Blindsight [Now You See Me] (Romantic Suspense)

by Tina Wainscott

  He let her run to the bathroom and throw up into the toilet. She barely made it in time. She was crying and vomiting at the same time. His chest heaved with anger. Why did she disobey him? His word was the law. He made his wishes very clear.

  “No one disobeys me without being punished.”

  Her crying got louder, though she didn’t stop retching. She was kneeling in front of the toilet in the small bathroom. After several more minutes, she got to her feet. She turned on the water, splashing her face and rinsing out her mouth. When she turned around, her face was wet and her mouth red.

  “Come here, Rose.”

  She hesitated but forced herself to step toward him. He opened his arms. “Give your father a hug.”

  Her lower lip pouted, but she stepped into his arms. She smelled like the hot sauce, which had spilled on her shirt, and vomit. He hugged her close. “Don’t make me mad, Rose. I can’t be responsible for my actions if you keep making me mad. If only you were good…” But she wouldn’t be. He knew how it must play out. “Get into the cage.”

  She quickly obeyed him, just as it should be. He clamped the lock into place.

  He wasn’t like his father. He’d never touch Rose in inappropriate places. He’d never do those terrible things his father had done to his sister. Things he couldn’t stop. The bastard had never been punished for what he’d done. He’d died a hero.

  But he was a good father who only wanted to keep his daughter in line. That’s all he’d ever wanted, and she’d made him go too far. He flushed the toilet and walked to the steps. “I’ll bring you food tomorrow. You won’t scream when I leave, will you?”

  The only time someone might hear her was the moment he opened the door, but even that was a remote possibility. Still, he couldn’t take any chances.

  He liked that Max was on the case, felt closer to him because of it. Max had been a bad boy a long, long time ago. He’d been punished when that car bomb went off and killed his wife and daughter, but it had backfired. Ashley wasn’t supposed to have been with Diana that day. Maybe that’s why his anger with Max never completely went away, because it had gone terribly wrong.

  He’d killed his own granddaughter.

  CHAPTER 16

  Max spent the evening poring over the case files in the living room—and finding nothing. It occurred to him that this was another dead end, but it didn’t occur to him to stop looking. He had every missing child case in the last ten years in the area. Sam had the previous ten years’ worth. Luckily, there weren’t all that many, and most had been solved. On the closed cases, he jotted down the names of the men convicted with the intent of seeing if they were still in prison. The outstanding cases looked nothing like either Olivia’s or Phaedra’s cases. Those two were connected by the date of abduction, almost down to the hour. It was a hard coincidence to ignore.

  He stretched his legs and propped his feet on the coffee table. His latest project, The Wolf Man, sat untouched among a jumble of paint tubes and mixing dishes. He glanced up to the shelf where his small masterpieces were all crammed together. Back in the shadows, Gwynplaine’s macabre grimace managed to catch the light. He shifted his gaze away. The television was on low, some news program. Just enough to make it sound like maybe there was someone else in the house. Like maybe it was a home.

  It hadn’t been a real home since he found the near-empty bottles of vodka in Diana’s drawer, hidden under her maternity bras. She’d even hid a bottle in a box of baby things that Annie had given them.

  The living room and kitchen were lit up, but the rest of the rooms were dark. He glanced up at Ashley’s pictures on the mantel. It hurt to see her smiling face, but he knew it would hurt more to put away those pictures.

  The phone rang, and the human resources clerk gave him some disturbing news. No Bill Williams worked for any department of the Palomera Police Department. Was it his gut feeling that made him worry about Olivia? Or maybe the gut feeling is something more than cop instinct. Maybe you just don’t like that she trusts this guy. That she shares enough affinity with him to protect him.

  Sometimes he hated that censuring voice.

  Bill Williams could have given her a false name to protect his job. Maybe it was nothing more than that. Still, he called Olivia and left a message on her machine about Williams.

  At ten-thirty, he called Sam to see how he was coming along.

  “I thought he was with you,” Annie said, suspicion threading through her voice.

  “We both took our case files home. Or at least I though he was taking his home. Maybe he went back to the station to check something. I’ll try him on his cell phone.”

  “His cell phone is turned off. What’s going on, Max? Please tell me.”

  “It’s this case, Annie, that’s all. It’s making us crazy. He and I aren’t agreeing on suspects, which is making things harder. But you probably already know about that.”

  “He hasn’t been talking to me lately. Says he has his head in this case, which I can understand. But I think it’s more than that. Even Petey’s noticed it. He managed to stop by the party, but his heart wasn’t in it.”

  “I wish I could help you, but I don’t think anything’s going on other than this case. I’ll try to talk to him, though.”

  “I’d appreciate that. Hey, was that you driving by earlier today?”

  “Wasn’t me.” Coward, his father’s voice accused.

  “He loved the little motorcycle. All the kids were jealous.”

  “Tell Petey I’m sorry I couldn’t make it. Look, I gotta go. Don’t worry, Annie. I’m sure it’s this case, and God willing, we’ll have it solved before long.”

  “Are you close to finding her? I’ve been watching it on the news, and there doesn’t seem to be much to go on.”

  “That’s what’s so hard about it. We’ll find her, and things will be back to normal.”

  That call bothered him. Sam was the most dedicated family man he’d ever known, and Annie was a good woman. He would never screw that up. Unfortunately, Max was hardly in the position to talk with him friend to friend. They were barely that right now.

  He dumped out the rest of the coffee in the pot and rinsed it out. He was glad to plunge the kitchen into darkness with the flick of a switch. It was a mess. He just didn’t have the energy or time to keep the place up. The cleaning lady was due tomorrow. She made it feel like someone lived there, too, when he came home to find the place clean and a frosty mug in the freezer.

  He sat down on the couch again, the place he too often fell asleep. He stacked the folders in a pile and found the copies of the newspaper article about Olivia’s kidnapping. Her picture was arresting for an eight-year-old. He understood why when he read the article. She was a little beauty queen, winner of numerous pageants both regional and national. In fact, she looked a lot like she did now, with long hair and those incredible eyes. But she could see then, and she was innocent. Fragile.

  Her mother was a striking woman, too, though in a different way. She was classy, with white-blonde hair and a face that had seen a lift or two. Olivia’s parents were quite a bit older than he’d expected. He could see the effect of that in her reserved, formal manner.

  Over time, the story got smaller and farther back in the newspaper section, as it usually did. He got to the headline story where Olivia had been found. Max had never read anything about her rescue. Now he read about the brave young man who was hailed as a hero. The writer had used dramatic phrases, like “took his life in his hands” and “rescued the girl from certain death.”

  The police had found a tub in the burned-out trailer of the truck but couldn’t say for sure what Bobby had intended to do with it. As far as they could ascertain, this was the first time he’d ever done something like this. No one knew why. There was a mention of Max going to live with his aunt now that he was orphaned. Olivia had suffered from one long cut across her chest, some bruising, and a slight concussion. That his father had not molested her made the motive that much murkier
.

  Livvy with her Mona Lisa smile looked up at him from his lap where the rest of the papers lay. He picked up the phone to call her again but set it down. She still hadn’t returned his earlier calls. What he needed was to keep his distance. He was getting in way too deep with her, and though he didn’t want to explore in what ways, he knew the attraction was there. If Huntington got wind of it, he’d probably lock him in a closet.

  He didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep until the phone jarred him awake. The clock read eleven-thirty.

  “Hey, it’s Sam. I just followed Mikey Burns to a mansion on Southside Drive.”

  “Southside?” Max said, rubbing his face to wake up.

  “Just over the county line in Sarasota.”

  “What’s he doing?”

  “I don’t know, but—wait, another car pulled up next to his. Whoa, one hot number just got out and she’s heading into the house. She looks like a kid, maybe sixteen.”

  “Is that what you’ve been doing all evening, watching Burns?”

  There was the slightest pause before Sam answered. “Yeah, I had a hunch.”

  “Annie’s worried about you.”

  “You talked to her?”

  “I was checking to see if you found anything in the files. She thought you were with me.”

  “I figured we would be together, but it seemed senseless for both of us to waste the evening watching his place.”

  “Give me the address. I’ll be right there.”

  Thirty minutes later, Max and Sam walked up to the immense entrance of the house. For a few minutes, Max let himself think that they were working together like old times. But he didn’t believe that Burns had the kid, not here or anywhere.

  Through the wood door, Prince belted out “Get Off.” They could hear voices inside. Mike called, “Shift to your left; there’s a shadow on your nipple. Yep, that’s it. Perfect.”

  Max and Sam traded a look. Mike sounded almost business-like.

  Max knocked on the door. A girl said, “Who is that? I told you I don’t perform for audiences.”

  “Cool it, Daisy. I didn’t invite anyone.”

  A man opened the door. “Yeah?”

  Mike sidled up and took in the two detectives with more than annoyance on his face. “What are you doing here?”

  Max peered inside. The living room looked like a bedroom, with a red velvet, heart-shaped bed right in the middle. Two tripods were set up, the light bulbs surrounded by foil to direct the light to the bed where a voluptuous, naked blonde was sprawled. She also looked annoyed, but did nothing more than reach for a cigarette and light it. A skinny young man stood off to the right, an eight-millimeter camera strapped to a rig on his shoulder. He was shifting from left to right while studying a small television connected to the camera.

  Sam said, “You looked awfully squirrelly when you left your place tonight. We thought we’d see what you were up to, Mikey.”

  Mike slapped at the wall and let loose with an expletive. “I’m making movies, that’s what I’m doing. What I didn’t want anyone knowing, especially my family. Especially now. I’m already behind schedule, and we’ve got one final scene to wrap. I wouldn’t even be here, except that the movie is already in the next catalog.” He flung his arm toward the woman on the bed. “This is Daisy Dick, the hottest up and comer in amateur adult movies.”

  She let out a mirthless laugh. “Up and comer…good one, Michael. Can we get going? I gotta get back before my babysitter goes to school at six.”

  Sam asked, “Whose place is this?”

  The man who had answered the door said, “It’s my place. I let Michael use it for his film and in return, I get to watch.”

  Mike gestured to the house. “If you want to take a look around, have at it. Just be quick.”

  “Right, your production schedule.” Max nodded, trying not to let a sardonic smile show.

  They checked out the house, but as Max had suspected, found nothing incriminating other than the movie making.

  “You know this is illegal, don’t you, Mikey?” Sam asked.

  Daisy jumped out of the bed, pulled on a pink fur-fringed robe, and slammed the bathroom door behind her.

  Mike said, “Aw, come on, it’s not hard core. I’m not doing anything wrong here. Daisy’s twenty.”

  “How about we let the Sarasota police decide that.”

  “I hate that guy,” Sam said when they headed out twenty minutes later, once the Sarasota police had arrived.

  Max shook his head. “Forget about him. We’ve wasted enough time on him, but now we can be reasonably sure he had nothing to do with Phaedra’s abduction. Have you looked at the files yet?”

  “I’ll look at them when I get home. See you in the morning.”

  “Lady, are you all right?”

  “She’s breathing. Got a pulse, but it’s slow.”

  The frantic words pulled Olivia from the connection. In a rush of panic, she realized there were hands on her, people around her. She jerked upright and tried to figure out where she was while pain pounded in her head.

  “Are you all right?” a man asked. “You just fainted.”

  She was on the ground. Oh, jeez, she’d dropped right there in the park. She patted around her. “Where’s my dog? Stasia!” Her fingers connected with soft fur.

  “She stayed right there with you the whole time,” a woman said. “Did you have a seizure? My friend Denise has a seizure alert dog.”

  “I didn’t have a seizure.” When Olivia tried to get to her feet, several hands helped her. As weak as her legs were, she didn’t object. She saved her energy for grabbing at the nearest lie. “I just let my blood sugar drop too much. I’ll be fine.”

  “Here’s a protein bar.” A woman shoved one in her hand. “Hope you like coconut/pineapple/soy. If you’re having a low blood sugar attack, anything’ll do. I’ve got the same problem, always keep one handy.”

  “Great, thanks.” Olivia bit into the dense, thick bar. Yuck.

  “Keep on eating, honey. Get your sugar level back up.”

  She forced the rest of the bar down between thanking everyone. “I’m fine, really. I just need to get home and lie down.”

  She and Stasia walked into the apartment ten minutes later, the bar sitting heavy in her stomach. The breeze chilled the perspiration that clung to her skin.

  Phaedra. The memories of her vision rushed back to her. She’d seen enough to know their kidnapper was right on schedule. Tomorrow…she shuddered. Tomorrow would be even worse. And the next day…she didn’t know what would happen. That was worse than anything.

  They had to find her before then.

  When the phone rang, she grabbed it up. She was surprised to hear her father’s tentative voice.

  “Olivia?”

  “Daddy?” He’d called her! A major breakthrough.

  “I’m…” She heard someone whispering in the background. “I’m here with a friend of…a friend of yours.” He was repeating whatever the person was saying. He didn’t know her at all.

  Her heart tightened. “What friend, Daddy?”

  More whispering. “An old friend.”

  A man was with her father. “Who is it? What does he look like?”

  “An old friend,” he repeated, and the line went dead.

  She speed dialed The Livingston. “This is Olivia Howe,” she said when a woman answered. “You need to find my father immediately.” She heard hysteria creep into her voice and toned it down. “He just called me.”

  The woman’s voice remained as calm as a recorded message. “That’s impossible, Ms. Howe. He has no phone access.”

  “I know, that’s why you’ve got to find him right now. He’s with someone who has a cell phone.”

  “Give me your number, and when I find him, I’ll call you right back.”

  “No! I’m staying on the line. Go get him right now and find out who’s with him.”

  After a tense pause, the woman said, “Very well, ma’am. Hold the line.�
��

  Olivia dropped into a kitchen chair and hugged her legs to her chest as she waited. Someone was playing games with her. That he’d brought her father into it—she rubbed her eyes hard, tamping down anger and fear. Would Terry stoop that low? How far would this person go? “He’s a helpless man!” she screamed before clamping her hand over her mouth. Her father hadn’t been able to help her when she’d been kidnapped, and now she knew how he’d felt: enraged and impotent.

  “Ms. Howe,” the woman said, snapping Olivia back to present. “Your father is fine.”

  The surge of relief she felt quickly died. “Where was he? Who was with him?”

  “He was sitting on a bench at the north side of the building by himself.”

  “Did he have a phone?”

  “No, of course not. He was nowhere near a phone. Perhaps the man who called had the wrong number and it merely sounded like your father.”

  “It was my father. He was repeating what the man who was with him told him to. Put him on the phone, please.”

  A few minutes later, Olivia heard the woman saying, “It’s your daughter, Mr. Howe.” Then his voice came on the line. “Livvy?”

  “Daddy, are you all right?”

  “How’s my little girl?”

  “I’m fine.” When he did remember her, he often pictured her as a young girl. Other times he thought she was his sister, Jane. “You were just talking to me on the phone. Do you remember that?”

  “I’m talking to you now on the phone.”

  Her fingers tightened in frustration. “Daddy, this is important. You were just talking with someone. Do you remember who it was?”

  “Sure,” he said.

  “Who was it?” she asked, trying to keep the thread before he lost it.

  “An old friend.”

  She felt a chill at those words. “Yes, I know that, but who was it? What did he look like?”

  She took the first few moments as thoughtful silence. A minute later, the woman with the prim voice said, “Your father set the phone down and walked over to the Christmas tree. I’m sorry.”