Paranormal II: The Summit Part 19

"I still want that list. Maybe just writing it out will jar something loose."

Autumn stood up from the sofa. "I need to shower and dress first. And I think we're going to need a fresh pot of coffee."

"I can handle that." Ben stood up too.

Her robe fell open as she started toward the bedroom, giving him a glimpse of the pink silk nightie she wore underneath. She pulled the robe closed and fastened two of the b.u.t.tons on the front.

Ben caught her hand before she could escape. "Next time I stay over, I expect you to wear the cute little number you've got on now instead of that baggy T-shirt."

Autumn shook her head. "Staying was a bad idea from the start. It's a worse idea now."

"I told you the truth, Autumn. I didn't betray you with Beverly Styles and I'm not going do it with anyone else."

She turned away, telling herself that she couldn't risk believing him, that it didn't matter anyway. She tried to convince herself and failed completely.

Ben caught her chin between his fingers. "You have to let me stay, Autumn-every night as long as you keep dreaming. You said yourself that time's running out." He let go of her chin. "Whatever you want or don't want from me, I'm asking you to do everything in your power to help me find my daughter."

Her chest squeezed. He was right. When Ben was there to help her recall the dream, it became clearer and the shadowy pieces emerged from the distant corners of her mind.

She didn't want him to stay. She still didn't trust him and she didn't want to get any more involved with him that she was already.

"Autumn...?" he gently prodded.

She released a weary sigh. "All right, you can stay here at night. It does help me remember. But I want your word you'll keep your distance."

He ran a finger along her cheek. "Like I said, whatever you want or don't want. I'll leave that up to you."

She pressed her lips together. What did she want from Ben? Just looking at him standing there, his hair rumpled and a shadow of beard along his jaw, made her yearn for another hot night in bed with him.

But the more time they spent together, the more intimacies they shared, the more pain she would feel when he left her.

And he would.

Except for her dad, in one way or another, all of the people she'd ever loved had left her. The only family she still had was her dad, an aging aunt and a couple of cousins who lived out of state. Her mom was gone; her grandparents on both sides had pa.s.sed away.

Over the years, all of the men she'd dated had deserted her. Not one of them had loved her. Not even Steven, who had wanted a wife and children very badly. She understood now that was never going to happen. Though once she had wanted a husband and family more than anything on earth, that time was past. She didn't want to wind up a single mother, divorced and raising her children alone, or married to a man who chased women all the time like her father.

She just didn't have what it took to hold on to a man. Certainly not one like Ben.

She thought of him as she headed for the shower and heard him rummaging around in her kitchen, grinding beans for a fresh pot of coffee.

As soon as all of this was over, she was saying good-bye to Ben McKenzie and all of the problems he posed.

As soon as all of this was over.

Dear G.o.d, when was that going to be?

Seventeen.

The weather stayed clear all weekend. On Sunday, Ben drove his truck out to Issaquah to pick up Katie for their scheduled day together. A copy of Autumn's original sketch, the one of the blond man six years ago when he had abducted Molly, rode in the pocket of his jacket. Showing the sketch to Joanne was the last thing he wanted to do, but he had put this off as long as he could.

The time had come when he had to choose-either he believed in Autumn and her dreams or he did not. If he believed her, then he had to believe that Molly was alive. If she was, he had to do everything in his power to find her.

And that meant he had to ask Joanne if there was a chance she had seen this man in the neighborhood the day Molly was taken or maybe at a different time or place. He would do his best not to upset her, to give her the least disturbing explanation he could come up with, but he had to know.

Leaving his pickup parked at the curb, he walked up the path to the expensive custom home he had shared with Joanne for just six months before they decided to divorce. It had been a mutual decision. They simply couldn't go on hurting each other any longer.

Fortunately, in the years since then, their relationship had mellowed, leaving them friends of a sort. They had developed a mutual respect and were determined that Katie wouldn't pay for their failed marriage.

Ben knocked on one of the carved double-doors then waited for his ex-wife to pull it open.

"You're early," she said, stepping back so he could walk past her into the tile-floored entry. The house was s.p.a.cious and beautifully furnished. Ben wanted them to have the best. "Katie's not quite ready. I'll tell her you're here."

"I came a little early so I could talk to you for a minute alone."

Joanne took another step back at the serious look on his face. "All right. Let's go into the kitchen." At thirty-five, she was still a beautiful woman with shoulder-length honey-blond hair and powder-blue eyes.

For the past few months, she had been seriously dating a man who worked for her father in the banking business. John Cleveland was handsome and smart. Best of all, he seemed to care greatly for both Joanne and Katie. It bothered Ben a little to think he would be sharing his little girl with a second father, but mostly he was happy for his ex-wife and child and grateful that Joanne seemed to have chosen well.

They sat down at the breakfast table in the large, white, very modern kitchen.

"Do you want a cup of coffee or something?" Joanne asked.

"No thanks, I'm fine. What I came here to talk about has to do with Molly."

"Molly...?" she repeated, a slight edge creeping into her voice.

"I hate to upset you by bringing this up. Believe me, I know how painful it is. But I really have no choice."

"I-I don't understand."

"Several weeks ago, a friend of mine spoke to Gerald Meeks. Meeks claims he didn't kill Molly, that he never even saw her. Another man was spotted the day Molly was taken. I need to know if you recognize the man."

Joanne just stared as he reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out the rolled-up copy of Autumn's black-and-white sketch, and laid it out in front of her. "He has blond hair and blue eyes. You can't tell that from the drawing. Does the guy look the least bit familiar?"

Joanne moved her head woodenly to look down at the drawing. For several long moments she said nothing, then her eyebrows drew together. "I might have seen him." She looked up. "What difference does it make? Molly's dead."

"A few loose ends have come up that need to be clarified. Where did you see him? Do you remember?"

"I don't know...I...there's something familiar about him, but I really can't say for sure."

"He might have come up to you somewhere when you were with Molly."

She jerked toward him. "Are you saying this is the man who took her, not Meeks?"

"It's possible."

She started shaking. "I can't do this again, Ben. I can't."

He reached over and caught her hand. "I only need you to answer this one question. "Just tell me where you might have seen him."

She pressed her lips together, closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them. "At...at the sporting-goods store. I think he's the man I saw out in front one day."

"The store here in Issaquah?"

"Yes."

"So you remember seeing him. You recognize his face."

She looked down at the drawing. "I never thought of him again after that day...not until this moment."

"Did he speak to you?"

She moistened her lips, nodded her head. "I-I dropped my wallet on my way out of the store. The man picked it up and returned it to me out front. It...it was very nice of him...at least I thought so at the time." Her eyes sharpened. "You don't think he got our address off my driver's license?"

"It's a possibility." More than that, Ben thought, figuring the man had stolen the wallet in the first place and used it as a means of finding Molly.

"H-he seemed very nice but not the kind of person who makes any sort of impression. I wouldn't have remembered him at all if you hadn't shown me this picture." She looked down at the sketch and her face went even paler. "Oh, G.o.d, Ben-he said what a pretty little girl my daughter was."

She shoved to her feet more angry now than upset. "I'm sorry, Ben. I know you think this is important, but the truth is, I don't care who killed Molly. She's dead and gone and I'll never see her again and stirring all of this up isn't going to bring her back."

Ben rose, too. "Take it easy, Joanne."

"I just want to live a normal life, Ben. That's what I want for Katie. Please, don't screw this up for me. Promise me, Ben."

"You've told me all I need to know." He caught her trembling hand, leaned over and kissed her forehead. "We don't have to talk about it any more."

Joanne swallowed hard, then gave a nod of relief. Both of them glanced up at a sound in the doorway.

"We don't have to talk about what, Dad?" Katie came bouncing in, blond hair in a ponytail, wearing jeans and a bright yellow T-shirt.

"Letting you go kayaking with me," he said, shooting a glance at Joanne. "Your mom and I talked it over during the week and we agreed it would be all right for you to go-as long as we stay in the lake and don't go into the river."

"Yippee!" Her arm shot up to emphasize the word and she jumped up and down in a little circle. "Are we going today?"

"Soon as you're ready."

"I'm ready! I'm ready! Let's go!" She grabbed her small blue canvas tote and raced ahead of him for the door.

Ben gently squeezed his ex-wife's shoulder. "There's nothing to worry about, Joanne. I'll take care of everything."

She nodded. When it came to family, she trusted him completely.

It was the only subject on which they ever agreed.

It was early. The office hadn't yet opened. It was Tuesday, the morning after the July Fourth weekend. After a day of kayaking on nearby Lake Washington, Ben and Katie had watched the annual fireworks celebration from the sh.o.r.e.

Ben had returned Katie home, then gone over to Autumn's and spent the night on her sofa. He knew she didn't want him there. She looked wary and nervous-and so d.a.m.ned cute it took enormous self control to stay away from her. Sometime after two, she awakened but her dream was the same one she'd had before and they had gathered no new information.

Last night has been the same. He had purposely gone over late in the evening to give her a little breathing room, though he would rather have taken her out to dinner or just snuggled up in front of the TV.

It bothered him, this unwanted attraction he felt for her, this persistent desire that never seemed to leave. He wanted to be with her, no matter how determinedly she tried to push him away.

Maybe that was it. Autumn was a challenge: a woman he wanted who didn't want him.

Ben wished he could convince himself.

He looked down at the paperwork sitting on top of his big desk. Kurt Fisher had brought him another offer from A-1 Sports, upping the purchase price for the chain by a considerable amount. Kurt also dropped several not-so-subtle hints about the lease A-1 was putting together on property near Pioneer Square, practically next door to Ben's downtown store.

Instead of just refusing the deal as he had before, Ben told Fisher he needed time to consider the offer and of course he would have to have his attorney look it over.

A-1 wasn't the only one who could play games.

Thinking of business, he reached for the phone and dialed his real estate broker, Russ Petrone.

"Any word yet on our proposal?" Ben asked, referring to a plan he was trying to put together to quell A-1's leasing deal.

"Not yet, but I think we've got several parties seriously interested."

"Good. Keep it quiet and keep after it."

"Will do."

Ben hung up and leaned back in his chair. He needed to end A-1's threat and he thought that he might have come up with a way. He smiled, thinking how furious Kurt Fisher would be if his plan actually succeeded.

Ben straightened, the smile slipping away as his mind turned to a different, more important matter. Moving toward his computer, he grabbed his mouse, clicked on the Internet symbol on the desktop, and waited for Google to pop up on the screen.

He hadn't been to this particular Web site in years. It was just too painful. He typed in www.missingkids.com.

The home page came up, featuring pictures of children who had recently gone missing and offering links to pages that held information on others-a number so high it made his chest hurt.

There was a list of question boxes to be filled in so information on the missing child could be found. Ben started typing. The site asked if the child was male or female, which state the child had been taken from and the number of years he or she had been gone. When he finished, Ben hit the search b.u.t.ton, sat back to wait and realized his heart was pounding.

A few seconds later, among a group of seventeen children missing from the State of Washington over the last six years, Molly's photo smiled back at him: her sweet face, finely arched brows, soft mouth and gentle blue eyes.

For several long moments Ben just stared at her beloved features, his throat tight and his eyes burning. He read the information printed on the page though he knew it by heart: s.e.x, female. Race, Caucasian. Height, 3'8". Hair, blond. Eyes, blue. The information stated the date she had disappeared and that she had been seen leaving in the company of a man in a white car.

He clicked around the site, saw that most of the children who had gone missing some years back had computer-aged photos posted next to their actual pictures and made a mental note to see that done for Molly.

Ben clicked off the site and leaned back in his chair, feeling emotionally drained. For years he had believed his daughter was dead. It was the only way he could go on, the only way he could try to make a life for himself.

Now that had changed.