Forbidden Territory Read online

  McBride uttered a succinct oath. “Where are they?”

  “I took ’em to the office.” Theo led the way, two stairs at a time, but McBride’s longer legs propelled him ahead as they reached the detective division at the end of the hall.

  Andrew Walters sat in one of the chairs in front of McBride’s desk, talking to a woman McBride didn’t recognize. Lily stood across the room, her head turned toward the windows. Late afternoon sunlight bathed her face with golden light, causing McBride to falter before he caught himself and continued into the room.

  Walters met him halfway, his expression tense. “Well?”

  “Phony, like you thought. There were newspaper clippings about Abby’s kidnapping all over his house, but no sign that she’d ever been around. He’s being booked.”

  “Can I see him?” Walters asked.

  McBride passed his hand over his face, suddenly tired. “I guess so. Our guys will want to interrogate him first.”

  “Can I watch?”

  McBride motioned to Baker. “Theo, take Mr. Walters with you to observe Biddle’s interrogation.” He crossed to his desk, pressing his hands to his weary eyes.

  He expected Lily and the unknown woman to follow Theo and Walters out. But when he dropped his hands, the two women remained, Lily still standing by the window and the unidentified woman sitting primly in front of him, studying him with a pair of sparkling brown eyes.

  “Who the hell are you?” he asked.

  She laughed, and he saw the resemblance. He glanced at Lily. “She belongs to you?”

  Lily’s lips curved. “I don’t usually claim her.” She gave a little wave. “My sister Rose. Rose, this is Lieutenant J. McBride.”

  Rose held out her hand. “Nice to meet you. What’s the J. stand for?”

  McBride ignored her question and her extended hand, his eyes still on Lily. “I thought you were going to stay away from Walters.”

  Lily didn’t answer.

  “You’re right, he is a grouch.” Rose stood and looked down her nose at him, a twinkle in her light brown eyes. “I’ll leave you to your spat in a minute, but I have just one more question. Are you married?”

  McBride stared up at her, flummoxed. “No. Why?”

  Rose just gave her sister a knowing look. Lily lowered her head, color flooding her neck and cheeks.

  When Rose was gone, McBride looked across at Lily. “You could have asked me that yourself.”

  She lifted her chin and met his gaze. “I should have asked before. Considering.”

  He clenched his left hand into a fist, haunted by a phantom memory of cool gold circling his left ring finger. “I was married. My wife died a little over five years ago.”

  Lily crossed to him, her wild-honey eyes soft with concern. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

  He’d never figured out how to respond to those two words. Did he say thank-you? Or, it’s not your fault? As usual, he said nothing.

  She touched his cheek. “I wish I’d been wrong about the hoax, too. I wanted you to find Abby safe and sound.”

  He took a shaky breath, wanting nothing more than to press his face to her stomach and hold her close. Her touch made him feel wide open and raw. He hadn’t felt so much—good or bad—in a long time. He’d thought it was better that way, feeling nothing. But he was beginning to realize feeling nothing was its own kind of pain.

  He closed his eyes, overwhelmed by her warmth, by the slow, rhythmic stroke of her fingers on his face. He couldn’t find the energy to sound stern when he asked, “Why are you here?”

  “Andrew phoned and said you’d traced the call.” She slid her hand down his neck to settle on his shoulder.

  He opened his eyes. Her wary gaze met his and he realized she had her own walls to breach. Somehow the knowledge only made him feel more vulnerable.

  She stroked his shoulder, her fingers brushing against his neck. He leaned into her caress, unable to resist the comfort she offered.

  She moved behind him, pressing her soft hands against his skull, and began to rub his throbbing temples. When she drew his head back against her belly, he didn’t resist. Her touch drove out the cold ache that had crept into his core when he’d arrived at Biddle’s house and found no sign of Abby Walters. McBride hadn’t realized until that moment just how much he’d been hoping he was wrong and that she would be there, alive and well, for him to rescue and return to her father.

  “You must be exhausted.” Her voice purred through him. “I know you couldn’t have gotten much sleep on my sofa, and you’ve been on this case night and day.”

  “It’ll be that way until all the leads are exhausted.”

  “Or until you find her.”

  He leaned his head back to look at her. “I wish I believed that.”

  “I know.” She ran the back of her fingers down his cheek, her soft skin rasping on his day’s growth of beard. “Rose is staying at my place tonight. Join us for dinner.”

  He smiled at the thought. “I suspect your sister is best experienced in small doses. I’ve had mine for today.”

  “Then tomorrow?” she pressed.

  He tried to read her intentions behind those liquid gold eyes. “Dinner?”

  “I’m not much of a cook, but I can come up with something.”

  He swiveled the desk chair, turning to face her. “Why?”

  A flicker of fear passed across her face, and she took a half step back. But he read her answer in her wary eyes. He caught her hand, keeping her close.

  “We could hurt each other in so many ways,” he whispered.

  Her lips trembled. “I know.”

  “We’d be crazy to even try it.”

  She nodded but took a step toward him, her legs sliding between his knees. She cupped his face between her palms. “Tomorrow night at seven?”

  “Work is crazy. I can’t promise to be on time.”

  “I’ll keep dinner warm until you get there.” She leaned in to kiss him.

  The rattle of the doorknob gave them a second’s notice before the door to the office began to open. Lily stepped away from him, robbing him of her warmth. She was on the other side of his desk by the time Theo, Walters and Rose walked in.

  “He claims you got the wrong man.” Walters’s grim smile was chilling. “But he matches the description of the man in Lily’s vision, so I know it’s him.”

  McBride glanced at Lily. Her face was a porcelain mask, expressionless. “I’m sorry we didn’t find her today,” she said.

  Walters looked at Lily. “We will.”

  McBride walked them down to the front lobby. While Rose led Walters ahead, Lily lingered behind. She lifted her face when they reached the front desk. “You could do with some rest, McBride.”

  He bent toward her, wishing they were in a less public place. “I’m glad you came here today.”

  For a split second bright light washed over her face, then was gone. It took another second for McBride to realize it had been the flash of a camera. He looked in the direction from which it had come.

  A cluster of reporters were gathered around Walters and Lily’s sister near the doorway. McBride strode over to the group, Lily on his heels. “Come on, guys, let Mr. Walters pass.”

  One of the reporters thrust his microphone toward Lily. “Ms. Browning, is it true that Mr. Walters has asked you to assist him in finding his daughter?”

  Lily’s face went pale, but she didn’t answer. She tried to move away, but the crowd hemmed her in, separating her from McBride.

  “Are you a psychic, Ms. Browning? Do you claim to have had visions about the kidnapping?” the reporter pressed.

  Andrew Walters caught Lily’s arm, drawing her to his side. When he bent and said something in her ear, McBride felt his stomach coil into a hard knot. Old bitterness rose from deep inside, swamping him with doubt. Lily said she had only Abby’s welfare at heart, but here she was, ready to work the cameras—

  Only she wasn’t. She was gazing at McBride, her eyes pleading, as
if begging for rescue.

  He pushed through the crowd and drew her out of the mass of reporters. “Ms. Browning has no comment.” He bundled her through the front door, past the phalanx of newspeople.

  Rose caught up with them at the bottom of the steps. “Wow, that was like a scene from a movie.”

  “Where’s Walters?” McBride asked.

  “He’s giving the reporters a story. Said it might help him find Abby.” Rose straightened her twisted blouse. “I think one of those reporters pinched my butt.”

  McBride glanced at Lily, a smile tugging at his lips. Her eyes met his, bright with amusement, and he let out a chuckle. A second later, Lily joined him.

  Rose stared at them with mock outrage. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t your butts.”

  McBride grinned broadly and held out his hand to her. “It’s been nice meeting you, Rose Browning.”

  “Same here.” She shook his hand firmly and headed toward the car, leaving him alone with Lily.

  He turned and gazed into Lily’s laughing eyes. “Anybody pinch your butt?”

  She caught his hand, gave it a squeeze. “Sadly, no. Thanks for the rescue.”

  “Guess I was wrong. You’re not a media hound, after all.”

  Her smile faded. She tried to let go of his hand, but he held on, keeping her close for a moment more.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” He caressed the back of her hand with his thumb. “I’ll see you tomorrow night?”

  Her smile returned. “Tomorrow night.”

  He let her go, and she began to walk away. When she reached the car, he spoke her name. “Lily?”

  She turned to look at him. “Yeah?”

  “Maybe we will find Abby safe and sound,” he said.

  She smiled slightly. “Maybe we will.”

  But it was a lie, he thought as he watched her get into her car and drive away. He had a sick feeling that if they ever found Abby Walters, safe and sound was the last thing she’d be.

  Chapter Ten

  The story made the Saturday morning newspaper: Psychic Joins Police In Search For Missing Child. Almost covering the top right corner of the paper, a candid photo captured Lily and McBride, heads close as they spoke. The caption implied she and McBride were conferring on the case.

  Lily sank onto the sofa in dismay, paper in hand.

  There were lots of quotes from Andrew Walters. Ever the politician, he knew how to turn the reporters’ hostile questions into an asset. Though he never admitted that Lily was a psychic working to find his daughter, he made sure that the thrust of the article became a heartfelt plea for Abby’s return.

  Unfortunately, the journalist seemed to have done some background research on her, interviewing people from Willow Grove who’d known her when she was growing up. People whose names she barely recognized all had stories about those strange Browning girls and their odd ways. Worse, the article mentioned her job as a teacher at Westview Elementary. Now every reporter covering the case had her name and her occupation.

  It wouldn’t take long for them to hunt her down.

  She was tempted to take Rose’s advice and go home to Willow Grove for the rest of the weekend. But Lily needed to catch up on grading papers before Monday morning.

  She saw her sister off after breakfast. “Call me to let me know you got home safely.”

  Rose gave her a hug. “Be safe yourself, Lil. Okay?”

  After she left, Lily settled down with the stack of student papers Carmen Herrera had dropped off Friday. By noon, she’d worked her way through most of them and was considering taking a break for lunch when her spine started tingling.

  Abby, she thought, relief mingling with the gray mist washing over her. She hadn’t realized how much she’d needed to see the little girl again.

  Seconds later, she was in Abby’s tiny prison. The girl stood on her bed, peering out the small window. Lily strained to focus. “What’re you looking at, Abby?”

  The little girl whirled around. “Lily?”

  “It’s me, sweetie. Is there something out there?”

  Abby turned back to the window. “I saw the mean man leave awhile ago, but he’s back now.”

  “The mean man?”

  Abby nodded. “He yells at me. The other one’s nicer. His name’s Gordy. The mean one’s called Skeet. He hits me.” She looked indignant. “Mama says you’re not s’posed to hit people.”

  Lily wished she could put her arms around the little girl and never let her go. “Do they ever say where you are? Do they mention place names or street names?”

  Abby’s face crumpled. “I don’t know. I’m sorry, Lily.”

  Her heart twisted. “It’s okay, baby. You just try to listen and remember everything Gordy and Skeet say, okay? Then you tell me all about it. It’ll be our little game.”

  “Can she play, too?” Abby asked.

  The skin on the back of Lily’s neck prickled. “She?”

  “She means me,” a child’s voice said.

  Lily whirled around. The mysterious dark-haired child of her previous vision stood in the shadows near the door. Gina, Lily thought, remembering what the girl had told her. Mama calls me Gina, but I don’t think that’s my name.

  Gina smiled at Lily, her expression a heartbreaking mix of fear and hope. “Can I play, too, Lily?”

  “Of course.” Shudders rippled down Lily’s spine.

  The dark-haired girl sat on the edge of Abby’s bed. “Abby can’t see you like I can, Lily. Why not?”

  “You can see her?” Abby’s eyes were wide.

  “Yeah. I can see you, too. But you can’t see us.”

  “Why not?” Abby asked.

  “I don’t know,” Lily admitted.

  “I told Abby you have dark hair and gold eyes and you look like a fairy princess.” The little girl sat next to Abby. The bed didn’t shift physically, Lily noted with curiosity. Gina definitely wasn’t there in the room with Abby.

  “Gina, how often do you visit Abby?”

  “My name’s Casey,” she replied with a frown.

  “Why do you think that’s your name?” Lily asked.

  “Daddy talks to me in my dreams. He calls me Casey. He’s going to teach me how to play bestball.” Casey’s heart-shaped face screwed up in a serious frown. “What’s bestball?”

  “I think you mean baseball.” Lily wondered how a child Casey’s age could live in America and not know about baseball. “It’s a game you play with a stick and a ball. Casey, do you ever hear the men who are holding Abby?”

  “No. You want me to try? Is that how to play the game?”

  Lily stared at her, overwhelmed by the strangeness of her presence in the vision. Where did Casey come from? Was she a real child or something else? A ghost? Abby’s guardian angel? Lily grasped for an explanation that didn’t include committing herself to an asylum.

  Not a guardian angel, she decided. Gina—Casey—had her own troubles, including a mother who called her the wrong name.

  But her daddy called her Casey.

  The mists tugged at Lily, pulling her toward the real world. Her struggle was brief, the slightest resistance causing pain to shoot through her skull. “I’ll be back,” she promised the children as the gray fog swallowed her. Abby faded right away, but Casey lingered, a forlorn watcher in the mist.

  Lily came back to herself slowly, her sluggish mind trying to make sense of the pale, geometric patterns on the ceiling above her. Sunlight reflected through the blinds on her living room windows, she realized after a moment. She was on the sofa. She’d been grading papers when the vision hit….

  “Back among the living now?”

  Lily jumped at the rumbling sound of McBride’s voice.

  He sat a few feet away in a boxy armchair too small for his frame, legs stretched out in front of him. His arms draped over the sides of the chair, fingers almost brushing the floor. His chin rested against his chest as if he was napping, but his eyes were open.

  Watching her.


  Her heart hammered in her chest.

  He sat up, arms sliding forward to rest on his thighs. His gaze never left her. “I knocked. You didn’t answer.”

  She cleared her throat. “What time is it?”

  “Noon.” McBride rubbed his jaw, his palm making a whispery scraping sound against his cheek. “Guess you saw the paper.”

  She rubbed her own face. “Yeah.”

  “You just had a vision,” he said flatly.

  She swallowed hard. “Yes.”

  He said nothing else, his gaze narrowed.

  Then Lily remembered something Abby had told her. “Their names! Abby told me the names they use. Skeet and Gordy.”

  He sat back, his eyes wary. “Abby told you.”

  Her heart sank at his reaction. “At least check it out.”

  “I will.” He rose from the chair, moving toward the door.

  Lily intercepted him, closing her fingers around his arm. “Please don’t do this.”

  He didn’t pretend not to know what she was talking about. “I told you this would be a problem for us.”

  “You also told me to come to you with what I see.”

  “I’m not talking about the case. I’m talking about this.” He laced his fingers through hers, pulling her closer.

  “You don’t believe. I knew that going in.”

  “How long before you resent me for it?” He lifted his hand to her cheek, his fingers sliding along the curve of her jaw. He bent close, his breath whispering across her lips. “How long before this isn’t enough?”

  McBride’s mouth slanted across hers, hard and hungry. She slipped her hands up his back, tracing the contours of his spine, the flare of his shoulder blades. She smoothed her hands down his rib cage, over the small of his back, down to the curve of his buttocks. Squeezing gently, she urged his hips into the welcoming softness of her belly.

  His breath exploded into her mouth, his body’s response unmistakable. His arms tightened around her, lifting her up and propelling her backward.

  Her knees hit the edge of the sofa and she fell back, pulling McBride with her. He caught himself with his arms to keep from landing with his full weight atop her. She stared at him, her breath bursting from her lungs in short gasps.