Redeeming the Night (6 page)

Ashley nodded.

Nichole brightened, wrinkles smoothing away from the old face. “Oh, would you?”

Ashley felt sorry for Nichole. Such a first outing had the potential to derail her training. Not that she was slow, just lacking the instinct of most of the other women.

“Of course I will.” Ashley walked to the step and draped her arm over Nichole’s hunched shoulders. “Why don’t you go up and get some rest? Then we’ll talk about what we’ll wear.”

Tears filled Nichole’s eyes as she stood to go upstairs. “Thank you. I’ll get it eventually.”

“Of course you will,” Ashley and Tarma said together.

Nodding, Nichole made her way through the kitchen and out of sight.

Ashley ran her teeth across her lip again. “Tarma, can I ask you a question?”

“Always,” she replied without looking up.

“Have you ever met a man that had an effect on you?”

“What kind of effect?” Tarma asked, her hands and eyes busy in her work.

“It was like he saw me.” Ashley rose from the step and paced the length of the sunroom. “Not just my image, you know? The real me.”

With the last statement she changed into herself. The woman she’d been before she was inducted into the sisterhood. A woman of average height, with brown eyes and dirty blonde hair, a little overweight. Nothing special.

“I doubt it. Most men can’t see past the end of their nose,” Tarma said, glancing up once when Ashley changed. “Seems to me there is another explanation … Were you attracted to him?”

“No,” Ashley answered immediately. Was she? Something called out to her. Something connected her. “Maybe.”

Tarma’s hands stilled again, and she pinned Ashley with a look. “Maybe?”

Ashley tried to ignore the dryness in her mouth. She knew she could share everything with Tarma. “I don’t know. I felt him looking at me when we were talking to the husband.”

“I’m sure many men were looking at you.” But her mentor’s eyes had an edge that remained out of her voice.

“I felt him.” Ashley continued pacing and wrapped her arms around her chest. “I pulled back, because I wanted the slimy bastard to go with Nichole … ”

“And?” Tarma prompted when Ashley drifted off.

“I don’t know what happened. I felt his eyes on me. When I turned, it was like a flash. Like I recognized him.” She stood in the window. The garden had a concrete fountain that bubbled water over white marble stones. She used the rhythmic splashing as a way to focus, to calm her budding anxiety.

“You knew him from before the sisterhood?”

“No, but I knew him just the same. And he knew me. Damn, Tarma, I wanted to fall into his arms.”

Tarma stopped her work and stared at Ashley with an open mouth. “That is serious.”

“I know.” Ashley wanted to wail but thought better of it. The whole house didn’t need to know.

“What did his aura look like?” Tarma tucked away what was now half of a blanket.

“There was white.” Ashley tried to remember what she’d pushed into the back of her mind. “With blue, green, and gold flecks and streaks.” She felt her face start to soften and hardened her features. She couldn’t let even an untainted soul weaken her. “But there was a shadow. Not a darkness … It was like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

“It sounds pure enough,” Tarma said. “Why do you think you wanted to fall at his feet?”

Ashley cringed. “In his arms, not at his feet.”

“Ashley, dear, you know it amounts to the same thing. Keep me apprised of the situation, please.” Tarma hefted her basket, and with a nod, she left the room.

Was it the same thing? Ashley wouldn’t serve him and certainly would never fall at his feet. Still, something about him touched her. That could not be tolerated—because she liked it and wanted more.

The drive to the upscale neighborhood where the Koburns lived took about half an hour. Every now and then there would be a break between the rows of houses and Eric could see down the mountain.

On the drive, they’d passed schools and grocery stores. A park where teens were playing soccer. Normal life in normal towns. Not the image usually conjured when one thought of Las Vegas.

The Koburn home looked similar to its neighbors. A small mansion with gray-green siding and white trim, separated from the street by a large lawn framed by flowerbeds.

They said nothing as they approached the house. Eric opened his senses. Two small animals had a den under a bush by the front wall, and a snake kept watch from under a small rock.

The path to and from the front door was practically littered with scents. Without a specific target, even he wouldn’t have the ability to distinguish one from the hordes of others.

They were greeted at the door by a well-dressed woman in her mid-thirties. Her navy blue blouse was both flattering and somber. Her hair and makeup were perfect. The only outward sign of her distress was the rigid way she answered the door. Eric knew she was panicked and near to falling apart. “Detective. Have you found our daughter?”

“Not yet, Mrs. Koburn. I’ve called in a colleague, Eric Adams”—he indicated Eric—“who specializes in missing persons.”

She hesitated, as if considering the wisdom of telling someone else about their personal problems. “Very well.” Two words that to any other ear would sound aloof, however, Eric heard a glimmer of hope. He hoped with her.

As the door opened Eric could see the evidence of Mr. Koburn’s financial success. Marble floors, large artwork in heavy frames, and a chandelier overhead that looked wide enough to take out the three of them if it should fall.

“Mrs. Koburn, I have a few follow-up questions for you and your husband. Is he in?” Aaron asked, taking the lead.

“And I suppose Mr. Adams needs to see her room.” She stood with her hands listlessly by her sides, exhaustion marking every inch of her.

“It would help. Yes, ma’am,” Aaron replied.

Her gaze burned into Eric. Angry and frightened for her daughter, she had very little control, and Eric knew she was fighting against the urge to scream at them to stop wasting time and that even exhausted she was ready to begin house-to-house searches on her own.

Eric kept his expression soft while he said, “I believe I can help.”

They remained in their positions for a moment before she rolled back her shoulders and looked pointedly at Aaron. “You know the way to Olivia’s room, please show him up. I’ll find Miles.” As she strode away the crack her heels made against the marble echoed through the vaulted room.

Eric arched an eyebrow at Aaron, who shrugged. “She’s used to being in control, and now she has none.” Aaron led the way up the massive staircase. “The bedrooms are this way. Olivia’s faces the back; her parents’ is across the hall on the front.”

At the top of the stairs Aaron turned left.

“What’s to the right?” Eric asked.

“Upstairs living room, guest bedroom, and a private office. I got the full tour when we came here the first time.” Aaron turned right and entered what Eric assumed to be Olivia’s bedroom, but once they were inside he saw no sign of a bed.

“This is her living area.” Aaron motioned to the desk and shelves of books. “Her bedroom is through here.”

Now this looked like a little girl’s room. An entire wall of white shelves held dolls and figurines. All of the wood in the room had been painted white. The curtains, throw rug, and bedspread were done in the bright colors of Easter and little girls.

Nothing in the room seemed out of place. No stray dishes or clothes. No toys strewn about. It felt safe to assume when you grew up with someone else putting your things away, if you wanted privacy, you learned to do it yourself. “When you talk with the parents, ask if they’ve had the room cleaned in any way since she left.”

“We haven’t.” The man that stood in the doorway wore a suit. A black tie was knotted at his throat. “I’d appreciate it if you can make this quick; I have business associates downstairs.”

“I understand,” Aaron said. He quickly introduced Eric to Mr. Koburn. “Let’s talk in the sitting room.”

“Not even to vacuum or dust?” Eric asked as they filed into Olivia’s sitting area.

“No,” Mrs. Koburn said. “Maria doesn’t come until tomorrow.”

Eric turned back to the room. If the others were watching him it might appear as though he was simply staring. Of all his new abilities, his incredible sense of smell was by far the most useful in this situation. He breathed deeply, feeling the scents of everyone who’d been in the room. He moved slowly, leaning toward her closet and then the bed. Both were places where the girl’s fragrances would be prominent.

He began to separate and identify the smells. The girl and what was most likely the housekeeper permeated the entire room. There were others of course—her parents, Aaron, and even officer McMillan, most likely from when they first investigated the girl’s disappearance.

But there was something else. Another scent on the bed. The closer he leaned, the stronger the scent. Stepping to the edge of the bed Eric donned a pair of gloves. Like the pictures of women’s beds in every advertisement he’d ever seen, the head of the bed was loaded with pillows, including two fancy ones outside of the comforter. He carefully moved these to the end of the bed. Then he pulled back the quilted cacophony of pastels.

The sheet set was light pink, as were most of the pillows. Tucked under the sheets, resting its head against the mountain of pillows, was what appeared to be a ragdoll in pink pajamas.

The doll itself seemed to be of simple construction. Two pieces, front and back, with arms and legs jutting out from the body like a gingerbread man. The face appeared to be drawn on by a marker. Odder still were the clothes. Pink and silky, certainly cleaner than the body of the doll, with seams on the outside as if stitched in haste.

What’s more, the doll smelled very little like the rest of the room. It was newly introduced. He’d bet it had never been washed in the family’s laundry. Until he talked to the Koburns he didn’t want to move it, so he leaned in and sniffed, then moved about the room to track the scent.

Sure enough, the scent traced a line across the floor to a dresser topped with an ornate mirror in one corner of the room. Then it went through glass doors to a balcony. His stomach sank. However the abductor had managed it, he’d left with the girl this way.

As Eric turned from the doors he heard a throat clear behind him. Aaron and the Koburns were standing in the door. “Mr. and Mrs. Koburn,” he began after he got the nod from Aaron, “are you familiar with all of your daughter’s toys?”

Mr. Koburn shrugged and shook his head, but his wife nodded. “Most of them, yes. She received an allowance for little chores so she bought a few on her own. She liked to show them to me, though.”

Eric nodded. “Without touching, can you tell me if the doll on the bed is familiar to you?”

She leaned over. “I’ve never seen that before in my life.” She straightened, eyes wide and wild, and wrapped her arms about herself, as her husband leaned in for a look.

Mr. Koburn scowled. “What does this mean? Did she run away? She left a note. Where did that come from?” He looked at Aaron then back at the doll. He whispered, “Was she kidnapped?”

Eric removed an evidence bag from his pocket and, using his gloved hand, tucked the doll into it. “We’re not sure.”

Aaron said, “I know you have business associates here, but we would like to have our forensics team come by and process this room.” Mr. Koburn nodded, his hands clenched, his jaw set.

“There is still a chance she ran away?” Mrs. Koburn asked.

Aaron shook his head. “There’s a chance, but in my opinion, it’s a small one. I think we should look at this like a kidnapping until we know it’s not.”

“But the note … ” Tears welled in Mrs. Koburn’s eyes.

“Notes can be forged,” Eric said.

“Of course they can.” Mr. Koburn frowned. “We should have looked at it this way from the beginning. I’m sorry.” Eric couldn’t tell if he was talking to Aaron, his wife, or his missing daughter. To Aaron he said, “Call your team. My associates are leaving now.”

• • •

The afternoon came and went. Twilight deepened into night. While the forensics team swept the room, Aaron and Eric checked the backyard. Olivia’s bedroom balcony attached to a system of balconies and decks that led to the yard. The lawn was bordered by a short rock wall. Beyond that, the hillside sloped to a road below.

Eric paced the rock wall. Her scent was here; the kidnapper’s had to be as well. Days had passed since she was reported missing. Winds had blown. Animals had crossed the trail. Still, he had to find something. The kidnapper would have had to crawl over the wall, taken his time, stayed down. Eric knew if he wanted to find a scent this would be the place to do it.

Finally, something caught his attention behind a garden of ornamental grass. He’d stooped to get a good whiff and saw a slight indentation in the dirt when Aaron tapped him on his shoulder. “Hard to find something in the dark.”

“Yeah.” Eric cleared his throat. “Do you have a flashlight?”

Aaron grunted, clicked on a small LED light, and handed it over. “I heard you sniffing.”

“Hay fever,” Eric said. Aaron obviously didn’t want to let this go, but maybe he could be distracted. “I’ve got a partial shoe print. I think he took this route over the wall.”

Using his radio, Aaron called someone over to take a cast of the print. They looked for fibers or any other signs of the kidnapper’s passage and found nothing.

“Did you get a list of Miles Koburn’s business associates?” Eric asked. The cold trail irked. He’d expected to find some other evidence, something else that would allow him to find this girl.

“And the service people,” Aaron confirmed. “The Koburns’ as well as their neighbors’. You know the feds are automatically notified on kidnappings. They arrived while you were scoping out the hillside.”

“Are we off the case?” Eric stretched and crawled over the wall down the hillside to the road below. No skid marks.

“No, not entirely. We have a good relationship with the local office. They’re keeping us in the loop. We just have to do the same.” Aaron scratched his cheek.