A short ride took them south, toward the center of the city. Tyler drove in silence, stopping just before crossing the Chicago River. A doorman opened her car door, and as she stepped out, a valet traded places with Tyler, who then escorted her into a lovely two-story restaurant with glass walls overlooking the water. The tables were draped with white linen, their centers decorated with bouquets of fresh cut flowers mixed with herbs.
Taking pleasure where she could, Keelin inhaled the fragrance and absorbed the ambiance. She was certain she wasn't going to enjoy what was coming. Tensely, she waited for the inquisition.
It seemed as though Tyler was in no hurry. They perused menus and ordered. The waiter quickly brought a bottle of Merlot, and after Tyler approved it, filled two stemmed glasses. Keelin sipped at the red wine. As tired as she was, one glass would be her limit or Tyler would have to carry her out of the restaurant. The wine was relaxing her when he finally got down to business.
"So tell me about this unusual ability of yours."
"I dream through other people's eyes," she told him again. "I cannot explain it any more accurately."
"So, in your dream, you see what someone else, who is awake, is seeing at that very moment?" When she nodded, he asked, "How long has this been going on?"
"Always, I guess. When I was young, I simply thought all my dreams were of the normal sort. And as I began to sort out the difference between real dreams and these...visions...I assumed everyone had like experiences. Then I learned that no one else in my family had the...well, gift or curse, however you want to think of it. Except Gran, of course. My father's mother, Moira. She explained things to me."
The way Tyler was looking at her, Keelin couldn't tell if he believed her or not.
"And what exactly did she tell you?"
"That I was given a responsibility which I couldn't put aside. That I was the one to inherit because I was strong enough to deal with the consequences."
Not that she felt strong. If she could give the supposed gift away, she'd do it in a heartbeat, just as she'd told her grandmother at age fifteen, after the first of the darker episodes that she called her night terrors.
Always a wise woman, Moira had merely said a person couldn't fight her fate. It had taken more than a decade and an unnecessary death to convince Keelin of it.
After the waiter had delivered their salads and a basket of bread, Tyler continued his line of questioning. "What kind of consequences?"
Not about to share her personal traumas with a stranger, Keelin made light of the issue. "Having to deal with the distrustful sort who thinks I make my living spinning fairy tales." She punctuated the observation with a forkful of salad and a piece of crusty bread. Both were delicious.
But Tyler didn't seem about to let her off the hook with a joke. "How do you make your living?"
"Herbs."
"What? You grow or sell them for cooking?"
"And for healing."
A dark brow shot up at that one. Keelin was used to skepticism when it came to alternative therapies. She wasn't about to try to convince him that many modern medicines were based on herbal remedies.
"So was it herbs that brought you here from Ireland? Or was it Cheryl?"
Relieved he wasn't going to take issue with her work, not missing the shot about his daughter, Keelin said, "Actually, I'm here to see family. My father's sister and brother both emigrated to the United States more than three decades ago." She figured if she was being honest, she might as well go all the way. Taking a big breath, she said, "Skelly McKenna is my first cousin."
He shrugged. "Am I supposed to know who he is?"
"You do in a way." Her fingers tightened on the stem of her glass. "You watched his telecast this afternoon."
"The Whole Story?"
"That would be the one."
"What the hell? Is that why you sought me out?" His roar turned heads. "To get a story for a televised rag?"
Embarrassed by the unwanted attention, she shrank into her seat. "No, of course not. I told you why. That Skelly did the story on your daughter's disappearance was coincidence." From his glare she didn't figure he believed her, but she went on. "It was how I recognized her."
He lowered his voice. "I thought you were inside her. That you didn't see her. Or did Cheryl conveniently look at herself in a mirror on the way out of our house?"
Keelin shook her head. "I had no idea of what she looked like until a few hours ago. The bracelet – the strands of leather with magical charms. I saw it on her wrist in my dreams and then again on the studio monitor while I was waiting for Skelly. That's how I put it together. I had no idea of who the girl in my head was until that moment, I swear."
Tyler appeared to be bursting with accusations or questions – she didn't know which – but the waiter delivering their meals held either off.
Keelin didn't have much success eating her pasta creation bursting with fresh, barely cooked vegetables and judiciously sprinkled with herbs. Tyler, however, wolfed down his rare steak like a man possessed. Tension sizzled along her nerves. Keelin hated the feeling. Unlike her more easily inflamed sister Flanna, she wasn't one to thrive on arguments and stress. If she had a choice, she would pick herself up and walk away from the whole situation, never to look back.
But she had no choice. She had Cheryl Leighton to find.
"Why are you doing this?" Tyler suddenly asked.
"A fourteen year old girl is in trouble." And Keelin couldn't, wouldn't, turn her back on the daughter, no matter how the father felt about her.
"You said something about personal reasons before."
"Yes, I did."
"If you want me to believe you, you'll have to tell me more. Be totally honest."
Lies. All lies...
Why did he do it? Why? Now that I know, everything is ruined...
Keelin's head spun with the remembered fragments of her dreams. Cheryl had to have been thinking of her father. Who else?
Careful as to how she framed her response, Keelin asked, "Have you always been so honest? Would you reveal every detail of yourself to anyone who would ask? For that fact, would you be completely truthful even with your own daughter?"
She'd definitely hit an open nerve. Tyler's complexion paled. His skin appeared almost gray, Keelin thought, realizing she was far from happy for hitting her mark. Her discomfort grew when his gaze meshed with hers and she recognized the pain that went deeper than his eyes, perhaps all the way to his soul. She had intimate knowledge of that kind of pain, and she respected its right to remain private.
Chagrined, she said, "I'm sorry."
Slowly, he nodded. "But you had a point."
"I wish you could take me on faith."
"Let's say, I continue to give you the benefit of my doubt."
"As long as that means I don't have to do this on my own."
He sat back and stared. "I don't get you."
"You needn't."
Keelin could tell Tyler Leighton didn't particularly like puzzles, especially ones he couldn't solve. She guessed he was a man who would pick away until he came up with a solution. Hopefully, she wouldn't be around him long enough for him to lay her open.
"Let me tell you about the dreams," she suggested.
Keelin spent the next quarter of an hour replaying them both to the best of her ability, giving Tyler every visual detail she remembered. Holding back on Cheryl's thoughts because she didn't want to sound accusatory. Because she didn't want to sharpen his pain. Besides, whatever had happened between father and daughter, he already knew. And it was none of her business. Tyler and Cheryl would have to work on the reasons, after they found her.
"Who could she have been meeting at the concert?" Tyler murmured once she fell silent.
"I never saw the person. That's when I awoke."
"Maybe one of her friends."
"Have you spoken to them?"
"The police have tracked down her school friends as well as ones in the neighborhood. And the private detect
ive I hired did the same. They came up with zero."
"Who does Cheryl know in the city?"
He shrugged. "Beats me."
"Does she have an address book at home?"
"I'm not sure...but we can look for one. Good thinking."
A carefully modulated if throaty voice countered, "If she were thinking straight, darling, she wouldn't be here with you, now, would she?"
To Keelin's amazement, an elegant blonde in a clingy summer sheath appeared at their table. She was stunning and perfectly groomed, as if she'd just stepped out of an exclusive salon. A thick gold necklace and several rings with large stones attested to her wealth.
And Tyler muttered, "Vivian," as if her name were a curse.
The luscious Vivian gave a speechless Keelin a once-over. "A bit unsophisticated for your taste, isn't she, Tyler?"
"And you're as rude as ever, Vivian."
She batted long lashes over intensely green eyes. "You didn't always think so...and not so long ago, I might add," she purred, running long French-manicured fingernails under his chin.
Tyler ducked his head away from her touch. "Don't make a scene. Whoever you're with must be waiting for you."
"Yes, he is, thank you." She turned to Keelin. "And you, darling, a little friendly warning between us girls. Be on guard. Tyler Leighton takes no prisoners. He'll break your poor heart if you let him. Ta."
With a wave of her beringed hand, she was gone.
Leaving Keelin speechless, and with heat climbing her neck.
She was more than thankful when Tyler ignored her discomfort, casually saying, "If you're done eating, I'll take you over to Grant Park, to the bandshell."
The last place she'd seen Cheryl in her dream.
Chapter Three
AS HE AIMED THE JAGUAR FOR GRANT PARK, the bandshell area being barely a mile from the restaurant, Tyler was aware of exactly how much Vivian Claiborne had flustered Keelin. While she could be the most engaging creature on earth, when angry, Vivian could also be a nasty piece of work. He'd quickly grown tired of her razor-sharp tongue. Besides which, he'd suspected she had her sights on him to be husband number three. One marriage to a woman more interested in what he had than who he was as a person had been enough. He'd gladly broken off his short-lived relationship with Vivian before things could get out of hand.
Unfortunately, Vivian was a woman who didn't take even the smallest of rejections well.
And she'd definitely managed to subdue Keelin. The Irishwoman sat in silence, her attention fixed on whatever flew by the passenger side window. He let her alone, figuring she would recover quickly enough once they arrived.
The bandshell was not in use tonight, the area dark and fairly deserted. Even so, with the Buckingham fountain on the north side working again added to the lure of the lakeshore a quarter of a mile east, finding a free parking meter was out of the question. He pulled the car into a No Parking/Tow Zone a few hundred yards from the bandshell and cut the engine.
"Parking here isn't legal," Keelin murmured.
"I noticed. I break the rules when I have to," Tyler said grimly. "C'mon. Get out. I doubt we'll be here long enough for it to make a difference anyway."
By the time he circled to the sidewalk, she was out of the car, facing west, taking in the electric skyline looming over Michigan Avenue. He closed the door and stared at her features, garishly illuminated by the street lights. Her eyes were wide, her lips parted, and a visible pulse throbbed in the slender column of her throat. She was caught. And for the moment, he was caught by her.
What was going through that head of hers? Did she recognize the area or was she trying to make him think she did? Cynic that he was, Tyler knew it would take more than her word to make him believe her.
"This is it," she finally murmured. "I recognize everything. The position of the buildings. The lit signs. The bridge she took to get to the bandshell."
Tyler focused on Monroe Street, on the other side of the Art Institute. A homeless man had stationed himself on one side of the bridge. A couple of punks were play-streetfighting on the other. The kind of people his daughter had been forced to deal with? He didn't know that, Tyler reminded himself, trying to remain calm. He still wasn't convinced that Cheryl had been on her own. If he believed she was, then he would have to believe she ran away from him. He would have to believe her being missing was his fault.
The suggestion made him gruff. "Getting any good vibes?"
Keelin's eyes narrowed as they met his. "Let's walk around the bandshell. Maybe I'll pick some up."
Tyler didn't miss the sarcasm in her tone. He took her arm and escorted her onto the lawn. She was silent but for the small breaths and sighs she occasionally released as she gazed around the area this way and that, seeming able to see through the thickening dark. Suddenly she stopped dead and faced the bandshell, her flesh trembling under his hand. Instinctively, he released her.
She glanced to her right, her gaze narrowing as if she were measuring. She stepped several yards back and to her left. Adjusting. Checked herself and corrected her position again.
Finally satisfied, she nodded. "Here."
"Here, what?"
"Where Cheryl waited. Afraid. Trying to concentrate on the music. Liszt. A piece you listen to." Forehead pulled into a frown, she faced him. "She was upset because it reminded her of you."
Hair prickled at the back of his neck. "Why didn't you tell me this before?"
As if she didn't hear, she sank to the lawn, concentrating. The prickle spread when she cocked her head and glanced over her shoulder, pointing. "The voice came from over there somewhere."
He stared in the direction she indicated, hoping to see something, feel something. Of course he didn't.
"The voice startled her," Keelin went on, as if in a trance, "and she jerked around..."
She sat very still for a moment, obviously concentrating. Her expression changing slightly as if she remembered something. Then she swept her hands through the grass.
"What?"
"Something flew out of her fingers onto the ground."
Right. "And the clean-up crew would have found whatever that was."
Keelin would know that, he told himself. She was merely play-acting for effect. Still, he tensely watched her as she continued to examine the ground around her, getting to her knees and widening her search. He fought the urge to drop to his knees and help. Fought making a damn fool of himself.
Still his gut tightened when she murmured, "Wait...I think I felt something."
Her fingers scrabbled, digging through the green blades to the earth below. When her hand whipped up, something small was clasped tightly between two fingers. Quickly she rose to her feet and came to his side.
Tyler held out his hand and Keelin placed the object in the center of his palm. A chill shot down his spine. Even in the near dark he recognized it. A fairy charm from the bracelet his daughter always wore.
He remembered Cheryl complaining that he hadn't been spending enough time with her last summer, that he was too busy with his work. He'd tried making up for his negligence. They'd spent an entire weekend together, Sunday at the Renaissance fair. They'd had a great time. An unforgettable day, just the two of them. The bracelet had been outrageously priced for scraps of leather and small bits of metal, but he'd seen how his daughter's eyes shone when she'd looked at it, and he hadn't been able to resist buying it for her. The bracelet was her prized possession and she rarely removed it.
Keelin's eyes were shining when she asked, "Now do you believe me?"
"I believe you know something about Cheryl," he agreed, the proof in his hand. "What I don't know is if you're telling the truth about these dreams of yours."
"But the charm–"
He slipped it in his pocket. "Could have been planted. Or you could have had it all along, palmed it, pretended to have found it." He loomed over Keelin and grabbed her upper arms, wishing he could wring the truth from her. "Did you have anything to do with my daughter's di
sappearance?"
The excited light extinguished from her eyes, she said, "No!" and pulled her arms free, one at a time. Features saddened by disappointment and disgust, she turned her back on him and marched across the lawn.
Tyler lost no time in following. "Where do you think you're going?"
"To my hotel."
"What about my daughter?"
"What about her?" She stopped and faced him. "What truth did she learn that was so devastating that she ran from you?"
"I don't know what you're talking about." But, deep in his heart, Tyler was beginning to fear he might.
"At this moment, is anything more important to you than your daughter's safety?"
"Nothing." She was his whole life. If anything happened to her...
"Then prove it. Take some responsibility and stop placing the blame."
His "All right" seemed to take her off guard. She blinked and took a big breath.
"Suddenly you believe me?" Keelin asked quietly. "Just like that?"
He couldn't say the words. "I'll stop placing the blame," he promised instead.
Innocent or guilty, Tyler sensed Keelin would lead him to his daughter. In the long run, bringing Cheryl home safe was all that mattered to him.
"So what have we accomplished by coming here?" he asked. "Other than your treading the path in your dream?"
"It makes the connection real for me. I hoped to see something I missed earlier...but I didn't. Still, it makes tangible what I knew in my heart." Her tone fervent, she said, "I wish it did for you, as well."
Tyler held fast to his distrust. "Nothing more? No indications of who might have found Cheryl? What the person looked like, for instance?"
"I'm not a psychic," she protested. "At least not in the way you're suggesting. I can't make predictions. I can't envision places or people I haven't seen through physical contact. I experience real events and emotions through dreams. That's it."
Keelin rubbed a lethargic hand across her forehead, and Tyler responded despite himself. She looked exhausted, as if she could hardly stay on her feet. And there was a fragility about her that he hadn't noticed before. Not physically, perhaps, but of spirit.
The McKenna Legacy Trilogy Page 4
