Forbidden Territory Page 7

  “He doesn’t have her.” Lily lifted her eyes to meet his, hating to burst his tiny bubble of hope. She told him what she could remember about the vision. “It was a hoax. I’m sorry.”

  Andrew sank to the sofa next to her and buried his face in his hands. She touched his shoulder, unsure how to comfort him.

  Someone rapped on the door. Andrew went to let two detectives into the room. “He wasn’t on long enough for a trace, and his caller ID’s blocked,” one of them said.

  Lily was no longer listening. She drifted on a river of pain, barely aware of the voices of the detectives talking or the trill of Andrew’s cell phone when his campaign manager called back. Andrew’s voice faded as he took the call in another room.

  She wasn’t sure how much time passed before a new voice roused her from her pain-washed daze. She struggled up from the depths of the soft couch and opened her eyes.

  Detective McBride’s stormy eyes stared back.

  MCBRIDE CROUCHED in front of Lily, trying to be angry. But she looked ready to collapse. Purple smudges bruised her eyes—headache, he guessed. “Walters says you think it’s a hoax.”

  She hugged herself. The room was warm, but chill bumps dotted her bare arms. “I wish he’d kept that to himself.”

  “Why?” McBride lowered his voice to a gentle murmur.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Aren’t you angry I’m here?”

  Tiny lines etched the skin around her eyes and mouth. Pain lines. He couldn’t stop himself from touching a tiny crease in her forehead, gently smoothing it. “You have a headache?”

  Her eyes drifted closed and she nodded, turning her head to give his fingers better access. Her body arched toward him, like a kitten responding to a gentle caress.

  He dropped his hand with difficulty. “What did you do, fight your vision?”

  Her eyes fluttered open. “I wanted to tell Andrew Walters about the hoax as quickly as possible.” She stumbled over some of the words, as if she couldn’t quite make them all fit together. “I fought to leave the vision before it was through.”

  And paid the price, he thought, then chided himself for letting himself get sucked into her delusion. Whatever had caused her headache, it damn well wasn’t a psychic vision.

  But she was right about the call being a hoax. Though smart enough to block his caller ID and keep his call too short for a trace, the man had blown it by not getting his business done in one shot.

  Tomorrow he’d phone back and they’d get him.

  “Can I go home now?” Lily leaned forward, bracing her hands on the sofa cushion. McBride stood to give her room to rise, but she moved faster than he did. Their bodies touched for a long, electric moment before he backed out of her way.

  Maybe she was a witch, he thought, his body responding to her presence like fire to oxygen. He seemed entirely at her mercy, no matter how he tried to fight it. “Are you okay to drive?”

  “I’m fine. The medicine’s already working. And don’t worry, officer. It’s the non-drowsy formula.” She gazed up at him, her eyes wide and glowing in the lamplight. Her body swayed toward him before she pulled herself up and slid past him, moving toward the door. McBride remained where he was, watching with clenched jaw as Andrew Walters closed his hand around Lily’s arm and bent toward her, their faces intimately close as they spoke. Walters’s grasp on Lily’s arm became a gentle stroking, almost like a lover’s caress.

  McBride’s chest tightened with anger.

  “Lieutenant?”

  McBride tore his attention away from Lily and Walters to look at the detective who’d contacted him after the call.

  “Do you want to take the tape with you or do you want me to bag it and send it by courier?” the detective repeated.

  “Courier,” McBride answered.

  As the two technicians headed out, McBride’s eyes swung back to the door.

  But Lily was gone.

  He crossed to Walters. “You okay?”

  Walters blinked as if startled. “Yeah. It’s all just so crazy. Some creep playing with our minds.” He shook his head. “How could someone do that?”

  It’s a big, bad world out there, McBride thought. Bigger and badder all the time. “We can’t be sure it’s a hoax.”

  “Lily’s sure of it. That’s good enough for me.”

  McBride’s stomach sank as he dropped his hand from the other man’s shoulder. “You know, Mr. Walters, we can’t know for certain without a thorough investigation. I know Ms. Browning seems confident of everything she says, but—”

  “She doesn’t seem confident. I’d worry more if she did. But she’s been right about everything so far.”

  “Like what?”

  “She knew what Abby was wearing the day she disappeared.”

  McBride shook his head. “That was reported in the paper.”

  “Not the yellow rabbit.”

  “She knew about the rabbit?” Acid gushed into McBride’s gut. The police had released a description of Abby’s clothing—the blue overalls and white shirt—but held back the yellow rabbit decal to divide the crank calls from the genuine tips.

  If Lily Browning had really described what Abby had been wearing, there was only one way she could have known.

  She’d seen Abby Walters the morning she disappeared.

  And he’d just let a person of interest walk out the door.

  Chest tight with growing anger, McBride moved toward the exit. “I’m going to head out now and let our technicians handle things. Are you going to be okay?”

  Walters looked exhausted. “I just want my daughter back.”

  “We’ll find her.” McBride heard the words, recognized his own voice, but couldn’t believe what he’d said. He’d been raging at Lily Browning for giving Walters false hope, and here he was, adding his own lies to the mix.

  He didn’t believe the real kidnappers would call again, because Abby Walters was dead. Too much time had passed, with no sightings, and no clues but a harsh voice on Lily Browning’s answering machine. Who knew whether that phone call was the real thing or just another of Lily’s lies?

  But he couldn’t say that to Walters. Not yet. The man had to go through this part of the journey, the hopeful part. Next would come uncertainty, then despair, then the black anger that churned in the gut like a feeding frenzy of piranhas.

  McBride didn’t know what came after that.

  AVOIDING THE CONGESTED perimeter highway, Lily took Black Creek Road home. It was a longer drive, but the winding road was lightly traveled, especially on a rainy night, and Lily was in no state of mind to deal with heavy traffic.

  At least the migraine was almost gone.

  But McBride’s touch lingered like a fiery brand on her skin. She could still conjure up the tang of his aftershave, the intensity of his gaze sweeping over her as if he wanted to strip her bare of her defenses and find out what lay underneath.

  Idiot. Trying to guess McBride’s thoughts was a fool’s game. If he thought of her at all, it was as a calculating con artist taking advantage of a wealthy but vulnerable man.

  Whimsy wasn’t Lily’s style. She wasn’t the fanciful sister; that was Rose, the hopeless romantic. She wasn’t impulsive and daring like Iris, either. Lily was the eldest, the one with her head screwed on firmly. The one who’d taken care of her younger sisters when their mother died six years ago.

  Lily didn’t form ridiculous crushes on men who’d never return her feelings.

  Mentally she dusted her hands of him. Done.

  Her cell phone trilled, making her jump. She dug in her purse with her right hand and pulled out the phone. “Hello?”

  “You never call, you never write.” Her sister Rose’s husky voice always reminded Lily of their mother. Iris, with her ebony hair and black-coffee eyes, looked the most like their mother, but Rose had her voice, low and just a little raspy, with a slow, sweet drawl that stretched her words like taffy.

  “I talked to Iris just the other day.”

  “I always k
new you liked her better,” Rose said lightly. “I had a dream about you last night, Lil.”

  “Yeah?” Lily slowed her car as she approached Dead Man’s Curve, where Black Creek Road formed a deep S as it followed the winding creek for a couple of miles.

  “Yeah. Have you met a new man recently?”

  McBride’s rugged face flashed through mind. “Why?”

  “Because you’re going to fall in love with him.”

  A shiver ran down Lily’s back. She ignored it, pressing her lips into a tight line. “Am not.”

  “Well, you also help him find his daughter. I’m not clear on whether you do that before you fall in love or after.”

  “Now I know you didn’t dream that. Iris told you about my visions.” Tucking her phone between chin and shoulder, Lily put both hands on the steering wheel as she navigated a sharp curve.

  “Yes, she did, but I really did have the dream.”

  “Well, you’re wrong on this occasion,” Lily said firmly. “I’ve spent time with the little girl’s father, and I assure you the last thing he’s thinking about is falling in love.”

  Rose sighed. “It was a great dream. You were in the woods. There was a building with rickety wood steps. There he was—this incredible man, his arm around a little girl. He turned to look at you, and wow.” Rose’s voice dwindled to a contented sigh. “You were so in love with each other. It gave me chills.”

  Hair rose on the back of Lily’s neck. If anybody but Rose were telling her these things, she’d laugh it off. But Rose’s gift, predicting a successful love match, was as strong as Lily’s, and much better developed. Still, Lily couldn’t see herself with Andrew Walters. “What did this guy look like?”

  “All I remember is dark hair.”

  “What about the girl?” Lily asked, thinking about Abby.

  “I don’t remember anything except she had big dark eyes that lit up when she saw you.”

  An image popped into Lily’s head—of the dark-haired child at the edge of her vision of Abby. Lily shivered. Too creepy.

  “So tell me about these visions you’ve been having.”

  Lily told her everything, including her newfound ability to make contact with Abby.

  “She heard you? Cool! Any closer to finding her?”

  Lily sighed. “I hope so. I’m worried, Rose. She’s so scared. I feel helpless.” She took a deep breath. “And during my last vision of Abby, I saw another little girl.”

  “The kidnappers have another little girl?” Rose asked.

  “I don’t think so. I think the little girl is somewhere else. Maybe nearby, though.” Having spent so much of her life running from her visions, Lily had never figured out how they worked. Did the appearance of the new little girl have anything to do with Abby’s kidnapping? Did the other child even exist, or was she a figment of Lily’s imagination?

  Maybe it was just a one-time thing. A fluke. Crossed wires or whatever you called mixed-up psychic signals.

  “I’ve gotta run, Lil—Iris is in the cellar boiling her eye of newt and I think I just heard something explode.” The humor in Rose’s voice assured Lily that her baby sister was exaggerating. “Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

  Lily laughed. The sound startled her. How long had it been since she’d heard herself laugh? “If there’s still a house left by the time you and Iris get through with it, I’ll definitely be home for Thanksgiving.”

  As she ended the call with her sister, she noticed headlights flickering in her rearview mirror.

  HE GRIPPED THE STEERING wheel, his palms sweating inside his leather driving gloves. In the darkness ahead, all he could see of Lily Browning’s car was a pair of taillights glowing like red eyes. He pressed the accelerator to the floor, eating up the road between them.

  She knew too much. Saw too much.

  She would ruin everything.

  He was close enough to make out the shiny chrome bumper of her Buick and the rectangular sticker with Westview Elementary School printed in white block letters on a field of red.

  A schoolteacher, he thought. Panicked laughter rose in his throat. The most dangerous woman in his world was a bloody schoolteacher. How had this happened? How had everything gone so wrong so quickly?

  No matter. It was going to end here.

  Now.

  WITH THE ON-RAMP to the perimeter highway backed up for more than a block, McBride went with a hunch and took Black Creek Road to avoid the snarl of traffic. If he was lucky, Lily Browning had taken the highway and he’d be sitting at her house waiting for her when she arrived. If not, he had a good chance of catching up with her on the winding back road.

  Grabbing his cell phone, he called Theo Baker’s direct line. “Call a meeting of the task force for first thing in the morning. I’ve had a copy of the phone call couriered over—”

  “Right here in my hot little hands.”

  “Great. Get tech services to make a copy for everyone on the task force. Let’s see if anybody recognizes the voice.”

  “Still think it’s a hoaxer?”

  “Ninety-nine percent sure.” But it’s that one percent that could bite you in the ass, McBride thought as he ended the call.

  The weather was worsening; fog rising to meet the pouring rain that was already cutting visibility to a few yards. McBride peered into the darkness, easing off the accelerator as he approached Dead Man’s Curve. Rain sheeted across the blacktop and pounded his windshield, keeping pace with the wipers.

  Ahead, two glowing red dots pierced the gloom. Taillights, he realized. Lily’s car? Accelerating, he kept his eyes on the lights. As the road straightened for a long stretch, the taillights doubled. He squinted, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Now two sets of lights traveled side by side on the two-lane road. One car passing a slower one?

  Suddenly, both cars jerked violently to the right. His heart sped up. Was that a collision?

  His cell phone trilled, sending his taut nerves jangling. He grabbed it and thumbed the talk button. “McBride.”

  “Lieutenant, this is Alli with Dispatch. You asked us to flag any call that came in from cell phone number 555-3252.”

  Lily’s number.

  “We’ve got a Lily Browning on with a 911 operator. She says another car is trying to run her off the road.”

  “What’s her twenty?” On the road ahead, the pairs of taillights took another jarring lurch to the right.

  “Black Creek Road, a mile before Five Mile Crossing.”

  McBride’s heart jolted into high gear. He jammed his foot on the accelerator, ignoring the shimmy of the Chevy’s tires on the slick blacktop.

  Suddenly, the taillights ahead disappeared from view. McBride’s breath caught. It took a second to realize the dispatcher was calling his name. “Yeah?”

  “Sir, we just lost contact.”

  Chapter Seven

  Lily threw her dead cell phone into the passenger seat, wishing she’d plugged the adapter into the cigarette lighter before she’d left McMillan Place. At least she’d managed to give her location to the operator before her phone went dead.

  Gripping the steering wheel, she braced as the car beside her slammed into her again, sending her sliding toward the shoulder. She steered with the skid, managing to right the car before it went over the drop off into the thick woods.

  With no streetlamps on the lonely stretch of road, she could make out little about the other car or its driver. It was a dark sedan, an older model judging by its shape, with tinted windows that hid the occupant from view. Not being able to see who was driving her off the road only amplified her terror.

  What if her assailant rammed her down the steep embankment into the trees? Would another passing driver be able to see her vehicle from the road? And what would her attacker do if she was trapped and vulnerable at the bottom of the embankment?

  She couldn’t help but think of Debra Walters and Abby, alone on a stretch of desolate road, with nothing to protect them from the carjackers but Debra’s w
illingness to defend her daughter to the death.

  Was the person behind those tinted windows the harsh-voiced man from her vision? He knew where she lived; could he have followed her to McMillan Place, waiting to make his move?

  Around another curve, her headlights outlined the concrete rails of a bridge spanning a narrow gorge. Lily didn’t have to be psychic to know the other driver would double his efforts to send her off the road once they reached the bridge. And if she went over the side into the creek, she’d never survive the fall.

  She sped up as she hit the bridge, praying her tires would grip the slick pavement long enough to get her safely to the other side. Her acceleration caught her tormenter by surprise, forcing him to gun his engine to keep from falling behind.

  Lily’s tactic gave her enough of an edge to cross the bridge unmolested, but as she reached solid ground again, the dark sedan bumped against the back panel of her Buick and veered hard to the right. She had no chance to recover as her assailant’s maneuver sent her car spinning across the slippery road.

  She held on, trying to keep from sliding over the opposite shoulder, but the momentum was uncontrollable. The world became a blur of dark and light as the Buick hit the shoulder and lurched backward down the fifteen-foot embankment, crashing into a tree with a bone-jarring crunch.

  Lily’s head whipped forward and slammed back into the headrest, setting off a brief fireworks display behind her eyes. When the lights and colors faded, she forced herself to shake off the shock and take stock of her condition.

  The trunk of the Buick had taken most of the impact of the collision with the tree, leaving the front part of her car in pretty good shape. Her airbag hadn’t deployed, though her seat belt had done its job, holding her in place while her car plunged off the road. She’d be feeling the bruises from the shoulder strap for days, and her headache was back with a vengeance. Beyond that, all her moving parts worked and she hadn’t really lost consciousness.

  Shaking wildly, she cut the engine. Her windshield wipers stopped at half-mast, their rhythmic swish-swish abruptly silenced. The void was filled by the heavy drumbeat of rain on the roof and the low moan of wind in the trees behind her, a lonesome sound that amplified her sense of vulnerability tenfold.