Читать книгу The Summit - Kat Martin - Страница 10

According 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.”

His head whipped toward her. “Robbie? Robbie Hines?”

“I don’t know his last name. They were playing together in the yard that day.”

He tightened his hand into a fist to keep it from trembling. “Robbie was there that day. It wasn’t in the papers.”

“Red hair and freckles?”

“That’s him.”

“You have to help me, Ben. You have no other choice.”

He took a deep breath and slowly released it. “I need to sleep on this. Pete came up with your address and phone number. Unless I regain my senses, I’ll be in touch with you soon.”

Autumn gave him a tentative smile, fighting to hold back tears. “Thank you.”

She started to get up from the booth as an exotic, olive-skinned woman walked up to the table. She was tall and elegantly thin, her skin silky smooth, the most beautiful woman Autumn had ever seen.

“Sorry I am late, querido, but the limo got tied up in traffic.” Her nearly black eyes swung to Autumn. “I see you have kept yourself entertained.”

“Autumn Sommers this is Delores Delgato.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Autumn said. “I didn’t mean to interfere with your evening, Ms. Delgato. I just needed to speak to Mr. McKenzie about a personal matter.”

“That is all right, chica. If it hadn’t been you it would have been someone else.”

Ben frowned.

“I look forward to your call,” Autumn said to him, feeling awkward and desperate to escape.

Ben just nodded. As Autumn turned to walk away, he helped Delores Delgato remove her burgundy cashmere jacket then seated her beside him in the booth.

Winding her way through the tables toward the front door, Autumn stepped out into the crisp Seattle night air. She had accomplished her goal: convinced Ben McKenzie to listen and perhaps begin to believe her at least a little.

From now on, she didn’t think he would be able to turn away. Molly was his daughter. From the pain Autumn had seen in his face, it was obvious how much he loved her. If Molly was alive, he would have to try to find her.

He would have no other choice.

Ben endured his evening with Delores, all the while wishing the night would end. His mind was on Autumn Sommers and on Molly and whether or not he dared to believe she might still be alive.

Though Delores made it clear she expected him to join her in her suite at the Fairmont Olympic Hotel, he declined. Sometime over the past few days, sex with the exotic model had lost its appeal. Like most of the women he dated, Delores required a lot of attention. Currently his attention was fixed somewhere else.

Leaving Delores fuming in the grandiose lobby of the five-star hotel, he walked the few blocks to his penthouse. The answering machine in his office was blinking. Next to it, a stack of papers waited in the fax machine.

He played back the phone messages, including one from Pete Rossi explaining the fax: more information Pete had collected on Autumn Sommers. Ben lifted the pages out of the machine, walked over and sank down in his butter-soft leather chair.

He skimmed through Pete’s report, the high points of which the detective had given him over the phone.

Autumn Kathleen Sommers. Born June 3, 1980 to Kathleen L. and Maxwell M. Sommers.

Kathleen Sommers had died in 1993 when Autumn was thirteen. Max Sommers, a fireman, had raised her. He was retired now, giving him more time to devote to his hobby, rock climbing. It was Max who had sparked his daughter’s interest in the sport. At twenty-seven she was a certified member of the American Mountain Guides Association and apparently an extremely qualified climber.

According to the report, Autumn had gone to the University of Seattle—partly on scholarship, partly school loans—graduated at the top of her class and then went on to get her teaching degree.

In a subparagraph, her relationship with a guy in college named Steven Elliot was mentioned and two other men with whom she’d had brief affairs, neither of them recent. Pete was extremely thorough.

Ben almost smiled. From the looks of the report, Autumn hadn’t dated a lot. He didn’t believe for a minute she hadn’t been asked.

There was something about Autumn Sommers, something that reached out and snagged a man’s interest. She might not be a buxom blonde with a movie star face, or an exotic, olive-skinned brunette, but with her silky russet curls, green cat-eyes and tight little body, in a different sort of way the woman was sexy as hell.

Ben ignored the unwanted shot of desire that came with the thought, just as he had the surprising physical attraction he had felt for her the moment she had walked into his office. He had clamped down hard on it then, certain she was some kind of crazy. But tonight, when he had seen the quick flash of tears in her eyes, he had felt the pull again.

Autumn was different from the women he dated. She seemed more passionate about life, more vital. If he was honest with himself and circumstances were different, he wouldn’t mind taking Autumn Sommers to bed.

It wasn’t going to happen. Though Pete’s report showed nothing out of the ordinary, past or present, it didn’t mean he could trust her. She could be the world’s smoothest charlatan or simply a nutcase who believed what she was telling him was real.

He made a note to call Pete in the morning to have him check whether Autumn had really made a trip to the prison in Sheridan, find out if she had actually talked to Meeks. In fact, if she had, he would have Pete go up there himself, see if he could confirm what Meeks had said about Molly.

The name whispered though his head as he hadn’t allowed it to in years. What if Molly were actually alive? She’d be twelve years old on August first. If she was alive, what horrors had she suffered in the years since she had been taken? Had she been abused? Molested? Brutalized in some terrible way?

God, he couldn’t bear to think that she was being mistreated. It was one of the reasons, after the long, hopeless search, he had grasped onto the theory that she had been murdered by Meeks. Better to think her dead than alive and suffering.

But the Sommers woman had raised that possibility and he realized that whatever had happened to Molly over the years didn’t matter. If she was alive, he just wanted her home, back where he could take care of her and heal whatever wounds she might have suffered.

A memory arose of the last day he had seen her, standing in the door to his study.

“Daddy! Daddy will you come out to my dollhouse and play with me?”

He was busy. There was always so much to do. But he always made time for Molly.

“All right, angel, what shall we play?” Scooping her up in his arms, he carried her toward the door leading out to the backyard.

“Let’s have a tea party!” Molly said, hugging his neck. A make-believe tea party was her favorite pastime.

“Okay, but you have to pour.”

Molly giggled and rested her head on his shoulder.

Ben closed his eyes against the memory. During the first years after his daughter’s disappearance, he had thought of that day a thousand times. But in the past several years, he had learned to block the memories. They were simply too painful, too destructive.

Now, because of Autumn Sommers, the memory had returned. Ben ignored the burning behind his eyes, leaned back in his chair and fought not to give in to his grief.