The Summit (6 page)

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.”

A
ccording 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.”