Olivia let out a long breath, only now realizing she’d been holding it. “I’ll be right over.”
CHAPTER 17
Sunday, December 24, Christmas Eve
“We’ve got to let Mikey Burns go as a suspect,” Sam told Huntington.
The lieutenant set his chunky coffee mug down on his paper-covered desk with a thunk. “You were sure he was up to something. What happened?”
Sam crossed his arms over his chest, a smug expression on his face. “He was up to something, all right.”
“It just happened to be amateur adult movies, not child abduction,” Max added.
“That’s where he goes during the day. Where he was the morning Phaedra was taken. His porn star, Daisy, confirmed it. The dealership’s phone records indicate that he called Miss Dicks before he left—”
“That was just one Dick,” Max corrected, trying to keep the corner of his mouth from quirking. “Daisy Dick.”
“Which means you have nothing on the case now.” Huntington was looking at Max.
“We still have Olivia Howe.” Sam gave Max a pointed look.
Huntington grimaced. “A blind woman who was seen leaving the store without the girl. Great, just great. I suppose you got nothing out of her yesterday, O’Reilly.”
Sam shook his head.
Max felt like a boy who’d been called into the principal’s office. “We’re still working on some leads, like Pat Burns, but there’s nothing substantial at this time. This guy was good.”
Huntington looked tired and disappointed as he took them in. “Then you’ve got to be better. Don’t make me have to tell the family that we have nothing, after four days, nothing. I want that girl home for Christmas. Get out there and find her.” With a wave of his gnarled pencil, he dismissed them.
Sam gave his chair a shove when they returned to their area. “Bastard. We can’t squeeze milk out of a bull’s tit.”
“We’re doing the best we can.” But were they? Had they wasted time on bad leads and overlooked good ones?
They spent the remainder of the morning finishing the old case folders—with no results.
Sam threw the last folder on the stack. “There’s nothing here with a similar M.O.”
“Here either. I keep thinking we’re missing something. I just don’t know what.”
“All we have is the Howe woman, and you know it. She’s the key to this.”
Max couldn’t deny that. Luckily, he didn’t have to. Sam’s phone rang.
“O’Reilly… Yes, I am.” He grabbed a notepad. “Okay, go ahead. And you’re sure it was the Burns girl? Okay, thanks. We’ll check into it right away.” He hung up and held up the pad. “Woman says she saw the girl at Wal-Mart ten minutes ago. Sounds like another dead end.”
They’d had several sightings and tips. It was becoming less likely that the girl would show up at a store. Max grabbed his jacket. “You take it. I’m going to talk to Olivia.”
“Max…”
“Like you said, she’s all we have.”
That’s how he had to approach this, as a business-only, forget the past and the whole hero/rescue thing, and get to the bottom of her involvement. Forget that he found her attractive as hell, that he was sure her tough-cookie exterior hid a soft, vulnerable side.
“I’ll meet you there,” Sam said.
“You’ve done enough damage. She might still talk to me. She sure as hell isn’t going to talk to you.”
She wasn’t going to be very happy with him either, but he still had the best chance.
Olivia had stayed in one of Livingston’s guests rooms. Her father had rested through the night, having no memory or discomfort over his encounter with the man who had instructed him to make that call. She’d waited until the residents had breakfast before emerging. They would now be relaxing or playing games. When she passed through the lobby, one of the nurses greeted her.
“He’s sitting out on the back deck. It’s a lovely morning.”
Olivia smiled. “Can you please do me a favor? There’s a picture of me as a young girl on his dresser. Can you get it and then lead me to him?”
“I’d be glad to. Wait here.”
“Hello, dearie!” Miss Susan said, coming up behind her. Her voice was as sweet as candy. “Elton John is going to perform a small, intimate concert for us tonight. Will you be joining us?”
“No, I’m afraid I can’t. But Elton and I had dinner earlier, so don’t feel bad. He’s looking forward to the concert tonight.”
The nurse returned and whispered, “Don’t encourage her,” in a friendly but chastising tone. “She’s been going on about that concert for two days now.”
“Sorry, I can’t seem to help myself. She’s so cute.”
The nurse sighed. “It’s like having fifty children in here sometimes. Not your father, of course,” she added quickly.
“Of course.”
“Come, I’ll lead you to him. He’s having a good morning.” Which meant he was lucid. “I hope the medication is working, though it’s still too early to know the long term prognosis.”
Cautious optimism. She closed her eyes for a moment at the sweet feel of hope. “I’m glad to hear that.”
Her father was talking to someone about the stock market. The nurse excused his companion and helped Olivia find the chair. Once she was settled, the nurse handed her the framed picture and left.
“Hi, Daddy. How are you feeling today?”
After only a short pause, he said, “Livvy?”
She could hear the relief in her laugh. “Yes, Livvy.”
“Sometimes it’s so hard to remember…you’re…my daughter.”
He pulled her into his arms, and she buried her face against him and tried not to cry. These moments were getting rarer, and she relished them with every passing day. When they parted, she wiped her eyes and hoped he didn’t see.
She heard him sniff and wondered if he were wiping his eyes too. Did he need her visits as much as she did? Was that simple human contact something he craved as well? Maybe, because even when they parted, he kept hold of her hands. She forgot how powerful a hug could be, how it filled something inside her she denied she needed when she wasn’t here with him.
“Have I forgotten you lately?” he asked. “I hate to think that you come here to visit me, and I don’t remember you.”
“No, you haven’t forgotten me, Daddy.” She tucked the picture to the side of the chair. For now, it wouldn’t be needed to jog his memory.
“And your dog…I can’t remember her name.”
“Stasia.”
He leaned over to pet her, but his voice was aimed at her. “Are you all right, pumpkin? You look…I can’t think of the word. Not sad, not mad…I…don’t know. I hate when the words don’t come.”
Anxious was probably the word he was looking for. “I’m all right. But I want to ask you something. Do you remember anything about last night? A man had you call me.”
Silence for a moment. “No, sweetheart, sorry. Things are so … spotty.”
“It’s okay. I want to ask you something else, something from a long time ago. When I was kidnapped—”
“I want to forget that part of the past.” A pause. “But if you want to talk about it, of course, I will.”
She squeezed his hands. “I don’t like to remember it either. Just this one time, and we’ll never speak of it again, all right?”
“Anything for you, you know that.”
That rush of emotion swamped her again. She realized why: her father was the one person she could let down her guard with. If only she weren’t losing him. The thought constricted her throat.
“After I was rescued…I couldn’t see, remember? Mother took me for therapy to get over the trauma of the kidnapping, and she also took me to a neurologist about my eyes. Did she talk to you about that?”
He was thinking. At least she hoped he was. He sometimes drifted off during their conversation. She never knew whether he was sleeping or just…gone.
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“I went with you for one of your therapy sessions, but I let her handle the medical doctors.”
“The neurologist, Dr. Chad. Do you remember him?”
“I don’t remember his name, just that there was one. Elaine said he couldn’t find any sign of damage in your eyes either, right?”
“Is that what mother said? Think, Daddy. Did she ever say that the doctor thought it was something called conversion disorder? Or hysterical blindness?”
“No.” Then, in a voice more sure, “Hysterical blindness? I would have remembered that. I don’t think she ever forgave herself for letting you get taken.”
“What?” Elaine had always intimated that it was Olivia’s fault, because she’d been hiding. Olivia had accepted that blame. Even when Elaine was dying, she wouldn’t discuss the kidnapping. She’d just wanted to talk about the good things, like the beauty pageants, the glory days.
“She didn’t talk about it much, but when she did, she blamed herself. That’s why she went to such lengths to make it up to you, by demanding that the stores have procedures in place so it wouldn’t happen again.”
But it had.
“I hated being her poster child for abduction,” she said before thinking about it. “But it makes sense, her alleviating her own guilt by trying to make it right.” She shook her head. “That’s all over now.”
“I let your mother have her way with everything. I knew you didn’t like it. You told me enough times, but it was always her way. After working hard for twelve hours a day, I didn’t have it in me to fight her over every little thing. Or even the big things. I’m sorry about that, Livvy.”
Livvy. Max had opened up an old soft spot with his use of that name, and now her father was unknowingly probing it. Livvy was long gone, Livvy who used to see the world without hoping it wouldn’t crash down upon her.
“You did the best you could. You gave us a good life. And you’re here with me today.”
“Blue jay,” he said, making tears spring to her eyes. “Shall we take a walk and do your eye exercises?”
“Yes, let’s.”
He stood, and she felt his hand grip hers. When she stood, he said, “I’m proud of you, Livvy. Even if I forget that, don’t you forget it.”
“Thanks, Daddy.”
She wanted to tell him about the conversion disorder, but it was still almost too much for her mind to wrap around. He didn’t need to know about that anyway. What could he do now? He’d only feel bad for not intervening, and then he’d forget about it. She let him lead her out to the lawn.
When Max stepped into the lobby of Olivia’s building, Judy was vacuuming. She turned off the cleaner and pushed her brown hair from her face. “You looking for Olivia?”
“Sure am.”
“She’s not home. She spent the night at the Livingston with her dad.”
“The Livingston?”
“Yepper. She called me this morning to tell me not to come by to mix paints for her. She got worried about him last night and went to be with him.”
“Is he all right?”
“I guess so.”
He walked over, hoping to catch her on the way back. As soon as he passed the bridge, his gaze went right to her, walking with her father on the vast lawn. Stasia followed along, but Olivia’s father was guiding her now. Whatever had happened last night, he looked fine now. Her arm was linked with his, and she leaned close to him. Not out of need for guidance but just to be close. He was a tall, good-looking man with Olivia’s bone structure. He’d aged quite a bit since that newspaper article.
Max slowed his pace and casually crossed the large lawn dotted with shady oak and pine trees. She looked happy. They were talking, and she was laughing. The throaty sound made him pause and take a breath. How often did she laugh like that? Probably not much.
Keeping the casual pace, he walked past them. Stasia recognized him, perking her ears. Luckily, she didn’t bark. He knew he was using Olivia’s blindness to his advantage but couldn’t bring himself to break the spell. He didn’t want to take away a moment of happiness with her father either.
She and her father sat on one of the benches that overlooked the waterway. Max sat on the adjacent bench. He told himself he was doing his job; perhaps he would overhear something that would help.
Yeah, right. He couldn’t quite convince himself he was working under pure, unselfish motives. He should leave, give her privacy. He settled more comfortably on the bench. He should sit at the farthest bench and wait for her to finish her visit. He stretched out his legs and crossed them at the ankles. Give it up, Callahan. No way are you walking away from that laugh, that smile.
“Pine trees,” her father said.
She closed her eyes in concentration. “Slash pine?”
“Yes, with the—”
She held up her hand. “Don’t tell me. Long needles, dark green. Rough bark.”
“Right.” Mr. Howe looked around the grounds. “Oak tree.”
“Small leaves, grayish green. Rough, gray bark. Maybe even some Spanish moss dripping from the branches.”
“Very good. Uh…I can’t remember any other tree names.”
“Let’s try birds.”
“Birds. Let’s see. Cardinal.”
“Bright red, with the little tuft on top of their head.”
He looked around, and his gaze settled on a blue jay hopping across the lawn squawking. “Blue jay.”
Again, that heart-stopping smile. “Blue and white, and he’s sure mad about something.”
Her father glanced up at Max, and they exchanged a civilized nod. He turned back to Olivia. “Woodpecker.”
“Red head, gray bodies that float gracefully up the tree trunks and across branches.”
“Very good. You know, I play this game with my little girl to help her remember what things look like. She’s blind.”
“Yes, I know.”
Max felt his throat tighten. They were playing a memory game. But why was he referring to his daughter in the third person?
Her father took her hand in his. “I’m glad you came to see me, Jane.”
Jane? Her expression looked pained, and her voice sounded thick when she said, “Me, too.”
Something opened up inside him, something that had been closed for a long time. It was a good thing she didn’t let her walls down like this with him. He’d have to do something gallant like kiss her until she didn’t look sad anymore. Tell her bad jokes until she cracked a grin. Make love with her until she forgot everything that had ever stolen her smile.
Olivia patted his arm after a few minutes. “I should go.”
They started walking toward the elegant building that stood in the shadows of huge oak trees. Her father said in a near-whisper, “There’s a young man back there who seems quite taken with you.”
Her whole body tensed as she turned her head. “Really?” She’d forced a casual tone to her voice. “What does he look like?”
Uh oh. Busted. He meandered toward the waterway and waited in the cool shadows of the trees nearest the sidewalk. Fifteen minutes later, she walked out, led by Stasia. He could leave, then come to her apartment and pretend it hadn’t been him. He was already on her hit list. But he couldn’t deceive her. He felt low enough listening to her private conversation.
“Olivia.”
She stopped and faced him, and he saw that she’d been crying. The residue of tears glistened on her lashes. “That was you my father was talking about?”
“Who did you think it was?”
“I don’t know.” Her mouth tightened into a fine line.
“Judy said you were here. I want to talk to you.”
She started walking again and without looking back, said, “Go to hell, Detective Callahan.”
His Rose was waiting for him, just as she always was. Her eyes were glued to his every move. Sometimes her expression was full of hatred; other times it reeked of fear. The fear usually gave way to anger after the fourth day, then to hopelessness. He set
the Burger King bag near the cage, but not close enough for her to reach it. Not that she’d dare take it before he gave her permission. He walked into the bathroom and watched her in the mirror as he washed off the cola that had spilled on his gloves. There had to be rules, and the penalty for breaking those rules had to be harsh. Where would this society be if rules weren’t enforced?
Exactly where it was now.
His father had been right about that, at least. But the man had violated his own code of ethics, the hypocritical bastard. He had watched Father go into his sister’s room after Mother had passed out. He knew what Father was doing behind that closed door. It was left to him to hold his sister afterward while she cried and he wallowed in helpless rage. He’d wanted to punish his father in the most heinous way, but he was only a child.
His father was revered, emulated. No one knew the ruthless domination he wielded over his family, nor would they believe it. No one could help his sister. If the system had punished his father, this rage wouldn’t exist.
Even now, the rage ate away at him like acid. As he’d grown stronger, older, he’d planned revenge a thousand different ways. He’d never gotten the chance. Some faceless man who had no grudge against his father was the one to cut him down in a police shootout. His father was buried with all the honors, graced with tears and anger.
His fists clenched so hard they ached. He took a deep breath and relaxed them. His face, shadowed by the cap, stared back from his reflection. It was a different face than that young man he’d been. Not just older, but reconstructed to fit the face of the man whose identity he’d taken all those years ago. Maybe someday he’d get used to it.
The tub was half filled now, the incessant drip doing its job. By tomorrow night, it would be sufficient. He dipped his bare hand into the cool water and swirled it around. The ripples eventually died to a smooth surface again. Like the rage that would no longer ripple across his soul. For a while, the surface would be peaceful.
He put his damp glove back on and walked to the cage. He positioned himself in front of the light. “Hello, Rose.”
No response, only that hopeless look and a quick, darting glance toward the bag of food.
Blindsight [Now You See Me] (Romantic Suspense) Page 21