Read See Me in Your Dreams Online
Authors: Patricia Rosemoor
See Me in Your Dreams (11 page)
"Your
daughter's somewhere in the city," she hedged. "Better to stay as
close as possible."
"For
whom?" He bent over her chair, grasping the armrests, his face practically
in hers. "Cheryl or you?"
Realizing what
he was suggesting, Keelin felt her irritation rise. Her temper might have a
slow fuse, but he'd been striking matches since they'd met.
"I have
nothing to do with what happened to your daughter," she assured him yet
again. He was so close she could feel his breath waft across her face. Her
heart skipped a beat in response. "I was not even here in this country
when she disappeared."
"How do I
know that? This family business thing of yours is pretty dicey, if you ask
me."
Placing her
hand in the middle of Tyler's chest, Keelin pushed. At first he didn't budge.
She glared at him, mentally willed him to comply. As if he read her determination,
he finally gave way, and let her rise.
"Speak to
my cousin Skelly." Her turn to pace, to work off her growing aggravation.
"Right.
The tabloid journalist. I can certainly trust him."
If Keelin
didn't jump to Skelly's defense, it was because Tyler had a point. Her cousin's
methods made
her
uneasy, and Tyler
didn't even know him. If only Skelly hadn't done that sensational piece on
Cheryl's disappearance...then, again, if he hadn't, she would never have
identified the girl before it was too late.
"How's
this for a theory?" he went on, not bothering to hide his rancor.
"Your cousin wanted a good story, something that would make his career. So
he recruits you to help him. He tells you to pretend to have this power so you
can feed me information."
That he might
be skeptical about her gift was one thing. But his continuing distrust of her
motives made Keelin lose the temper she'd been hanging onto by a thread.
"I would
tell you what you could do with that theory, but my mother raised me to be a lady.
If you really think that I could choose to hurt a young girl – or anyone – then
you'd best search for your daughter on your own!"
"Not when
you can lead me to her!"
Tyler was
standing over her, threatening her with his too-close presence. Part of her was
afraid. Another part was seeing-red angry.
"Get
out," she said, far more calmly than she was feeling. She was trembling,
her stomach knotting. "Before I ring the management to have someone throw
you out!"
His glare
intensified and Keelin's throat went dry. She couldn't swallow. Had she pushed
him too far? Would he avenge himself in his anger?
When Tyler
suddenly backed off, Keelin felt faint with relief. He crossed the room, his
stride quick, and didn't look back. The door slamming shut shook not only the
walls, but her insides, as well. Her legs could have been made of rubber. She
felt her way down into a chair.
She'd done
what she had to, Keelin assured herself, heart still pounding.
Only...what
about Cheryl Leighton?
Fearing that
allowing her temper to get the better of her had sealed the girl's fate, Keelin
was sick inside.
Chapter Five
AS HE RACED OUT OF KEELIN'S HOTEL,
Tyler's insides were tied up in knots. What the hell had gotten into him? He
hadn't meant to screw things up when he'd gone back to face the woman, to try
to figure out her true role in his daughter's disappearance. But the longer
he'd waited, the more out of kilter his thoughts had spiraled, until he'd been
unable to control himself.
He had to face
facts: he'd lost it.
He'd opened
his mouth and had spewed out his worst fears at Keelin without thinking things
through properly. If she were innocent –
if
– he'd put her off, perhaps for good.
And if Keelin
were guilty, things might go worse for his daughter.
Either way,
he'd been a fool.
But what to do
to make things right?
Whatever it took
, a small voice inside his head
insisted.
On the way
back to his office, Tyler considered his dilemma from every angle, and only one
plan came to mind. After giving her enough time to cool off, he'd have to seek
Keelin out once more. He'd have to apologize, to admit that he'd been an ass,
to tell her that his worry for his daughter was so great that he was having
difficulty getting a proper handle on things.
And then he would have to charm her.
Normally, the
thought of romancing an attractive woman would be more than amenable. He was no
more immune to Keelin than she seemed to be to him. At times, the chemistry
between them had been palpable.
But the idea of
getting closer to his daughter's kidnapper made the bile rise to his throat.
And if Keelin
were
genuine and only trying to
help...how could he live with himself then?
He'd find a
way.
His daughter
was the only thing that mattered, Tyler reminded himself.
His
soul, after all, had already been damned years ago.
So he would do
it, charm Keelin, make her want to please him. He didn't know whether her
motives were feigned or true. If he waited to find out, it might be too late.
That he might trick a woman who was innocent of anything but wanting to help
him was a chance he had to take.
He'd learned
to live with the unspeakable once.
The second
time would be easier.
KEELIN COULD HARDLY CONCENTRATE on the
computer screen and the article
Skelly had retrieved about Tyler's
recent successful bid to renovate an old theater into a multi-use arts space.
Their earlier fight had been replaying through her head ever since, had kept
her from catching up on that lost sleep.
She blamed
herself for letting things get out of hand.
Tyler was far
too emotionally distressed to be sane. She should have side-railed his anger
rather than fueling it. Normally a congenial person, who would do anything to
avoid a fight, she couldn't say why she'd been so contentious.
"I found
several more instances when
Nate
Feldman lost
lucrative contracts to L&O Realty."
Skelly's voice
snapped Keelin back to the research done at her request. Now she was feeling
guilty at her disapproving thoughts concerning her cousin. She'd asked for a
favor and he hadn't hesitated to come through for her, even if he had insisted
a research assistant had done the work while he'd videotaped this afternoon's
show. She didn't care how he'd accomplished the task, he'd responded to her
need. Perhaps he wasn't as removed from responsibility toward his fellow human
being as he would like her to believe.
"I still
cannot fathom how quickly you journalists find information," she marveled
as he sat in a vacant chair and wheeled closer to her.
"Thank
the computer age."
"No, thank
you
."
Skelly seemed
a bit flustered, as if he didn't know how to respond. Perhaps he wasn't used to
gratitude, Keelin thought. He certainly seemed more comfortable with conflict
and pessimism. An outgrowth of his career choice? she wondered. Or had he
merely been born with a negative view of life?
"Anyway,
Nate
Feldman is definitely Leighton's chief business
competitor," Skelly was saying. "Whether or not he holds a grudge at
losing is another question."
"Did you
find anything to link him to Cheryl?"
"Not
directly, but hold on. Scoot over a bit."
Keelin did as
he asked, and Skelly moved in on the computer. He sped the mouse around its pad
and his fingers over the keyboard, and the images on the computer monitor
changed nearly as quickly.
A moment later,
they were looking at another page of
The
Chicago Tribune
, this in the
Chicagoland
section. The headline indicated a christening of
a factory building converted to mini-mall in the Clybourn Corridor. Keelin
recognized the event from the video footage in her cousin's report the day
before. Skelly used the mouse to mark the accompanying photograph, then hit a
few more keys.
A blink and
the picture exploded outward, filling the screen.
Tyler shaking hands
with the mayor was the focus of the photograph. Cheryl stood slightly behind
her father, nearly out of the frame. And on his other side, between Tyler and
the mayor, standing some distance behind...
"Feldman?"
Keelin murmured, tapping the image of the balding man.
Skelly nodded.
"That's him. Odd that he showed for a celebration of a job he lost, don't
you think?" He scooted his chair back and faced her. "He may not even
have spoken to the girl, but he obviously knew about her."
"Surely
Tyler would have realized as much. Odd that he never mentioned Feldman."
Or perhaps
Tyler had been waiting for
her
to do
so. Would he have considered that further proof of her perfidy? she wondered.
"Maybe it never occurred to him
that a business rival would be involved," Skelly mused.
"Perhaps,"
Keelin agreed. "Did you learn anything personal about Feldman? Anything
about his character that would make him capable of using a child to punish a
competitor?"
"I can
give you tons of facts and figures about the man, but without hitting the
streets and interviewing people who know him, it'd be impossible to analyze him
personally."
And Keelin
couldn't ask her cousin to take the time from his work to do so. Another
solution came to her. "Tyler has a private investigator trying to find
Cheryl."
"Checking
out Feldman might be a productive use of the man's time."
"I'll
suggest as much."
If
Tyler would speak to her, given the way they'd parted
earlier. Hopefully, he would still be in his office. Whatever his reaction
might be to her unexpected appearance, Keelin knew she had to brave facing him.
And this time,
she would not let Tyler Leighton get under her skin and derail her from her
purpose.
TYLER BROODED IN HIS SHADOW-FILLED
OFFICE. He'd spent the latter half of the afternoon calling the Hotel
Clareton
in an attempt to charm Keelin into forgetting his
earlier accusations, but she'd up and disappeared on him.
He was so
frustrated that a knock at his door made him grouse, "What is it?"
Pamela Redmond
poked her head inside, her topknot bobbling. "Is it safe to enter?"
He waved her
in. "How come I never tick you off?"
"Who said
you don't?" His assistant raised her eyebrows but appeared as easygoing as
always. "Uh, you want some light in here?" Her hand reached toward
the wall switch.
"Leave it
be."
He thought
better in the semi-gloom. Or maybe it was that the light would make him face
things he'd prefer to avoid at the moment.
Pamela forgot
about the light and stepped closer to his desk. "I had Mr. Bryant check
out Keelin McKenna as you asked me to do."
Tyler
stiffened. Jeremy Bryant was the private investigator he'd hired to find his
daughter. "And?"
"As far
as he could tell, she's genuine. No police record on anyone using that name. He
couldn't find any trace of her in this city. Then he used a personal contact –
a friend of a friend of a friend, as I understand – to get to Immigration.
Keelin McKenna just flew in from Ireland just as she said."
A weight
lifted from Tyler's chest and he realized he'd been holding his breath. Though
he'd thrown around accusations with impunity, he hadn't wanted them to be true.
He'd wanted Keelin to be exactly who and what she claimed to be. While not the
last word – a con artist probably could change identities easier than he could
change
the blueprints for a renovation –
Bryant's research indicated that was the case.
"I
appreciate your help."
Pamela backed
off. "Sorry I can't do more."
"That
makes two of us." He checked his watch. Almost five. "Go on. Leave.
Get back to your life for an evening. Let me brood in peace."
"Sure."
Tyler didn't
wait for the door to close behind her. Impatient, he picked up the telephone
receiver and hit
redial
, mentally
following the rash of beeps that followed.
"Hotel
Clareton
."
"Is Miss
McKenna in, yet?"
"No, I'm
sorry, sir," came the aggravating reply. "But if you would like to
leave
another
message..."
Having left
two already, realizing the clerk recognized his voice, Tyler felt foolish.
"No message."
He slammed
down the phone. For all he knew, Keelin was in and avoiding him. So what next?
He crossed to the windows and stared down at the park. He was trying to come up
with some options when his office door opened again.
Thinking
Pamela had returned, he gruffly said, "I thought I told you to go
home."
"Of the many
desperate things you said to me, that was not among them."
The Irish lilt
plucked at Tyler's insides, twisted him in knots as he turned to face Keelin.
Wreathed in a flowing sunflower yellow jumper-dress over a white T-shirt, her
cloud of hair a low simmering flame brushing her shoulders, she was a bright
spot against the gloom.
They spoke as
one.
"I was an
ass."
"You were
frantic for your daughter."
Tyler realized
Keelin had come to make things right with him. She'd chosen to forgive – or at
least to ignore – his accusations. Either that, or she was a very, very clever
con artist. He had to consider the last option so that guilt wouldn't stop him
from doing what he had to...to cover all bases.
He couldn't
screw up again.
Registering a
regretful expression, Tyler moved closer. "It seems emotions were running
high on both sides earlier."
"I wish
you could accept me for who I am, Tyler, but if you cannot, you cannot."
Her fingers tightened on the strap of the large leather bag swung over her
shoulder. "Your suspicions will not sway me from my purpose."
He couldn't be
swayed, either, couldn't afford to lose sight of his plan.
No matter that
his investigator had found nothing in the least incriminating about her, Tyler
couldn't let down his guard around Keelin. Too much was at stake. He couldn't
trust anyone or anything but himself.
He began the
seduction by saying, "You have a generous heart," in as sincere a
tone as he could manage. He nearly believed it himself.
Her eyes
widened in surprise, but she didn't respond directly. "I carefully
considered what you said earlier. About being closer to Cheryl through her
things."
He started.
"You're talking about coming home with me. You're willing?"
She nodded.
"If you still wish me to."
"That
would be best," he agreed, crossing the room to her. "We can stop by
your hotel and–"
"No need.
I brought a few things." She indicated the leather bag.
So much the
better, Tyler told himself. He could begin drawing her in immediately. Keelin's
being in his territory would make his goal that much easier.
So why was he
having so much difficulty at working up the proper enthusiasm?
THOUGH TYLER HAD MADE AN ATTEMPT AT AN
APOLOGY, Keelin didn't fool herself into believing he trusted her. She could feel
the suspicion simmering below the surface. Not that she blamed him. Not that it
mattered. Nothing could sway her from her course of action.
Despite
herself, she felt her tension dissipate as they left the city behind and
entered the suburbs of the affluent North Shore. The houses along the east side
of Sheridan Road were mansions, some clustered together, others solitary and
facing the lake. A few even had coach houses that mirrored the main quarters.
She caught sight of an outdoor swimming pool on one estate, clay tennis courts
on another, and as they kept driving, more and more wooded areas separating the
properties.
The ravines.
A thrill shot
through her as she envisioned herself – rather Cheryl in her initial dream –
stumbling down the incline, brush thrashing around her legs, the sound of
turbulent waves battering the shore.
Feeling as if
her heart were going to burst.
Keelin's blood
pulsed at an alarming rate, and she had to take a deep breath to calm herself.
"You all
right?"
Tyler's tone
held the right amount of concern, and yet Keelin grew more tense. "I'll
survive."
"We're
almost there. Only a few more minutes."
A few minutes
of curves and hills and ravines that grew deeper and denser. By the time they
popped up over a knoll and turned into a drive, Keelin had dug her nails into
her seat's upholstery in anticipation.
Tyler pulled
the Jaguar into the shade under the carport. Keelin didn't wait for him to open
her door, rather popped out and breathed in the lake-scented air. Her eyes
strayed to the ravine to the south, and again she mentally replayed Cheryl's
escape into the night and wondered if retracing the girl's steps along the
wooded gully would be of any help.
"I'll
take your bag," Tyler suddenly said, giving her a start. He was directly
behind her.
"No. I
have it."
Keelin slung
the leather strap over her shoulder and circled the car, making for the
entrance with its high double-doors. She would begin inside.
Tyler unlocked
the house for her, and she entered as if in a dream. The marble floor
whispering beneath her booted feet felt familiar. She recognized the freeform
winged sculpture. Passed by the formal living area and went straight for the
smaller room off the foyer.
Tyler's
office.
Standing in
the doorway and gazing at the heavy mahogany desk, she felt as if she'd
actually been inside. Had ransacked his drawers for the money he kept for
emergencies.
"You seem
mesmerized."
"It's all
so...odd." Her pulse danced to a strange rhythm. "I've never been
here before, and yet..."
"You feel
as if you have, through Cheryl." Tyler wrapped an arm around her back, his
hand lightly resting on her shoulder. "I can't imagine how difficult this
is for you," he said solicitously. "Maybe you'd like to sit down and
catch your breath."
Not unaffected
by his touch, Keelin had to fight to remember why she was there. "Her
room."
In a haze, she
pulled away from Tyler and turned to the staircase. She slowly climbed.
Hesitated halfway. Purposefully tested the next step.
The wood
creaked.
And a chill shot
up her spine.
Barely aware
of Tyler following, she continued ascending and with unerring instinct turned
to her right. She kept going until she reached a room halfway down the hall.
Keelin opened the door and entered.
No doubt in
her mind that this was a teenager's room. Cheryl Leighton's bedroom. A place at
once both familiar and alien.
In her dream,
she'd merely gotten vague impressions of the heart-throb and New Age and sports
posters tacked to hot pink walls. The futon Cheryl used as a bed lay open, a
worn stuffed dog with a torn ear at its foot, the only indication that the
teenager was still a child, the covers mussed as if Cheryl had just risen. A
corner wall unit held a computer, sound system and television. Books,
videotapes, computer programs and CDs were scattered across nearby shelves,
these a brilliant purple. Keelin could see shoes and clothes strewn about the
closet. The floor of the private bathroom was also a repository of discarded
clothing and a pile of used towels.
"I told
the cleaning woman to stay out of here." Expression grim, Tyler stood at
the door as if reluctant to enter, hands stuffed into his trouser pockets.
"Stupid, but I keep thinking that nothing is changed...I keep expecting to
see Cheryl curled in bed with her headsets on...or at her computer, playing a
game or flying through cyberspace."
Remembering
how easily Skelly had whipped along through sources of information using his
computer, Keelin nevertheless eyed the electronic contraption warily. She lived
several decades separated from the technology that Tyler's child took for
granted. She dropped her leather bag near the futon and circled the room,
touching the girl's things, almost as if she expected to
feel
her.
"Anything?"
Tyler asked.
Keelin shook
her head. "I dream through another's eyes. That's the extent of my gift as
I told you. Awake, I cannot conjure her. I agreed to come with you so I could
get to know Cheryl better. Or remember something I missed. Perhaps find some
material indication as to her intentions."
She couldn't
miss the disappointment he quickly masked as he said, "Of course."
Compassion
made Keelin cross to Tyler and place a hand on his arm. The physical link drew
her closer to this distrusting, angry man, even as she knew keeping her
distance would be a far wiser course. "Come." Hooking her fingers
into his flesh, she drew him into the room.
He moved with
her as if mesmerized. Confused. As if, for a moment, he forgot what he was
about. Their gazes meshed. He allowed her in...and she felt his pain with
agonizing clarity. Then he blinked, as if awakening from a spell, and a subtle
change came over him.
Keelin
suddenly found herself shut out.
"Where
shall we start?" he asked.
For the next
hour, they browsed through the items on the teaming shelves, hoping for some
clue as to Cheryl's state of mind. Looking for anything that would jog Keelin's
memory. Nothing. They didn't even find the address book that Keelin had hoped
for. No reference to acquaintances in the city.
"She must
know all her friends' telephone numbers by heart," Keelin murmured.
"More
likely, they're programmed into her phone."
Surrounded by
Cheryl's things, they were sitting on the floor together, Keelin's legs swept
behind her, Tyler's before him, knees up, ankles crossed. How odd that they
seemed of a mind, at last. They'd worked seamlessly together, and Tyler hadn't
uttered one biting word since they'd begun.
Moving to the
bottom shelf, Keelin chose one of several scrapbooks and began paging through
photos and souvenirs that were several years old. Her eyes were tired and
threatened to close on her at any moment, but she forced herself to examine
each page before going on to the next.
Thinking
talking would keep her awake, she said, "Tell me about your
daughter."
Tyler flipped
through a magazine and threw it onto a growing pile. "Cheryl's bright and
passionate about life," he said, sounding every bit the proud parent.
"She's trusting, big-hearted and, I fear, too-easily hurt. She's easy to
anger...and easy to..."
"Forgive?"
"I always
thought so."
But not now?
What wasn't Tyler telling her? Keelin wondered. What had he done that his
daughter was finding hard to forgive? What lies could he have told her that
were so terrible that Cheryl had felt betrayed enough to run away?
Tempted to ask
directly, Keelin bit back the question. Asking would only anger him. Better
that she wait until he was ready to share whatever it was that was eating him
up inside. Though she had no extraordinary powers beyond her mysterious dreams,
she had the natural instinct that every person possessed. Perhaps she was more
attuned to her intuitive side than some, for she was certain Tyler's harshness
was meant to cover up his own feelings of guilt.
"Cheryl
sounds a bit like Flanna," Keelin said, going on to another scrapbook,
this one older. "My sister. And my grandmother Moira, too."
She was
looking at Cheryl's baby book, Keelin realized as Tyler said, "I thought
you
were like your grandmother."
His attention
was on a stack of
Cds
, hers on the faded photographs
of the infant and her parents.
"We
shared some traits, yes. But I think we're all a bit like her in some way or
other. Flanna has a wildness about her that was definitely Moira's."
Tyler's late wife
had been stunning, curvaceous and blond, Keelin noted. And she was a natural
model. She knew how to make love to the camera, and the camera, in turn, had
loved her. Plus, in each photograph where they posed together, Tyler wore the
besotted expression of a truly happy man.
A stab of envy
made Keelin too-quickly close the album, telling herself that she'd find
nothing of value in these pages. She slid it to the side with the others.
"Cheryl
sounds very different from you," she mused. Or at least different from
what he'd become since losing his young wife. "Does she favor her
mother?"
