The Summit (22 page)

She looked at him and tears welled in her eyes. “Oh, God, Ben, what if the dream is real and he's abducted another little girl?”

Ben turned off the tape recorder and pulled her into his arms. Autumn clung to his neck, her cheek pressed against his. She tried not to cry but tears began to leak from beneath her lashes and roll down her cheeks.

She didn't know how much more of this she could take. How much more either of them could handle.

When in God's name would all of this be over?

She felt Ben's hands moving gently up and down her back, easing the tremors running through her.

“It's all right, honey. It doesn't do any good to cry. Believe me, I know.”

Autumn silently nodded. She held on to him a moment more, then dragged in a shaky breath and eased away. “I think it was real, Ben.”

The sigh he released sounded weary. “As real as any of this, you mean.”

“Yeah…as real as a dream can be.”

He shifted to the side of the bed and stood up. He pulled on the dark brown terrycloth robe he had brought with him the last time he had spent the night. “I want to go over everything you saw one more time and I want to replay the tape.”

“All right.”

“I think we need a pot of coffee.”

“Good idea.” Autumn reached for her pink quilted robe and walked past him out of the bedroom into the kitchen.

“We've got to talk to the police,” Ben said, trailing along behind her. “We need to know if a child who fits the description of the one in your dream has come up missing in the last few months. It would have to be fairly recent if Mary isn't ready to accept her new name.”

“That's what I was thinking.”

“I'll call Doug Watkins in the morning. See what I can find out.”

“If we tell the police the truth, they won't believe us.”

“Doug's a pretty good guy,” Ben said. “I think he might do us a favor.”

“If a child was abducted, it couldn't have happened anywhere around here or we would have seen it on the news. Maybe he kidnapped her in another state.”

“Could be. Hell, maybe he lives halfway across the country and we've been looking in the wrong place all along.”

Autumn shook her head. “Maybe, but I don't think so.” She padded over to the cupboard and pulled out a bag of fresh ground coffee. “I saw him once, remember? I travel some, but I have a hunch it was somewhere not that far away.”

“You never know—maybe your hypnotist will help us figure it out.”

She glanced over to where he stood next to the breakfast bar. He looked worried and exhausted. “I hope so,” she said. “God, I hope so.”

 

The hypnotist, Peter Blakely, turned out to be a man in his forties. Handsome, Ben thought, with streaks of silver in his light-brown hair, blue eyes and a pleasant smile. He looked completely normal, beige slacks and a blue, short-sleeve Izod pullover, nothing at all like the weirdo Ben half-expected him to be. There was even a trace of upper-class British accent in his speech.

“Thank you for coming, Mr. Blakely,” Autumn said as he walked into the apartment.

“I'm just Peter. I prefer to be on a first name basis with my clients.”

“That's fine with us. I'm Autumn and this is Ben.”

Ben shook hands with Blakely.

Autumn smiled. “I explained on the phone a little of what's been happening and what we're trying to do.”

“You would like to recall a meeting you had with a particular person some years back.”

“That's right.”

Ben led Blakely over to the table to look at the sketch. “This is what he looks like.”

“At least that's the way he looks in the dreams I told you about,” Autumn explained. “It's important we find him. Unfortunately, I can't remember where I saw him.”

She managed another smile but Ben thought it looked strained. He knew she was tired after sitting up for hours last night going over the tape and her recollections of the dream, but once they had gone back to bed, making love had helped them both fall asleep. He'd awakened early, sporting his morning hard-on, but knowing how exhausted she was, he didn't reach for her. Instead, he simply lay there enjoying the feel of her small body pressed up to his and let her sleep.

“So how do we begin?” she asked Blakely, returning Ben's attention to the matter at hand.

Blakely took a quick glance around. “Why don't we go into the living room and you can lie down on the sofa. There are dozens of different techniques, of course, but I prefer to start with a quiet, relaxed atmosphere. Ben, will you please pull the curtains?”

He walked over and pulled the drapes. Earlier he had phoned Detective Watkins at the Issaquah police department. He hadn't spoken to the man in years, but he needed to enquire about the possibility of another missing child. He discovered the detective had been promoted and now worked out of the East Seattle precinct, which was good since it was right there in the city.

Watkins wasn't in. The detective didn't work weekends unless he was on a case, the dispatcher said, so Ben left his name and number. Hopefully Watkins would call him once he got the message.

“Do you have a CD player?” Peter Blakely asked.

“Right next to the TV,” Ben said.

The hypnotist handed him a disc and Ben walked over, slid it into the player and pushed the play button. The soft sounds of water rippling over rocks drifted into the living room, giving the place a calm, soothing atmosphere. As Autumn stretched out on the sofa, she seemed only a little nervous.

It didn't hurt, after all.

Ben almost smiled. As tired as she was, she would probably just fall asleep.

“All right, Autumn, are you comfortable?” Blakely asked.

She yawned in answer. “Very comfortable.”

He flicked on what looked like a small penlight, held it so the beam moved in an arch on the wall. “I want you to let your eyes follow the light and listen as I speak. Are you ready?”

“I'm ready.”

“I'm going to count backwards from one hundred. Before I get to one, you will be deeply asleep but able to hear exactly what I say.” The light arched slowly back and forth on the wall. “One hundred, ninety-nine, ninety-eight. You are relaxed and comfortable. Your eyes are beginning to close.”

Her body seemed to subtly relax.

“Ninety-seven, ninety-six, ninety-five, ninety-four. You are growing more and more sleepy, barely able to keep your eyes open now.”

The light moved in a slow, steady rhythm and her body sank limply into the sofa.

“Ninety-three, ninety-two, ninety-one. Your eyes are closed. You are deeply relaxed now. Can you hear me, Autumn?”

“Yes…”

The penlight went off. “Ninety, eighty-nine. You are very deeply asleep, Autumn, and as you lie there, you are going to think back in time.” There was a deep, soft cadence to Peter Blakely's voice, a mesmerizing rhythm that seemed to pull gently at the muscles in Ben's body as well as Autumn's. He found himself beginning to get sleepy, shook his head and sat up a little straighter in his chair.

“There is a man…” Blakely said. “A blond man you have seen many times in your dreams. You know his face. At sometime in the past, you encountered this man somewhere, perhaps even met him. Can you see him?”

“Yes…”

“Is he there with you now?”

“Yes…He just said…‘hello'.”

Ben's heartbeat quickened.

“What else is he saying?”

“Nothing…he is just being…friendly.”

“Where are you?”

“Burlington.”

Ben's whole body went tense.

“Where in Burlington?”

“In the…sporting goods…store.”

Blakely flicked Ben a glance, then returned his attention to Autumn. “Do you know the name of the store?”

“Burlington…Sports.”

Blakely spoke softly to Ben. “You know it?”

Ben nodded. “It's an old place that's been there for years.”

The hypnotist turned back to Autumn. “Tell me what's happening.”

“I'm there with…my dad.” She moistened her lips. “We're buying…some…camping gear.”

Ben's pulse roared. Max Sommers had been there that day. Maybe he would remember the man. Maybe he even knew him.

“What is the blond man doing?”

“Buying a…camp stove.”

“Does he say anything else?”

“No, only…‘hello'.”

Blakely shifted a little in the chair he'd pulled up next to the sofa. “Do you know the date?”

A small frown tugged between Autumn's eyebrows. “It's…summer.” She moistened her lips. “Dad and I are going…climbing. I'm visiting him for the…weekend.”

“Is there anything else you can recall?”

“The man…seemed nice. I thought…it would be nice if I could meet someone like him.”

A chill ran down Ben's spine. The profiler had said the man could be charming, that women were attracted to him. The thought of Autumn anywhere near the bastard made Ben's blood run cold.

“You did very well, Autumn,” Peter Blakely continued. “Now I'm going to start counting, beginning with the number one. By the time I reach five, you will be wide awake and able to remember everything we've said. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.”

Autumn's eyes slowly opened. She sat up on the sofa and looked straight at Ben.

“Burlington,” she said. “I saw him in Burlington.”

A
s soon as Peter Blakely left the apartment carrying a check made out to him by Ben, Autumn dialed her father. Max had been with her the day she had seen the blond man. Maybe her dad had seen him again, maybe he even lived there in Burlington.

She hadn't mentioned anything about her dreams to Max. She was afraid he would think of the last time it had happened and how distressed she had been and she didn't want him to worry. Now she was frantic to talk to him to see what he might recall. The phone rang and rang but there was no answer. Finally, the message machine kicked on.

“Max and Myra here. Leave us a message.”

So they were officially living together now.
Interesting.
Things between her father and Myra had begun to move fairly rapidly since the time he had spent in the hospital.

“It's Autumn, Dad. It's important I talk to you. Give me a call. If I'm not at home, call me on my cell.” She hung up and turned to Ben. “He isn't there.”

“So I gathered.”

“Now we're waiting for two return calls. I hate waiting, don't you?”

“We've got our cells. It's past lunchtime. Let's get out of here for a while, go get something to eat.”

“Good idea.” They'd had coffee and a Bisquick coffeecake she had whipped up earlier that morning, but that had been hours ago. They headed downstairs then walked over to The Shack, a nearby café, for sandwiches and a bowl of soup.

They were almost finished with the meal, sitting in one of the three small booths at the back of the shop drinking coffee and sharing a piece of cheesecake, when Autumn's cell phone rang. She didn't recognize the caller ID number.

“Hey kiddo, it's your old man.”

“Dad, where are you?”

“Me and Myra are in Reno. We're on our honeymoon. We just got hitched!”

“Dad!”

“Yup. Alaska Air's got a direct flight down and we just hopped on and right-quick we were here. We were planning to call you tonight with the news.”

Several strange emotions went through her: doubt, worry, disbelief and denial were only a few. “You got
married?
But you said—”

“I told you I was going to make Myra an honest woman.” He said something to Myra that Autumn couldn't hear and both of them laughed. “This is the happiest day of my life.”

The joy in his voice began to reach her. He really did sound happy. Maybe he would be. She really hoped so.

“Congratulations, Dad. I wish you both the very, very best.”

“Thanks, darlin'.”

She mouthed across the table to Ben that her dad had gotten married and he seemed surprisingly pleased.

“Good for him,” he mouthed back.

“Say hello to your new step-mama,” Max said and handed Myra the phone.

“Hi, Autumn honey. I'm so happy.”

“I'm happy, too,” Autumn said, wishing she meant it a little more. The two of them talked for a while, Autumn again expressing her best wishes. “Ben sends his congratulations, too.”

“You better grab that one, sweetie. He's a real peach.”

Her insides tightened. She wasn't grabbing anyone and especially not Ben.

Fortunately, Max came back on the line. Autumn blocked the thought of her dad having sex with Myra and the stress it might have on his heart.

“There's just one thing, Dad, before I let you get back to your honeymoon.”

“What is it, darlin'?”

“Dad, I need you to think about a trip we made up into the Cascades a few years back. I'm not exactly sure what year, but it was in the summer and we were going camping. Before we left, we stopped at the sporting-goods store and bought some equipment—a new tent and I think I bought a sleeping bag. Do you remember, Dad?”

“Not offhand.”

“It's really important. There was a man there, a blond man. He said hello to us.”

“Hello? That's it? You expect me to remember some guy in the sporting goods store who said hello?”

She sighed into the phone and shook her head at Ben. “It was just a long shot. I thought you might have seen him sometime since, maybe even got to know him.”

“Sorry, honey. I think I remember the camping trip, but the guy doesn't ring any bells.”

“Well, thanks, anyway. You two enjoy your honeymoon. We'll celebrate when you get home.” She disconnected and stuck her cell phone back into her purse.

“No luck?” Ben said.

“My dad's the only one who's getting lucky.”

Ben chuckled. “I like your father. He makes the most out of life. We should all do that.”

Autumn didn't answer. She couldn't help wondering how much her dad would make out of his life with Myra. One woman had never been enough for him. Why should that change?

She sighed. Maybe now that he was older he would be different.

Autumn wished she could convince herself.

 

Since it was the detective's weekend off, the department phoned Doug Watkins at home. Ben McKenzie was a powerful man in Seattle and the police still remembered the kidnapping from six years ago. The good news was that Watkins now worked in the city, at the East Precinct up on Twelfth Avenue.

Ben and Autumn were waiting for his arrival when the front door swung open and her friend, Joe Duffy, walked in. Joe worked out of the Virginia Street precinct, so she was a little surprised to see him.

“Hey, hot stuff, what are you doing here? Someone burgle your apartment?”

“No, thank God.”

He frowned. “Is that pervert still hanging around the school? If he is, we need to—”

“We're here to see Doug Watkins,” Ben interrupted, sparing Autumn the necessity of lying again.

Joe flashed him a look. His ruddy complexion appeared even redder than usual, his sunburn probably a result of a recent climbing trip, Joe's favorite way to spend his off-duty time. “You're Ben McKenzie, right? Josh Kendall mentioned you were taking Autumn's classes. You getting into climbing?”

“I've always been interested. I'm enjoying it so far.”

Joe cast Autumn a glance then turned back to Ben. “If you don't mind my saying, I hope all you're doing with Autumn is taking classes.”

“Joe! For heavens sake!”

“I think that's Autumn's business, don't you?” Ben's tone held a hint of warning.

“Maybe. But the lady is a friend of mine and she's not like the rest of your women. Treat her right, McKenzie, or you'll answer to me.”

Instead of getting angry, Ben just smiled. “It's nice to know Autumn has friends who look out for her.”

Autumn wished she could drop through a hole in the floor. “You'll have to ignore Joe,” she said to Ben, casting a hard look at her friend. “Being a cop, sometimes he gets a little overprotective.”

The detective studied Ben a moment more, taking his measure in some way. “When Autumn thinks you're ready, maybe we'll all go climbing some weekend.”

“I'd like that,” Ben said, looking as if he meant it. Joe nodded, then took off down the hall, waving over his shoulder at Autumn, satisfied it seemed, at least for the present.

“I'm sorry,” she tried to explain. “Joe's really a very nice guy. I have no idea what got into him.”

“He cares about you. There's nothing wrong with that.” Ben's gaze followed Joe down the hall then he turned as Detective Watkins pushed through the glass front doors.

Watkins spotted them and headed in their direction. “Ben. It's good to see you.” He stuck out his hand and Ben shook it.

“You too, Doug. I'd like you to meet a friend of mine, Autumn Sommers.” Ben's mouth faintly curved. “That's Sommers with an
O.
”

Watkins smiled. “Nice to meet you, Autumn.”

“You too, Detective.”

With the formalities over, Watkins led them down a hall tiled with linoleum through a door to an empty conference room, a small, bare space with a metal table and chairs seating four. A framed Ansel Adams black-and-white photo of Yosemite at dawn was the only decoration in the room.

“I'm sorry to drag you in on a weekend,” Ben said, waiting for Autumn to take a seat then taking one himself.

“It's all right.” Watkins smiled. “The kids were fighting and Vickie's mother is visiting. I was glad for an excuse to get out of the house.”

Ben chuckled.

“So what's this about a missing kid?” Watkins was short and stout, late thirties, muscular, with a shiny, shaved head. He looked tough, yet there was something in his face that said he could keep an open mind.

“I've been trying to think of where to begin, Doug—the truth is so damned hard to believe. But I think it's the only choice we've got.”

“The truth is generally the best approach,” Walkins drawled with only a trace of sarcasm.

Ben started talking and with Autumn's help finished nearly half an hour later, explaining about the dreams, the blond man and Molly and the facts they'd been able to confirm. They told the detective about the classic car and tracking down the owners, relayed Autumn's brief meeting with the blond man in the sporting goods store, which had also been the kind of business where Joanne had seen him.

When they finished, a skeptical Detective Watkins leaned back in his chair. He ran a hand over his bald head as if he still had hair. “Just when you thought you'd heard it all…”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Ben agreed darkly.

“So aside from all this stuff about dreams that might be real and the fact you think your daughter could still be alive, what you're basically asking me to do is find out if a blond girl who roughly fits the same description as Molly has recently been abducted.”

“That's about it. Before we left the house, we went on the Internet and pulled up
missingkids.com
. There were six hundred and six victims listed missing nationwide in the last year. That in itself is daunting, but some of them don't have photos and I'm not sure the site is completely up-to-date. Odds are it would have happened somewhere in the western region but we don't know for sure.”

Watkins seemed to mull that over. He took a deep breath and slowly released it. “All right, for old times' sake, I'll make a run at it. See if we can at least narrow down the list of possible victims matching your description.”

“That'd be great.”

The detective stood up. So did Autumn and Ben. “I'll get back to you by the middle of the week.”

“I appreciate this, Doug. I can't tell you how much.”

“Do me a favor. Don't say anything around here about kidnap victims showing up in dreams.”

A faint smiled touched Ben's lips. “No problem.”

“No offense,” Watkins said to Autumn.

She smiled. “None taken.”

 

Autumn and Ben left the station and headed back to her apartment. The sun had slipped behind a thin layer of clouds and the temperature was falling. A damp breeze stirred the hair at her temples and Autumn pulled her sweater a little closer around her shoulders.

“I've been thinking…” She walked beside him across the lobby and Ben pushed the elevator button.

“Seems like we've both been doing a lot of that lately.”

“Those names the women are using…if they aren't their real names, they must have some meaning, some reason they were chosen.”

“I've been wondering about that myself.”

“The thing is, Riker said this guy has a Godfather complex. Rachael, Mary and Ruth are all biblical names.”

When they arrived at the twelfth floor and stepped out of the elevator, Ben took the key out of her hand. He opened the door then waited for her to walk past him into the condo.

“It hadn't really occurred to me, but maybe you're on to something. This guy could be some kind of religious nut. A zealot of some sort.”

“That could be good, right? If he's a religious man, maybe he isn't the kind of guy who would molest young girls.”

“Depends on the religion, I guess. It didn't stop David Koresh down in Waco, or the guy who took Elizabeth Smart.”

Her shoulders sagged. What a nightmare this had to be for Ben.

“We'll find her, Ben. We won't stop until we do.”

He looked at her and pain crept into his face. “You know what I keep thinking? If I hadn't stopped looking, maybe we would have found her. Maybe if I hadn't given up—”

“Stop it, Ben. You thought she was dead, just like everyone else including the police and the FBI.” Autumn reached out and laid a hand on his cheek. “The hard truth is, she might be. All of this could just be some crazy hallucination. You think
I
don't think about that?”