The Summit by Kat Martin

the dream became more clear. Maybe if it keeps happening, eventually I’ll know what’s being said.”
    He picked up his fork, but didn’t take a bite. He kept his dark gaze centered on her face. “How did you know the girl in the second dream was Molly?”
    â€œLike I said, I didn’t recognize her at first, but once I got a look at her, I didn’t have the slightest doubt. She has these huge blue eyes and her eyebrows arch up in this sweetly feminine way. She has your nose, you know—only smaller, of course. I’d like to see a picture of your wife—”
    â€œEx-wife,” he corrected.
    â€œYes, well, I’d like to see if I can pick out Molly’s features in her.”
    He leaned toward her. “That’s it? That’s all you saw? Three women working in a kitchen?”
    She didn’t want to tell him; it was bound to be painful. But if they were going to have any chance of success she had to be completely truthful.
    â€œThere was something else…something that convinced me I had to look for her, try to find her.”
    â€œSay it. I can tell you don’t want to.”
    She released a slow breath. “In the dream—for an instant—Molly turns and looks straight at me. There is so much pain in her eyes…so much despair. It seems to run soul-deep. It’s as if she is begging for my help.”
    Â 
    Ben just sat there, his chest squeezing like a thousand-pound boulder sat on top of it. What if Autumn Sommers was telling the truth? If he closed his eyes, he could see Molly’s big blue eyes looking at him from beneath the sweet, pale arch of her brows. If Molly was alive, was she being beaten, abused? Or was she just desperately unhappy, living in a place she didn’t belong—being raised by strangers who weren’t her family and didn’t really love her?
    If she still lived, did she remember her real parents? She had been old enough and yet maybe, over the years, those memories had slowly faded.
    Ben shoved his salad away without taking a bite. “Here’s what I’m going to do. Tomorrow I’ll talk to Pete Rossi, the private detective I hired to investigate you.”
    Two days ago, Pete had called him in response to Ben’s inquiry about Autumn and Gerald Meeks. According to Pete, Autumn had indeed spoken to Meeks at the federal prison in Sheridan, but Rossi couldn’t confirm what Meeks had said. The inmate had refused his request for a visit and probably wouldn’t have told him anything anyway.
    â€œI’ll ask Rossi to start digging around, see if he can turn up anything new about Molly’s disappearance.” He hadn’t done this yet. He’d wanted more proof that Autumn’s crazy dreams were real.
    â€œDid Rossi work on the case when Molly first disappeared?”
    â€œNo. I used a different agency. But I think it might be better to start fresh. Look at the whole thing from a different perspective.”
    â€œThat sounds like a good idea.” Autumn gave him such a bright, hopeful smile that Ben found himself oddly disarmed. “So we’re going to start looking?”
    He leaned back in his chair. “Don’t get too excited. I said I’d ask Pete to do a little digging. I’m not about to set this whole thing in motion—not yet.”
    â€œBut—”
    â€œCancel your climbing trip and I’ll pick you up for the benefit at seven o’clock tomorrow night.”
    She toyed with her fork, eyeing him across the table. “Are you sure your friends won’t think you’re lowering your standards? I’m hardly a cover model.”
    No, she was nothing at all like Dolores Delgato or any of the other women he was likely to take to this kind of affair. But she was smart and interesting and—though she didn’t seem to know it—sexy as hell. An image of Autumn’s tight round behind flexing as she climbed the wall