ChasingShadows (3 page)

Head crooked to the side, he stroked his chin. “Are you
afraid of losing my money?”

Is he for real?
“I’m sorry, but you’ll accomplish that
on your own.” Juliana kept her tone guarded. “Altz is going down. Unless you
know more than the business and financial world, I strongly urge you not to
waste your money.”

No one wanted to invest in a company knocking at
bankruptcy’s door. Her old boss in New York had referred Nicholas to her, and
he gave high praise for Nicholas’ business acumen. She trusted that connection,
but this proposal landed precariously close to the edge of lunacy.

“I’ve done my research.” His voice held a breeze of
condescension, his shoulders squared and his chin jutted.

“Is your research based on insider information?”

He gave her a dead-on look. “No.”

Liar.
“How did you come to your conclusions?”

He smiled. “I have significant faith in their new product
line.”

The company did have a respectable product line, but a sorry
management team. She sighed in resignation. She’d conduct her own investigation.
“What about a financial plan? Long-term financial planning is my focus now.”

He winked. “Let’s start with the first million and work our
way from there.”

“Give me a few days to prepare a proposal.” She punched in
several keystrokes on her laptop. “I’ll have my assistant schedule a follow-up
for next week.”

“Join me for dinner tonight.” His eyes twinkled.

The invitation, a command really, caught her off-guard. He
was an attractive catch. Another day and she would have jumped on it just for
the fun of it. “A rain check?”

“Of course.” Nicholas flashed a Cheshire cat grin and rose. “I’ll
set up that dinner party with those high flyers I mentioned during our call
last week. They’re dying to meet you now that you’re on the West Coast.” Full
of confidence, he added, “Then we’ll have our dinner,” before turning and
swaggering out.

Arrogant bastard
, she mused. However, if he produced
referrals with fat wallets, she’d let him charm her. Another day.

A small smile tugged at her mouth, adrenaline kicking in. This
was the sort of day she lived for. One rich new client and several more on the
horizon. She geared up her mind for her next appointment.

* * * * *

The desk phone jangled several times before Alex interrupted
his report writing and answered. “MacKenzie.”

“Hey, it’s me.”

His twin sister’s singsong voice sparked life in his tired
body. “What’s up?”

“My idiot father-in-law.” Ire slipped into her voice.

Disgust began to build inside Alex. “Now what?” His gaze
settled on the folders that threatened to topple off the file cabinet in the
corner. Anything to avoid the work on his desk, even listen to what he knew he
wouldn’t like.

“They want more visitations. He’s harassing me again through
that stupid butler, Bremley. Ugh, that man creeps me out.”

“What—” Alex cut in.

“Get this.” She continued as if Alex hadn’t uttered a sound.
“That trollop they hired to baby-sit is leaving the estate when she’s not
supposed to. I found out today that Sharon saw them at the park on Saturday. With
Bremley in tow.” She sucked in a breath. “Alex, I don’t like what’s going on.”

That didn’t make sense. Sharon and Andrea not only lived
next door to one another, they worked together. They talked about everything
and were practically best friends. “Today’s Thursday and Sharon just told you?”
The scar on his face twitched, but he resisted rubbing it. It had been driving
him crazy since Juliana had touched his face earlier.

“Yeah, well, she’s on a space trip right now with her own
problems. Fertility treatments.” Andrea paused for a half-second. “Alex, what
am I going to do?”

His niece disliked her grandparents. But they were
“encouraging” Lisette to visit them regularly by giving her anything she wanted
and keeping secrets.

Alex’s gaze shifted to the mounds of paperwork on his desk
demanding attention. He groaned and rubbed his eyes. He didn’t have time for
this now, and it wasn’t so important that it couldn’t wait.

He sighed heavily. “Let me think about it. Can we talk
tomorrow?”

“Oh. All right.” She exhaled a loud, frustrated breath. “You’re
still coming over Saturday to fix the screens, right? Dinner’s on me. We’ll
barbecue and go swimming.” Her voice turned bubbly again. “Bring James.”

“Where else would we be?” His gut clenched as he considered
if he should mention Juliana. Andrea had missed Juliana as much as he did. After
an indecisive moment, he asked, “Guess who I ran into today?”

Silence fell on the line. “Beats me,” she finally said.

“Your old best friend.” He set the phone away to avoid the expected
ear-splitting screech, but none met his ear.

“Huh?”

“Juliana Westwood.” He balled a few pink phone messages and
tossed them through the basketball hoop hanging on the wall to join the other
paper balls littering his floor.

Another pea-soup hush landed on the phone line.

Andrea cut through the silence. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Hell, no.”

“God, Alex. I can’t believe it!” she exclaimed. “Where has
she been?”

“New York.” Alex slid a pen end-to-end between his fingers.

“When did she get back? What happened? Did she tell—”

She’d ask a million questions if he let her. “Andrea?” He
shook his head, wishing she’d take a breather or two.

“Is that Alex? Tell him I said hello.” Alex heard Sharon’s
familiar chirpy voice in the background. “Let’s go, Andrea!”

“Oh crap. I’ve got a nurse’s meeting,” Andrea said in a rush.
“Ask Juliana to dinner on Saturday. I really want to catch up. Love you.”

The line dropped dead. “Love you too,” he muttered,
returning the receiver to the cradle. He rotated his chair around and stared
out at the illuminated parking lot.

He could hardly believe twelve years had flown by since the
nightmare day Juliana disappeared. No goodbye, no note, no nothing. One part of
him had always wished she’d never come back. The other part hung onto the hope
that she’d return someday.

He’d felt as if time stood still when he saw her sitting in
the conference room. More beautiful than he remembered. Brilliant emerald eyes.
Long honey-blonde hair. Perfect angelic face.

His groin tightened in vivid recollection of the mere sight
of her. Her five foot seven frame was firm and slim like an eighteen-year-old. The
silken tan skin of her bare legs made his blood surge.

The door banged shut and Alex saw James’ reflection in the
window. He swiveled his chair around and glanced up at his best friend. “That’s
twice you’ve done that to me today.”

“Deal with it.” James grinned and threw a manila folder on
the desk. He leaned forward and rested his fists on the cushioned back of a
steel-legged chair. “Going home?” Alex had invited James to live with him
temporarily after James split with his wife, so they kept tabs on one another’s
whereabouts.

“Later.”

Undeterred, James twisted the chair around and straddled it.
He nodded at the file on the cluttered desk. “My report on the psychic.”

Alex rubbed his eyes, glanced at the clock and then at the
file. Slowly, he picked up the folder and opened it. He wasn’t in the mood to
read the contents, but paperwork came with the territory. Alex scanned the
computerized report, inked his signature, and laid it aside.

Drained, he settled in the worn leather chair. “Another
kidnapping. Just what we need.”

“Nothin’ we can do.”

“Can’t panic the city over a psychic’s premonition that may
never pan out.” Alex hated his own words. He wished they could do something to
forestall Juliana’s premonition. But he knew her potential all too well. She
had been wrong only once that he remembered.

The folder caught his gaze. “Don’t file it yet.”

James nodded. “She’s legit.” He crossed his arms over the
chair top. “Off the record, Jamison at NYPD called her his ‘dream chaser’. He
said we might as well put her on payroll. We should be so lucky to have her.”

Alex grunted at the praise. He always figured Juliana would
leave a mark on the world somehow, somewhere.

“One warning.” James paused for a beat. “Jamison said to
keep the media away from her or we’d lose her. Her terms. Wouldn’t tell me any
more.”

Alex grabbed a half-full cola and guzzled it down. The warm,
flat liquid cut through the sourness in his mouth. He set the can next to two
cups of stale morning coffee.

James’ face was sober as he looked at Alex. “Who is she?”

Alex stood and faced the windows. “Every boy’s fantasy girl
at Mission City High.”

“Oh, man.” James let out a low whistle. “The one who split on
you? That fucking sucks.”

“Tell me about it.” Alex skimmed his hands through his thick
hair and rubbed his scalp. Weariness claimed his body, numbing his mind.

“What happened between you two?”

Alex turned around. “I need a drink.”

“Just one?”

“As many as it’ll take.”

Chapter Two

Friday, August 11

Silently, he climbed through the window into the small
room. The door to the hallway was closed, and satisfaction pooled warmly in his
gut. The faint amber glow of a nightlight lit the darkened bedroom.

Wraithlike, he picked his way through the toys scattered
on the floor. The old saying “quiet as a church mouse” sprang to mind, and he
suppressed a chuckle. He gently sat on the bed beside the sleeping child. Cupping
his palm over the girl’s mouth, he caressed her baby-smooth skin with his thumb.

He withdrew a juice box and straw from his windbreaker
pocket and plucked the tape off the hole he’d enlarged on the top. He plunged
the straw into the box and set it on the nightstand. Tightening his hand over
the girl’s mouth, he nudged her with his knee.

The bed vibrated as her small body shook awake. Her eyes
opened wide with a mix of fear and surprise.

“Hi,” he whispered. “Shh.” He rested his index finger on
his lips. “We’re going to surprise Mommy. Will you be quiet if I take my hand
away?” he asked with what he hoped was a warm smile.

Recognition crossed her face. The fear in her eyes
subsided as she nodded. He removed his hand, still smiling at her.

A heavy whiff of honeysuckle wafted through the open
window, cloying, hateful. He nearly gagged on the smell.

“Why are you here?” Her whisper held more curiosity than
fear. She pushed aside the vivid floral comforter and knelt next to him.

He brought his finger to his lips again. “Remember how we
play the hush-shush game?”

She nodded, grinning excitedly. Fervent eyes flitted to
the juice box on the pink-painted nightstand.

He lifted the box and handed it to her. “Drink it all so
you don’t get thirsty later.”

She eagerly took the juice box and began sipping through
the straw. Delight rippled through him at his foresight. The mild sedative in
the punch would make her compliant without putting her completely to sleep.

He stepped away from the bed and grabbed her sweater
hanging on a chair in the corner. Snatching a pair of sneakers from the floor,
he waited for her to finish the drink. “Put these on, it’s chilly outside.”

Her eyes rounded, large as quarters. “Where are we
going?”

“It’s a surprise. Mommy will follow us soon.”

She scooted to the bed’s edge, and he helped her put on
the shoes and sweater.

“I know how to tie my own shoes,” she whispered, proudly
displaying her double knot.

“You did a fine job,” he said. “Now let’s keep quiet so
we don’t wake Mommy.”

He scooped her into his arms and shoved the empty juice
box into his pocket.

Her tiny arms wrapped around his neck. The fluffy bunny
she gripped in one hand felt almost weightless against his back. He decided to
let her bring the toy. After all, she never slept without her favorite stuffed
animal.

“Don’t make a sound or you’ll spoil the surprise.” With a
fluid movement, he stood before the open window.

She giggled. “Are we going through the window?”

“Shh.” He drew his forefinger and thumb across his lips
and uttered a faint zipping sound.

She copied the act, struggling to contain a grin.

The only sounds audible were the faint rustling of their
clothes and their excited breathing.

Exultation wrapped around him as he climbed out into the
moonlit night. His triumph was complete when he joined his silent witness—the
full moon—watching from the star-filled sky.

* * * * *

Her grip tightened on his hand and her back stiffened as
they stepped into the dark house. They walked into the living room and he
hurried to flick on a couple lights. The girl glanced furtively around the
meagerly furnished room.

In a small, distressed voice, she asked, “When will Mommy
be here?”

He crouched down, peering into her face. Tears welled in
her eyes.

“Where’s my mommy?” The tears trickled unchecked down her
cheeks.

“She’ll be here soon.” His lies came easy, and warmth
trickled through him. “You’ll go back to sleep. When you wake up, your mommy
will be here.”

Had he given her enough sedative? The next dose would
definitely be stronger. The last thing he needed was a loud, distraught child.

He lifted her into his arms and carried her down the hall
into a dimly lit bedroom. A dresser, matching nightstand and bunk beds with dragonfly
bedspreads furnished the room. Coordinating wallpaper covered the walls and a
thick pink curtain hung over a portion of one wall, pulled open to expose
wallpaper where the window used to exist.

* * * * *

Juliana tossed and flailed about on the disheveled bed. The
sheets wrapped around her, binding her like a mummy. “No, no!” The uninvited
words jolted her awake.

Her head throbbed with the intensity of a full-blown
migraine. The malevolence permeating the dream sank deep into her soul.
Goosebumps broke out over her body as her skin crawled with
his
exhilaration
and satisfaction.

The kidnapping had happened.

She’d managed to claim a few hours’ sleep before the vision
played through her head. Juliana had witnessed the crime along the fringes of the
kidnapper’s mind.

Morning sunlight streamed through her bedroom window,
seeping through the sheer bed enclosure. The warm summer rays offered a sliver
of relief. But she knew she wouldn’t see a moment’s peace until the child was
returned to her home, safe and sound, however long it took. Even though yesterday
she had known the actual kidnapping would follow her premonition, the reality
never ceased to fill her with sorrow and dread.

Juliana leaned against the carved headboard, tugging at the
entwined sheet and throwing it off. She grabbed the TV remote from the night
table and punched the “on” button. After flipping through several satellite
channels, she found a local news program. A commercial break ended, and the
news team returned with day’s top story. The abduction. No surprise there.

Her Persian cat jumped on the bed, craving attention. She
absently hugged his silky, fluffy body to her chest, engrossed in the unfolding
news story.

The newscast reported the details of the crime before
proceeding to the child’s identity and background. “Lisette Chamber is the
six-year-old granddaughter of billionaire Grantham Chamber II, founder and
chairman of GC Media Corporation.”

Juliana could barely concentrate on the victim’s name and
her family as the kidnapper’s leftover taint dissolved. Her headache receded,
but her blood flowed icily. She squeezed her cat until he squealed and squirmed
for freedom.

“Sorry, JB.” She released her hold and set him on the bed. He
arched his raven-black body and rubbed his head against her bare thigh, purring
madly. The unconditional love of her cat relaxed her for a heartbeat, until she
began searching her mind for details of the crime, particulars from the
kidnapper’s mind.

The more deeply she delved into his mind, the more she
realized he possessed strong electrical currents in his brain. He had connected
easily with her powerful and receptive mind. It wasn’t unusual for her to think
or to see everything a perpetrator did while in an excited state, when his
transference was the strongest. But it was rare that she felt his emotions,
felt what he felt. This man reached out to her in
all
ways possible
¾
the strongest psychic connection. She didn’t
like it one bit. Fear chilled her thoroughly, and she pulled the comforter over
her.

Juliana wished she could determine the kidnapper’s identity,
but the puzzle pieces only trickled into her mind. At least she could appease
herself with the fact that consistency patterned her premonitions and visions.
She‘d eventually dream enough to ID him.

An unwelcome thought surfaced, and she rolled on her side to
the edge of the bed. Pushing her hand past the bed skirt, she groped on the
floor until she felt cold, hard steel. She pulled the gun out from under the
bed and examined the .38 revolver. It was loaded, safety catch on. Frowning,
she returned the weapon to its hiding place.

She exhaled deeply, expelling the taint from inside. She
hated guns, hated the reasons she possessed one.

* * * * *

The phone’s jarring ring scarcely registered in Alex’s
brain. As much as he willed it, the sound refused to stop. His head throbbed
and lava spread through his gut.

Three beers and a night obsessing about Juliana had reduced
Alex to shambles.

Muttering, he fumbled for the cordless phone on the
nightstand, knocking the lamp against the wall. “Shit,” he groaned. His mouth
tasted like sawdust, his throat scratchy.

He grabbed a bottle of antacids from the nightstand and
dumped a couple in his mouth. The phone continued to ring until he finally
clicked it on. The antacid bottle dropped out of his uncooperative hand. He
cursed as the multicolored tablets scattered across discarded clothes carpeting
the floor.

“Better be damn good,” he managed to say between bites of
the bone-dry tablets.

“Alex?” a familiar high-pitched female voice questioned.

Gravity pulled at his lethargic muscles and his arm refused
to cooperate with his brain. “Yeah?” Alex reclined back on the bed and wedged
the phone between the pillow and his ear.

“It’s Sharon Douglas.” Urgency vibrated in her voice. “You
need to get over here. Lisette’s missing. Andrea—”

The words shoved Alex fully awake. He leaped from the
disheveled bed, stumbling on a pair of jeans pooled on the floor. He caught the
nightstand with his free hand, preventing a head-first crash into the wall.

“What do you mean, missing?” Cold iron edged his words as
terror gripped him. He grabbed his rumpled pants and pulled them on one-handed.

“Andrea woke up this morning and found Lisette’s bed empty
and her window wide open. Matthew and I heard her screaming and rushed over.”

The last vestiges of sluggishness cleared from Alex’s mind. Andrea’s
hysterical crying in the background on Sharon’s end nearly crushed him. With
fierce determination, he forced the experienced cop in him to take over and
grab the reins.

“Listen to me, Sharon,” he said in a level, authoritative
voice. “Don’t let anyone inside the house or backyard. Stay out of Lisette’s
bedroom. Don’t call anyone. Can you stay with Andrea until I get there?” He
waited for her affirmative response, then flung the phone on the bed and
shouted for James.

“I’m up, man.” James sauntered out of the bathroom, hair wet
and a towel wrapped around his waist. “You look like shit.” He laughed, but
stopped when he caught sight of Alex’s grim expression. “What—”

“Lisette’s gone.” Alex snatched a clean black polo shirt off
the top of his laundry basket, not bothering to waste time dressing in his usual
suit and tie.

Color drained from James’ face. “What?”

Alex wasn’t going to sugar-coat it, knowing that James
harbored a crush on Alex’s widowed sister and loved Lisette perhaps as much as
Alex himself did. He seized his service revolver tucked in its holster from the
headboard shelf.

“Andrea found Lisette’s bed empty, window open.” Surprisingly,
he managed to maintain his cool. His sister would need to depend on his ability
to remain the composed professional, despite his overwhelming desire to torture
the SOB who had snatched Lisette.

“Juliana Westwood’s dream came true.” James’ voice sounded
faraway.

* * * * *

Yellow police tape secured Andrea’s condominium. Shaken,
Alex consoled his frantic twin in the living room while the forensics team
searched for evidence and dusted for fingerprints.

The crime scene investigators discovered a footprint in the
recently watered flower garden below Lisette’s window. The otherwise summer-parched
yard offered no additional clues.

Outside the condominium, neighbors and onlookers milled in
anxious groups, watching the crime scene with a mixture of curiosity and fear. James
interviewed neighbors and studied the onlookers for anything out of the
ordinary. Sometimes perpetrators returned to the crime scene if they knew they
could mingle with the crowd and remain unnoticed.

Dane Christensen, the lead forensics technician, entered the
living room. “Lieutenant?”

Alex gave Dane a hopeful look. “What did you find?” he asked
in a strained voice.

“Nothing new. We’ve dusted and searched the bedroom. Snapped
photos and made a plaster of the footprint.”

“Keep looking,” Alex snapped. Andrea’s heart-rending sobbing
shocked his soul. He rubbed her back, providing what little comfort he could.

Dane pushed his gloved hands into his coat pockets, jiggling
loose coins. “I’d like Mrs. Chamber to tell us what’s missing in the bedroom.”

Alex glanced down at his sister’s head. Her auburn hair was
limp and messy from a night in bed and from his fingers sifting through the
long locks. He’d give his life to strip away her pain and bring Lisette home
safe and sound.

“Andrea, sweetie.” Alex kissed the top of her head and
handed her a clean tissue. “Do you think you can do that?”

She took the tissue, her hand falling in a limp heap on the
pile of crumpled tissues in her lap. She gave a loud sniff and lifted her head
off Alex’s chest.

“Yes,” she said roughly.

Alex gazed into her blue eyes, grimacing at the pain and
horror that dulled their usual vividness. A raw and primitive grief overwhelmed
him. He wanted to lash out at the person who threatened to destroy his family. He’d
vaguely understood what drove crime victims or their families to violence while
protecting their loved ones. He now experienced the same feelings at a gut
level.