“I said, are you sure he’s dead?”
“I’m pretty sure he’s not,” Mac said finally.
“Well then why–”
“He was reported dead,” Mac snapped, louder than he’d intended. “I wanted to confirm that first.”
Tim held up his hands.
“Fine,” he said quickly. “Fine.”
Mac took a breath.
“I want to know where he is,” Mac said.
Tim clicked on an icon at the bottom of the screen and it brought up a blank document.
“Go,” Tim said.
Mac frowned and looked down at him. Eventually, Tim looked up.
“That’s all you’ve got?” Tim said. “His first and last name?”
Mac clenched his jaw at the oversight.
I never asked Isabelle or Kayla for Daniel’s middle name.
“He went to a college here in L.A. and got a degree in a computer related field.”
Tim scowled at him.
“You’re joking,” he said. “You expect me to…”
“To do your job,” Mac said. “Contact Kayla Massen. She might have a social security number for him. She’ll definitely know the school and the years.”
All of her information had been in Mac’s report. Even so–Mac crossed his arms over his chest–he was mad at himself. Tim pointedly closed the blank document.
My head’s not in the game. It’s with Isabelle. He gritted his teeth. Focus.
“And what about the Green Earth Commune?” Mac said. “What’s the story on Geoffrey and Maurice?”
“There is no story,” Tim said, not turning around.
Though Mac was distracted and angry, Tim’s attitude wasn’t helping.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Though the Green Earth Commune had been on the Cyber Division’s radar and they’d known about Geoffrey Girod from the web site, Maurice had been a new piece of information. And it had clearly been Maurice who was running the organization.
“They don’t exist,” Tim said to the monitor as he brought up the commune’s file. “Not before seven years ago.”
“Show me,” Mac said.
Tim’s fingers pounded on the keyboard. Several windows opened and Tim rolled his chair back to allow Mac a closer look. Escrow records, domain name registrations, articles of incorporation, driver’s licenses, credit cards and yet nothing that went further back than seven years–as though Maurice and Geoffrey Girod hadn’t existed before that.
Because they hadn’t, Mac thought. They were fake identities.
And there’s never a good motive for that.
As much as he’d hated upsetting Isabelle, he’d been right. They were dangerous.
•••••
The guard waiting in the gravel parking lot of the commune was an unpleasant surprise. As Isabelle had wound her way up the canyon road and then past the spot where they’d parked off-road when they’d rescued Kayla, she couldn’t help but remember the gun shots and how strange they’d sounded–like little firecrackers. She knew she was gripping the steering wheel of Yolanda’s old Toyota Tercel too hard but she couldn’t help it.
The security guard waved her to a stop as she passed under the wide arch that announced the “GreenEarthCommune.org.” Isabelle lowered her window. She didn’t recognize the young man though it was doubtful that she would.
“Is there something I can help you with?” he said.
He wore the same black t-shirt that the other guards wore and Isabelle recalled how Mac had put one on, stretching it to its limits over his muscular frame. She quickly looked at the man’s hands and belt–no gun. Beyond him, only the furthest playgrounds were being used, those closest to the buildings.
“I’m here to visit the commune,” Isabelle said, trying her best to smile and make eye contact.
As was usually the case, the young man seemed to stare. But after a few moments, he cleared his throat and looked away.
“I’m afraid we’re not open for tours today,” he said.
What? Every other time she’d been here–with Susan or Mac or by herself–she’d simply walked up the path to the group of buildings in the distance. Geoffrey had invariably appeared.
Something’s changed.
But it was no wonder.
She gazed beyond him to the main house. There had to be a way there. Yolanda wouldn’t have let her borrow her car if there wasn’t. For a moment, she thought of Yolanda’s shocked reaction to what she’d read and Isabelle felt a jolt of fear. But she was here now and something at the commune was going to lead her to Daniel.
“You can use the parking lot to turn around,” said the guard.
Again Isabelle turned on her most winning smile, let her eyes drift to his and looked deeply into them.
“I’m here to see Geoffrey,” she said.
CHAPTER THREE
THOUGH HE COULDN’T wait to see Isabelle, Geoffrey paused at the wet bar. He’d splashed on a little extra cologne and checked himself in the mirror, satisfied as always with the perfection of his capped teeth, the straight nose from the plastic surgeon, and the taut and unwrinkled skin from the same guy, though different surgery. He’d kept himself incredibly fit, spending hour upon hour in the gym, plus the time in the tanning booth. But the end result was something that could have been the envy of male models everywhere, maybe even body builders.
At the thought, his smile vanished. Though the guard had said Isabelle was by herself, Geoffrey couldn’t help but think of her boyfriend. He’d seemed to be able to carry her as though she weighed nothing.
Geoffrey glanced at the pitcher of iced tea, staring at it.
Maybe I ought to use it right away.
Slowly, he pulled open the drawer just to his right. Inside, small, round white pills clinked quietly in a stoppered glass vial that Maurice had given to him–Rohypnol, more commonly known as roofies or the date rape drug. It had come in so very useful so many times. He imagined Isabelle barely conscious, the befuddled confusion that would set in, and how he would ‘help’ her. Warmth spread through his groin as he glanced at the door to his bedroom. He squinted at the pills.
Yes. They’d already seen that Isabelle suffered from some type of fainting spell when Maurice had used the shock wand. It would seem entirely plausible.
And with a roofie, they never remembered a thing. It often didn’t take a full dose to put them in the mood and then a full dose if the mood just wouldn’t take over. If he was lucky, he’d get her pregnant right away. She’d almost surely have to move to the commune then.
Yes. If she’s alone, now might be the time.
•••••
Maurice hung up the phone.
So, Isabelle had returned.
Not exactly a surprise.
He took a sip from the highball, filled with ice and vodka.
It had to have been her who helped Kayla leave. The timing was too much of a coincidence. And if there was one thing a scientist couldn’t tolerate, it was coincidence.
“Here’s to cause and effect,” he muttered, raising his glass to the lab.
He took another sip.
Isabelle was the only one connected to them all: Kayla, Kayla’s mother, and the boyfriend. Maurice swallowed loudly. It had to have been the boyfriend who knocked the guard out. There’d been a lump on the back of the man’s head like a baseball.
It’d be best if Isabelle just disappeared.
Maurice grimaced and slowly shook his head.
“Nope,” he said quietly.
He knew better than that. Disappearing someone always brought trouble. That was a fact. And once there was trouble, it was just like a cancer. Good cells went bad. The spread was inevitable. And cancer treatment? It was sometimes worse than the disease.
“Stop it,” he muttered, setting the glass down so hard that one of the ice cubes bounced out. It skittered across the black granite of the lab bench, leaving a wet trail, before it disappeared among the glass beakers across
from him.
Just hold on, Maurice thought. You’re not there yet.
“Accentuate the positive,” he said, sitting up straighter, though the white lab coat tugged at his shoulders because he was sitting on it.
The only thing that was really screwed up now was the queue. That couldn’t be helped. So there’s no point in thinking about it. Slowly, he shook his head and his thoughts returned to the reason the queue had a hole in it in the first place–Isabelle.
Let Geoffrey try to turn her. His brother did seem to have a way with the women.
Maurice gazed across the lab. This was where he shined. He’d built it slowly and carefully, the whole thing really: the lab, the commune, the business. It was a well-oiled machine at this point. And it had been so much work. It couldn’t end now. It just couldn’t.
Give Geoffrey his chance–he glanced at the refrigeration unit–and then we’ll see.
CHAPTER FOUR
THOUGH GEOFFREY CLUTCHED her arm to him as they walked side by side, Isabelle couldn’t help but glance at the guard behind them. This was new too. Even Geoffrey seemed different–a bit subdued.
This might not be as easy as she’d thought. Maybe Mac had been right.
“And your boyfriend,” Geoffrey said, as though he’d heard her thoughts. “Is he still in the picture?”
She knew what Geoffrey wanted to hear but that’s not what she said.
“Honestly,” she said quietly, looking down at the gravel path in front of them, “I really don’t know.”
What were Mac’s plans for the case? If she’d bothered to ask, she might know. But, what she’d said must have had the ring of truth.
“I’m sorry for your pain,” Geoffrey said, sounding equally truthful and actually suffering on her behalf. “So often, though, change is like that.” Isabelle had to look at him. Geoffrey offered her a sad smile and patted her gloved hand on his forearm. “But I’m glad you’re here.”
They walked in silence for a few moments and Isabelle realized they were headed toward the main house. But she’d found the frame and photo that told her Daniel was alive in the dorm, the long building to their right.
“I was wondering,” she said. “If we might look at the dorm.”
“You’ve already seen the dorm,” Geoffrey said.
Had he tightened his grip?
“But isn’t that where I’d be staying?” Isabelle said, feeling her heart race a little faster.
There’d be no point to the trip if she couldn’t see the dorm.
“You know,” Geoffrey said, lowly. “Maurice isn’t in favor of your being here.” Surprised, Isabelle tried to stop but Geoffrey propelled her forward with a firm hold on her arm. “But I can vouch for you,” he said, heading to the main house. “I mean, it’ll take a bit of fast-talking but I’m sure I can get Maurice to see it my way.” Geoffrey paused and looked sideways at her. “If that’s what you want, of course.”
Isabelle felt a chill run down her spine. Geoffrey was offering to help and that help would come at a price. And Isabelle could easily guess what it would be. But she wouldn’t be staying and it would never get that far.
If I’m going to find Daniel, I need to search here.
They were nearly to the front of the main house, the dormitory getting further away and the guard still behind them, though keeping his distance.
She wasn’t going to get to the dormitory–not easily at any rate. But she had to find something, some clue that would prove this hadn’t been in vain.
Isabelle took a deep breath.
“Of course that’s what I want,” she breathed, smiling. Geoffrey was gazing into her eyes. She gazed right back, smiled, and leaned toward him. “In fact, I’d be very grateful.”
•••••
Isabelle was fitting the profile very nicely, thought Geoffrey.
She obviously didn’t own her own car. She and her boyfriend were having troubles. And, most importantly, she’d submitted to the punishment. Even Maurice had to agree with that. Though her blood work hadn’t come back yet, Geoffrey was sure it’d be fine. At first he’d thought her gloves hid some skin condition. But, when he’d seen them, they’d been fine. In fact, they’d been more than fine. Like the rest of her, they’d been lovely.
Odd how he’d never really thought of hands that way before Isabelle.
“I’m thirsty,” he said. “How about you?”
Her arm still tucked under his, he started up the stairs, nearly lifting her from step to step.
“Not particularly,” she said, glancing back at the security guard who was still following them.
“Well you’re going to love this raspberry iced tea I make. We grow everything here. As you might expect.”
He laughed a little, feeling truly happy. He bounced on the balls of his feet as they ascended the wide, spiral staircase.
“All organic too, I imagine,” Isabelle said, smiling up at him.
Charming. Positively charming. And those eyes. Will our children have them?
For one of the few times in his life, Geoffrey tried to visualize his own children. They might inherit her straight nose. They might actually be attractive.
He realized they were at his door.
“And here we are!” he said.
•••••
These looked like Geoffrey’s private quarters. They had to be. The smell of his cologne was everywhere. Unlike the rest of the commune, uncluttered to the point of spartan, this expansive and luxurious living room was furnished like a penthouse. Alarm bells went off in Isabelle’s head. She heard Geoffrey lock the doorknob behind her.
It is definitely time to leave.
But not without a reading. This couldn’t all be for nothing. Not after Mac had forbidden her.
“What a beautiful view,” she said, not really looking at it as she began to remove her glove.
She heard the tinkling of ice cubes in a glass pitcher off to the side.
“I couldn’t agree more,” Geoffrey said.
All the object choices were bad: a sliding screen door, the end of the bar next to it, couches, tables, a television. Whatever she chose, it had to be quick. Geoffrey was pouring the iced tea.
She chose the object that would look the most natural to touch and where she could steady herself–the bar.
With a quick tug, the glove came off and she put her hand on the smooth, black marble. Her vision went instantly gray and the reading began. To her shock, Maurice appeared. In his lab coat. Arguing with Geoffrey. He was drunk. Something broke. He’s a scientist, not a doctor. He’s angry. They’re–
“Here you go,” Geoffrey said.
Isabelle quickly removed her hand from the bar and put on her glove. She could hear Geoffrey crossing from right to left in back of her, the faint tinkling of ice in two glasses. Now he was on her left. The thick haze of the reading still lingered and, for all intents and purposes, she was blind.
I can’t let Geoffrey know.
Quickly, she closed her eyes.
•••••
Geoffrey held out Isabelle’s glass to her just as he realized her eyes were closed. He stopped. Though she was facing the sliding screen door, her eyes were completely shut.
“Isabelle?” he said. “Are you all right?”
Although her eyebrows moved, she didn’t open her eyes.
“My eyes,” she said. “The light was so bright. I’m just…shutting them for a moment.”
Bright? Still holding the two glasses of tea in his hands, Isabelle’s in his right–the all important pill already dissolved–he glanced at the screen door. The balcony beyond was still in shadow. How could it be too bright?
And yet she stood there, eyes closed. A slight breeze ruffled the front of her dress, the neckline cut low, with just a bit of cleavage showing. Her long hair swayed in the breeze, blown slightly back from her delicate face.
He cocked his head at her.
Is she waiting for me to do something?
As many wo
men as he’d been with, this was a strange way to begin, but Isabelle was full of surprises. He let his eyes roam over her and took a step closer. Exquisite, if a bit curious. She had to know he was standing here. Her lips were the lightest shade of pink, like two, soft petals.
And they were parted ever so slightly.
Geoffrey licked his own, making sure they were moist. Without pausing to set down the glasses, he leaned in and kissed her.
But it only lasted for a moment as she gasped and backed up. Her eyes flew open as she continued to move away.
That was not the reaction he’d anticipated.
Like an idiot, he just stood there, holding the iced teas, and watched her cover her mouth and turn to the door. She nearly ran into it, fumbled with the lock on the knob, finally yanked it open, and ran through.
Too late, he came to his senses.
“Isabelle!” he called out but he could hear her heels clicking down the hall and then the stairs.
He looked at the two drinks and then back at the door. If he ran, he could catch her. Easily. But as he thought of it, he realized she hadn’t screamed, hadn’t even slapped him.
He smiled.
She’ll be back.
CHAPTER FIVE
“ISABELLE?” MAC SAID, as he stepped into the apartment.
He put his keys on the little table next to the front door. As he locked the deadbolt, he noted that her purse was missing. She wasn’t home.
Where is she?
He walked past the couch and coffee table, past the dining table, and into the galley kitchen. The coffee pot was still nearly full and–he reached out a hand–it was cold and their two coffee cups were still in the sink.
That’s odd.
He backed up and looked down the hallway. None of the lights were on.
Though she’d been upset when he’d dropped her off, it hadn’t occurred to him that she wouldn’t be here. His stomach sank a little.
Charmed (Second Sight) Page 2
