by Susan Shay
Steve’s mouth dropped open, giving him the drained look of a man who’d been sucker punched and was down for the count. Silently, he fisted his hand around the bill Keegan had handed him and turned to go. With the other hand, he grasped Janneth’s arm and dragged her with him.
“Now just a minute! I must see my daughter. We have a reservation to fly back—”
Steve spun to face her, fury blazing in his eyes. “You aren’t going to fly anywhere with Cassie, lady, until we locate my Miriam. You and I are going to drive to Austin and have a nice meal. And if you try to give me any trouble about it, I’ll pick you up and carry you out of here like a sack of potatoes.”
“Well, I never!” Janneth huffed, then, jerking her arm from his grasp, flounced out. With a last look, she called, “Tell Cassaundra I expect her to be packed and ready to leave the—”
Keegan shut his eyes a moment, glad the front door closed and shut off the woman’s irritating voice. If her husband truly was having an affair, he couldn’t blame the guy. How the man had managed to put up with her whining and screeching for all these years was beyond him.
He strode toward the office, ignoring Miss Marcie’s what’s-going-on-that-I’m-going-to-have-to-rectify glare. Unsure himself, he wasn’t ready to try to explain to anyone.
What had happened to Miriam? Was she having second thoughts about Steve? Had she gone somewhere to reconsider before taking another big step? But he knew that was all wishful thinking. Miriam had loved Steve forever. Since before he loved her. And long after he’d stopped.
Had the worry that had lived inside him for so long happened? Had the serial killer gotten his hands on her, too? Was she already—he swallowed hard as he fought to keep from acknowledging the thought—dead?
As he reentered the office, Cassie was sitting on the desk, her legs crossed under her, her head bowed, her hands flattened on the surface, palm down. Although nothing had changed, the room had darkened considerably.
What was going on?
As he neared, a band tightened around his lungs, causing his breathing to grow shallow. Fighting the urge to climb onto the desk beside her, he faced her, his thighs pressed hard against the wood.
Although he hadn’t made a sound, she knew he was there. As she opened her eyes, he saw the pupils were so large, they’d practically engulfed her blue irises. He wished he could pull her to him. Hold her safely in his arms. Protect her from harm.
Harm? She was safe as long as they were in a room together, alone. What could possibly hurt her?
Then, as if she’d been underwater for too long and just broken the surface, Cassie sucked in a breath of air. His breath came with hers.
“There’s mud.” Her voice was a monotone, so devoid of emotion that he had to listen closely to understand the words. “Dried mud. In front of the entrance. I want to take it with us.”
Without questioning her, he turned and left the office. There on the floor was a small area of mud, much of which had been ground to dust. On his knees, he brushed a pile of the larger clumps together.
“Cassie said to leave that until she could get the vacuum.” Miss Marcie’s sharp voice grated. “Don’t bother with it.”
He glanced at her. “Do you have a napkin?”
“What?” She slammed her fists to her hips in case he was about to disobey her.
“Hand me one of the napkins on the table.” And shut up.
Muttering something about the idiocy of men, Marcie yanked a napkin off the table and flung it at him.
“Thank you.” He filled the colorful square. Gathering the napkin’s four corners, he gave it a twist and shoved it into his pocket.
When he rose, Cassie was waiting. “If you think it’s okay, I’ll give my key to Miss Marcie so she can lock up.”
Amazed she was able to think of anything except finding Miriam, he nodded. As they left, he found himself unable to speak. Miriam’s store. Would she ever see it again? Would she ever lovingly look through a book or wait on a customer or laugh over a cup of coffee?
The drive to the apartment house was the longest he’d ever taken in his life. Cassie rode the entire way with her eyes closed. Preparing for the ordeal to come? Silently searching for Miriam? Although he didn’t know, he didn’t want to interrupt whatever she was doing. If it was necessary, he would know soon enough.
When they finally got home, they hurried to Miriam’s apartment. It didn’t look any different than it had when he’d left. The furniture was all in place. The kitchen towel was still lying on the counter where he’d tossed it. The lamp he hadn’t bothered to turn off was still burning.
It was painfully apparent no one had been there. How could everything in the world still be the same, even though Miriam was gone?
Fighting the urgent need to tear up the building in a search for Miriam, he allowed Cassie to take the lead. Somehow he understood she was the only path to finding his sister.
Cassie walked through the flat. Without asking, he knew she was reaching out for her friend. Trying to find something—anything—that would give them a hint of where she’d gone.
Hoping to keep his emotions under control and out of Cassie’s way, he went into the kitchen and concentrated on unloading the dishwasher, focusing on each dish as he removed it from the machine, finding the exact place where it belonged, then precisely putting it away. When the task was finished, he could think of nothing else that needed to be done.
Call the police.
Without questioning the voice in his head, he dug out the phone book and flipped the book to the back cover, where Miriam had taped a list of emergency numbers. Beside 911, she’d typed the number for the local police.
So he could keep Miriam’s line open in case she called, he pulled out his cell and dialed. “Stone Hill Police,” a man answered.
As the reality of what he was doing—reporting his sister a missing person—he fought the panic that tried to swamp him. “Detective Phillips, please.”
An eternity passed before Phillips came to the phone. When he finally answered, Keegan identified himself, then said, “My sister, Miriam, is missing.”
After a pause, Phillips spoke. “When was the last time anyone saw her?”
“She was at the store yesterday for a while, but left fairly early.”
“Has she been seeing anyone new, socially?”
Keegan cleared his throat. “She has been seeing someone, but I didn’t find out who it was until just today. It’s her ex-husband. Steve Cartwright.”
After another pause, Phillips asked, “Have you contacted Steve as to her whereabouts?”
“He came to me. They were supposed to be together tonight, to announce their remarriage.”
Now concern overwhelmed the professionalism in Phillip’s voice. “Keegan, have you checked all around the apartment house? To make sure she hasn’t fallen or gotten hurt some way?”
“Not yet.” The thought of something he could do to find her made it easier to breathe. “I wanted to put you on the case before we did anything else.”
“Well, if—when you find her, let us know. I’ll inform the captain about it right away, though. He’ll get the word out to the rest of the officers. We’ll find her.”
“Thanks.” Keegan disconnected his call, then turned to find Cassie at his elbow. “Did you find anything?”
“No, nothing.” Her voice was soft, as if saying the words too loudly would disturb something.
Standing so near Cassie, for just that moment, he wasn’t sick with anxiety for Miriam. For that too brief passage of time, he could feel only the warm welcome of Cassie’s nearness. But sadly, it could last no longer than a heartbeat. “I’m going to start searching for her in the attic. Maybe she was up there, looking for Christmas decorations or something, and hurt herself.”
He grabbed the key from the hook where Miriam kept it. If she’d gone to the attic, she’d have taken the key, wouldn’t she? Or did she carry a spare?
“I’ll go with you.” As Cassi
e followed him out the door and up the stairs, he found hope. At first it was just a flicker, but then it grew, strengthening him as he took the stairs two at a time.
When they reached the attic, he unlocked the door, then had to shove hard to get it open. Had something been braced there, to keep them out?
Alarmed, he put his shoulder to it, but was soon disappointed when he found an old bicycle had fallen in the way.
Turning on the lights, they picked their way through the dusty, box filled room. “Miriam? Are you in here?”
“I-I don’t think she is,” Cassie answered, then finding a small path through the discards, moved to the other side. “Miriam?”
Her hands in front of her, palm out, she turned in a full circle. Was she looking or mentally searching? He didn’t know, and at this point, he didn’t care. In fact, if he knew how to do it, he would round up every purported psychic in Texas to help.
The disappointment on Cassie’s face told him that Miriam wasn’t there.
“Well, let’s check out your apartment next. Maybe she went there for some reason and…” He didn’t finish the sentence, but then, how would he have finished it? Maybe she fell and couldn’t get up? Maybe the gas was on and she was overcome? Maybe, maybe, maybe. He could come up with a thousand scenarios, but none of that would help find her.
Cassie stopped mid-step as she made her way through the dusty storage room. “I-I don’t have my keys. They’re in my purse, down in your apartment.”
“Not a problem.” He held up the key he’d brought with them. “This is the building master key. It’ll get us in.”
The look she gave him, as if he were the most capable man in the world, shot straight to his heart. Why was it now, with all the turmoil going on around them, he’d finally come to realize his true feelings for her? Why was living such a hard thing to do, especially if you were going to do it right?
While they went down the short flight of stairs to her apartment, he wished they were going for another reason. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to take her in his arms and make love to her? To celebrate Christmas as only lovers could?
But as quickly as the thought came, the fact Miriam was missing came back to him. What kind of person was he to be thinking of making love when he didn’t know if his sister was dead or alive?
He unlocked the door, then not knowing what they would find inside, he pushed it open. His hopes drooped as he stepped into the room where only the oddly cheerful lights from the Christmas tree burned. The darkness filling the room was evidence that the afternoon was vanishing too quickly. Pressure built inside him. They were moving too slowly.
He looked at Cassie before he moved into the room. “Is there...do you feel something? Anything?”
Slowly she crossed the floor, then looked across the room at him. “Nothing.”
In only a moment he navigated the room, making sure she wasn’t there, lying behind a piece of furniture. Now what?
Cassie’s face brightened. “Didn’t Steve say that she had told him she had laundry and cleaning to do to get ready for their wedding and honeymoon?”
Trying to follow her line of thought, Keegan nodded.
“Why don’t we check the laundry room?”
Almost before the words were out of her mouth, he caught her arm. Together they ran down the stairs and out the door. Ignoring the sidewalks, they took a straight line to the community laundry room.
While Keegan unlocked the door, Cassie rested her hands against it, then with a frown, she tipped her head and touched her forehead.
“What is it?” Keegan whispered, unable to give his voice more substance.
Troubled and confused, she shook her head. “I-I really don’t know. Let me open the door, would you?”
At his nod, she grasped the knob, then closed her eyes. Concentrating, she turned it in her hand. As it started to open, so did her eyes, then she gasped and swallowed hard, as if she was about to be sick.
He caught her arm. “Wait. There’s no telling what we’ll find. Maybe I should go in first.”
Belly tightening with alarm, Cassie took a step back. Let’s forget this thing. I don’t want to go where this is leading. If Miriam has been kidnapped by a madman, I don’t want to see what she was feeling. I don’t want to know what she went through. I don’t want to live her fear. But she couldn’t stop now. Miriam, one of the few true friends she’d had in her life, was missing. And sadly enough, the feeling in her gut might be proof something had happened to her.
With more experience with her gift, she’d know what it meant. If she hadn’t smothered it while pretending it didn’t exist, she might be able to understand her own reactions.
But she’d wasted the gift. If this was the reason she’d been given the second sight, she’d effectively blinded herself through her own misuse. She shouldn’t have fought it all these years. Even her parents couldn’t have kept her from exploring it, if she’d truly wanted to. Her lack was no one’s fault but her own.
But inside, each time she used her gift, fear lurked beside it. What if she went into the psychic world, and stayed? What if, by learning all the wonders of being clairvoyant, her mind simply decided to remain there? What if she became a prisoner in her own mind? To never again know the mundane world. Or experience fresh surprise. Sudden joy.
Anxiety over what could be made it hard to breathe. To think. To function.
But this wasn’t just a friend. This was the sister of her heart. She couldn’t simply let Miriam be ripped from this life without doing her best to stop the senselessness.
Confused, less than useless, she stepped into the laundry room behind Keegan. Everything looked clean and tidy, as normal. The hard plastic chairs neatly edged the far wall. The machines stood with their lids open and empty. The dryers were open and empty. The folding table was clear and the hanging rack bore only a few empty hangers. Everything looked neat and tidy—normal—and yet, there was something...
Keegan walked around the small room, to check the miniscule amount of space that wasn’t immediately visible, then shook his head. Nothing.
Standing still for a moment, Cassie pulled so deep inside herself, she was awareness only. What was that disturbance? It was as if there was disquiet in the atmosphere. Unsure, and cursing her own deficiency with her gift, she walked to the row of chairs and sat down.
Off balance. One side of her body weighed more than the other. Puzzled by her own physical reaction, she slid to the next chair. Better, but it wasn’t right yet. Again she moved, then again, until she was in the chair closest to the storage closet. As she closed her eyes to try to find an emotion, any emotion, a strong urge to open the closet filled her.
She knew the interior of the closet and there wasn’t room for anything. It was full of cleaning supplies, and unless someone had hidden them, there wasn’t room for a person or—she clenched her teeth—a body.
Rising, she took a step away, but an internal alarm screamed. Open the door! She must open that door.
She swallowed hard and willed away the fear. Hesitating, she slid her fingers over the knob. When no impressions filled her mind, she tugged. A sudden wash of relief swept over her when she didn’t find anyone in the closet, but that was immediately followed by confusion.
“What’s in there?” Keegan murmured at her elbow as he pulled the door wide.
She glanced around the small space. “Cleaning supplies. Mop, bucket, broom, wet vac. The usual.”
Frustration pulled a growl from deep in his chest. “This is a dead end. Let’s search the rest of the apartment house.”
Turning, he stepped away, but she stopped him. “Wait. Can you tell what that is lying on the top shelf?”
He moved as far into the crowded closet as possible. “It looks like a bag of rags. For cleaning.”
“Pull it down.”
He frowned as if he didn’t understand her words, so she repeated, “Pull it down. Hand it to me.”
With a shake of his head, he stretched past the mo
p and vacuum to catch the bag handle on the tip of his finger. He tugged it off the shelf. “There you go.”
Nerves buzzing, she took the bag to the folding table and started emptying it. On top were a couple of old kitchen towels, not good for much more than dusting or sopping up spills. Beneath that, there were pieces of old T-shirts.
Then her breath froze in her lungs. Unwilling to dig deeper, she looked to Keegan for strength.
“What is it?” he asked, his voice soft.
She shook her head. Wishing she could pass the task to him, she knew she had to do it herself. If what had been buried in the bag was last held by Miriam, she might be able to learn something by being the next to touch it.
Biting her lip, she reached into the bag. First she pulled out a deep burgundy thong, then a tiny scrap of a matching bra. Clutching them tightly, she closed her eyes and forced air into her burning lungs. “Whore of Babylon!”
“What?” Keegan’s voice was sharp, rousing her from the depth of her concentration.
Shoving the underwear from her along with the reality of his presence, she closed her eyes and dug deeper into the bag. First she found the cool touch of satin panties, then the rougher texture of a cotton bra. When she came to the softness of Miriam’s favorite camisole, she threaded it through her fingers. Once, twice, on the third time, she pulled even the straps through.
Thunder and lightning crashed simultaneously. A knife point of pain pierced her eyes while her head boomed. Like a fire catching dry straw, terror engulfed her. Panic flashed, scorching her gut. Her muscles became immediately taut. Dropping the clothing, she swiveled to a crouch, ready to run. Hide. Escape.
But there was nowhere to go. No place to hide. She was caught, as surely as a rodent in a steel cage.
There is no hope.
Throat thick with fear, she blindly fisted her hands in front of her chest and dropped to the floor in a ball. She carried no weapon. No protection. There was no one to save her and no way to save herself.
Help me. Help me. Help me.