The Summit

“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.

Seven

Autumn didn’t hear from Ben on Tuesday. He didn’t call on Wednesday. By Thursday night, she was resigned—if he didn’t get in touch with her by Friday afternoon, she was going to brave his secretary’s wrath, go up to his office and force her way in to see him.

Autumn sighed as she pushed through the door leading into the climbing gym. At least for the past few days she hadn’t been dreaming. Well, except for Monday, the last time she had seen Ben.

Four of her students were already there. As she set her notes on the table, the other two walked in. She was ready to begin the day’s lesson when a tall male figure strode through the door dressed in khaki shorts and a dark green T-shirt with the picture of a kayak plunging through white water and COULONGE GORGE printed on the front.

Autumn tried not to admire Ben McKenzie’s wide shoulders and powerful biceps and the long bands of muscle in his suntanned legs. He was wearing a pair of Reeboks but carried rubber-soled climbing shoes in one hand.

Autumn spoke to him as he walked toward her. “Mr. McKenzie. I’ve been hoping to hear from you. Unfortunately, we’re about to start our lesson. Perhaps after—”

“I signed up for your class at the front desk. I’ve bought the book you recommended and studied the first few chapters…the parts of the class I’ve missed. I’ll be joining your sessions from now on.”

Her mind was spinning. He hadn’t called all week and now he was here? “Could I speak to you for a moment outside?”

“Of course.”

He set his shoes on the floor and followed her.

As soon as the door was closed, Autumn spun to face him. “All right, McKenzie, what’s going on? I’ve been waiting to hear from you all week but you never called. Now you join my class? I’d like to know why.”

Ben shrugged those wide shoulders. “I’m in the sporting goods business. I like hiking, canoeing, kayaking, just about everything. We sell some of the finest climbing gear money can buy but I’ve never tried the sport. I figured this was a good opportunity.”

She clamped her hands on her hips. “Fine. Now, what’s the real reason you’re here?”

Ben’s gaze locked with hers. “You really want to know? I’ll tell you. You came to me with some cock-and-bull story about Molly. I don’t know you from Adam but just because you say so, I’m supposed to believe she’s alive after all these years and you think that together we can find her. If I’m crazy enough to believe you, it will turn my life upside down. There’s a chance my family will hear about it. And if they do, they’ll suffer. You say you need my help? Here’s the deal. I’m not committing to anything until I know who the hell you are.”

She opened her mouth but Ben cut her off.

“I’m not talking about the standard things—that you’re a twenty-seven-year-old schoolteacher or that your father is a retired fireman who lives in Burlington. I mean who you are in here.” He set a fist over his heart. “I need to believe you’re telling me the truth—not just what you believe is the truth. You want something from me, Autumn? Well, I want something from you.”

“How did you know about my father? Did you have me investigated like some kind of criminal?”

“You didn’t think I would?”

Of course he would. With his money and connections, it wouldn’t be that hard to do. “So exactly what is it you want?”

“I want time to get to know you, find out if you’re for real. Once I’m satisfied, you’ll have my complete cooperation.”

“What about Molly? Every day lost is a day we could be looking for her.”

“Molly’s been gone six years. Odds are she’s dead, just like the police believe. I have to think of Katie and Joanne. If this all starts again, questions will be asked, word will get back to them sooner or later. Neither of them or anyone else in my family deserves to suffer through all that again.”

It was a very good argument. His family had to come first and he had no real reason to believe her. He had to be certain he could trust her. If the situation were reversed, she would feel exactly the same.

“All right, we’ll do it your way. If that means you’ll be learning to climb, then I guess that’s what you’ll do.” She gave him a challenging smile. “You might even discover you like it. It’s an extremely exciting sport.”

Ben just nodded. “Then I guess we had better get started. You’re students are waiting.”

Autumn studied him a moment more. Not for the first time, it occurred to her what a handsome man Ben McKenzie was. Solid jaw, nicely formed lips, straight nose and dark brown eyes that seemed to take in more than you meant for them to see. He was tall and bronzed and extremely fit. She didn’t like the little curl of heat that slid into her stomach when he looked at her the way he was now.

Autumn steeled herself. She had seen the kind of women Ben McKenzie dated. Delores Delgato was on the cover of this month’s Vogue magazine. Autumn wasn’t anywhere close to their league, and that was just fine with her. She was a failure where men were concerned. She wasn’t about to be taken in by a guy like Ben.

Ben watched Autumn at work. As soon as they had entered the climbing gym, her entire concentration fixed on the students who had come to her to learn.

“Before we begin, we have a new student. This is Ben McKenzie. You might recognize the name, since he’s in the sporting goods business and the owner of this building.”

Several people nodded.

Ben followed her gaze toward the women in the group. “Ben, meet Courtney Roland and Winnie Caruthers.” A tall rangy blonde and an attractive brunette with muscular arms and legs. “This is Ian Camden and Bruce Lansky.” Ian blond, early twenties; Bruce dark-haired and at least fifteen years older. “And these two guys are Matt Gould and NedWheaton.” Matt was tall with shaggy brown hair. Ned was a lanky, good-looking black man with a shaved head and small silver earrings.

“Good to meet you,” Ben said to the group.

“All right, let’s get to work,” said Autumn.

He could see she took her job seriously as she led her students over to one of the tables and began to go through the gear spread out on the top.

“We’ve been talking about equipment in general. As you can see, I use mostly Black Diamond. It happens to be my personal favorite, but there are other companies that make good products as well.” She flicked a glance his way. “Maybe Ben can give us his opinion.”

“We don’t sell anything in our stores that isn’t top of the line and our staff is knowledgeable and helpful. I know we sell Black Diamond, so it must be good. Since I’m new to the sport, for the present I’ll defer to Autumn on the subject.”

For an instant Autumn’s green eyes moved over his face and he felt a tug of awareness low in his groin. She looked back down at the equipment. “What you see here are the basics: harness, carabiners, camalots, wired hexes, stoppers, a helmet, a chalk bag and a couple of different types of belay devices.”

The group gathered round as she went over each of the different items. She held up a bundle of rope. “This line is static—no give. It’s used for jugging up or rappelling down a mountain.” She held up another bundle. “This is a seventy-meter bundle of climbing rope. It’s a light, strong, dynamic line with low impact force—designed so that if you fall, there’s enough give to help your body absorb the shock when you hit the end.” She gave them a few moments to examine the items and answered a couple of questions.

“You’ve all got climbing slippers,” she said. “Go ahead and put them on. And if you have your own harness, put that on. If not, we’ve got some here for you to use.”

The group suited up. Autumn was wearing trim-fitting khaki shorts with oversize pockets and a sleeveless, orange, scoop-neck top that said I LEAD, YOU FOLLOW. Since Ben had anticipated needing them, he had picked up a pair of leather-topped, rubber-soled climbing shoes at his downtown store. He sat down on a bench to put them on, making a mental note to follow Autumn’s suggestions for the rest of the gear he would need.

He had told her the truth. He had been seriously thinking of giving the sport a try and this presented the perfect opportunity.

Far more important, this gave him some time. He wasn’t ready to involve himself in what was surely a wild-goose chase that could cause more misery for him and his family. Then again, as crazy as the whole thing sounded, after the lengths she had gone to, he wasn’t prepared to discount the slim possibility that Autumn Sommers might actually have some sort of bizarre psychic connection to his daughter and there was a chance Molly was still alive.

He had to ferret out the truth about Autumn and the only way to do that was to spend some time with her.

He looked down at the gear on the table. He would check with the guys in the climbing department but he had a feeling Autumn knew as much about choosing the right gear as they did. Maybe more.

“I’ll go first,” she said. “That way you can watch the way I take the wall.” She looked over at Ned. “You’ve handled a line before, Ned. How about working the rope for me?”

“No problem.” There was a length of rope looped over a bar at the top of the wall. Ned, apparently the most experienced student in the group, ran one end of the line through the belay device on his harness while Autumn tied a double figure-eight into hers, securing the rope to the belt around her waist.

“When I come down, it’ll be your turn,” she said to the group. Her gaze ran over the cluster of students until she came to him. “I think today we’ll start with Ben.”

Autumn’s eyes locked with his and Ben almost smiled. She was testing him. He could see it in those tilted cat-eyes. She didn’t like the ground rules he had set, but she had no choice except to go along with them. He took a look at the wall. It was forty feet high. Some walls went to eighty.

The floor in front was protected by a thick foam-rubber vinyl-covered mat but it wouldn’t be enough to prevent injury if the climber took a fall from the top. Autumn coated her small hands with the dry, white, resin-like climber’s chalk and headed for the wall.

Autumn’s sure hands and small feet searched and found the tiny niches and crevices in the holds as she made her way up the wall with skill and a fluid grace.

Ben found himself watching with fascination the movement of the muscles in her arms and legs and the way her buttocks tightened under her shorts as she moved higher and higher up the wall. Her waist was small, her breasts nicely rounded. His groin clenched almost painfully and he muttered a curse.

The last thing he needed was any sort of physical attraction to Autumn Sommers. He had no idea who she really was or if any of what she had told him was real.

He fixed his concentration on Autumn who had reached the top of the wall and was now smoothly riding the rope Ned held back down to the bottom. She was good. That much was clear. She made the sport look easy and he knew damned well it wasn’t.

Once she returned to solid ground, she centered those green eyes directly on him. “Your turn, Ben.”

Eight

Class was finally over. Thinking that everyone had left the gym, Autumn began to bag her gear, concentrating on stowing everything properly.

“I enjoyed your class today.”

She looked over her shoulder to find Ben McKenzie just a few feet away. “I didn’t realize you were still here. I thought you’d be anxious to get back to work.”

“I am. I wanted to ask if you were busy tonight.”

Autumn eyed him warily. “Not really.” Not unless watching an old movie on Turner Classics was busy. “Why?”

“I told you before—I need time to get to know you. I’ll come by your place after I leave the office…say six-thirty? We’ll go over to my downtown store and you can help me pick out the climbing gear I’m going to need. It shouldn’t take all that long.”

She didn’t want to go with him. He made her nervous in a way she couldn’t quite explain. But she needed his help and she couldn’t think of a reason to say no. “All right.”

Ben left her to finish her task and she carried her gear back to her locker. She had a couple of private lessons that afternoon then afterward stopped in at Barnes and Noble to pick up a few new paperback books, since she felt at a loss if she ran out of something to read.

Ben arrived in her lobby at six-thirty, but insisted on coming up instead of letting her come down to meet him.

“I want to see where you live,” he said over the intercom. “A person’s home says a lot about them.”

She didn’t like the idea. She didn’t want Ben McKenzie barging into her home—her life—but she didn’t see any other way to get his help. Without it, Molly would never have a chance to be found.

She was nervous as she opened the door. She loved her cozy apartment, but Ben McKenzie was rich and used to living in far higher style. Since their discussion at Luigi’s on Monday, she had gone back to the library and run his name. Over the past few years, article after article had appeared in the society section, showing Ben at benefits, plays and opening night concerts—escorting some of the most glamorous women in the world. Apparently, he was wildly successful in his business endeavors and equally successful with women.

He stepped through the open door, his eyes darting into the compact kitchen with its sparkling white countertops and cheerful white-and-rose flowered wallpaper, moving past the breakfast bar that separated the area from the living room. “So this is the place you call home.”

She managed a smile. “This is it. Would you like a glass of wine or something else? I keep a bottle of Jack Daniels up in the cupboard for my dad. He isn’t really supposed to drink, but he’s pretty hard-headed about it and I figure a little whiskey once in a while isn’t really going to hurt him.”

“Wine sounds good.”

“Red or white?”

He eyed her with interest. “White is good for right now.”

She pulled out two stemmed wine glasses, took an opened bottle out of the fridge and filled the glasses with chardonnay.

Ben took a sip and savored it slowly. “Not bad. Local vintner?”

“Columbia Crest. This is an estate vintage. I guess you figured I’d pour it out of a box?”

He laughed. “Not at all. You don’t strike me as quite that down-home.”

He lifted his glass off the breakfast bar and wandered toward the windows overlooking the city, pausing here and there to consider an antique Victorian clock, a porcelain figurine, a hundred-year-old green glass plate she had fallen instantly in love with and bought for practically nothing at a garage sale. The molded ceilings drew his eye, the sheer lace curtains, the floral rugs on the hardwood floors.

“The place is amazingly feminine,” he said. “I have to admit I’m a little surprised.”

Her posture tightened defensively. “I like sports. That doesn’t mean I’m not a woman.”

Those brown eyes drifted over her, seemed to warm with appreciation. She was wearing dark-gray, low-slung bell-bottom pants, a pair of black heeled boots and a deep pink sweater that hugged her curves.

“No,” he said. “You are definitely a woman.” His rich baritone rolled through her, sent a curl of warmth into her stomach. Autumn forced herself to ignore it and took a steadying sip of her wine.

Ben glanced into the bedroom, saw the canopied bed with its white eyelet bedspread and matching dust ruffle. “Very pretty. That’s where you’ve been having your dreams?”

She nodded.

“Any lately?”

“Last Monday, after I spoke to you.”

“None since then?”

“No.”

“So you think there’s a connection between me and the dreams.”

“I think it’s the most likely explanation.”

He wandered into her bedroom, went into her bathroom and eventually returned to the living room.

“You know,” she said, “it’s rude to enter a woman’s bedroom uninvited.”

The edge of his mouth faintly curved. “From the look in your eye, I imagine I’d be waiting a good long while.” The amusement faded. “You know my terms. I find out what I need to know or I’m out of this.”

Autumn shook her head. “I don’t think you’re going to back out. I don’t think your conscience will let you. Just like mine won’t let me.”

He said nothing for a while. “Nevertheless. Until I believe I can trust you, I’m going to stick to you like I’m your shadow.”