See Me in Your Dreams (20 page)

"About
Cheryl," she said knowingly.

"I have
to get my hands on that money. This guy means business."

Something he
didn't have to tell Keelin. Her aching head said it all. If the kidnapper would
hurt her to keep her out of the way, what would he do to Cheryl if Tyler
couldn't gather together the million dollars fast enough?

AS TYLER SETTLED KEELIN ON THE COUCH in
the conference room, he couldn't help but regret her involvement in his
problems. But that would have to end.

"Keelin,
from now on, I want you to stay out of the line of fire."

"I'm in
this with you, Tyler."

"But you
shouldn't be."

"I
must."

"I won't
have you getting hurt...or worse."

"I will
not have you telling me what to do," Keelin returned, rising to her
elbows. "I must see that Cheryl is safe...so that I can be at peace."

"That
sounds pretty ominous."

"Sit."
Keelin carefully swung her legs to the floor and straightened, then patted the
cushion beside her.

Tyler
complied.

And she went
on. "I told you about the first time I had one of my night terrors."

"The
friend you lost."

"I vowed
then never to involve myself again. For a decade I wasn't even tested. Any such
dream-visions were not of the desperate sort."

Tyler had the
feeling he knew where this was going. He swung an encouraging arm around her
shoulders and pulled her close. "Go on."

"I was
still living with my family at the time. A traveler by the name of Gavin Daley
did some chores for us. I fed him a good meal and gave him some of
Da's
old clothing, then saw him on his way. That night, I
dreamed through his eyes. A true nightmare," she whispered.

"You said
he was a traveler? You mean a visitor?"

"A person
whose only home is his horse-drawn caravan," she explained. "Many
don't like the wandering people. They chase travelers off their land...break up
their camps...sometimes hurt them."

"And you
saw someone trying to hurt this Gavin Daley?"

Keelin shuddered.
"Aye, that I did. A group of lads coming home from a night at the local
pub full of drink and meanness overturned his caravan. They were laughing when
Gavin escaped. When he saw what they had done to his home, he grabbed one of
the young men and threw him. The lad's head hit the wheel and he sank to the
ground unconscious. The others went after Gavin. Out for blood, they were, they
chased him down to
Lough
Danaan
.
I could see their black looks, hear their shouted curses. I could feel the
terror in Gavin Daley's heart." She was trembling as if she'd just
experienced the whole thing when she said, "And then I awoke...and did
nothing. I did not want to play the fool again, you see."

He squeezed
her and gently stroked her hair. "And later you were sorry you
didn't."

"The next
morning, they found Gavin Daley in the shallows of
Lough
Danaan
. After they beat him, they held him face down
until he drowned. I knew he was in desperate trouble...and I did nothing. That
poor man's death is on my soul."

"You're
not responsible," Tyler said, turning her so he could look into her face.
How could she possibly take such a burden unto herself? He stroked her cheek.
"You didn't hold him under the water. And even if you had called the
police, they might not have arrived in time to save him."

"But what
if the constable had been quick?" Her expression desperate, she demanded,
"Do you not see? I chose to hide from my responsibility and now I have a
man's death on my conscience. For years, I thought there was no way I could ever
forgive myself, but perhaps there is. I did not know your daughter or you,
Tyler Leighton. So why did I dream through her eyes but for fate giving me
another chance? By making certain your daughter is safe, perhaps I can redeem
myself. I truly cannot live with another such burden on my soul. Do you not
see?" she asked again.

He saw too
much. A woman who was afraid. She'd told him so. He hadn't really believed her
until this moment. She was a woman who most feared failing others. Feared that
she would be unable to carry the burden of responsibility her grandmother had
lain across her tender shoulders as a young girl.

And yet she
was truly the most fearless, selfless woman he'd ever had the good fortune to
know.

"I
see," Tyler agreed, silently vowing that if he couldn't stop Keelin, he
would find a way to protect her. He brushed her lips with his and stroked her
cheek again. "I do see."

Her expression
lightened. "Good. Good, then."

Tyler
untangled himself from her and rose. "Now you get some rest while I do what
I must to raise the ransom."

She nodded and
stretched out on the couch again. "Don't forget about me."

As if he ever
could.

Tyler followed
up with his broker and banker and real estate staff, checking on Keelin
in-between. He even called in a few favors, asking for personal loans. No
matter which way he added up the liquid assets available to him, however, they
didn't come to enough. He was short more than two hundred thousand dollars. He
neither had a serious prospect for the Barrington property nor could
second-mortgage the North Bluff estate until the next week at the earliest. He
was certain a week would be too late.

It was the
business, then.

Swallowing his
pride and his anger with his partner, he went to see Brock. The office door was
open and Brock was busy going over some contracts. Tyler knocked on the wooden
panel and stood in the doorway until the other man glanced up, his expression
immediately darkening.

"Can we
talk?" Tyler asked. "About the business."

"You've
actually thought about it, then?" his partner asked, sounding surprised.

"I've
been forced to..."

Brock's
features went blank. "What do you mean?"

"I need
to know how much getting out of our partnership is worth to you. Above taking
half of the company's assets and clients with you, that is."

Brock
indicated Tyler should come in and take a seat. "So make me an
offer."

Tyler didn't
fancy it up. "I need a quarter of a million in cash. Fast."

Brock didn't
even blink. "How fast?"

"I'm not
sure yet."

"You have
the rest of the ransom money?"

"I will
by tomorrow."

How did Brock
know about the ransom when he'd asked Pamela to keep the information to
herself? Tyler wondered. She must have told him anyway. But why? She knew he
and Brock were at odds. Then he remembered the scene between his partner and
assistant at the end of the hall. Pamela had brushed off his concern...

"The
kidnappers want a cool million for Cheryl's return," Tyler said, in case
Brock didn't have all the details. "I don't know when. I don't know where.
I only know it's going to be soon."

"And
you're not bringing the police in on this?"

"I won't
risk my daughter's life."

His
soon-to-be-ex-partner sprawled back in his chair. A moment's hesitation and he
said, "I think we can work something out...especially if you're willing to
hand over the Uptown renovation to me."

And Tyler took
his first deep breath in days.

"YOU HAVE COMPANY," KEELIN
SAID when they reached Tyler's North Bluff property just after sunset.

Two other abandoned
vehicles were parked under the carport. One she recognized as belonging to
Helen.

"Either
my ex-wife stole a spare set of keys the other night or she broke in,"
Tyler muttered, cutting the ignition.

Keelin didn't
react to the caustic remark. He hadn't, after all, given Helen Dunn the keys to
his home.

After a few
hours of rest – she couldn't exactly call her time on his sofa
sleep
since Tyler had checked on her
every half hour – plus a shower at her hotel and a fresh set of clothes, Keelin
felt decidedly better. As long as she didn't touch the left side of her head
carelessly, she reminded herself. Washing and combing through her hair had been
especially unpleasant.

Tyler raced
around the Jaguar before her door was half open. Continuing to be solicitous,
he helped her out. "If you like, you can go right upstairs."

"I would
not sleep," she cut in. "Besides, you need me." When he gave her
a questioning look, she kept her gaze steady with his. "Well, is that not
what you told me earlier?"

"It
was," he said. "But I don't need you to protect me from my
ex-wife."

As he opened
the front door, she returned, "You are more certain of that than I."

Laughter
carried into the foyer from the living room. Tyler stopped short in the
double-doorway, Keelin at his side. She saw that his ex-wife was entertaining a
muscular young man who looked to be in his mid-twenties. Thick golden brown
hair brushed a high forehead and topped perfect features that could belong to a
model or actor. Half-empty drink glasses sat on the coffee table and the two
appeared to be enjoying each other.

Tyler's
tension was palpable. And Keelin suspected old, harsh memories were surfacing.

Before he
could announce his presence, Helen spotted him. "Ah, there you are, Tyler.
I was beginning to think you would never come home." She shot a
significant glance at Keelin and raised her eyebrows. "Have you heard
anything about our daughter?"

"
My
daughter is none of
his
concern."

"Why,
that's where you're wrong, darling," Helen stated. "Mr. Weaver is an
associate of Jeremy Bryant, the private investigator
you
hired."

"Jack
Weaver," the young man said, getting to his feet and crossing the living
room with hand outstretched. "Jeremy had to leave town unexpectedly. The
case was one he'd been working on for weeks and something important broke. He
asked me to cover for him here."

Though Tyler
seemed reluctant, he shook the young man's hand. "And when was that?"

"A while
ago," he said vaguely. "You'd already left your office. Naturally, I
assumed you were headed home. So here I am."

"And
isn't it fortuitous that I was here to let Mr. Weaver in," Helen said.

"Fortuitous,"
Tyler echoed. "Question is, how did
you
get in?"

"I
was
married to you for several years,
Tyler. Long enough to know where you like to keep things. Finding your spare
keys was a snap."

"Well,
snap them over here," he insisted, holding out his hand.

"Don't be
a bore."

"Don't
make me take them from you."

Giving him a
dark look, Helen removed the keys from her pocket and threw them at him.
"This doesn't mean I'm going anywhere. I already brought my bag
upstairs."

"Why are
you here, Helen?" Tyler asked as he had last time.

"I made
one mistake turning my back on my child. I'm not about to make another."

They glared at
each other long enough to make Keelin uneasy. She tried to smooth things over.
"Would anyone like something to drink? Tea?"

"No!"
came the unanimous answer.

"What
I
would like," Tyler said, seating
himself in a wing-back chair, "is to know what Bryant came up with about
my daughter before leaving town."

Weaver
shrugged. "Not much. Her friend Tiffany said Cheryl had been upset about
something for the past few days. Your daughter wouldn't say what...only that it
involved you."

Keelin felt Tyler's
ache as if it were her own. And her curiosity on the subject was renewed.

"What did
you do to our daughter to upset her enough to make her run?" Helen
demanded.

"Nothing!"
Tyler insisted, yet Keelin heard the uncertainty in his denial.

Keelin perched
on the other vacant chair and turned to the private investigator. "What
about a reference to someone Cheryl knows who happens to live in the
city?"

"Jeremy
didn't pass on any such information."

"Then why
are you here?" Tyler demanded.

"To offer
my services to take up where he left off." Weaver pulled out a notebook
and pen. "Have you heard from your daughter since you last spoke to
Jeremy?"

"As a
matter of fact, yes."

Tyler told the
private investigator about the ransom notes and about the aborted telephone
call. Without explaining how they figured it out, he also told Weaver about the
Wicker Park location.

"That
narrows it down. What about the Chicago Police Department? Are they on
it?"

"Two
detectives asking questions. Patrols on the look-out. We need someone going
door-to-door, Weaver. I was hoping Bryant could round up a team."