The Vanishing

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  “The kidnappers hired some muscle to pick up Olivia,” Slater said. “Catalina and I caught one of them. By now he will be enjoying the hospitality of the Foundation. Currently, however, he is not of much use.”

  “Why not?” Euclid asked.

  “He’s not talking,” Slater said. “He will eventually. For obvious reasons, we don’t have time to wait for him to wake up. But he has a twin brother who helped him pull off the kidnapping. If I can find him I might be able to get the answers we need.”

  “You expect to find this twin around here?” Euclid said. He waved a hand to indicate the crowd. “Take a look. See anybody who looks like him?”

  “No,” Slater said. “But we’ve got a photo.”

  He pulled the picture out of his pocket and placed it on the table. Suddenly everyone in the room was crowding around the booth.

  “What happened to his face?” Euclid said.

  “I hit him with an old telephone,” Catalina explained.

  Euclid nodded. “Looks like you did some damage. They don’t build phones like they used to.”

  Slater looked briefly amused but he did not say anything.

  The photo was passed from hand to hand.

  “Nope, never seen anyone who looks like him,” someone said.

  “No one I know,” a woman declared.

  “Nice-looking young fella,” Euclid said. “Except for the blood, of course. You sure he’s a bad guy?”

  “Trust me, he’s a blank,” Catalina said.

  Euclid nodded in a sage manner. “Those damned blanks can fool you every time. People fall for their cons even when they can see the empty places in their auras. Amazing.”

  “Their ability to pass for normal is their camouflage,” Catalina said.

  The door of the café opened. Damp night air swept into the room. Catalina turned to look. So did everyone else. Nyla Trevelyan, wrapped in a puffy down coat, her feet clad in worn leather hiking boots, walked into the room. The crowd parted, creating a path to the booth. Nyla came forward quickly, unfastening her coat.

  “Catalina, dear,” she said. She smiled her warm, gentle smile. “I heard you were in town. So good to see you again. It’s been too long.”

  It seemed to Catalina that Nyla had scarcely aged in the past fifteen years. True, there were a few more lines in her face, but she had been gifted with the kind of good bones that guaranteed an elegant beauty that would last through the years. Her long hair was shot with silver now, but she wore it the same way she always had, secured at the back of her neck so it fell in a long ponytail to her waist. There was a delicate, fragile quality about her that some said was due to her long-standing heart condition.

  By the time she reached the booth her coat was open, revealing the flannel shirt and jeans underneath, the same uniform that she had worn for as long as Catalina could remember.

  “Hi, Nyla.” Catalina slipped out of the booth, exchanged a quick hug with the older woman, and then stepped back to introduce Slater, who was on his feet. “This is Slater Arganbright. He’s with the Foundation.”

  “Yes, I know,” Nyla said. “Word gets around fast here in Fogg Lake.” Her tone was dry but her smile was genuine and her eyes were shadowed with concern. “I would say welcome to town, but I understand that you are here because you’re investigating the disappearance of Olivia LeClair. Is that true?”

  “Olivia LeClair did not disappear,” Slater said. “She was kidnapped the day before yesterday.”

  Nyla’s smile gave way to an expression of shock and dismay. “This is almost unbelievable. Why would anyone kidnap Olivia? It’s not as if the family has any money.”

  “We don’t think this is about a ransom payment,” Slater said. “It seems to be connected to the murder that took place in the caves fifteen years ago.”

  Nyla turned to Catalina. “So it’s true? You really did witness a murder?”

  “Yes,” Catalina said. “We think someone grabbed Olivia because she was also a witness.”

  Nyla turned back to Slater. “But why now? After all this time?”

  “We don’t know,” Slater said. “All we know for sure is that Olivia has been taken. I’ve got a photo of one of the two kidnappers. He’s in the custody of the Foundation. Last we heard he was in a coma, but he’s expected to recover soon. Meanwhile we’re looking for his partner, who happens to be his twin.”

  Someone handed Nyla the photo. She examined it closely, frowning a little.

  “He’s injured,” she said. “Was he in an accident?”

  “Sort of,” Catalina said.

  “No wonder he’s in a coma.” Nyla shook her head. “I don’t recognize him. Are you here because you think these twins have a Fogg Lake connection?”

  “What we know,” Slater said, “is that they have a connection to the hot artifacts trade. We think they murdered a collector named Royston in Seattle. They ambushed Catalina and me in Royston’s gallery. They were armed with some sort of gas that affected our senses. A heavy hallucinogen.”

  Alarmed, Nyla looked at Catalina. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, I’m fine,” Catalina said.

  “Thank goodness.” Nyla glanced at the photo again. “I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful. You say he’s in a coma?”

  “Unfortunately, yes,” Slater said.

  Euclid frowned. “How the hell did that happen?”

  “He was probably affected by the same gas he and his twin used on us,” Catalina said. “Hallucinogens can be very problematic.”

  Slater’s brows rose in acknowledgment of her smooth response to the question, but he kept quiet.

  The door of the café opened again. Catalina and the others turned to look at the newcomer. Harmony—as far as anyone knew she had no last name—did not go out of her way to make dramatic entrances. The ability came naturally to her. She was almost six feet tall with a mane of white hair, a statuesque body and the eyes of an Old Soul.

  She strode into the restaurant with the long wings of a full-length black wool cloak swirling around her knee-high leather boots.

  She halted just inside the door and went very still. An expectant hush fell over the crowd.

  “The energy of the past has been disturbed,” she declared in the rich voice of a Shakespearean actor. “A great darkness is gathering deep in the fog. Lock your doors and stay close to your hearths tonight.”

  There was a stark silence. No one snickered. There was no eye-rolling. If you grew up in Fogg Lake, you knew that when Harmony spoke in that particular voice it was a good idea to pay attention.

  “Got anything more specific for us, Harmony?” Euclid asked.

  “No.” Harmony’s voice was normal now. It was still a strong voice befitting her size and build, but the drama was gone. “Sorry. That’s all I’ve got. There’s just a vibe in the fog tonight that reminds me— Never mind. I heard Catalina was in town.”

  Catalina got to her feet again. “Right here, Harmony.”

  Harmony brightened and started forward. Once again the crowd parted.

  “There you are,” she said. She enveloped Catalina in a warm hug. “So good to see you again. What’s this I hear about Olivia being kidnapped and you bringing a Foundation cleaner here to investigate?”

  “Long story, but that is the short version,” Catalina said. She stepped back and indicated Slater. “This is Slater Arganbright, the investigator. Slater, this is Harmony.”

  Slater rose politely. “Harmony.”

  Harmony studied him for a long moment with her deep eyes. Catalina sensed a shiver of energy in the atmosphere. She held her breath, because she knew that Harmony was trying to view Slater’s aura. Harmony had a strong talent, but no one knew exactly what it was. If she could perceive the icy energy in Slater’s field she might decide he was dangerous and warn everyone to stay away from him.

>   “Well, well, well,” Harmony said finally. “You’re an Arganbright all right.”

  Catalina breathed a small sigh of relief. She plucked the photo from Euclid’s fingers and handed it to Harmony.

  “This is one of the kidnappers,” she said. “We’re searching for his twin.”

  “Hmm.” Harmony allowed herself to be distracted. She took the photo and studied it. “What happened to him?”

  “I hit him with a phone because he was going to shoot Slater.”

  Harmony glanced up in surprise. “A little cell phone did that much damage?”

  “An old phone,” Catalina said. “Maybe from the late nineteen fifties.”

  “I see,” Harmony said. “That explains it. I’m sorry, I’ve never met this man or his twin, but there’s something about him that reminds me of someone I may have come across in the archives. He looks to be around thirty years old, don’t you think?”

  “I would say that’s about right,” Slater said.

  “I’ll tell you what,” Harmony said. “I’ll take a look at the ancestry files and see if I can find any male twins who would be that age.”

  Slater’s gaze sharpened. “You keep ancestry records of people who have a connection to Fogg Lake?”

  “Part of my job,” Harmony said. “The files go all the way back to the night of the Incident. I can’t guarantee they’re complete. We’ve lost contact with a lot of people who have moved away. But I’m pretty good at tracking down the descendants of the people who were living here at the time of the Incident. I’ll go back to my place and start the search.”

  “Thanks,” Slater said. “I would appreciate it if you would contact me immediately if you find anything tonight. Don’t wait until morning.”

  “Olivia’s life is at stake,” Catalina said.

  “I understand,” Harmony said.

  She turned on her booted heel and strode toward the door. A man rushed to open it for her. She paused long enough to pull up the hood of her cloak, and then she disappeared into the fog-bound night.

  When the door closed behind her, an uneasy hush fell over the crowd. Euclid looked around.

  “You heard Harmony,” he said. “Best to make an early night of it. I know we don’t usually lock our doors around here, but do it tonight. There might be some bad people out there in the woods.”

  Chairs scraped as people got to their feet and began pulling on coats and caps. The waiters got very busy clearing the tables. Within a very short period of time the café and the bar were nearly empty.

  Slater looked at Catalina. “Does Harmony have a last name?”

  “Probably,” Catalina said. She got to her feet and took her coat down off the hook. “I’m sure there is one in the ancestry books, but she has always made it clear that she wants to be addressed only as Harmony.”

  Slater stood and reached for his wallet. “Gotta tell you, she sent a chill through me when she walked in here and delivered that comment about the bad vibe in the fog tonight.”

  “She does that kind of thing once in a while. You get used to it.”

  Slater put a few bills on the table and slid his wallet back into the pocket of his trousers. “I noticed people paid attention to her.”

  “Well, sure. She’s the current Oracle of Fogg Lake.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes. But there’s no money in that line, at least not here in Fogg Lake. She has a day job.”

  Slater pulled on his jacket. “What is it?”

  “She’s the town librarian.”

  CHAPTER 27

  The dreamer raced through a hall of mirrors, searching for Olivia. Visions seethed in each looking glass she passed, taunting her. She knew that if she could find the right mirror she would find Olivia. But the corridor was endless and time was running out. The visions were growing more ominous.

  She ran faster, desperate to identify the mirror that concealed Olivia.

  “Catalina. Wake up. You’re dreaming.”

  Slater’s voice brought her out of the nightmare on the wings of an anxiety attack. She sat up abruptly, trying to orient herself. It took her a moment to realize she was in her old bed in her parents’ Fogg Lake home. A night-light plugged into a wall outlet illuminated the space in a faint bluish glow.

  Slater stood beside the bed, not touching her; giving her space. In the faint light she could see that he was wearing the dark trousers he’d had on earlier and a crew-neck T-shirt. Her senses were a little fried by the anxiety, so they were flashing and sparking. She could see enough of Slater’s midnight aura to know he was cranked up, too.

  “Sorry,” she said. “Bad dream.” Embarrassed, she swung her legs over the side of the bed. She was wearing the ancient flannel pajamas that she kept in a drawer of the dresser, so she wasn’t concerned about modesty. She got to her feet and raked her hair back behind her ears. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “I wasn’t asleep,” Slater said.

  Catalina went to the window and looked out into the gently glowing fog. The residents of Fogg Lake were not the only living things affected by the events of the night of the explosion. The local vegetation had also been changed in some ways. At night many of the plants emitted a pale, eerie light. Tonight the energy-infused mist seemed ominous.

  “Harmony was right about the bad vibe in the atmosphere tonight,” she said.

  Slater moved to stand behind her. “You don’t really believe in oracles and prophecies, do you?”

  “No, but I do believe there is such a thing as evil and that it has power. Whoever took Olivia is responsible for the bad energy out there tonight.”

  “I agree,” Slater said.

  “Do you really think the kidnappers have Olivia hidden somewhere in the caves?”

  “I can’t be certain but the logic works for me. This case has had a local angle from the beginning.”

  “Maybe we should give up trying to identify the kidnappers and organize a search party in the morning. We should be looking for her, Slater.”

  “That would be worse than useless at this point.” Slater put his arms around her. “You said those caves are a maze. We could search for years and never find her. We need a starting point. Give me a few more hours. We’re getting close. The pieces of the puzzle are starting to come together.”

  “Really? You’re not just saying that? Because I’ve done too much crime scene work. I’m a little jaded when it comes to false hopes.”

  Slater turned her in his arms and caught her head between his hands. In the shadows his eyes burned. So did his aura.

  “I give you my word that I’m telling you the truth,” he said. “I can’t see the future. No one can. But I do know the vibe I get when an investigation starts to yield an answer. I swear to you, that’s the sensation I’ve got now.”

  She wrapped her arms around him and pressed herself against him, taking comfort in his heat and strength, indulging in the sensual intimacy that quickened in the atmosphere around them.

  Since their collision on the street she had been telling herself that the attraction between them was superficial, nothing more than the natural connection between two people who were sharing risks and dangers together in pursuit of the same goal. But the kiss that morning had confirmed that whatever the cause of the attraction, it was powerful and deep.

  I am never going to forget this man.

  “Catalina,” Slater whispered into her hair, “this isn’t the time or the place, and it’s probably too soon to ask, but I need to know if you think that, when this is over, we might have a future—”

  She put her fingers against his mouth, stopping the question before he could finish it.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “But I would like to find out.”

  His eyes darkened with the heat of masculine need and then his mouth closed over hers.

  The
kiss scorched her senses. Hot. All-consuming. It was laced with the fire of desperation and the thrill of the unknown. The shock waves of passion that had arced between them that morning had been little more than a prelude to what was happening now.

  With an urgent groan, Slater deepened the kiss and moved his hands to the front of her pajamas. She could feel the faint tremor in his fingers when he started to undo the buttons. The realization that he was shivering with need sent a rush of delight through her. It told her that, like her, he was unfamiliar with this level of intensity.

  He got the top open. When his palms closed gently over her breasts it was her turn to shudder. She was so exquisitely sensitive now that she didn’t think she could stand a more intimate touch. Along with that realization came the knowledge that she did not have to hold back tonight. There was no need for control, not with this man.

  She eased her hands up under the edge of his T-shirt. His body was a furnace. She savored the feel of muscle beneath warm skin.

  He drew the pads of his thumbs across her nipples and then he slid his fingers down her ribs to the curve of her hips. He peeled off the pajama bottoms and let the garment fall to her ankles.

  The next thing she knew he was lifting her out of the puddle of flannel and carrying her across the room. She braced her hands on his shoulders to steady herself.

  He lowered her onto the tumbled bed. She knelt there and watched as he yanked off the T-shirt and undid the front of his trousers.

  His briefs disappeared next. She was fascinated by the thick, rigid length of his erection. She watched as he sheathed himself in a condom. When he was ready she reached out and encircled him with her fingers. A shudder went through him. His aura ignited with the energy of his desire.

  Her senses rose to the challenge. She had never been free to let herself go with a lover. She had learned the hard way that abandoning herself to the moment was a surefire way to kill a perfectly good relationship. The three categories of bedroom disasters whispered in the atmosphere. I need discipline. You’re a real control freak, aren’t you? And last, but the most chilling of all: Maybe you should see a therapist about your inability to have an orgasm.