by Alyssa Dean
"Yeah?" Kent put his hand over his mouth and yawned into it. "Who told you that?"
"Their vice president of research, Joseph Collingswood."
Kent gave his head a sharp rap to wake it up. "Why were you talking to him?"
"He made an appointment." Dan glanced at his watch. "He'll be here soon."
"Oh, no," Kent lamented. He didn't feel up to dealing with accusations from the Sharade people. "What does he want?" he asked with some apprehension.
Dan leaned back in his desk chair and propped up his feet. "Guess he wants to talk to us."
"No kidding?" Kent's voice dripped with sarcasm. "And here I thought he might be dropping by for a game of chess."
Dan released a dry chuckle. "What's the problem, kid? You cranky because little Miss Tinker Bell got the best of you again?"
Kent dropped his eyebrows into a glare. "I also spent most of the night in the police station."
Dan didn't appear particularly sympathetic. "They held you for less than ten hours and didn't charge you with anything. I got the impression they couldn't wait to get rid of you."
"I don't think they like me."
"Of course, they don't like you. Detective Johnston told me you were a jinx."
Kent gave him a wide-eyed, innocent look. "Me?"
"Yes, you!" Dan's face was serious, but his eyes glimmered with amusement. "It seems that a file cabinet fell when Johnston walked passed it, missing him by inches. Two computers in the main office fell apart. Johnston's partner got some kind of bladder problem and was in the bathroom all night."
Kent snickered. Besides the mental closeness he shared with Avril, he had a few other unique talents that had often come in handy. One was the ability to slip a suggestion into someone's mind. The suggestion had to be something the subject would consider doing. Kent couldn't make somebody act like a chicken, but he could make them think they had to go to the bathroom, which is what he'd done to one of the policemen last night.
Now, he felt slightly ashamed of the chaos he'd created. "They weren't taking me seriously," he defended.
"You didn't take them seriously," Dan rebutted. "You recited a number of questionable jokes, and refused to tell them anything useful."
"I don't know anything useful!" Kent rotated a thumb up the back of his neck. Using his thought-planting ability sometimes gave him a headache. He pulled a package of macadamia nuts from his pocket and chewed on a couple until the pain started to subside.
Amy poked her head around the partially open office door. "Are you ready to see Mr. Collingswood?"
Dan nodded. A few moments later, Amy led a plump, medium-height, middle-aged man into the room.
Kent pushed himself to his feet and watched Dan greet Collingswood. The man was the embodiment of an eccentric scientist, right down to his mussed-up hair and rumpled blue suit. His pale green eyes blinked frequently, as if he was confused by both his surroundings and the people in them. He certainly didn't look like he was there to accuse Kent of anything, or to cause any problems. As a matter of fact, he looked like he just might be there for a chess game, after all.
As Collingswood turned to face him, Kent reversed his opinion. Behind the confused facade, those pale green eyes hinted at cunning, and a capability for cruelty lurked about the thin-lipped mouth. "Ah, Mr. MacIntyre," Collingswood said smoothly. "I've been anxious to meet you."
"Really?" Kent took Collingswood's hand and his skin shuddered into gooseflesh. The room suddenly felt warm and clammy, and far too small for its occupants. For an enormously long second, Kent stared into Collingswood's eyes, both fascinated and revolted. Then he broke the spell, and pulled his hand away.
Collingswood perched on the edge of a chair, and fidgeted with his suit jacket. "Thank you for agreeing to see me," he began. He blinked, looking around the room, then over at Kent. "You don't think you need a lawyer here, do you?"
"I hadn't planned on it." Kent slid his chair back a millimeter. "Am I going to need one?"
"Oh, I… hope not. I didn't think you would, but I don't really understand how these things work. We've never had a break-in at Sharade before and I'm not certain how to handle the situation." He twisted his fingers around each other. "My security people tell me that you were there yesterday, warning them about a possible attempt."
Dan picked up a pencil from his desk and turned it end over end. "That's right."
"They mentioned a young woman had broken into your office?"
"Uh-huh."
Collingswood turned to Kent. "The police said you saw this young woman again last night. Is that correct?"
Kent raised a shoulder and nodded.
"The police showed me a composite sketch you put together yesterday. Is that the woman?"
Kent nodded again.
"Did she tell you her name?"
Kent hesitated. He didn't feel like telling this man anything, but he couldn't think of a good reason not to do so. Besides, he'd told it all to the police. "She said her name was Faye," he admitted. "She didn't give me the rest of it."
"Did she say what she was doing there?"
Again, Kent hesitated. "She said she was trying to save the world."
"Save the world?" Collingswood repeated. "Good heavens. That's a new justification for industrial espionage."
"Industrial espionage?" Dan glanced over at Kent, then back to Collingswood. "That's what this was?"
"Yes." Collingswood shifted his weight in the chair. "I really don't want this to get out, but I think she was after our new acne-cream formula. I don't have any proof of that, and nothing appears to have been taken—except the budget projection files they found with Mr. MacIntyre."
"Acne cream?" Kent sat up straighter. "You mean she went through all that for a… pimple?"
Collingswood looked at Dan. "That's what I've told the police."
"Ah," said Dan. "I see."
Collingswood faced Kent. "I know the police took you in last night, but I just don't think—I mean, you gentlemen aren't in the industrial espionage business. If you're telling the truth about the woman, it could be that…" He sighed and messed his hair again.
"I'm telling the truth." Kent took a peek at Dan. The older man was leaning back in his chair, running the tip of his pencil across his chin, but there was nothing in his face to give away his thoughts.
Collingswood went on. "The police seem pretty convinced you're the one responsible. I spoke with my head office this morning, and they are prepared to proceed."
"Proceed?" Kent echoed. "With what?"
"Prosecuting you. They intend to make an example of you, Mr. MacIntyre. That's how they put it to me."
"There's not a whole lot of evidence against my associate," Dan said gently. "I don't think—"
"Sharade is a very large company," Collingswood interrupted. "They have a lot of resources at their disposal." He held up a hand. "Don't get me wrong. I believe you are completely innocent. However, with no proof, and without the woman, it's difficult to convince anyone else. I don't even think the police believe it."
"Me neither," Kent agreed.
Collingswood folded his hands primly in his lap. "I assume you're going to try to find her?"
"I don't know," said Dan. "It is a police investigation, and they don't appreciate—"
"Come, come," cooed Collingswood. "You are a detective agency, aren't you? It's only logical to assume that you would want to find the woman who framed you."
The front legs of Dan's chair landed gently on the floor. "What's your point, Mr. Collingswood?"
"It seems to me that we have a mutual problem, here. You, Mr. Stuart, must want this woman found. It was because of your files that she was able to break into our labs. And your associate here…" He pointed a thumb in Kent's direction. "Well, he's got to want to find her. Otherwise, he'll be charged. Isn't that true?"
Kent opened his mouth, Dan raised a warning finger, and Kent subsided.
Collingswood looked from one to the other, then continued. "As fo
rme, I want her found, as well. If she took that formula, then I want to know who she sold it to. If she was after something else, I need to know what, and why."
Dan chewed on the edge of the pencil. "That may be true, but…"
"I've asked head office for a little time, to allow me to arrange for an investigation to be conducted." Collingswood peered myopically at Dan and Kent, "If that's not going to happen, well, I will simply have to tell them to proceed with prosecuting Mr. MacIntyre." He paused. "And your office, Mr. Stuart, for your part in this."
"Ah." Dan lifted a resigned shoulder. "I think I understand you, Mr. Collingswood."
"I thought you might. Now, I would like to retain you to find this woman. Not the Sharade company, but myself personally. Sharade is perfectly happy with the suspect they have."
"Ah," Dan grunted again. "Well, um… we don't have much to go on, and…"
For one brief instant, the expression on Collingswood's face changed from bewildered helplessness to absolute fury, then back again. "You are professionals. I'm sure you have methods at your disposal that I do not."
"Uh-huh." Dan put a hand to his forehead, sliding a finger along his eyebrows. "All right, Mr. Collingswood. We'll give it a try."
"Splendid." Collingswood rubbed his hands together. "Are there any papers I have to sign, or perhaps a cheque?"
"No." Dan's lips pressed together. "Under the circumstances, that's not appropriate. As you say, we have our own reasons for finding this woman."
Collingswood hesitated, seemingly embarrassed. "If you do find her, I would like to speak with her before we make any decision about an arrest. Sharade may well decide not to press charges, if doing so would not be in their best interests. You do understand that, don't you?"
"Oh, I understand, all right." Dan's drawl held an interesting note.
"Then you will let me know when you do find her?"
"We'll be in touch."
Kent was certain the room temperature lowered ten degrees as Dan and Joseph Collingswood stared at each other. Then Collingswood smiled, his top lip curling to show his teeth. "That's fine, then. Thank you, gentlemen. I'll be expecting to hear from you very soon." He shook hands with Dan before leaving the office.
Dan waited until the outer-office door closed, indicating Collingswood's departure. Then he lifted an eyebrow at Kent. "Well?"
"I'm a bit slow this afternoon," Kent explained. "Besides the fact that that Collingswood gives me the creeps, I'm not real clear on what he was saying."
"Allow me to translate." Dan perched on the edge of the desk. "Mr. Collingswood wants the woman found. She took something valuable from those labs, and he wants it back, real bad. It's not acne-cream formula, but he's not going to tell us what it is. He doesn't want the police to know this, and he doesn't want us to snoop into it, either. If we don't cooperate, charges will be laid against vis." He stared at the far wall. "Did I miss anything? Oh, yes. When the woman's found, we are not to call the police. We are to hand her over to him. When that happens, the charges against you will be dropped."
"Oh, my God!" Kent exclaimed. "Are you sure?"
"Positive."
"Damn!" Kent rubbed a hand along his forehead. "I'm sorry, Dan. This is all my fault. I—"
"It's not your fault, Kent, it's that bloody woman."
"What are we going to do?"
Dan tapped his fingers together. "We don't have any choice, my friend. We have to find that girl. If we don't, you will be charged, and they will make it stick. Those are the plain and simple facts."
"All right," said Kent. "Suppose we find her. What do we do with her?"
Dan's eyes narrowed to navy blue slits. "I'd like to wallop her but good for involving us in this mess."
"Who wouldn't?" Kent leaned back in the chair. "Besides that, what? Do I turn her over to the police, or Collingswood?"
"I don't know. How about if we find her first?"
"Okay," Kent agreed. "How do we go about doing that?"
Dan pawed around the contents of his desk and found a sheet of paper. "Here's what I've learned so far. A woman named Anna Ross rented a car in Colorado Springs a few days ago. The car was returned to the airport here at seven o'clock this morning."
"Any flights leaving around then?" Kent asked.
"Yep. Albuquerque, Phoenix, Salt Lake City and Las Vegas all left within a couple of hours."
"Great! That's no help at all. She could be anywhere by now."
"I know." Dan threw the paper back on his desk and picked up another one. "I've got a copy of that composite you made yesterday."
"You do?" Kent eyed him suspiciously. "I asked them for a copy and they pretty much told me to get lost. How did you get hold of it?"
"I'm a detective." Dan shrugged, using his usual line that meant, Don't ask. He handed a folded-up sheet of paper across to Kent.
Kent studied the fuzzy drawing. "It's not great, but it's close. Do you think you can find out anything with this?"
"I'll give it a try." Dan crossed to the window, closed the curtains and locked the office door. The room settled into semidarkness. Without a word, Kent put the artist's sketch on Dan's desk. Dan sat down, put his fingers on the picture, and closed his eyes.
Kent leaned back, waiting. He'd seen Dan do this a number of times, and it never failed to impress him. Dan could locate someone or something simply by touching a photograph of the subject. Kent wasn't sure if he could do the same thing with an artist's sketch.
"It's fuzzy," Dan announced after about five minutes of concentration. "Rocks, craters, no plants, no trees, no houses, no people."
"That doesn't sound like anyplace I've ever been." Kent dropped his head into his hands. "Actually, it sounds more like the moon. You're sure it's not a desert scene?"
"Pretty sure," Dan nodded. "It's too rocky. It's not mountains, either. There aren't any trees." He tried again. "Nope. That's all I get." He rose slowly to open the curtains.
"Tinker Bell doesn't live on the moon." Kent snapped his fingers. "Just a minute." He grabbed one of Dan's three atlases off the bookshelf and pawed eagerly through the pages. "Here we go. Salt Lake City, Utah."
Dan peered over Kent's shoulder at the U.S. map. "You might be on to something."
"'Craters of the Moon National Monument,'" Kent read. "I was there once. It's exactly as you described. Now might be a good time to check it out again."
"There's not much around there," Dan observed. He began reading names off the map. "Gannett, Carey, Arco, Butte City, Neverdale—"
"Neverdale!" Kent interrupted. "You've got to be kidding. There's a place called Neverdale?"
"Sure. It's in a valley near the Lost River Range."
"Neverdale." Kent rolled his eyes and stroked his jaw. "I think I'll try there first." He caught the teasing glint in Dan's eyes and frowned. "You got any better ideas?"
"Nope." Dan leaned back in his chair and propped his feet on the desk. "I suppose you want to go after her yourself."
"You bet I do."
Dan shook an admonishing finger. "Didn't the police tell you not to leave town?"
Kent wasn't concerned. "I've never been good at doing what I'm told. I'll go find Tinker Bell. If the police come looking for me, tell them you don't know where I went."
Dan scraped a palm across his jaw. "Oh, all right. You'll do what you like, no matter what I say. Do you need me to come along?"
Kent shook his head.
"In that case, I'm going to check into Captain Hook."
"Hook?" Kent repeated. "You mean Collingswood?"
"That's it." His face wrinkled into a mischievous grin. "You know who that makes you?"
"Peter Pan?" Kent guessed.
"Either that, or one of the Lost Boys."
Chapter Three
Kent threw down his backpack and watched it vanish into the mist that was rising from the ground. "This is one weird forest," he muttered under his breath. He turned up the collar of his jacket, plunked himself down on the cold, damp gr
ound and leaned his back against a handy tree. The stroll from the road to Faye's place was supposed to be two miles—an easy thirty-minute walk. He'd been wandering through these woods for three hours! Either the people of Neverdale had lied to him, or this forest was conspiring to get him lost.
Following the trail of the mysterious Faye had been a major pain. The people in Neverdale had denied knowing anyone of her description, until Kent convinced the hardware-store owner that he was a prospective suitor. After that, he'd been given a name—Faye Maxwell—and the information that she had lived alone since her father died. He'd also been provided with directions to her place.
It should have been easy: a ten-mile drive from Neverdale, followed by a two-mile hike north, along what was supposed to be a clearly marked path. The "dearly marked" path had been anything but clear or marked. His compass couldn't make up its mind about which direction was north. The supposedly small stream had been wide, deep and impassable but for the narrow footbridge he'd finally located. His mind kept telling him he was going in circles. A miserable drizzling rain had started, and then this creepy mist began rising from the ground.
Kent half closed his eyes for a moment, then took a peek through his lashes at the bushes. They moved slightly. A small brown rabbit hopped out and stared at him through wise silver eyes. "You late for something?" Kent asked.
The bunny considered it. Kent closed his eyes again. He wouldn't have been one bit surprised if the rabbit had pulled out a pocket watch.
The bushes rustled again. A breeze whisked past Kent's cheek and he looked up. A woman knelt in front of him, dressed in the same pale brown as the bunny, her silver-blue eyes wide and unblinking as she aimed an atomizer at his face. His pixie. Tinker Bell, herself. Faye.
Fate had been watching Kent for the past hour, and wasn't sure if she should be relieved or terrified. Kent could well be the long-awaited Wizard, even though he had denied it. In both of their encounters, he'd ended up helping her, although his assistance had been given unwillingly. Or had it? "Be cautious around a Wizard," her mother had warned her. "They have their own special way of doing things." Perhaps Kent was on her side, acting in a typical, confusing Wizard fashion.