See Me in Your Dreams (13 page)

The lump in her throat was so big, she had trouble forcing
out the word
"Dad!"

"Cheryl?
My God, baby, where are you?"

He sounded glad to hear her voice. Inside, a dam broke.
Tears flowed from her eyes and she choked out,
"I'm
sorry, Dad. Honest. I'll never do it again."

"Where
are you?"

"I'm not
sure. In the city somewhere."

"Look for
a street sign. Ask someone. I'll come get you."

"You
will? Really? You're not angry?"

He was saying,
"I'm worried...not angry at
you,"
when she felt the hand on her
shoulder.

"Jeez,
I'll be off in a minute!"
she said
impatiently.

And then the hand covered her mouth and she knew she was in
trouble. Her head went light with renewed fear. The phone flew from her hand
and the buildings around her whirled crazily as her legs folded and the
pavement rushed up to meet her...

"CHERYL!" HEART POUNDING,
hope soured to fear, Tyler clutched the cordless phone harder, as though he
could make his daughter answer. "Cheryl, baby, what happened? Please tell
me you're all right!"

But all he got
in answer was the sound of street traffic and the repeated clunk of the phone
on the other end, as if it were swinging free and banging against something
solid.

"Cheryl?"
he tried one last time.

Then someone
replaced the receiver in its cradle and the line went dead.

His joy turned
to renewed grief, Tyler blindly pitched the cordless with all his strength. The
bottles in a small wine rack crashed to the kitchen floor like pins scattered
by a bowling ball. One bottle broke and a deep red pool seeped across the pale
ceramic floor.

Like blood would ooze across his daughter's fair skin.

The sudden
tragic image drove him crazy. Without care, he retrieved the broken glass, then
yelped. His hand had struck a jagged edge. He was heaving the now-bloody glass
into the trash when he heard the stair squeak followed by his name.

"Tyler?"
Keelin called, her voice faint and frightened, "where are you?"

The pain of
the cut momentarily forgotten, he rushed out of the kitchen as she stepped off
the staircase. They met in the foyer. One look at her dazed expression and he
knew.

"You were
sleeping. You saw something?"

"Cheryl
escaped the building where she was being held. She ran." Keelin took a big
breath. "I saw busy streets. An intersection. The telephone..."

"She
called me." His chest tight, Tyler demanded, "What the hell
happened?"

Keelin
squeezed her eyes shut and touched her shoulder. "A hand, here."

"She told
the person to wait a minute."

"Then his
hand covered..." Her fingers moved over her lips.

Tyler would
kill the bastard if he ever got hold of him. Suddenly he stilled. "You
said
his
. You saw him?"

Keelin's
features pulled together in a frown. "I'm sorry. His grip was so strong I
assumed it was that of a man, but then before I could turn, everything went
spinning..."

Suddenly he
realized that Keelin was speaking in the first person, as if the incident had
actually happened to her. She was white as a ghost, no doubt nearly as
traumatized by the incident as his daughter.

Without
thinking, Tyler spread his arms and stepped forward to comfort her. She
accepted the shelter he offered, flying into his embrace and clutching him like
a lifeline. She was trembling, her breathing ragged. He gathered her close to
him, careful not to touch her with his bloody hand. He imagined that he could
feel the uneven flutter of her heart through the wall of his chest.

Before, when
she'd told him about the dream-visions, he'd only half-believed her. How could
he deny her gift any longer when he'd been part-witness to what she'd
experienced? He'd been on the line with Cheryl when Keelin had tuned in. Her
explanation of what she'd seen fit exactly with his own perception of what had
happened to his daughter.

Against all
reason, he had to believe in a phenomena that had no logical explanation.

"It's
going to be all right." As if in a trance, he ran his good hand soothingly
through Keelin's loose lush hair and down her supple spine. Touching her so
intimately had a very real and immediate effect on him, one he didn't want to
acknowledge. "We're going to make sure it's all right. We'll find Cheryl.
Together."

When Keelin
gazed up at him, her eyes were shiny. "Truly?" she asked.

"I
promise."

A smile
trembled on her lips even as she blinked and a few tears freed themselves of
her thick dark lashes. He couldn't help himself. He kissed the trail from her
cheek. His lips instantly salty, he ran a tongue over them, vaguely wondering
what he was doing.

How was it
that he was getting caught up in the very woman he'd vowed to entice in return for
his daughter's safety?

As if she
could read his mind, Keelin vowed, "I would do anything to bring Cheryl
home to you."

Her warm
breath fluttered against Tyler's face. He couldn't help but believe her.

Suddenly
Keelin noticed the blood dripping from his hand. Eyes wide, she demanded,
"What happened?"

"I just
nicked myself on some broken glass."

"That's
more than a nick. Let me."

She took his
wrist and raised his hand so she could see the wound. Over his murmured
objections, she pulled him into the kitchen and to the sink where, keeping
pressure below the cut, she washed it out with an antiseptic liquid soap and
checked it for any stray pieces of broken glass.

Then she
placed his free hand at a pressure point below the cut and ordered, "Keep
your hand up, the wound above your heart, and hold that pressure steady. I'll
get my first aid kit."

Keelin raced
upstairs, pulled the soft-sided kit from her leather bag and ran back to the
kitchen. She set it on the counter and removed a few items.

"What's
that?" Tyler asked suspiciously.

"Wicked
remedies that will render you powerless."

Keelin
delivered the answer with a straight face and would have been amused at Tyler's
uneasy reaction if he weren't hurt. Soaking a swab in witch hazel, she cleaned
the cut. Minus the still-oozing blood, it didn't look so bad.

"Witch
hazel helps stop the bleeding," she said, "but keep the hand
upright." She opened a small jar. "And pot marigold cream is an
antiseptic."

Smoothing the
cream over his wound shouldn't have been a sensual experience. But touching
Tyler made Keelin's heart beat a bit faster anyway. She felt his gaze on her
and she looked straight into his eyes. Something inside her responded.

Confused, she
turned away and put her potions back in their nest, taking longer than
necessary to regain her balance.

"A small
bandage and we're done," she pronounced.

This time
Keelin was careful as to how she touched Tyler when she applied the strip. She
avoided anything but the most impersonal of contact.

"Good as
new," Tyler said. "It doesn't even hurt. Much."

"Remind
me to apply more pot marigold cream later."

"You made
these wicked potions yourself?"

She nodded.
"As I did the rest of my herbal first aids."

"And you
carry these everywhere?"

Thinking he
sounded a tad too amused, she raised her eyebrows. "Would a doctor travel
without his bag?"

"Probably
not." Seeming embarrassed Tyler moved away and quickly unrolled some paper
towels straight into the mess he'd made. "Do you think you can recognize
the place in the dream?"

"The
building they're keeping her in?" Keelin thought a moment, but realized
Cheryl hadn't focused on anything but the teenagers leering after her.
"No."

Tyler threw
the used towels in a waste container and fetched some loose bottles, setting
them on the counter. "What about the area she called from?"

"Perhaps."
Images replayed in her mind's eye. "Yes, I think so."

"Describe
it to me."

"A very
busy place. Streets crowded with cars and lorries. And a commuter train on
tracks raised above the street."

"An el. She
was near an elevated train! That eliminates most of the city," he said,
excitement nearly bursting from him as he recovered the cordless phone and
checked it, then threw it on the counter. "What else?"

"Shops.
Places to eat."

"A
commercial district."

"And the
telephones – they were outside, on the sidewalk."

"I
figured. The sound of traffic was pretty clear." Tyler frowned. "Can
you remember the name of any particular restaurant or store?"

Some vague
memory nagged at her, but she shook her head. "Cheryl was so panicked, I
don't think she noticed many details."

"At least
we have a start in our search for Cheryl," Tyler said, sounding
encouraged. "We can drive around checking out neighborhoods near each of
the elevated lines until you recognize some landmark. We don't have much time,
a couple of hours until dark–"

They were
racing for the door when the sound of a car engine being cut directly outside
the house made Tyler curse to himself.

"Now who
can that be?"

"The
authorities?" Keelin suggested as he crossed the foyer ahead of her.
"Perhaps they found Cheryl!"

When he opened
the door, however, a woman stood on the other side. All Keelin saw was long,
sleek light brown hair haloed with lighter streaks so dramatic they looked as
if an artist had brushed them into a painting.

"Tyler.
You're certainly not looking worse for the wear," the stranger said, her
voice low and throaty.

"Helen!"
He spat the name as if he hated it. "What the hell are you doing
here?"

"Aren't
you going to invite me in?"

"Damn
you–"

"Then
I'll invite myself."

The woman
pushed past Tyler and Keelin saw that she was fashionably dressed in a gray
silk short suit, the jacket topping a halter the same brilliant red as her slim
belt, chunky heels and bag. She stopped when they came face-to-face. They were
of an age, yet this woman was everything she was not, Keelin realized.
Stunningly beautiful. The kind of body that tempted a man beyond endurance.
Stylish. Most of all, confident.

Painted red
lips quivered into a smile as the woman gave her a once-over in return.
"You must be Tyler's newest playmate," she purred, holding out her
hand. "I'm his wife, Helen Dunn Leighton."

HELEN GOT GREAT SATISFACTION at the
expression of disbelief mingled with horror that she'd inspired in the mouse of
a woman who didn't seem to notice the offered hand. Helen let it drop. Really.
She'd thought Tyler had better taste, cultivating the
creme
de la
creme
of society babes. This one didn't even
know how to dress, for heaven's sake. She looked like a throwback to the seventies
with that shapeless rag she was wearing. What a pity if this was the best Tyler
could attract these days.

"Helen is
no longer my wife," Tyler assured the other woman in a low voice before
grabbing
her
arm and spinning her
around. "And she's just leaving."

Fury filling
her, Helen ripped her arm free. "You're not getting rid of me so easy this
time!"

Tyler stuck
his face in hers. "You're not staying."

He enunciated
each word like she couldn't understand English. Her pulse might be thundering,
but she wasn't really afraid of him. Not any more. Not when she was holding the
winning hand for once.

Sweetly, she
countered, "Cheryl's home?"

"No."

"Then I'm
not going anywhere." She waltzed into the living room, calculated the worth
of the classic furnishings. And the artwork. "Not when my daughter is
missing."

Tyler dogged
her. "You care more about your nails than you do about Cheryl."

She whirled on
him. "Don't tell
me
what I care
about!" The resentment over his using Cheryl against her was as fresh as
if it had happened yesterday. "I've had enough of your righteousness to
last me a lifetime!"

She could see
he was holding onto his restraint by a bare thread when he said, "We'll go
into it at another time, Helen. We were just about to leave."

"A date?
How sweet. And with Cheryl somewhere out there on the streets."

"We're
going to try to find her."

This from the
woman. The mouse had an accent. Irish?

Helen raised
her eyebrows questioningly. "And how do you plan to find
my daughter
?"