The Summit

Terri stared at her in horror. “Oh my God…”

Autumn glanced away, remembering the devastation and overwhelming grief she had felt back then. “I should have said something, done something before it was too late. If I had, my friends might still be alive.”

Terri reached over and captured Autumn’s hand. “It wasn’t your fault. Like you said, you were only fifteen and even if you’d said something, no one would have believed you.”

“That’s what I tell myself.”

“Has it happened again anytime since then?”

“Not until now. The first time, before my friends died, my mom had been killed two years earlier in a car wreck, so I figured maybe that’s why I dreamed the dream, but now I don’t think that was it. I keep hoping this isn’t the same, but what if it is? What if there’s a little girl out there somewhere who’s about to be kidnapped?”

“Even if there is, this isn’t like before. You knew those kids. You don’t have any idea who this little girl might be. Even if she exists, you don’t know where to find her.”

“Maybe. But if I knew the people in the dream before, maybe this little girl is someone else I know. I’m going to check the school records, take a look at student photos. Maybe the face or name will click.”

“I suppose it’s worth a try.”

“That’s what I figure.”

“You know I’ll help in any way I can.”

“Thanks, Terri.”

“Maybe you won’t dream it again.”

Autumn just nodded, hoping that was true. But she couldn’t help remembering how vivid the dream was and how clearly she could recall it.

She finished her coffee as she got up from her chair. “I’d better get going. Class starts at nine and I’ve still got to change into my climbing clothes.”

Terri smiled. “Maybe this summer you’ll meet someone interesting in class. With all those hard bodies around, there’s got to be someone.”

Autumn ignored the remark and waved as she headed for the door. Terri was always trying to help her find the right man, but Autumn steered clear of most men. Since high school, she’d had nothing but disastrous relationships. In college she had fallen in love with Steven Elliot, a fellow student at Washington University. She and Steve had dated seriously their sophomore through senior years. Autumn was madly in love with him and they talked a lot about marriage and kids.

It seemed her future was set until that afternoon just before graduation when Steve told her he wanted to end the relationship.

“I just don’t love you, Autumn,” he had said. “I thought I did, but I don’t. I never mean to hurt you, but I have to get on with my life. I hope things work out for you.” He had left her standing in the quad, crying like an idiot, hating herself for having fallen in love with him.

She had gone on to graduate, then continued school long enough to get her teaching degree, but it had taken years to get over losing Steve.

Standing on the corner, she pulled her sweater a little closer against the breeze and waited till the stoplight changed to green. She crossed from Second Avenue to Third then continued toward Pike Street. The sun was out today but the air was damp and clouds had begun to gather on the horizon. Seattle got more than its share of rain but Autumn never minded. She had grown up in Burlington, a little town north of the city. The beautiful pines and nearby ocean were worth the clouds and rain.

As she walked the few blocks up the hill, Autumn enjoyed the feel of the wind tugging at her hair. Up ahead, the McKenzie building took up half a block. It was an old six-story structure that had been expensively remodeled and now served as headquarters for McKenzie Enterprises, a chain of upper-end sporting-goods stores. Pike’s Gym occupied the second floor. A few other tenants rented space, and there were shops and boutiques on the first floor along the street.

On her teacher’s salary, Autumn couldn’t afford the exclusive gym’s pricey fees, but she earned an annual membership in exchange for teaching summer rock-climbing classes. It was actually a lot of fun, she had discovered, teaching the skills she had begun to learn as a child from her father.

The double glass doors of the building appeared and Autumn walked into the sleek, marble-floored lobby, past Jimmy the security guard, who recognized her, nodded and waved, then she took the elevator up to the second floor.

A wall of glass revealed the gym and Autumn pushed through the door.

“Hey, Autumn!” It was Bruce Ahern, a muscle jock who worked out at least four hours a day and was already lifting weights. Blond and sun-tanned year-round, he was a nice guy who was always friendly but never pressed her for a date, and instead seemed content just to enjoy her friendship.

“Hi, Bruce. How’s it going?”

“Same ol’, same ol’.” He grinned, carving a dimple into his cheek. Then he hoisted a barbell loaded with a ridiculous amount of iron and began his bicep routine.

Autumn kept walking along the blue-and-gray carpeted floor, passing walls of mirrors. In the bicycle room, long rows of TVs entertained the men and women pumping away on bikes that went nowhere. Eighties music played in the background. Sometimes it was country; sometimes hard rock or hip hop. The staff was very fair about the gym’s musical selections.

Making her way into the women’s dressing room, Autumn headed for her private locker where she kept her climbing clothes. She pulled on stretchy black pants, perfect for climbing—not tight, but not so baggy they got in the way—a black T-shirt and a pair of soft leather climbing shoes that closed with Velcro tabs.

Once she finished changing, she stored her purse and street clothes in the locker and left to teach her second class of the summer.

Two

The headquarters of McKenzie Enterprises took up the entire sixth floor of the building. The president’s office looked out over the city streets all the way across the bay.

Seated behind his oversized mahogany desk, Ben McKenzie studied one of the half-dozen files stacked in front of him. His large, private office was done in dark wood accented with brushed chrome and deep dark burgundy carpets. There was a wall of windows behind his desk and a built-in bar in one of the sleek mahogany cabinets that lined one wall.

The intercom buzzed and Ben hit the button, allowing the voice of his secretary and personal assistant, Jennifer Conklin, to flow into the room.

“Your nine o’clock appointment is here,” she said. “Kurt Fisher with A-1 Sports.”

“Thanks, Jenn, send him in.” Ben rose from his leather chair and shot the cuffs on the crisp white shirt beneath the jacket of his navy-blue suit. His clothes were expensive and perfectly tailored to fit his tall frame, but he had earned every dime it took to pay for them and he was a man who appreciated quality and design.

He glanced toward the door. He wasn’t sure what Fisher wanted, but the man was head of acquisitions for A-1 Sports, a successful chain of low-end retail sporting-goods stores, so the conversation might prove interesting. With seventy-six stores around the country—and more popping up every day—A-1 posed tough competition for McKenzie’s more expensive, higher-quality merchandise, but so far his stores were holding their own.

The door swung open and Ben caught a glimpse of Jenn’s light-brown hair as she waited for Fisher to walk into the room. She was thirty-seven-years-old, married with two kids and had been with him for the last seven years, ever since he had incorporated the company. Jenn closed the door behind Fisher—slim, forty-something, with a reputation for being an aggressive, don’t-take-no-for-an-answer kind of guy willing to do whatever it took to reach his financial goals, which by the look of his flashy Armani tie were extremely high.

“Would you like a cup of coffee?” Ben asked. At six-foot-two, he was taller than Fisher, wider through the chest and shoulders, more athletically built. Though they both had dark brown hair, Ben’s was thicker and slightly curly.

“No thanks. I’m fine.” Fisher seated himself in one of the black leather chairs in front of the desk. Ben unbuttoned his suit coat and sat down across from him.

“So what can I do for you this morning, Kurt?” Ben smiled. He was always polite but he didn’t believe in wasting time.

Fisher lifted his leather briefcase onto his lap, popped the latches and pulled out a manila folder. “I think it’s more like what I can do for you.”

He set the folder on Ben’s desk and shoved it forward. “It goes without saying what a fine job you’ve done in building McKenzie Sporting Goods into the successful company it is today. As you know, A-1 has been equally successful in selling its line of less expensive merchandise. The company is growing by leaps and bounds and we’ve decided the next logical step is to add stores that sell more expensive, higher quality goods. Stores like yours, Ben.”

Ben made no comment, just leaned back in his chair.

Fisher tapped the folder. “This is an offer to purchase your stores, Ben—all of them. I know you’ll want to take it to your accountant and lawyer, but you’re going to see that the price and terms are more than fair.”

Ben didn’t bother to open the file, just pushed it back across the desk. “Not interested. McKenzie Enterprises isn’t for sale.”

Fisher smiled thinly. “Everything’s for sale—at the right price.”

“Not McKenzie. At least not today.” Ben rose from his chair. “Tell your people I appreciate their interest. If I change my mind, they’ll be the first to know.”

Fisher looked stunned. “You aren’t even going to look at it?”