Читать книгу: «The Summit»

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.