He narrowed his eyes. Whoever planted the photographs was playing a deadly game and daring them to play.
Suddenly, from the safety of Laura’s arms, Nicki cried out, “I know where one of the pictures was taken! The wall with the rainbow painted on it is downtown somewhere between Huntington and Woodsworth Avenues.”
“Good work!” Laura exclaimed. “Now we have a place to start.” She hugged the girl’s shoulders. “Can you copy the photos with your computer?”
“You want a copy for the lab?” Nicki asked.
“Yes, please. As soon as possible.”
As the teenager left the room at a fast clip, Laura turned to Peter. “We need to get Nicki away from this house. Whoever kidnapped Phoebe has been here twice.”
“I agree,” he said, “but where do we send her? Her parents are gone, and she doesn’t have any friends.”
Laura hesitated. “I know it’s never been done before, but could we send her forward in time to the lab? Would GAP even work that way?”
Peter sat down quickly and blinked. “I never thought about it before, but theoretically, it should work. Our cartridge not only contains our scans, but detailed data on Nicki as well. It should enable her to surf GAP, but we’ve never used cartridges in that manner… Do you think we should? Would it cause a Time Tsunami?”
“I can’t see why it would, but Zeke will know if it’s too dangerous to attempt.”
“If we send her to the lab, who would she stay with?”
“Sam and Sue,” Laura replied. “Nicki has a good head on her shoulders. I think we can trust her to keep our time surf a secret from Dan and Gil.”
He nodded. “Laura, you’re on to something. Whoever took Phoebe is brutal. We’re going to be gone most of the day, and we might not get back tonight. I don’t like the idea of Nicki being here alone.” Rubbing the back of his neck, he growled, “I don’t want that monster to get his hands on anyone else—especially a young, innocent girl.”
As Nicki came back into the room with copies of the photos, Peter asked her to sit down.
“Nicki,” Laura said gently, “how often do your parents call when they’re out of town?”
The girl looked uncomfortable. “I’m sure they mean to call, but they never do. They get awfully busy when they travel.”
“Would anyone miss you if you were gone for a few days?”
“No, why?”
Peter leaned forward. “How would you like to take a strange trip?”
* * *
“Thomas,” Zeke said urgently, “we have an unscheduled transmission.”
Across the room, Thomas jumped to his feet. “It must be Peter and Laura. Put it through.”
The GAP beam glowed blue and shimmered. As it cleared, Zeke could see into Nicki’s living room. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Is anyone hurt? Have you found Phoebe?”
Peter shook his head. “Nothing’s wrong, but I need to ask you a technical question. Can Nicki travel to the lab using our cartridge?”
Zeke blinked in surprise. “Yes, but no one’s utilized GAP like that before.”
“I think today, we must. Whoever kidnapped Phoebe has been to this house twice. He left more photographs on the front door.” Peter tossed the pictures through the portal.
Zeke picked them up. When he came to the photo of Phoebe chained to the floor, he quickly turned to one side and began to retch. When he regained his composure, he looked at Peter and said firmly, “Send Nicki through.”
Peter nodded.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Nicki wheeled her suitcase down the hospital corridor. She felt nervous, but more than that, she felt excited. She’d seen so many amazing things that her head whirled. Surfing twelve years forward in time had been an invigorating experience. Her skin was still tingling, and she’d never felt more alive.
Uncle Thomas—as he insisted on being called—had been very kind. He explained all about Dan and Gil and the little deception that was taking place to protect Gil’s health. It made her feel special to be trusted with such a big secret. She knew these were important people, and the fact that they were making her part of their group gave her new insight into her self-worth.
When they arrived at Gil’s room, Thomas’s knock was answered by a silver-haired man. “Is there a problem?” the man asked quietly. “Are Peter and Laura all right?”
“They’re fine,” Thomas whispered. “But we need your help. Can you talk?”
The man nodded and closed the door behind him. As he stepped into the hall, he smiled at Nicki. “Hello, there,” he said. “I’m Pastor Ableman, but you can call me Sam.”
Nicki smiled. She instantly liked the tall, silver-haired preacher with the kind eyes.
“This is Nicki,” Thomas said briefly. “Let’s go to the waiting room, and I’ll explain.”
Sam took Nicki’s suitcase for her, and when they entered the waiting room, he bought her a can of soda pop and a candy bar. When they were settled, Thomas took the photos out of his pocket and handed them to Sam. Sam stared at the pictures in silence. His mouth transformed into a grim line. When he came to the photo of Phoebe chained to the floor, his expression turned fierce.
“I see,” Sam said briefly.
Thomas nodded. “The situation is worse than we thought, and the person who did this has been to Nicki’s house twice. We didn’t believe it was safe for her to remain there any longer.”
“I agree,” Sam said. “How can I help?”
Thomas yanked on his collar. “Could you and Sue watch Nicki for a while? I’d do it, but it’s more appropriate for Nicki to be in Sue’s care.”
“Are we still keeping Peter and Laura’s surf a secret?”
Thomas hesitated. “That depends on Gil. How is she doing?”
“She’s better, but I’d like to keep her away from stress a while longer—Danny too.” Sam paused. “I believe we need to bring Sue into our confidence.”
Thomas nodded. “I concur.”
“I’ll go get her. Excuse me, please.”
Sam rose swiftly, and after a few minutes, he and his wife entered the waiting room. Nicki watched wordlessly as Thomas and Sam explained what was happening and showed Sue the photographs.
“Who is that poor girl?” Sue asked with a shudder.
“Phoebe Reynolds,” Thomas replied. “She’s a senior cadet taking her field exam.”
Sue’s eyes flew to Thomas’s face. “After Gil’s horrible experience with Rick, I thought cadets were no longer permitted to work violent cases.”
“They aren’t,” Thomas assured her. “Phoebe was counseling Nicki. There was no indication that violence was remotely possible. We aren’t sure who is doing this, or why.”
Sue took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “Are Laura and Peter safe?”
“For the moment,” Thomas replied. “But we couldn’t risk leaving Nicki in the path of that brutal man. The violence he has exhibited is extremely sadistic—he reminds me of Rick.”
Sue gently fingered her neck as if remembering something unpleasant.
Nicki watched as Sam looked at his wife in concern.
“I’m fine,” she whispered, stroking her husband’s cheek. “Rick is dead and gone.”
As Sam squeezed her hand, Sue cleared her throat. “Do we really need to deceive the kids?”
Sam looked uncomfortable. “If we don’t, what do you think will happen?”
“Gil will be out of bed in a flash, and Danny will go crazy trying to convince her to take it easy while he oversees TEMCO operations from the hospital.” Sue hesitated and finally nodded. “You were right to tell me. If we’re going to pull this off, it’ll need a woman’s touch.”
“I thought as much,” Sam said.
Standing, Sue studied Nicki with narrowed eyes. Tapping her lips with her forefinger, she murmured, “I believe we’re looking at Lucy’s daughter.” She gave Nicki’s cheek a gentle pat and then marched back to her husband in feigned frustration. “Sam, I can’t
believe we forgot Lucy was sending Nicki for a visit! You should’ve reminded me! I’m so glad Zara put Nicki on a plane to D.C. She knew I’d never forgive myself if I missed the visit of Lucy’s daughter!”
“Lucy?” Sam muttered with a grin. “Uh, who’s Lucy?”
Sue gave Sam’s chest a swift swat. “My very best friend from high school. You know that! Lucy and I used to run around together all the time, but we lost touch and only reconnected last summer. I assured Lucy that I’d love to have Nicki visit while she and her husband went on vacation. I’m so embarrassed that Nicki’s visit slipped my mind. I could sink right through the floor! I really could!”
Sam chuckled and kissed his wife’s cheek. “I’m glad you’re on our side.”
* * *
Under the peeling paint of the rainbow, Peter hoisted himself out of the dumpster and said to Laura, “The trash must’ve been picked up since the photo was taken. I didn’t find anything that pointed to the cadets. What about you?”
“I’ve walked the whole alley and didn’t find anything either,” she replied. “We must be missing something. Besides being marked as number one, the photo of the dumpster was the only photograph with a location that could be traced. Whoever’s doing this is playing a game. He wants to be found. He must’ve left a clue.”
“If he did, I sure don’t see it.” Peter picked up an old shoe and tossed it into the dumpster. Wiping his hands on his jeans, he gave a tired sigh. Even with Nicki’s directions, it’d taken most of the day to walk downtown and find the right alley. He was grateful Nicki had given them an approximate location. If she hadn’t, they’d still be searching backstreets.
As Laura began moving the empty cardboard boxes leaning against the dumpster, Peter stared at his surroundings. Brick walls rose on both sides, and there weren’t any windows or fire escapes that could serve as entry points into the buildings. Other than the dumpster and a few greasy puddles, the alley was empty.
Suddenly, Laura cried out, “Angelina’s goldfish in numerical code! Peter, look!”
Hustling to her side, Peter squinted at where she was pointing. Down along the bottom of the dumpster a series of numbers was written in black marker.
“Good eyes, Miss Marvel!” Peter exclaimed, putting an arm around her shoulders.
Laura giggled and wiggled out of his grasp. “Go away, you awful man. You smell like rotten tuna fish.”
He smiled. Her giggle was quickly becoming one of his favorite sounds. Grinning at her, he squatted to inspect the numbers. “I’m sure this is a cryptogram. Do you have a pen?”
Nodding, Laura handed him a pen and paper. He jotted the numbers down, murmuring as he wrote, “25-21-11 / 22-5-10-17-12 / 20-22-5-9 / 20-22-19-20 / 22-5-10-17 / 20-22-5-9-12-5-10-14-5-12.”
“What do we do now?” Laura asked.
“Head back to Nicki’s and work this puzzle out. You can take a whack at it while I shower.”
Laura laughed and moved upwind. “A shower’s a good idea, and so’s a gallon of cologne. I hate to say it, but you smell perfectly awful.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Peter came out of the bathroom, toweling his hair. Laura smiled at him and patted the chair beside her. He sat down, allowing his towel to fall around his shoulders. Yawning behind his hand, he caught Laura giving him a sideways glance. “Something the matter?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No. You just smell extra nice.”
“No more tuna fish?” He laughed.
“Not even a whiff.”
As Laura leaned forward to pick up her pencil, Peter’s eyes were caught by the sight of her bun. After their long day, it was hanging loosely behind her neck. He was sure that if he pulled a couple of hairpins, her curls would spill in glorious waves around her shoulders. He wondered if he were daring enough to try.
Laura pushed a piece of paper toward him. “We have about forty minutes until contact time. I’ve managed to figure out part of the cryptogram. I’ll go shower while you figure out the rest.”
Peter sighed as she rose from her chair—the intriguing question about hairpins would have to wait. He looked down at her work. The message now read, 25-O-11 / H-E-10-17-S / T-H-E-9 / T-H-A-T / H-E-10-17 / T-H-E-9-12-E-10-14-E-S. She’d made excellent progress. Putting hairpins out of his mind, he got down to business.
* * *
Leaning back in her chair, Crystal hung up the phone after cancelling her cruise. Missing the trip was a blow, but she couldn’t imagine leaving town until her friends were safe. She drummed her fingers against the table. She felt at a loose end, and she wasn’t sure what to do.
“Call Marc, and tell him you forgive him. Ask him to forgive you for—”
Springing out of her chair, Crystal grabbed her handbag. She knew what God wanted her to do, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Instead of wandering around her apartment feeling convicted, she’d drive over to Hawking Hall and figure out what had left deep scratches on the marble staircase.
* * *
When Laura came back from her shower, Peter caught his breath and smiled. She was dressed in jeans and a cashmere top. Her feet were bare, and she looked adorable. Best of all, her hair was hanging in curls down to her waist. She was brushing it as she walked toward him.
“I’m sorry I’m such a mess,” she said. “But my hair’s so thick that if I put it up while it’s damp, it takes forever to dry.”
“I don’t mind. I think it’s rather lovely.”
Laura blushed and continued brushing. “Did you figure out the rest of the cryptogram?”
He nodded. “It says, ‘God helps them that help themselves.’”
Laura slammed her brush against the table with a decided whack. “That clue’s worthless! I was hoping for an address—not an invitation to work harder. What do we do now? Go back to the alley and conduct another search?”
“I don’t think so.” He handed her the photograph of the blurred colors. “This says, ‘#2. The truth shall set you free.’ That quote and our cryptogram are both religious in nature. Squint your eyes—do you see what I see?”
Squinting at the photograph, Laura gasped. “It’s a stained glass window!”
“That’s what I thought too. I’ll bet our next clue will be at a church. We just have to figure out which one.” He motioned toward the open phonebook on the table. “But that’s going to be harder than it sounds, there are sixty-three churches in this town.”
“Then it looks like we have our work cut out for us.” She groaned, pulling the phonebook toward her and scanning the yellow pages.
Watching her, Peter finally succumbed to temptation. Reaching over, he picked up a lock of her hair and wrapped it around his finger. It was as silky as kitten fur.
Laura looked at him.
“Your hair’s beautiful,” he murmured.
Blushing, she tugged her hair gently from his fingers. “I think it’s dry enough,” she said breathlessly. “I’m going to put it up and get it out of my eyes.”
He caught her arm. “Leave it down tonight. There’s no sense going to all that trouble when it’s so close to bedtime.”
His hazel eyes captured her gaze. Peter heard her breath catch. Slowly, she nodded.
* * *
Crystal sat on Hawking Hall’s staircase and ran her finger over one of the scratches in the marble. She’d been staring at the scratches for a good twenty minutes. She knew they were important, and for some reason, she felt they were connected to Wade Kingston’s disappearance. She just couldn’t connect the dots.
“Call Marc, and tell him you forgive him. Ask him to forgive you for holding a grudge.”
Crystal groaned and put her head down on her knees. It didn’t matter how far she ran, God wasn’t going to give up. Pushing at her owlish glasses, she took her cell phone from her pocket and slowly punched in his number.
* * *
“We have a transmission,” Zeke shouted from across the lab. “It’s them!”
Thomas sighed in relief—he
’d been worried all day. “Put it through.”
Across the beam, Thomas could see Peter and Laura sitting on the couch. They looked exhausted. “What’s the news?” he asked.
“We still haven’t found Phoebe,” Peter replied, “but the photo of the dumpster led us to a cryptogram that’s pointing us toward a church. The photo of the blurred colors may be a stained glass window.”
Thomas nodded grimly.
“Zeke,” Peter asked, “has GAP uncovered any suspects?”
“There isn’t anyone in the vicinity of Nicki’s city who’d have a grudge against TEMCO or even know of its existence.” Removing his glasses, Zeke rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. “I’ve entered new calculations. A broader search may yield better results.”
Peter looked at the computer tech with obvious concern. “How are your eyes?”
“They’re fine,” Zeke replied. “Don’t worry about me.”
Laura leaned forward. “Thomas, how’s Nicki adjusting?”
“Quite well, actually. She’s firmly enfolded into the bosom of the Ableman clan. We let Sue into our confidence, and she came up with a perfect cover story. When I left the hospital, Nicki was holding the baby and being treated like an honored guest.”
* * *
Marc hung a duffle bag over his shoulder and picked up his fishing rod. With any luck at all, he’d be at the lake by midnight. He could wait to go in the morning, but he was anxious to start his vacation. As he reached for his tackle box, the phone rang. He was sure it was Ryan with directions to their campsite.
“Hey, lazy bum”—he laughed, answering the phone—“have you caught a twenty-pounder yet? I want fried trout for breakfast.”
The line was silent.
“Ryan, are you there?” he asked.
“This is Cris,” a hesitant voice mumbled.
“Crystal?” His mind reeled. What did she want? “Uh, how can I help you?”
“I just wanted to tell you that I forgive you,” she replied with an audible gulp. “I also wanted to ask you to forgive me for holding a grudge.”
Dropping his duffle bag, Marc sat down with a thump. He’d been waiting for her to accept his apology for years. Now that she had, he wasn’t sure how to respond.
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