Kat Martin - The Summit

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dress-up?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How old a guy was he?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Go on.”

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

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

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

“Ex-wife,” he corrected.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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