“Max, it isn’t right, you holding back like this. Makes me nervous as hell, working in the dark.”
“When I have a better idea of who’s behind this, I’ll spill. Trust me.”
“Yeah, sure.” Sam disconnected.
How could he explain that he knew who was behind this abduction, but he didn’t know who he was now? He’d sound like crazy, as Olivia would say. And if he couldn’t push out the words that the man had been a cop, no way could he say it was his father. The thought caved in his stomach.
They had been walking to his car as he’d talked to Sam. He helped Olivia and Stasia into the passenger side, then got in and headed north, groping for his wayward sunglasses. Once they were perched on his nose, he realized why he kept losing them—he hated wearing them.
“Odette wouldn’t talk about her past, even through the years I lived with her. She wouldn’t talk about Bobby either, and she refused to believe he was going to harm you.”
“Sounds like blind devotion,” she said.
He wondered if she was trying to make a pun, but she looked serious.
“She made excuses for him: he went through bouts of depression; he’d never gotten over my mother’s death; he was under a lot of pressure. Nothing to even remotely justify abducting a girl.”
“You’d be surprised what people can manage to justify—to themselves, anyway.”
“In a madman’s mind, it could.”
He was headed to the rural town of Backwater, an hour’s drive away. During the drive, he left a message with Dr. Marano, the hypnotherapist. Marano returned his call shortly after, and Max went over the case and Olivia’s history.
“Can you help us?”
“I can probably help her to remember what happened during her captivity if she’s hypnotizable. But helping her to see again…”
“That’s not what we’re trying to accomplish right now.” Max glanced over at Olivia. She was stroking Stasia’s fur, and the graceful movement kept catching his eye.
“It is intriguing, though. What if she could see after sixteen years? What if we could remove the wall after all that time? It would probably be a first. I’m very interested in working with her on that at a later time. It will depend on how well she’s preserved her visual memory.”
His chest tightened at the memory of Olivia and her father going over birds and trees. “She has.”
“That will be one point in our favor. When can you bring her in?”
“I need you to come to Palomera tomorrow. I know it’s last minute, but we’re running out of time. We only have until tomorrow night to find the girl. I can arrange to fly you in if you can clear your schedule for us. We’ll have you back home by early tomorrow evening.”
“You do realize that’s Christmas, don’t you?”
“When a little girl’s in danger, I don’t care what day it is. I’ll double your fee. Buy you a present. Send your kid to college. Anything.”
He chuckled. “Ah, I get your drift. Well, as it turns out, my kid is in Africa doing a study on the hypnosis of a remote tribe. They think he’s a god. I have a dinner invitation, but this is more important.”
“I’ll arrange for the flight and call your service back. Thanks, Dr. Marano.”
“We’re almost there,” Max said forty minutes later as he pulled off the highway onto the road that wound leisurely to Backwater.
“Home sweet home?” she asked.
“I hated the place as much as Odette loved it. It’s not much more than a dot on the map, a nothing town of small farms, two schools, and a few stores. It hasn’t changed much since I left to join the police academy.” It hadn’t been such a bad place to grow up, really. It just held the shame that had clung to him through his years here, and the secret he’d had to hold so close.
“Have you been back since?”
“I come to visit occasionally.”
Odette never changed either. She held secrets close to her, too, and one of those secrets was probably where his father was. The thought of facing his father struck him with fear. Kill me! Little coward! Max’s fingers tightened on the wheel. Superman’s kryptonite.
The farm brought good memories, too. It had been a refuge when his father left him here while he went away on longer trips and when they came for Christmas. It had seemed so much bigger then, but he could hardly call it a farm. More like a farm wannabe. It had the usual patches of vegetables laid out in a semblance of order. Toward the back was a fenced-in area where Odette kept a couple of cows, a ramshackle chicken shack, and a small barn.
He saw a boy with a sheet tied around his neck so that it flowed out behind him as he ran to save imaginary Lois Lanes. Sometimes he saved Olivia again, trying to make some sense of it, impossible as that was.
He pushed away that image and pulled into the long, dirt drive. Odette was over by the barn where the cows came home, looking as fragile and haunted as always. Her head lifted at the sound of his car’s approach. She didn’t recognize it at first; his cars changed over time, and they were purposely generic. Her apprehension gave way to a smile and a return wave when he stepped out of the car.
She was wearing something that looked like a nightgown, and beneath that, brown boots. The kids in town used to call her crazy, and Max defended her with all of his might. She wasn’t crazy, just different.
He leaned into the open passenger window. “I don’t like leaving you in the car.”
“I’ll be fine. She won’t feel comfortable talking with me there, and I want her to tell you everything she knows. You go. We’ll be fine, won’t we, girl?” She rubbed Stasia’s head. “I’ll lock the doors, don’t worry.”
She was right, but he still didn’t like leaving her alone. He made his way over to Odette, where she watched his approach. Her fine, white curls floated in the breeze. Her eyes were shadowed by hollows that made her look like an owl. Her eyelashes and eyebrows were as light as her hair, almost invisible.
“Maxie!” She met him a few yards from the barn and hugged him. “I should make some tea.”
He pressed her close, though she kept her hands aloft. “It’s good to see you.” And it was, even under the circumstances. She had been the closest he’d had to a mother. He’d be forever grateful to her. “How are you?”
“I’m good, Maxie, real good.” She took him in with a certain sadness. “Sometimes I still picture you as a boy. Now you’re a man, not a boy at all.”
He wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he only nodded in agreement. She was tiny, almost bony. She swore she could eat a horse a day and not gain an ounce, though he had never seen her eat much at a sitting. “We need to talk.”
Odette did not do “talks” well. Anytime something serious came up, her eyes started darting around and her hands twitched. They did that now. “I should definitely make some tea then.”
She used the process to escape unpleasantness, hoping that by the time she was through, she could avert the conversation to something she liked better. Usually she won.
Not this time.
When he glanced at the car, Odette followed his gaze.
“Who’s that?” she asked.
“A friend of mine. She wanted to stay there.”
He was sure Odette didn’t mind. She didn’t like strangers.
The house smelled the same as it always did, a bit musty, but overlaid with whatever she had baked that morning. The floorboards creaked more than they used to, but overall the house was in good repair.
“Who helps you keep this place up?” he asked, watching her expression.
She turned away from him and ran the water to wash her hands. “I use the money you send me, of course. Tim from town helps out. Sometimes Joe. You remember Joe, don’t you? Nice young man. He and his wife clean the house for me, and I give them eggs and pies.”
She was a couple of years older than his father, putting her around fifty. Her skin had the texture of a child’s, smooth and pale. She’d never married. The farm had belonged to her parents,
who had died before he could remember.
“I need to know something about my father.”
She didn’t falter for a second as she set the teakettle on the stove over the flame. In fact, she smiled at him with the face of an angel. “It’s so good to see you, Maxie. Look at you, all professional looking.” She took in his dress pants and shirt with a proud smile this time.
Her pride touched him, but he couldn’t let her sidetrack him. “Odette, it’s important. I know you don’t like talking about him—”
“I loved my brother. He’s a good man, but they all think he’s a terrible person.” She gave him an accusing look. “You think he’s terrible, too.”
He didn’t miss her mix of past and present tense. “He’s alive, isn’t he?”
She only blinked in response, then turned back to the teacups she’d set on a tray. They were dainty things and didn’t match each other. “In me, he is. I’m the only one who loved him. I’m the only one who understood him.”
Her voice was on the edge of breaking. Damn, this was why he shouldn’t be on this case, why he shouldn’t be the one questioning her. And why no one else could.
He tried a different tact. “Tell me about him then. Help me understand.”
She looked hopeful at that, but her lips pressed together. “Just leave it alone, Maxie. Why bring it up now?”
“Because I’m investigating a case that’s very similar to the one he was involved in. You do remember that, don’t you? The girl he abducted.” He walked over to the window. “That’s her out there.”
She pressed her hand against his chest. “That was all a mistake. You know he wouldn’t hurt that girl.”
“He did hurt her. He starved her, cut her, and played cruel games with her. Another girl is missing.” He pulled out the picture of Phaedra. “This girl. I need to find her before something bad happens to her. Please talk to me. Tell me about my father.”
“It’s not fair to talk about the dead, Maxie.”
The teakettle shrilled, and she went to work pouring the tea into those cups. She assembled the dish of sugar and a mason jar of milk on the tray. She shuffled her feet across the old wood floor as she carried the tray to the sofa. Dust motes floated in the lone shaft of sunlight coming in through the gap in the broken blind. Otherwise, all the curtains and blinds were closed. A small plastic tree was the only indication of the holidays, nothing more than lights on it.
He stifled his impatience and followed her into the living room where the sound of a clock filled the silence. Before he joined her, he walked to the front window and checked on Olivia again. He could see her sitting there, safe and sound.
Instead of sitting on the couch with Odette, he knelt down in front of her. Gently, he set his hands on her knees and looked up at her. “I need to know why he took that girl.”
She cupped his cheek with her cool, dry hand. “Maxie, let the past be. It’s better that way.”
“Sometimes it’s not. Sometimes people die because of it. Children die because of it. He’s taken two girls that we know of. He’s probably taken more of them between the first and this one.”
Calm quickly replaced the fission of alarm that crackled across her expression as she leaned around him and fixed her cup of tea. “Maxie, drink your tea. It’s orange pekoe. I think it’s Indian, doesn’t it sound Indian to you?”
It sounded like a dodge to him. To sate her, he took a sip, burning his tongue in the process. Though he knew he should go slowly, his instincts told him to try another tact. “He wasn’t a good man and you know it. He was violent. Mean. He was the worst kind of father a kid could have.” He didn’t have to pretend the pain of that statement.
She set down her teacup with a loud clink. “He wasn’t bad. He wasn’t. He did the best he could, considering…”
“Considering?”
“He just did.” She gestured to his cup. “Drink your tea, Maxie. It’s orange pekoe. I said that already, didn’t I?”
He’d always been a good kid, not wanting to cause her any trouble. He wasn’t that kid anymore. He stood. “Bobby was cruel. There’s no excuse for being cruel to a helpless child. There is no excuse for psychological torment. For locking a boy in a closet. Testing him.” His voice rose as each sentence wrought a painful memory. “For stealing little girls.”
She stood, tipping the sugar bowl over with the abrupt movement. “Stop it! He tried not to be like our father, he did! But it was so hard, he’d lived with fear and guilt and anger for so long.” Tears stained her cheeks pink. “You had to pay for your sins, that’s what Father taught us. But he never paid, and it drove Bobby mad with rage.”
She sank down again, crying. This was the most he’d ever heard about his grandfather. He sat down beside her, close but not touching her. Father. That word sent a chill through him. “What did…your father do?”
She shook her head, and her hands twisted into her flimsy nightgown. He could see right through it, enough to see her big, white underwear. He shifted his gaze away.
Tick, tick, tick.
“What did he do, Odette?”
“He did bad things to me. He touched me. Bobby tried to keep him away, but he was younger, smaller. Father was a big man, big and strong and mean.”
His throat closed so tight, he could hardly push out the words, “What did your mother do?”
“Nothing. She was too afraid of him. We all were. But not Bobby. He tried, tried to protect me. Bobby wanted to hurt Father, I could see the rage in his eyes. I was too afraid to do anything but lay there.” Her mouth twisted at the memory, and he felt bad for putting her through this. This explained why she was so timid…and maybe why she was disappointed that he’d grown into a man.
“Why didn’t anyone report him to the police?”
“The police.” Her eyes were far away, but she managed a laugh. “Father was the police. He died a hero’s death, in the line of duty. They buried him with the flag draped over his coffin and the whole town crying into their hankies. People made speeches about how great he was. And I smiled.” She looked at him. “They thought I was crazy, I know they did. But I smiled all through the service. Bobby cried, but not for Father. He cried because he’d wanted to kill him. Because no one would ever believe Father was the worst kind of man.”
Max put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. “I understand now. I do.” He’d bullied. Now he had to gentle her. “What I don’t understand is why Bobby took the girl. Was he going to do the things your father did to you?”
She jerked out of his grasp. “No! He would never do that, not after what I’d gone through. He protected me, took care of me. That’s all he was doing to that girl, too, protecting her.”
“He cut her, humiliated her. He took her from her family. Is that what you call protecting?”
“Stop it!” Her voice screeched. “He doesn’t do it! He’s not like that.”
He lowered his voice. “So you’re admitting he’s alive.”
“He’s…no, I didn’t.” She searched his eyes and knew she’d given it away. “He’d never hurt anyone. He’s a good man. You have to believe that.”
“Where is he? Let me talk to him. Maybe then I’ll understand him.” Like hell.
“I can’t.” Her delicate face stretched into a frown. “He tried to be a good father to you.”
“But he wasn’t a good father. He went into hiding, left me behind.”
“Not behind. He’s always been there. Watching you.”
Icy chills skittered down his spine, and his stomach lurched. “Who is he?”
Tick, tick, tick.
“Like a guardian angel.”
“Does he work with me?”
Tick, tick, tick.
“Watching over you.”
“Dammit, Odette, who is he?”
“He’s proud of you, you know.” She took a sip of her tea, her pinky extended, as though they were having a casual conversation about his loving father.
His father was out
there, watching him. Fear twisted inside him. He was that boy again, cowering under his father’s glare, failing his tests or selling his soul to pass them. His fingers itched to grab Odette and shake the truth out of her.
He pushed up and started searching the drawers of the entertainment center. He remembered going through the old photo albums looking at pictures of his mother. There was nothing new there. He watched Odette’s expression; she wasn’t worried.
That changed when he walked back to the kitchen. She was a blur beside him, grabbing for a piece of paper on the fridge. She stuffed it in her mouth before he could reach her. He tried to pry her mouth open, but she’d already swallowed it. Like a child, she opened her mouth to show him.
He reined in his fury. “Don’t you care about that little girl? She’s going to die if you don’t help me. Can you get that though your head?”
“He didn’t take her,” she said with such certainty, Max knew she believed it. And he knew she wouldn’t betray her brother, not for anyone or any reason.
He kneaded the bridge of his nose and forced back the frustration that threatened to engulf him. “Okay,” he said a moment later. “At least tell me about Rose.”
That startled her. “Rose?”
“He wants to punish Rose for making her mother cry. For disobeying him. That’s why he takes the girls, to keep punishing Rose. She was a bad girl, apparently.”
She shook her head. “Rose wasn’t all bad.” Her eyes widened. “You tricked me.”
“I didn’t trick you. I’m just trying to understand Bobby. That’s what you want, right, for me to understand why he’s doing what he’s doing? See, you know all the facts. I don’t. How can I understand him if I don’t know the truth?”
While she was trying to sort that out in her mind, he glanced out the front window again. Olivia was still in the car. He turned back to Odette. Her loyalty prevented her from believing Bobby could harm anyone. Maybe it would also make her want to sway Max’s opinion of him.
Blindsight [Now You See Me] (Romantic Suspense) Page 24