See Me in Your Dreams

by Patricia Rosemoor

  "We already knew that, but she's been moved. The police have someone watching the place." Tyler checked his watch. "By now, they should have the court order to get inside and search. Not that I think it'll do any good."

  "So the cops beat me to it. Sorry. But if I'd been on the case in the first place..." Looking chagrined, Weaver shrugged and turned to leave. "I'll send you my bill."

  "Wait. What are you doing tomorrow?"

  Stopped in the doorway, the investigator said, "Nothing I can't change."

  "Good." Tyler wouldn't put Keelin in jeopardy, but Weaver was a professional. "Close the door a minute."

  After ascertaining that the investigator had access to a handgun, he told Weaver what he had in mind.

  KEELIN BARELY GAVE JACK WEAVER a second glance as he left Tyler's office. Rather than waiting to be announced, she rushed right in and closed the door, bursting to tell him what she'd learned. To her frustration, Tyler was on the telephone.

  "Hang up," she demanded, not trying to hide her urgency. "I must speak with you."

  A quick apology to the person on the other end and he dropped the receiver back into its cradle. "What's going on? Are you all right?"

  "Has Brock been here yet?"

  "A little while ago. He brought the money."

  Keelin took a deep breath. She'd known it! "Did he tell you where the money came from?"

  "I didn't ask. Why?"

  "I followed him."

  "You what?" Tyler launched himself out of his seat.

  "After you returned to the office earlier, he was on the street, looking over his shoulder...as if he didn't want to be watched...and he flagged a taxi. So I went with my instincts."

  "And him. Where?"

  "The Gold Coast." She lowered her voice. "Nathan Feldman Associates."

  "You're saying he got the money from Feldman?"

  "He entered the offices empty-handed and came out carrying a briefcase. Black leather."

  With the vilest curse she'd heard pass his lips to date, Tyler yelled, "He's got some explaining to do!" and made to rush by her.

  Keelin practically threw herself in front of the door to stop him. "You cannot face him with this now."

  "Why not? I'll break his damn neck!"

  "If Vivian Claiborne was the woman in the apartment, chances are she was in on the scheme with Feldman. And if Brock is working with Feldman..."

  Tyler stared. "You don't think Brock knew? Christ, he could put Cheryl's life in jeopardy with a phone call!"

  "Exactly."

  He backed off and paced the length of the office. "Wait a minute. This doesn't make sense. If Feldman has my daughter, why would he give part of the ransom money to Brock to give to me? So he can get his own money back?"

  "Think. What is it Feldman wants of you more than money?"

  "My class," Tyler joked, his voice bitter.

  Keelin didn't feel like laughing. "Perhaps you have a point."

  "Afraid I can't give him that, not even in exchange for my daughter."

  "But Brock is an extension of you."

  Tyler's brow furrowed, but he quickly followed her lead. "And if Brock went over to Feldman, he'd be bringing half our clients with him. And the Uptown theater renovation that Feldman so desperately wanted. That added to Smialek's lawsuit..." He fell silent for a moment, then said, "Looks like they've been conspiring to ruin me, doesn't it?"

  "I'm afraid so."

  Tyler sank into a sofa, for the moment appearing utterly defeated. Keelin quickly crossed the short space and tried to comfort him, even knowing that the only thing to truly salve his wounds was to have his daughter returned to him unharmed.

  Believing with all her heart that she would not be seeing through Cheryl Leighton's eyes unless she had the means to save the girl, Keelin knew she would have be present at the ransom drop, no matter Tyler's objections.

  But how to learn where the exchange was to take place?

  STRUGGLING WITH THE KNOTS for what seemed like hours, she finally loosened the rope that bound her hands together. Her heart soared with hope as she pulled them free and the charms on her bracelet tinkled as if applauding. Next, she ripped the foul gag from her mouth, then worked on the rope binding her ankles.

  In minutes she was trying to stand, trying to see. Her head swam and her stomach lurched with all the trying.

  The space was pitch dark. Confusing. No, terrifying.

  Which way? Which way?

  Stumbling forward, hands out to catch the wall, she felt the faint pulse of the building under her palms, could swear she heard the thrum of its heartbeat. Blindly, she stepped wrong. The floor pitched beneath her feet and when she went flying, the building rumbled with muffled laughter.

  "Please!" she squeaked, her voice so dry it was nearly gone. "I promise I won't tell. Just let me out of here. I want to go home! I want my dad!"

  But no one was around to hear.

  Only the building.

  And it wasn't going to let her go!

  CHERYL LEIGHTON WOKE WITH A START, heart hammering, almost certain she wasn't alone.

  She whispered, "Hello? Anyone there?"

  Then she realized it felt more like someone had been inside her nightmare with her than in this space. A feeling not altogether unfamiliar. She shuddered and the skin along the back of her neck rose in bumps. Impossible. The dark was making her imagine things. Making her lose her mind.

  She never wanted to be in a dark space alone again.

  Tears seeped from her eyes and threatened to choke her.

  He'd moved her, brought her here that morning, had left her for most of the day. A building in the process of renovation. A big building. Familiar. Empty. No one to hear her scream, even if she weren't still gagged. But she heard plenty.

  A couple in the alley getting in on.

  A fight out front on the street.

  The tick-tack of claws inside. Rats?

  She trembled and worked at the ropes binding her hands together. Her wrists were raw, her fingers sore. She paused, grasping onto one of her charms for comfort. Somewhere outside, an el rumbled by. She had to get free. She had to get out.

  But something told her she wouldn't succeed.

  Because the building wouldn't let her go.

  "TYLER?" KEELIN STOOD IN THE CENTER of his room, shaking so hard her teeth were clacking. "Are you awake?"

  He mumbled an unintelligible answer, and she realized that he was in twilight land, halfway between wake and sleep. The full moon swept its beams through the open windows and across his bed. She saw him stir. The night sighed and a breeze swept into the room, with it the distinctive smell of the lake. She took comfort in her senses, in her freedom, in knowing she was not trapped as was Cheryl.

  Hesitating only a moment, she flew to the edge of the bed and climbed under the sheet, seeking Tyler's solidity for comfort. He'd wanted her here with him, but Helen had taken the room next to his, and Keelin had been uncomfortable accepting the invitation. And so she'd insisted on sleeping in Cheryl's bed.

  And had dreamed Cheryl's dream.

  Rather had been trapped in the girl's nightmare.

  She shuddered, and as if he sensed something was amiss with her even in sleep, Tyler wrapped his arms around Keelin and pulled her closer. Wide awake, she huddled against the man she loved, knowing his daughter was terrified, knowing she couldn't tell him so. Tomorrow he had to have his wits about him. Equally important, so did she.

  Keelin let her eyes drift closed and listened to the steady beat of Tyler's heart. She could imagine herself falling asleep with him every night. If only their situation weren't so complicated. If only Tyler weren't so opposed to lasting relationships. If only he loved her as she loved him. He'd said he trusted her, but enough to give her his heart?

  One of his hands wandered along her waist and cupped a breast. Her tender flesh swelled against his palm, perhaps for the last time.

  Swallowing hard, Keelin knew she would never sleep for thinking of it.


  "Tyler," she whispered, giving him a gentle shake, "make love to me as if we might never have another chance."

  "Mm, is this a dream?" he murmured.

  "A grand dream."

  Suddenly he was awake and awakening her body, murmuring her name softly, tenderly. Kissing her. Laving her neck. Suckling at her breast through the cotton of her gown. He slid a hand down to her hip where his fingers gathered the material and edged it up with aching slowness. In return, she smoothed her hands along his naked chest and down the flat of his stomach. Explored all his hollows and curves as she had not been able to do before. Wrapped her fingers around him.

  His hand slipped from the side of her thigh to the front. His fingers brushed her lightly, stroked her until she felt a damp flow that laved him. Her fingers stroked him until he was hot and heavy.

  She joyfully opened to him.

  Keelin moaned as Tyler stroked the delicate flesh that burned for deeper exploration. She drew him to the entrance, then slid a leg up and around his thigh to provide him easier access. Resistance made him hesitate and lift his head from her mouth at last, but Keelin couldn't wait any longer. Ignoring his questioning expression, clinging to his neck, she lifted her other leg and let her weight slide her where she wanted to be, one with him.

  "Keelin..." he murmured in her hair. "... why..."

  "Sh-h-h."

  She rocked her hips to quiet any uncertainty, and Tyler responded, first with a shudder, then by moving with her. Waves of pleasure washed over her, and at last Keelin knew what it was to feel complete. She grasped at his back, nails digging into his flesh silently urging him to do something, anything to help her find what lay just out of reach.

  Like a man possessed, he drove into her. Giving her more pleasure than she thought possible. And when she was certain there was no more to give, he finished her with a last thrust that sent her spiraling out of her body to some other world.

  Her cry was joined by his shout.

  Tyler collapsed on her. That he might crush her was of no consequence. Keelin didn't want this moment to end, for she feared that once he released her, she would never know this feeling again. He was panting, his heated breath against her neck making her melt inside. She held him desperately, willing this moment to last forever.

  Cradling her, Tyler backed his weight off and took a big breath. His chest heaved, then quieted. Keelin unwound her legs from his hips and let them drop to the bed, the nightgown flowing over her thighs, the feeling as sensuous as the one inside her.

  Tyler murmured, "The first time shouldn't have been like this."

  And Keelin was stricken. "You're disappointed?"

  "No, of course not." He captured her face in his hands and leaned his forehead against hers. "I mean it should have been better for you."

  "It could have been better?"

  Keelin couldn't imagine being the recipient of more pleasure than Tyler had already given her. He'd brought her to the stars and back. Even now, she was pulsing with the afterglow of their union. Unsure of what lay ahead for them, she treasured the lingering sensation.

  His expression lightened. "I guess I meant nicer. Flowers. Champagne."

  Relieved, Keelin smiled at his romantic concern. "I have no complaints."

  "Nor do I," he said, brushing his lips gently across hers.

  Tyler held her quietly, his hand tracing the column of her spine. For a few moments, she put aside all thoughts but the memory of their joining and the love she had for him. Her climax had been an afterthought, physically exciting and yet not as intense as the passions he aroused in her heart and soul.

  Even as she drifted in the luxurious aftermath, snatches of Cheryl's nightmare pulled at her, uncertainty tearing at her momentary bliss. If things went wrong and his daughter was lost to him for good, Keelin knew Tyler would be destroyed. Now it was more than her own redemption for Gavin Daley's death that mattered to her.

  What if, despite her determination, she failed the man she loved?

  Chapter Eleven

  KEELIN AWOKE ALONE IN TYLER'S BED. Awake most of the night, she'd finally fallen asleep just before dawn. And now the morning had progressed without her.

  She slipped back to Cheryl's room where she hurriedly pulled on a dress and ran her fingers through her hair. Barefoot, she raced downstairs. And just in time.

  She caught up with Tyler in the foyer – he appeared ready to leave.

  "You're up." He sounded surprised but not displeased. "I left a note in the kitchen. Good. I'd rather say good-bye in person."

  Good-bye?

  The thought registered even as Tyler reached for her and drew her to him. Keelin resisted.

  "You were going to leave without me?"

  "You were sleeping so peacefully, I didn't have the heart to wake you."

  When he brushed his lips over hers, she pulled her head away, unable to hide her disappointment. "Are you certain you aren't trying to be rid of me?"

  Irritation crossed his features. "I've got a lot to do before –"

  "And I can help."

  "No. I want you out of this, now." He softened his tone when he added, "I need to concentrate on Cheryl. I don't want to have to worry about you, too."

  He sounded as if he cared, Keelin realized. But if he really cared he wouldn't shut her out knowing what he did about her past mistake. About the guilt that had followed her for years. Or maybe he didn't really believe that she had it in her to set things right this time.

  "You cannot do this without me," Keelin said, as certain of this as she was of anything.

  "I can and I will." Tyler backed off, and a flash of regret washed over him before he opened the front door. "And I hope you have the good sense to stay put until it's all over."

  Good sense?

  Keelin stood frozen to the spot until she heard the Jaguar pull out of the drive. Then she ran to the door and threw it open in time to see the bottle green vehicle disappear.

  "God bless," she whispered after him, hoping the good-bye was only temporary.

  Taking a deep breath, she looked around. Helen's car was gone, as well. She was well and truly alone. She slammed the door and locked it.

  Stewing over such heartless treatment, Keelin put the kettle on to boil and fetched some tea from her kit. The mixture of chamomile, vervain, peppermint, linden, lavender and lemon balm was a restorative mix meant to improve well-being and happiness and to lift the spirits. She could certainly use a good dose of spirit-lifting so she could rationally decide what to do next.

  By the time she'd had her tea and toast and had chosen not to feel sorry for herself, it was after eleven. Bringing a mug of tea to Cheryl's room, she finished dressing and fixed her hair properly.

  Then, as she sipped at the last of the brew, she found herself standing before Cheryl's shelves, pulling out the scrapbook with the photos of the girl and her dad at the fair. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, she stared at the two of them. Even in this glossy still-life she could see how much they meant to one another.

  She touched the girl's image, wishing she could see through Cheryl's eyes at will.

  Thinking she might need to show someone a picture of Cheryl later, Keelin looked for a shot of the girl alone. The last series in the album was of Cheryl's graduation. She chose a five-by-seven blow-up and carefully pulled the edges free from the stays that held the glossy in place on the page.

  And something dropped from behind the print.

  Wondering what the girl had secreted, she hesitated only a second before unfolding the note.

  Tyler –

  Our arrangement is no longer satisfactory. Call me to work out the details. 317-555-4362.

  Helen

  Keelin stared at the missive.

  Tyler's ex-wife.

  Why hadn't he told her about the note? She had no doubts that Helen had been asking for more money. And Cheryl...how had the demand found its way to her...and what had the girl done about it? Cheryl must have guessed Helen was her mother or she wouldn
't have hidden the note in her scrapbook.

  Can't stay here any longer.

  Not one minute.

  No more lies.

  Cheryl's thoughts came back to haunt her. Now they made sense. Had she contacted Helen? How to know? Keelin wondered. Cheryl didn't seem to keep anything in writing.

  Unless...

  Her gaze strayed to the computer. Skelly had given her a quick introduction to his when she'd been looking for those articles. She vaguely remembered him keeping his phone numbers and notes in different files.

  And Tyler had talked about Cheryl navigating through cyberspace.

  Keelin approached the electronic beast. "Please God, that I may tame you," she whispered, drawing out a seat and finding the Power switch.

  The computer energized as did the monitor. Messages and colors flashed across the screen. Dread built in Keelin. What foolishness was this? She had no idea of what she was doing. But when the computer settled, boxes that Skelly had called windows were on the screen, and in each box, small figures with names. She found one such figure labeled Notebook and clicked the mouse pointer on it.

  She spent a frustrating fifteen minutes before managing to find the few file names and open the first on the list. She worked by trial and error. Nothing of value.

  Terminal was equally unhelpful.

  Cardfile was next. She was getting a handle on this process. Files were labeled Friend, Relative, Business and Other. She opened Relative and found a number for Tyler's mother in Florida and his sister in Kentucky. She tried Other. Only a single entry: Helen.

  Keelin recognized the telephone number as being the same as that in the note. Cheryl knew, then. Furthermore, she must have used the number, or why would she have entered it into her computer.

  But Helen hadn't said anything about her daughter contacting her...

  Thoughtfully, Keelin stared at the entry, wishing it could give her some answers.

  Then she carefully backtracked, closing the file, then the program, then the operations.