Dreamveil

Jessa’s voice came over the line like soft, sweet music. “Rowan, you’re my best friend. I love you, honey. I’d forgive you anything.”



“Thank you.” She released a slow, shaky breath. “I’ve got to go and take care of some old business. If I don’t get a chance to see you again, I just wanted you to know that I love you, and I’m happy for you and Matt. And please, God, make him change your name to something besides Annabelle.”



“Rowan—”



She switched off the phone and pocketed it before walking back to the cab. The peace she felt settled over her, as warm as the sun, as tough as armour. She was ready.



“That was quick,” the driver said. “Where you wanna go now?”



She didn’t want to go, but she had to. “Riverside and a Hundred and ninth,” she told him. “The King estate.”



Meriden opened his eyes shortly before dawn and found himself staring at the Bitch Madonna. “Hello, sweetheart. Miss me?”



The painting glared at him, probably because he was completely naked. He went to the front closet, took out the duffel bag he kept there, and pulled out some clothes. No doubt Dansant had left him a note on the message board in the kitchen—the asshole always did whenever he came to the apartment—but when Meriden went to check it he found it empty.



There was, however, shattered glass and splashes of red wine all over the kitchen floor.



“Looks like someone had a party last night.” He didn’t have time to worry about whatever had pissed off Dansant; he had to track down Alana King. If he didn’t find her by that afternoon, he’d stop looking and focus on getting Rowan out of harm’s way. He wasn’t sure yet how he’d smuggle her out without tipping off King’s surveillance team, but whether he had to stuff her in a garbage bag or roll her up in a carpet, he was getting her out of the city.



Sean spent the day following up with every witness who had seen Alana King, but no one had remembered any new information. His canvass of the surrounding area also turned up nothing. He spent hours showing the age-progressed photo of Alana to everyone who worked around the coffee shop where she had been spotted, and it was then that he struck gold.



“Yeah, I know this kid,” the owner of a small electronics store said. “She don’t come out during the day much, but at night I seen her plenty. Skittish as hell. She flops over at that hotel they boarded up. You know, the one with the family that’s suing each other over ownership. Greedy bastards.”



Sean wasn’t convinced. “If she’s so skittish, how did you get close enough to see her face?”



The shopkeeper smiled and hefted a complicated-looking pair of goggles. “Night vision lenses. I use them when I do nighttime shoots. Keeps me from running into trouble in dark alleys.”



He wondered just what sort of photos the man was shooting. “Did you happen to take any pictures of her?”



The man shook his head. “I post mine online for my, ah, Web site. You can’t put up any of people unless you get a signed release from them.” He winked. “Unless you blur their faces.”



Sean would have gone to the hotel to check out the man’s claim, but he was running out of daylight. He drove instead to the restaurant, and called his answering service on the way to check in.



“Hey, Sean,” Rita greeted him happily. “How’s it going? You got the best messages tonight. We’re all talking about them.”



“They’re that good, huh?” He slowed down to stop at a red light. “So read them to me.”



“First one’s from Mr. Dansant, and it’s a scorcha. He made me write it all down, exactly like he said. He sounded really pissed off.”



Sean grinned. “So what did he say?”



“The message is, ‘I know you slept with Rowan, and now she believes that she is in love with you. If you agree, tonight I will tell her everything, Miami.’ Oh, wait. Diane wrote that wrong. It’s ‘mon ami.’ ” Rita sighed. “I know I’m not supposed to ask, Sean, but are you in love with this girl, or is this just a fling?”



He spoke without thinking. “I’m in love.”



“Oh, jeez, that’s so romantic.” Rita sounded as if she was on the verge of an orgasm. “You are the best guy in the city, I swear to God. Is she gorgeous? Are you buying her a ring? Can we meet her? Speaking of which, when are we going to meet you?”



“Let’s hold off on planning the wedding until I get the rest of my messages,” he told her drily. “What’s next?”



“This one said her name was Taire,” Rita said, her voice a little more stern. She spelled the name out. “You say it like it’s short for Theresa or something. Anyway, she wants to meet you at the restaurant. She says she knows where the girl you’re looking for is. I hope you’re not keeping a honey on the side, Sean. Not a good idea if you want things to work out with Rowan, you know?”



“She’s just business.” Although he couldn’t recall speaking to anyone named Taire since he’d taken the King case. “Anything else?”



“Someone called from your home number, but they hung up without saying anything. We just logged the call-in number a couple of hours ago.” Rita sounded disappointed. “Maybe it was Rowan.” She caught her breath. “You don’t think she knows about you meeting this girl Taire, do you?”



“I don’t know.” He pulled into the alley behind the restaurant. “I’ve got to go, Rita. Hold my calls for today.”



“What if Mr. Dansant calls again?”



He grunted. “Tell him I said he can fuck off.”



Rita chuckled. “Sean, I could get like so fired for saying that.”



“All right. Tell him Rowan is my business now.” He saw a young girl waiting by the back door of the restaurant. “Talk to you later, sweetheart.” He climbed out of the car, and when he drew close to the girl he saw she matched the description Rowan had given him of the homeless girl. “Is your name Taire?”



She nodded. “You’re the guy who lives upstairs, right?”



“Yeah. How did you get my number?”



“A girl gave me this.” She produced one of his business cards. “She said you’re looking for Alana King.”



“You know where she is?”



“No, but that girl who works here, Rowan, she knows,” Taire said. “She was just in your apartment for a while before she left.” She glanced at the windows. “I saw her up there.”



Sean was tempted to run upstairs, but he had to find Rowan and get her stashed someplace safe. “Which way did she go?”



She shrugged. “She probably went down to this place where she goes by the river.”



“What’s the address?”



“I don’t know, but she walks down there a lot,” Taire said. “I followed her a couple times.” She gave his car a hopeful look. “If you drive I can show you where.”



“All right.” He went to the car and unlocked the passenger door. “Get in.”



As he drove toward the river, Sean glanced at the girl, who had flipped down the visor to look in the mirror while she brushed out her tangled curls and fluffed her bangs. “You’re sure Rowan walked toward the river?”



Taire nodded as she searched in her bag and retrieved a lipstick. “She probably went to meet Alana. They’re friends, you know.”



“Are they?” Sean recognized the lipstick; it was one Rowan left on the shelf in the bathroom they shared. The brush belonged to her, too. “How did Rowan become friends with someone like Alana King?”



“She used to live in her house.” She pouted at the mirror before turning and smiling at him. “Do you think this is too red for me?”



“It makes you look very grown-up.” Sean recalled the age progression he’d done on Alana King’s childish face. Taire bore a faint resemblance to what Alana would have looked like as a teenager, but there was something off about her features. Her nose was a fraction too short, and her eyes weren’t the exact same shape. “Do you know Alana King?”



“No, but I’ve seen pictures of her.” She smoothed back her curls, revealing a long, faint scar running just along the curve of her jawline. “She was the most beautiful woman in the world.”



He saw the dark roots at the base of her blond hair that she was trying to disguise by fluffing it. “Was she.”



Taire nodded. “She was perfect. I mean, she is.”



“Who showed you the pictures?” he asked carefully.



She sighed as she tucked away the lipstick. “Father did. He wanted me to grow up to be just like her. That’s why he had them dye my hair blond, and do all the operations. My face and my body, they weren’t good enough.” She turned to him. “Do you know Rowan doesn’t even need operations? She can just change into Alana anytime she wants.”



The girl was obviously unbalanced, and Sean’s mind raced as he tried to decide what next to do. “Taire, maybe I should take you back to the restaurant. You could wait there while I find Rowan.”



“She loves you,” Taire said, sounding forlorn. “That’s why I need you. To make her do it for Father.”



Sean felt something slam him back into the driver’s seat, an unseen force that held him pinned even as it took over controlling the wheel and the accelerator. “What are you doing?” he said, trying to free himself.



She turned to look through the windshield. “I’m going home.”



Chapter 19



Rowan heard the security camera swiveling on its base as she walked up to the side door. As she stood waiting, she noted three others performing sweeps of the side street, the river, and traffic passing by. She knew Gerald King’s elaborate security system was even now zooming in to snap pictures of her hands, her face, and her clothes.



Some things never changed.



A thin, older man dressed in a dark suit opened the door a moment later. “Welcome, miss,” he said as he stepped back.