last time. There was pain there, too, Ben.â
âIf youâre wrong, I swear to Godââ
âI could be. I wonât lie about it. This has only happened to me once before. But the dreams are so clear, so real. I see her faceâthe same face I saw in the newspapers. I hear the little boy, Robbie, calling her name.â
His head whipped toward her. âRobbie? Robbie Hines?â
âI donât know his last name. They were playing together in the yard that day.â
He tightened his hand into a fist to keep it from trembling. âRobbie was there that day. It wasnât in the papers.â
âRed hair and freckles?â
âThatâs him.â
âYou have to help me, Ben. You have no other choice.â
He took a deep breath and slowly released it. âI need to sleep on this. Pete came up with your address and phone number. Unless I regain my senses, Iâll be in touch with you soon.â
Autumn gave him a tentative smile, fighting to hold back tears. âThank you.â
She started to get up from the booth as an exotic, olive-skinned woman walked up to the table. She was tall and elegantly thin, her skin silky smooth, the most beautiful woman Autumn had ever seen.
âSorry I am late, querido, but the limo got tied up in traffic.â Her nearly black eyes swung to Autumn. âI see you have kept yourself entertained.â
âAutumn Sommers this is Delores Delgato.â
âPleased to meet you,â Autumn said. âI didnât mean to interfere with your evening, Ms. Delgato. I just needed to speak to Mr. McKenzie about a personal matter.â
âThat is all right, chica. If it hadnât been you it would have been someone else.â
Ben frowned.
âI look forward to your call,â Autumn said to him, feeling awkward and desperate to escape.
Ben just nodded. As Autumn turned to walk away, he helped Delores Delgato remove her burgundy cashmere jacket then seated her beside him in the booth.
Winding her way through the tables toward the front door, Autumn stepped out into the crisp Seattle night air. She had accomplished her goal: convinced Ben McKenzie to listen and perhaps begin to believe her at least a little.
From now on, she didnât think he would be able to turn away. Molly was his daughter. From the pain Autumn had seen in his face, it was obvious how much he loved her. If Molly was alive, he would have to try to find her.
He would have no other choice.
Â
Ben endured his evening with Delores, all the while wishing the night would end. His mind was on Autumn Sommers and on Molly and whether or not he dared to believe she might still be alive.
Though Delores made it clear she expected him to join her in her suite at the Fairmont Olympic Hotel, he declined. Sometime over the past few days, sex with the exotic model had lost its appeal. Like most of the women he dated, Delores required a lot of attention. Currently his attention was fixed somewhere else.
Leaving Delores fuming in the grandiose lobby of the five-star hotel, he walked the few blocks to his penthouse. The answering machine in his office was blinking. Next to it, a stack of papers waited in the fax machine.
He played back the phone messages, including one from Pete Rossi explaining the fax: more information Pete had collected on Autumn Sommers. Ben lifted the pages out of the machine, walked over and sank down in his butter-soft leather chair.
He skimmed through Peteâs report, the high points of which the detective had given him over the phone.
Autumn Kathleen Sommers. Born June 3, 1980 to Kathleen L. and Maxwell M. Sommers.
Kathleen Sommers had died in 1993 when Autumn was thirteen. Max Sommers, a fireman, had raised her. He was retired now, giving him more time to devote to his hobby, rock climbing. It was Max who had sparked his daughterâs interest in the sport. At twenty-seven she was a certified member of the American Mountain