Читать книгу Out of Sight - Michelle Celmer - Страница 8

Present Day, New York

Will tossed a manila folder on Dale Robbins’s desk. “I think I found her.”

The assistant director set down his pen and gazed up at Will, a look of barely contained annoyance on his face. “Found who?”

“Crystal.”

“Jesus, not Gantz again.” Robbins opened the file and scanned its contents, then shoved it back across the desk. “You’re talking about a four-year-old closed case. You know as well as I do that Crystal is probably buried in the desert somewhere. Give it up already.”

He wished he could, but finding Crystal had become an obsession. She was the last one who could testify against Ryan’s killer. By the time they’d discovered who the leak was—the man in the bureau responsible for giving away the location of the hotel where they were holding Gantz—he’d been floating in the East River.

If it was the last thing he did, Will would bring Vince Collucci to justice. He owed it to Ryan’s family. “Hear me out. This time I think I’ve really got something.”

His superior leaned back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. “You have two minutes.”

“Remember the girl we were watching right after Crystal? Stephanie Fair?”

“The Vegas showgirl?”

“That’s the one. Because of her connection to the Sardoni family, she’s still on the hot list. She got a call the other day from Colorado.”

Robbins shrugged as if to say, Yeah, so?

“As far as we know, she doesn’t have any ties there. So I traced it. The call originated from a divorce retreat outside of Denver. A place called Healing Hearts.”

“So what? Maybe she’s got a friend staying there.”

“Highly unlikely considering the class of people she associates with. It’s an upscale place. I did some digging and found something interesting. The retreat was started a little over three years ago, just months after Crystal disappeared with Vince’s money. The owner is some sort of recluse, rarely shows her face, so I ran her name.”

Robbins sat a little taller in his chair. “I’m listening.”

“It’s a fake. The retreat is owned by some private corporation. Unfortunately that’s all I was able to find out.”

“So what do you want from me?”

“I want you to put me in undercover.”

Robbins shook his head. “I know you want to solve this one, Will, but the director is not going to go for this. I’m going to need more. If you can get a positive ID—”

“Sir, I know it’s her.”

“Get me some proof.”

Will took a deep breath, shoving back the frustration rising up inside him. “I’ve done all I can from here. I’ve hit a dead end.”

“You know, even if you do find her, you can’t force her to testify. If she wouldn’t before, you can be sure she won’t now.”

“If I charge her with accessory she will, if she’s faced with life in prison. She took the hit money. We have no idea the extent of her involvement.”

“We think she took the money.”

“Why else was Vince so hot to find her after she disappeared?”

“Even if she did, charging her with accessory is a stretch. And besides, how are you going to know if it’s her? The pictures we’ve got from the surveillance tapes are grainy as hell. Not to mention, she’s probably changed her appearance.”

“She does have one distinguishing mark—a heart-shaped birthmark high up on her inner thigh. The information supposedly came from Vince himself. So if I find the birthmark, I find the girl.”

“I don’t even want to ask how you plan to see it.”

“I’m hoping I won’t have to.” He leaned both hands on the desk, feeling desperate. For the first time in four years he knew he was close. He could solve this. He had to solve it so he could close his eyes and not see the vision of Ryan’s charred remains slumped over the steering wheel. So he could look Ryan’s wife and children in the eye and no longer feel as though he’d failed them. “You have to let me try.”

Robbins shook his head. “I’m sorry, Will, but I can’t sanction an operation of this magnitude without proof.”

He’d gone into this knowing it was a long shot. The truth was, he’d expected as much, and like any good agent, he had a backup plan. “Then I respectfully request a four-week leave of absence.”

“For…?”

“It’s no secret my last divorce was messy. No one will question my need to take a month off for a trip to Healing Hearts. The next session begins in two weeks.”

Robbins laughed. “I’m not denying you could use some headshrinking, Bishop, but you at a divorce retreat? I just don’t see it. Besides, this place must cost a fortune.”

“I’ve got some money stashed away, stocks I can cash in. I want to do this. I have to, for Ryan’s family. They need closure.”

“They need closure or you do?”

They both knew the answer to that.

Robbins sat back in his chair, letting out a long breath. “Look, if this is something you need to do, I can’t stop you. But if you find yourself in hot water, I’m not going to be there to drag you out. You do this, you’re on your own. Understood?”

“Understood. Although…”

“Although, what?”

“The retreat has a fairly vigorous screening policy. They can’t know I’m with the bureau.”

Robbins sighed. “Anything else?”

“Nope.”

Robbins studied him for a moment, as if he were weighing his options. Will would resign before he let anyone stop him from solving this case, and he was pretty sure the assistant director knew that. Despite being mildly belligerent and slightly obsessive at times, Will was a one hell of a good agent—one of the best in the New York office. They wouldn’t want to lose him.

“Okay,” he finally said. “You’ve got your four weeks. But if anyone asks, we never had this conversation.”

“Divorce impacts every family member. It is a death of sorts. It affects self-identity, financial security and lifestyle. Here at Healing Hearts, we’re dedicated to guiding families though this difficult, devastating time….”

Abi Sullivan stood in her boss’s office watching through the two-way mirror into the common area as Eve, the in-house psychologist, gave her opening speech to the retreat guests—forty in total, half of whom were children. As children’s activities director, she would know them all by name by week’s end. She studied their faces, memorized them. Some looked inexplicably sad, others angry and bitter, while some just looked lost.

One boy in particular, Eric Stillson, caught her attention. He looked to be sixteen or seventeen and sat off by himself near the back of the room. Unlike the others, he looked bored, indifferent, as if he felt nothing at all—a pretty good indication he was tortured on the inside. She would know. It was like looking at a mirror image of herself half a lifetime ago.

She knew without even meeting him he would be her special project. There was one in every group.

She turned to her employer. “So his mother just dropped him off and left?”

“It wasn’t even the mother that brought him. It was one of their staff. A butler or something. Scary-looking guy.” Maureen Kelly, founder of the resort, sat at her massive mahogany desk, a stack of files in front of her. “So much for the concept of family counseling, huh?”

“And I suppose his parents expect him to be fixed by the time he leaves here.”

Maureen gave her a rueful smile. “Don’t they all?”

Abi walked over to the open picture window. In the distance, white-tipped mountains kissed a cloudless blue sky, and at their base Lake Cillito shimmered in the morning sunlight. East of the sprawling main building, guest cabins dotted the landscape, and to the west was the employee lodging where her own cabin was located.

She breathed in the clean mountain air, a feeling of peace washing over her. She could be having the worst day in her life and needed only to look at that view to remind herself how lucky she was to be there. She would never know if it was chance or divine intervention that had caused her and Maureen to cross paths. All she did know was that in her thirty years she’d never been more happy or content. She’d found her calling—taking all the rotten experiences from her miserable childhood and using the knowledge she’d gained to help others. And she’d found a kindred spirit in Maureen.

For the first time in her life she didn’t feel as if she were waiting for the other shoe to fall.

In the other room she heard Eve winding down, Abi’s cue to prepare to meet the kids and introduce them to the program. For the next four weeks their days would be filled with horseback riding, hiking and swimming, crafts and scavenger hunts and of course family and individual counseling.

“Time to meet the kids,” she said.

“How about dinner in my quarters Thursday night?” Maureen asked. “I’d like to go over a few new ideas for the next session.” Unlike her staff, Maureen didn’t share dinner with her guests in the main dining room. In fact, it was rare that she ever showed her face. She spent most of her time in her office or private living quarters.

“Should I find someone to watch Adam?” Abi asked.

“No, bring him. He can watch Nickelodeon.”

“He’ll love that.” Since Maureen’s television was the only one at the resort with a satellite dish and local channels were limited, it was a rare treat for her son. He wouldn’t make a peep.

“Six o’clock?”

“Sounds good, I’ll see you then.”

She buzzed Abi out of her private office and into the main office next door, where Maureen’s secretary, Susie, took care of the everyday business.

“I apologize, Mr. Bishop, but that just won’t be possible,” Susie was saying to the man standing opposite her desk.

Looming over it was more like it. He stood at least six feet tall and, in low-riding khaki shorts and a T-shirt, had the lean muscled look of a man half his age. She was guessing, from the gray peppering the thick dark hair at his temples and the lines bracketing his eyes and mouth, he had to be pushing forty.

And handsome. Wow. He was what some of the younger female staff members would refer to as a “hot-tie.” His face was long and lean, his cheekbones high, his eyes deep set and intense. She could see he was the Sean Connery type, the sort of man who would only improve with age. Then he turned toward her and she had to fight not to gasp. Deep scars marred the entire left half of his face.

His eyes quickly roamed over her from head to toe and back again. The move was so deliberate, so…calculated, she didn’t know if she should feel flattered or violated.

“Ms. Kelly?” he asked in a deep and smooth voice.

Abi’s defenses instantly went on alert. Running interference for Maureen was a regular part of the job, and she took it very seriously. Without Maureen, who knew where she would be? “My name is Abigale Sullivan, children’s activities director. Mr. Bishop, is it?”

“Will,” he said, holding out a hand for her to shake. His grip was firm and confident, his smile warm and engaging. If his appearance bothered him in the least, he didn’t let it show. And oddly enough, it didn’t detract from his good looks. She found herself instinctively standing a little taller, running a hand through her drab brown, pin-straight hair.

Ugh! She was preening? Where had that come from? It had been an awfully long time since she’d worried about using her looks to impress a man. Since she’d had Adam, she hadn’t even tried. She had neither the time, the will, nor the opportunity. If nothing else, she went out of her way to make herself as invisible as possible. Since her first encounter with a boy in the backseat of a beat-up Nova, she’d had enough experience with men to last three lifetimes. All that mattered now was being a good mother to her son.

But something about the direct way this man looked at her both intrigued and disturbed her.

“Is there something I can help you with?” she asked, locking her hands behind her back to stop herself from fidgeting.

“He was asking to see Maureen,” Susie said, a wary look in her eyes. She was always suspicious of people wanting to see Maureen, as if they might somehow know who she really was. Most of the staff didn’t know her true identity. Only those who could be trusted were allowed into the fold, and even then only so much information was divulged.

Abi had been with her from the start and knew what Maureen stood to lose should her real identity ever be discovered.

“Is there a problem I can help you with?” Abi asked.

“No,” he said. “No problem. I just wanted to thank Ms. Kelly for getting me in on such short notice. My work schedule affords me very little time for personal travel.”

“As Susie said, Maureen doesn’t see guests, but I’ll be sure to pass along the message.”

Another warm smile. “I’d appreciate that.”

“Susie, Adam and I will be having dinner with Maureen Thursday night. Let the chef know, please.”

“Sure thing, Abi.” Susie gave Mr. Bishop one last suspicious look before she picked up the phone and dialed the extension for the kitchen.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Bishop,” Abi said and started for the door. “If you need anything else, any member of the staff can help you.”

“Call me Will,” he said, falling in step beside her. “You said you’re the children’s activities director?”

“That’s right. Do you have children?”

“Unfortunately no. Or fortunately, depending on how you look at it. Both my divorces were pretty nasty. It would have been a shame to drag a child through that.”

Well, he was conscientious—or that was what he wanted her to believe. Not that she had any reason to suspect he would try to deceive her, but old habits died hard. She was only now learning to trust again, to believe not everyone had ulterior motives.

They walked out into the common area. The main building as well as the smaller cabins were constructed entirely of logs, and their furnishings—knotted pine or Early American—reflected the same rustic theme. A former dude ranch, the atmosphere was much more laid-back than your average upscale resort. It didn’t put on airs, and for Abi, that was its charm.

The meeting had ended and some of the guests had broken off into small groups while others left to explore the grounds. The children’s orientation was scheduled to start in ten minutes, and the official activities kickoff began that night at dusk, when everyone gathered on the beach for a bonfire.

“Well,” she said, turning to Mr. Bishop. “I have a lot of work to do. It was a pleasure meeting you.”

He smiled and shook her hand, gripping it firmly and holding on just a fraction of a second longer than she deemed appropriate.

“The pleasure is all mine,” he said. “I’m sure we’ll be running into each other again.”

There was something about him that bothered her, she realized as she headed for the children’s activities center. Not that he’d been rude or unfriendly. Maybe it was that he’d been too friendly. Or maybe it was the distinct skip of her heart when he smiled at her.

Even if he did find her attractive—which she found pretty hard to swallow in the first place—a divorce retreat was certainly not the place to pick up men. There were strict rules forbidding the staff from becoming romantically involved with the guests. Likewise, the guests were discouraged from forming intimate relationships with each other. Not that it didn’t occasionally occur.

As she pulled open the door, a feeling, something like a warm shiver, danced its way up the length of her spine, and she looked back in the direction from which she’d come. Mr. Bishop stood right where she’d left him, hands tucked in his shorts pockets, leaning casually against the wall.

And he was watching her.

Will saw Abi glance his way, give him a funny look, then disappear out the door. She was about as plain as they came—her drab brown hair hung straight and limp around a heart-shaped face completely devoid of makeup. Her shorts were baggy, her red faculty T-shirt oversize, hiding whatever figure she had—which, from what he could see, wasn’t much. She wasn’t unattractive, just…nondescript. And about as timid as a mouse. But there was something about her eyes—something remarkable. They were plain old brown and a little on the large side, which at first had given her a look of youthful innocence. Until he looked deeper and realized she could have been a hundred years old for all the wisdom and experience he saw lurking there.

He also saw distrust.

But, if she was having dinner with the owner, they must be friends. Though it would be hard-won, gaining her friendship—gaining her trust—might be the key to meeting to the elusive Maureen Kelly. And for that he would go to any lengths. Even if that meant deceiving a woman who, if the pain buried deep in her eyes was any indication, had clearly been deceived before.