The Summit (4 page)

Maybe the dream tonight was actually that. A real dream where everything's just a fantasy.

Or maybe neither of them were real.

Autumn finished her milk and stretched out on the sofa. If she continued to dream, maybe she would see the girl as a full-grown woman, happy wherever she had finally ended up, and Autumn could stop worrying about her.

Maybe she was wrong and—unlike before—nothing bad had happened or was going to. Warm beneath the comforter, she finally fell asleep. When she did, she began to dream.

Three women worked in the kitchen, the little girl no longer a child, but taller, beginning to develop breasts, showing the first signs of becoming a woman. And when she looked at Autumn there was always so much pain in her eyes, Autumn awakened from the dream.

She lay there on the sofa, heart thumping madly, exhausted and even more worried. This was no simple dream. This was a message—just like it had been when she was fifteen.

She couldn't ignore it the way she had before. She refused to sit around and let something terrible happen again. Dear God, if only she knew what to do.

I
t was early morning, almost time to get up. As Autumn lay awake on the sofa staring up at the ceiling, memories of the dream played over and over in her head. If this was the same blond child, the little girl named Molly from the first dream, maybe she was among the millions of children who went missing and were never found. Maybe she was reaching out, asking Autumn for help.

But if that's true, why now? Why didn't the dreams begin years earlier?
So far it appeared she didn't even know the girl. It was all so utterly confusing.

Tired to the bone and still thinking of the dream, she tossed back the afghan and headed for the bathroom to shower and dress for the gym. She needed some physical exertion, something to clear her head. Hopefully, her climbing class would take her mind off the girl. After lunch she had a couple of private lessons and around five-thirty she was supposed to meet Terri for drinks at O'Shaunessy's Bar and Grill, an upscale local hangout that was one of Terri's favorite see-and-be scenes.

The day passed swiftly. Autumn arrived at the bar right on time but Terri, as usual, was running a little late. By the time she got there, Autumn was sipping a nice chilled glass of Kendall Jackson chardonnay and beginning to relax.

Terri was smiling as she wove her way through the crowd at the bar and sitting at tables. She walked up and hung her purse on the back of one of the stools around the tiny table and waved one of the cocktail waitresses over.

“I'm desperate for a Cosmo, Rita. After a day like today, I really deserve one.”

“Will do, hon.” Rita sashayed away, tray propped on her shoulder, wide hips swaying, and returned just a few minutes later with the drink. Terri was a regular and always got good service and Autumn enjoyed the lively little pub as well.

Terri took a sip from her frosty, long-stemmed martini glass. “So how was your day, girlfriend? Mine totally sucked.”

Autumn sipped her wine. “My day was fine. Last night was the pits.”

Terri rolled her eyes. “Don't even tell me. The dream, right?”

“Yes…and no.”

“Okay, tell me.”

“I had a different dream about the same person.”

“What?”

She nodded. “No kids playing ball in the yard, no little boy named Robbie. This time, the girl was five or six years older…maybe eleven or twelve. I don't think she was a teenager yet.”

“Wow, that's weird. And you still think these dreams are real?”

“I'm probably crazy, but yes. I think maybe little Molly got into that car and the man drove away with her, like in the dream. But he didn't kill her—he couldn't have if she's older in the second dream. I think maybe he just took her off with him somewhere.”

“Maybe you'll just keep dreaming about her until she's all grown up and everything will be fine.”

“I thought of that. I suppose it's possible, but…”

“But what?”

“But I don't think that's going to happen. I think…I don't know but…I think Molly is trying to send me some kind of message. I think she's asking me for help.”

Terri fixed her with a stare. “That's a pretty far stretch, don't you think? If she
is
trying to reach you, why did she wait until now? Why didn't she send you this supposed message five or six years ago?”

Autumn hooked a curl behind her ear. “I don't know.”

“You have to admit this is all pretty crazy.”

“No kidding.” She trailed her finger through the condensation on her wine glass. “If it weren't for what happened in high school, I'd ignore the whole damned thing.”

Terri frowned. “The car accident…right? I see what you mean.”

“The weird thing is—what caused it to happen back then? And why is it happening now?”

Terri ignored the question since neither of them had an answer. “You know what I think you should do? I think you should go through old newspapers to see if a little girl was abducted five or six years ago. If there was and her name was Molly—”

“You're right!” Autumn sat up straighter on the stool. “I should have thought of that myself. I'd have to make certain assumptions. I may have guessed her age wrong, so I'd need to do a spread of several years. I've got to assume I'm somehow connected or this wouldn't be happening, so I'll start looking here in Seattle.”

“It might not work but it's worth a try.”

“It's a great idea.” If Autumn's hunch was right, it was absolutely worth a try.

Terri looked up just then and broke into a smile. “Todd just walked in. Isn't he gorgeous?”

Todd was definitely a pretty boy, tall and blond, sort of the Brad Pitt type. But Autumn couldn't help wondering if there was any substance behind that pretty face.

Terri introduced her and the three of them chatted for a while. Todd held his own. He seemed to be polite and intelligent. Still, it was too soon to make a judgment.

Autumn stood up from her stool. “Listen, I'd better get going. I've got classes in the morning. Nice meeting you, Todd.”

“You too, Autumn.”

Terri cast her a meaningful glance. “Keep me posted on your…research, will you?”

“Will do.” Autumn left the bar and headed down the street for home. The sun was just setting over the water and glimpses of the sea appeared between the buildings. Pretty as it was, the neighborhood she lived in wasn't the most desirable. Transients haunted the bus stop not far away and drug deals were made on the streets, but the condo was affordable and only blocks from museums and theaters. And all of the downtown was improving a little at a time. She loved Seattle. She couldn't think of anywhere she would rather live.

By the time she reached her building and took the elevator up to her condo, dusk was setting in. She baked a pork chop, cooking it on a rack so there would be less grease, and settled in to watch a little TV. The sitcoms were always cheery. She watched a few of those, then started yawning and decided to go to bed.

She purposely avoided the Ambien, hoping if she dreamed she might get more information, though a good night's sleep was certainly a temptation.

Instead, she drifted into slumber and again that night she had the dream.

 

Since it was a good long way from her apartment to the
Seattle Times
on John Street, Autumn decided to phone before she made the trip. The receptionist at the
Times
told her that archival information could be found at the library, not the newspaper, so she made a second call and discovered that the Central Library on nearby Fourth Avenue was where she needed to go. There were old newspapers there, she was told, dating back to the late eighteen-hundreds.

A number of newspapers covered the Seattle area, but the
Times
was the largest. Autumn figured if a child had been abducted in the city or in any of the surrounding towns, the
Seattle Times
would probably have covered the story.

It occurred to her that she was a person who usually followed the news, in print and on TV, so she should have seen something if it had happened anywhere near. Still, she traveled as often as she could so she might have been out of town or maybe she had just somehow missed it.

The lady at the information booth walked up the counter. She had silver hair and wore too much powder and circles of pink rouge on her cheeks.

“May I help you?”

“I'd like to take a look through your newspaper archives. I need to search for children who might have been reported missing. I need to go back at least seven years.” That should be long enough to cover the period, since she wasn't really sure of Molly's age.

“All right. If you'll please follow me.”

Autumn trailed along behind the older woman into a back room filled with equipment.

“Everything from more recent times is stored on microfilm. You'll find copies of every paper printed and an index by subject matter. Just type in
missing children
and it should bring up what you need.”

“Thank you.”

Autumn sat down and set to work, going back five years, thinking little Molly might have been six then and eleven now. Since Autumn had been living in Seattle, she figured she might have seen or met her during that time.

There were stacks of articles. Unfortunately, nothing looked remotely like it had anything to do with a little girl named Molly. There were a several children mentioned, missing then found. One was lost in the mountains and rescued by local search teams.

She tried four years back, found a story about a pedophile named Gerald Meeks who had been arrested for molesting and killing several young children, but Molly's name—thank God—was not among those mentioned.

The year 2001, six years back, would make the child six then and twelve now, which was Autumn's strongest suspicion. She was paging through the summer issues, reading snippets here and there, when an article popped up. The headline read,
Issaquah Girl Reported Missing.
The paper was dated June 30, 2001 and the disappearance had happened the day before the paper went to press.

A six year old girl disappeared from her home late yesterday afternoon,
the article read.
According to reports, the child was playing ball in her yard with friends when an unknown man appeared on the sidewalk.

The article went on to describe the incident and included a description of the missing girl: long blond hair, blue eyes, wearing jeans, sneakers and a purple T-shirt with a picture of Barney the dinosaur on the front.

There was even a photo, one Autumn recognized the instant she saw it. And the name beneath the picture read
Molly Lynn McKenzie.

Autumn's chest squeezed so hard it was difficult to breathe. Her heart was pumping, trying to beat its way through her chest.
The child was real. The dream was real. The kidnapping had really occurred.

Autumn felt light-headed. She reread the date. That summer she had been staying with her dad in Burlington before starting her teaching job in Seattle. She probably would have seen the article, which would have been carried in all the local papers, but in June she was in Europe—a graduation gift to herself—traveling with a group of climbers.

McKenzie? McKenzie?
Why did the name sound familiar?

It hit her like a bolt of lightning—she had heard the name only a few days ago. Josh had mentioned it when she and Terri were working out at the gym.

Autumn quickly scanned the article and there it was: Molly Lynn McKenzie was the daughter of sporting goods retailer Ben McKenzie and his wife, Joanne, residents of Issaquah, Washington, a town in the foothills just east of Seattle.

Pieces of the puzzle began falling together. She had noticed McKenzie at the gym only recently. She tried to think back. As nearly as she could recall, the first time was somewhere around the time she had started to dream about Molly.

She studied the screen, frantically pressed the button to skip forward in time. Article after article had been written about little Molly—interviews with her parents, the desperate search to find her. As she skimmed the pages, Autumn prayed the child had been found. Yet deep inside, she was certain the little girl had not.

According to the
Times
, the search had continued for weeks, though the articles became more and more scarce. As far as Autumn could tell, no clue to the child's disappearance was ever discovered.

An image of handsome Ben McKenzie popped into her head. How devastated he and his wife must have been to lose their little girl. Her chest ached. She couldn't begin to imagine the pain, the terrible grief they must have suffered. She had to talk to Ben McKenzie, find out as much as she could about what had happened.

If Molly was still missing…

She printed the newspaper articles, paid for the copies and left the building. She had to see Ben McKenzie and perhaps speak to his wife. She needed to know if anything had been discovered about Molly during the past six years. As soon as she got home, she would call McKenzie's office and make an appointment to see him.

God only knew what she was going to say.

 

Ben ended the conference call he had been having with his financial VP, George Murphy, and Russ Petrone, a real estate broker in Issaquah. The town was Ben's home when he moved to the area, the place he had opened his first store.

According to Russ, a long-time friend who had sold him and Joanne their home then helped him lease the building for McKenzie Sporting Goods, that store was about to be put in jeopardy. Apparently his competitor, A-1 Sports, had been nosing around, sniffing out property within a two-block range of his Issaquah location, one of the top-selling stores in the chain. Rumor had it that A-1 had located a piece of real estate just across the street and was seriously interested in making a purchase.