaking of his morning effort on the wall.

“I climbed like a buffoon and you know it. I fell three times before I got to the top. Damn good thing I was wearing a harness.”

“But you got there. You stuck with it. Most people would have quit. And you have the lean muscles and flexible strength to make a good climber.”

He smiled. “It was challenging. I think I’m going to like it.”

And Autumn thought that in time—if he was serious about learning the sport—he could become very good. He was strong, limber and athletic. And he had a certain grace of movement that few men had.

They finished their wine and set the glasses down.

“Time to go,” Ben said, rising from his stool. “Better get your jacket. It’s always cold in the evenings this time of year.”

She looked up at him. He was there to learn about her but she had just learned something about him. There was a protective streak in Ben McKenzie. She retrieved her navy-blue jacket from the closet in the entry; Ben took it from her and held it out so she could put it on.

“Thank you.” She smiled, then remembering he had also helped Dolores Delgato out of her expensive cashmere jacket that night at Luigi’s, the smile slipped away.

Get a grip, she warned herself, wishing she had never dreamed about Molly, never managed to get herself in this position. But she had agreed to spend time with Ben McKenzie, one of the wealthiest, most desirable bachelors in Seattle.

She wasn’t a fool. Ben was handsome and powerful. And with that lean, hard-muscled body one of the most sexually attractive men she had ever met. She had to be careful, had to keep her distance, keep her mind fixed on her goal.

Think of Molly, she told herself and then walked past him as he held open her apartment door.

The store was posh. Two stories high with a loft that displayed expensive sports clothing. The main floor was sectioned into areas pertaining to different sports, each decorated with huge photos of extreme athletes competing in their areas of expertise: ultimate skiing in deep, untouched powder, snowboarding down triple black-diamond slopes, biking, motocross, hiking, hang gliding. Climbing was no exception. There was a fantastic picture of a climber on an overhang thousands of feet in the air—stuck like a fly, completely horizontal against the magnificent mountain vistas.

“All right,” Ben said, leading her in that direction. “Just pick out whatever you think I need and don’t worry about the cost.” He grinned. “I get one helluva discount.”

Autumn ignored the odd little flutter that grin caused and set to work, studying each piece of gear. It took a while, but it was kind of fun, the vicarious thrill of getting to buy anything you wanted no matter the cost. She helped him choose the best harness for his size, strength and level of ability. Climbing rope, carabiners, hexes, cams, as well as an ultralight tent and sleeping bag, and waterproof bags to pack all the stuff in.

Ben insisted on picking out some clothes: lightweight and durable with lots of pockets. He was carrying two armloads of merchandise by the time they left the store.

“Let’s catch a cab,” he said. “I want to drop this off at my condo then we’ll go get something to eat.”

Fresh nerves assailed her. “I think I’ll just go on back home.”

Ben fixed her with a glare. “You know the drill. The sooner I’m satisfied you’re for real, the sooner we can get on with the search—assuming there’s going to be one.”

Autumn sighed. “Fine, we’ll go to dinner.” She waited for Ben in the taxi while he carried the bags up to his condo on the twentieth floor.

“You’re welcome to come up,” he said, but Autumn declined and instead waited for his return.

The wind whipped her hair and the air was damp but invigorating as they stepped out of the cab in front of Solstice not far from Pioneer Square, one of Seattle’s newer, currently hip cafés. The place was full on Friday night, but the owner knew Ben and they were quickly led to a cozy table at the rear of the restaurant where they each ordered a glass of wine—red this time.

“You like wine, I gather,” Ben said, lifting his glass and studying the deep burgundy cabernet. It was a twelve-dollar glass he’d insisted she try. And he was right; it was fantastic.

“I got interested through a friend of mine in college. Washington has some amazingly good vineyards.”

He studied her over the rim of his glass. “This friend…his name wouldn’t be Steven Elliot?”

Autumn stiffened. It annoyed her that he knew so much more about her than she knew about him and yet she could hardly fault him for being cautious. “I can see your report was thorough.”

“You and Steven…the two of you were serious?”

“I was. Steve moved on to greener pastures.”

He swirled the dark liquid in his glass. “You like wine. What else do you like?”

She managed a smile. “I like good food—and climbing, of course—and on occasion I like to play dress-up.”

“Dress-up?”

Her smile turned sincere. “Long sequined gowns and tuxedos. I don’t get much opportunity but one of my climbing partners is the son of a wealthy computer magnate. His dad presses him to go to an occasional formal event. I go with him when he needs a date.”

“Apparently my report wasn’t as thorough as I thought. Are you seeing this guy on a regular basis?”

“I told you, he’s my climbing partner. Josh is just a very good friend.” Autumn hadn’t noticed the tension in Ben’s shoulders until it began to ease.

“All right, you like to play dress-up. How about tomorrow night? I’ve been invited to a black-tie benefit for the Seattle Symphony. I wasn’t going to go, but—”

Autumn swiftly shook her head. “You’re making this far too personal and that isn’t a good idea. Besides, I’m planning to go climbing with Josh.”

“We’re talking about my daughter. That’s about as personal as it gets. I want to know what makes you tick. I think tomorrow night—you in an evening gown, me in a tux—is a very good idea.”

She was already tired of the game. Ben was sophisticated and charming, the sort of guy who enjoyed casual sex and one-night stands. Autumn wasn’t that way and the more time she spent with him, the harder it was not to be aware of him as a man.

She might be a failure at male-female relationships but she was still a woman. There were times her body ached for the touch of a man but she couldn’t afford to start thinking that way about Ben.

“Tell me about the dreams,” Ben said softly, changing the subject.

Autumn felt a sweep of relief. This was the topic she wanted to discuss, the reason she was sitting here with Ben McKenzie. “They started some weeks back…I think it was shortly after I saw you at the gym. Or maybe even that night, but I don’t really remember.”

She looked up as the waiter arrived, a tall woman wearing a crisp black apron over her white blouse and black slacks. Both of them gave her their orders: a medium-rare filet for Ben with Roquefort sauce on the side; homemade tortellini with a sun-dried tomato cream sauce for Autumn.

While they were waiting for their meals, she described in detail her recurring dreams of the day Molly had been abducted, the children playing in the yard and the little red-haired boy named Robbie. She told Ben about the man and how he had convinced Molly to go with him in his car to help him find his lost puppy.

“How old a guy was he?”

“Late thirties, maybe a little younger. Blond hair. Kind of a nice-looking man. I remember he had friendly eyes.”

One of Ben’s dark eyebrows went up, sending a hint of embarrassment into Autumn’s cheeks. “I know it sounds crazy, but his eyes kind of crinkled when he smiled and I remember thinking that you couldn’t trust a person just because he looked harmless.”

Ben cast her a meaningful glance. “That much is certainly true.”

Autumn’s flush deepened, but she forced herself to go on. “The man gave Molly this little black and white puppy to hold. He said its name was Cuffy. He said he had another puppy named Nicky but Nicky had gotten lost. He asked Molly to help him find it.”

Ben’s jaw turned to granite and the warmth in his eyes disappeared. “I swear, if you are making all of this up—”

“You know some of it’s true. They were playing ball in the yard. I read that later in the newspaper. You told me yourself the little boy’s name was Robbie. That wasn’t in any of the papers I read but you told me yourself he was there that day in the yard.”

Ben took a drink of his wine and she thought that he was working to stay in control. The waiter arrived with their salads but neither of them started to eat.

“Tell me about the second dream…the one where Molly is older.”

Just to give herself some time, Autumn took a sip of her wine then set the glass back down. “I didn’t recognize her at first. She was with two women, both of them blond and fair. They were working in the kitchen, preparing a meal…supper, I think. They were all very solemn. None of them laughing. It bothered me even in my sleep.”

“Go on.”

“The women were talking, but I couldn’t hear what they were saying. That happened in the first dream, but as the nights progressed, the dream became more clear. Maybe if it keeps happening, eventually I’ll know what’s being said.”

He picked up his fork, but didn’t take a bite. He kept his dark gaze centered on her face. “How did you know the girl in the second dream was Molly?”

“Like I said, I didn’t recognize her at first, but once I got a look at her, I didn’t have the slightest doubt. She has these huge blue eyes and her eyebrows arch up in this sweetly feminine way. She has your nose, you know—only smaller, of course. I’d like to see a picture of your wife—”

“Ex-wife,” he corrected.

“Yes, well, I’d like to see if I can pick out Molly’s features in her.”

He leaned toward her. “That’s it? That’s all you saw? Three women working in a kitchen?”

She didn’t want to tell him; it was bound to be painful. But if they were going to have any chance of success she had to be completely truthful.

“There was something else…something that convinced me I had to look for her, try to find her.”

“Say it. I can tell you don’t want to.”

She released a slow breath. “In the dream—for an instant—Molly turns and looks straight at me. There is so much pain in her eyes…so much despair. It seems to run soul-deep. It’s as if she is begging for my help.”

Ben just sat there, his chest squeezing like a thousand-pound boulder sat on top of it. What if Autumn Sommers was telling the truth? If he closed his eyes, he could see Molly’s big blue eyes looking at him from beneath the sweet, pale arch of her brows. If Molly was alive, was she being beaten, abused? Or was she just desperately unhappy, living in a place she didn’t belong—being raised by strangers who weren’t her family and didn’t really love her?

If she still lived, did she remember her real parents? She had been old enough and yet maybe, over the years, those memories had slowly faded.

Ben shoved his salad away without taking a bite. “Here’s what I’m going to do. Tomorrow I’ll talk to Pete Rossi, the private detective I hired to investigate you.”

Two days ago, Pete had called him in response to Ben’s inquiry about Autumn and Gerald Meeks. According to Pete, Autumn had indeed spoken to Meeks at the federal prison in Sheridan, but Rossi couldn’t confirm what Meeks had said. The inmate had refused his request for a visit and probably wouldn’t have told him anything anyway.

“I’ll ask Rossi to start digging around, see if he can turn up anything new about Molly’s disappearance.” He hadn’t done this yet. He’d wanted more proof that Autumn’s crazy dreams were real.

“Did Rossi work on the case when Molly first disappeared?”

“No. I used a different agency. But I think it might be better to start fresh. Look at the whole thing from a different perspective.”

“That sounds like a good idea.” Autumn gave him such a bright, hopeful smile that Ben found himself oddly disarmed. “So we’re going to start looking?”

He leaned back in his chair. “Don’t get too excited. I said I’d ask Pete to do a little digging. I’m not about to set this whole thing in motion—not yet.”

“But—”

“Cancel your climbing trip and I’ll pick you up for the benefit at seven o’clock tomorrow night.”

She toyed with her fork, eyeing him across the table. “Are you sure your friends won’t think you’re lowering your standards? I’m hardly a cover model.”

No, she was nothing at all like Dolores Delgato or any of the other women he was likely to take to this kind of affair. But she was smart and interesting and—though she didn’t seem to know it—sexy as hell. An image of Autumn’s tight round behind flexing as she climbed the wall sent a shot of pure lust into his groin. She chewed her bottom lip, which was rosy and full and made him want to run his tongue across it.

Under different circumstances—

Ben cut off the thought. “To tell you the truth, the evening will probably be a whole lot more interesting with you instead of someone who doesn’t really want to be there in the first place. Now eat your salad and let’s enjoy our meal. We can talk about climbing, if you want. That shouldn’t be too personal.”

Autumn’s small shoulders relaxed and she gave him another smile. It made her seem completely sincere and utterly without guile. He reminded himself he couldn’t risk trusting her—not yet. He had to think of Katie and Joanne, his parents and the rest of his family. He refused to see them suffer again.

Time was what he needed. Time to know if Autumn Sommers was telling the truth. And if she was, time to discover whether or not—as impossible as it sounded—her dreams might lead him to Molly.

But how much time did he have?

Ben prayed that his need for caution wouldn’t come at Molly’s expense.

Nine

Autumn was tired when she got back home. The evening with Ben had been taxing. She knew it was the sexual attraction she felt for him that she didn’t want to feel. She tried to tell herself it was only natural with a man as handsome and charming as Ben, but the truth was that Ben seemed to affect her in a different way than other men.

Usually, she had a knack for keeping the opposite sex at arm’s length. She let men know early on that she enjoyed their friendship but she wasn’t interested in anything more. Most of them accepted it, some were maybe even a little relieved.

Ben was different. There was a look in his eyes that said he saw her as a woman, an object of desire that had nothing at all to do with friendship. It surprised and flattered her. The man dated the most beautiful women in the world. That he would show the slightest interest in her was amazing.

Of course she could be wrong. She could be seeing something that wasn’t really there. Or perhaps he was just that way with women in general, seeing each of them as an object to be conquered.

Ronnie Hillson had been that way—charming her, pretending an interest in her that lasted through the month they had dated, then disappearing the day after he took her to bed. At first she believed she must be a really bad lover, but eventually she decided that more likely it was the conquest that had interested Ronnie and she was just too naive to see.

Autumn yawned as she headed for the bedroom, stripping off her sweater along the way. She had called Josh on her cell on the way home from the restaurant to apologize for breaking off their climbing date again.

“Things happen,” he’d said. “It’s no big deal. Mike Logan’s been bugging me to go. I’ll ring him up, see if he can get his shit together by tomorrow morning.”

“Mike’s not ready for Castle Rock.”

“Yeah, I know. We’ll go somewhere else.” She could almost see Josh grin. “Which is good because I wouldn’t want to tackle Castle Rock with anyone but you.”

“I’m really sorry, Josh.”

There was a pause on the end of the line. “You…uh…seem kind of pre-occupied lately. You’d tell me, wouldn’t you, if something was wrong?”

“I’m fine. I’ve been having a little trouble sleeping is all. I’m sure it will pass. I’ll talk to you next week.” She’d hung up the phone and found Ben watching her.

“Sounds like your friend, Josh, is worried about you.”

“He’s a very caring guy.”

“You sure it isn’t more than that?”

Her head had come up at the odd note in his voice. “Actually, Josh is in love with my best friend, Terri Markham. Unfortunately for Josh, Terri doesn’t know he exists.”

“Poor guy.”

“Yeah. I keep hoping Terri will open her eyes and see how great Josh is.”

The taxi had pulled up in front of her building a few minutes later and Ben insisted on escorting her to her door. She didn’t invite him in and it was clear he didn’t expect her to. She’d said good-bye, then closed the door and leaned against it, surprised to discover how fast her heart was racing.

Damn.

Autumn sighed as she undressed and tossed her clothes on the bed. Feeling any sort of physical attraction to Ben McKenzie was the last thing she wanted. The man was way out of her league and even if he was interested—which he probably wasn’t—she’d be a fool to even consider getting involved with him.

Autumn hung up her clothes—determined not to think of him—slipped into her pink shortie nightgown, drew back the covers and crawled into bed.

That night, she dreamed.

Ben spent all day Saturday at his office, working on the problem of A-1 Sports and their threat to his Issaquah store. He made a phone call to Russ Petrone, the real estate broker who’d been keeping him informed, and Russ told him A-1 had officially made an offer on the vacant lot on the corner across the street from his store.

“Sonofabitch.”

“The sellers haven’t accepted yet, but it looks like they probably will.”

“Not good news.”

“You said A-1 wants to buy your stores. I got this info without much trouble. I think they want you to know. Probably figure the threat of a competing store so close might be enough to get you to accept their offer.”

“I’m sure that’s what they’re hoping but I’m not taking the bait, which means they’ll have to go one step further.”

“You think they’ll actually build across the street?”

“I think they’ll go that far if they have to. They’ll figure if they can drive down the profits on the Issaquah store—maybe even force it to close—I’ll be inclined to accept their offer for the chain.”

“Anything you want me to do?”

“I want you to talk to the owners of that property. Keep it quiet, but see if you can find out the terms of A-1’s offer. Tell the owners we’ll up the price by twenty percent but the sale has to close in three business days. And if they go back to A-1, the deal is no longer on the table.”

For their plan to work, A-1 had to buy that particular piece of property. There was nothing else suitable in the downtown area or anywhere close and it didn’t look like there would be anytime soon. If Ben could quietly make the purchase and keep the land out of A-1’s hands, the company would be out of luck.

“You sure you can close in three days?” Russ asked.

“You make the deal. I’ll find the money.”

Russ hung up with a promise to call him back with any news and Ben made a call to Pete Rossi—the second attempt of the day.

“Sorry I didn’t get back to you,” Pete said. “My cell’s been out of range.”

“Not a problem. Damn phones don’t work half the time.”

“After the deal with Meeks, I’m guessing you want me to take another look into your daughter’s disappearance.”

“Good guess.”

“You figure if Gerald Meeks didn’t kill her, there’s a chance she might still be alive.”

“So far you’re one step ahead of me.”

“So how does the Sommers woman fit in?” Pete asked.

Ben had been careful not to tell Rossi any more than he had to, but he trusted the investigator and if he was going to go on with this, he had to play it straight. “About two weeks ago, Autumn Sommers approached me about Molly. She claimed she was having recurring dreams about her. I know it sounds crazy, but she was determined enough to go see Meeks, which couldn’t have been pleasant. And she knows things, Pete, things that weren’t in the papers.”

He told the investigator about little Robbie Hines in the yard, how the boy wasn’t mentioned in the papers, yet Autumn had described him perfectly. “If Meeks really told her he didn’t kill Molly, then I can’t ignore the possibility that this might be real.”

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