Dangerous Attraction Romantic Suspense Boxed Set (210 page)

No one had seen Cheryl.

Standing at the six corner intersection, a grim Tyler asked, “What do you remember right before her calling me?”

“She received change for a dollar to ring you at the newsstand.”

They crossed the street and once at the newsstand, Tyler immediately got the proprietor’s full attention with a ten dollar bill followed by the photograph.

He didn’t hesitate. “Yeah, I remember seeing her.”

Keelin’s pulse surged as, voice hopeful, Tyler pressed, “More than once?”

The man shook his head. “Yesterday. She needed change for a phone call. Don’t usually do that, but I felt sorry for her.”

“Why?” Tyler asked. “Was something wrong with her?”

“Hey, I don’t know.” The man suddenly seemed nervous. “I just gave the kid change.”

Tyler flashed Keelin a quick look and asked, “What direction did she come from?”

“You cops or something?”

Keelin assured the man, “He’s the girl’s father, and he’s worried sick about her.”

“Runaway, huh? Up the street.” He indicated she’d come east on North Avenue.

“Which side?”

“This side. And that’s all I know.”

“What about
after
she made the call. You didn’t see what happened to her then?”

“I run a business here, mister! An’ I got customers.”

His focus shifted to one that wanted a newspaper. And Tyler drew Keelin aside.

“Are you sure you can’t remember details about the building or the street Cheryl came from?”

“All I remember is her passing a couple of lads on a stoop smoking an illegal substance.”

Tyler took a deep breath and pressed her. “So the building she ran out of was large?”

“I couldn’t say how large,” Keelin admitted. “Though it did have at least three flats. She was so…” She didn’t want to say
terrified
. He was upset enough. “… Cheryl didn’t truly focus on anything until she arrived at this area.”

Or at least Keelin hadn’t. She remembered instead the girl’s heartbeat, the knot in her stomach, the sheer panic that had enveloped her.

“How far did she run?”

Keelin shrugged. “Several blocks.”

“At least we know which direction to look in.”

As they crossed the street to the Jaguar, Keelin eyed a series of banners set high on the light posts that identified the area as Wicker Park.

For the next half hour, they drove around the neighborhood’s side streets. Keelin gazed at two and three flats as well as larger apartment buildings side-by-side with old homes of cut stone or brick that once must have been considered mansions. The diverse elements and transitional condition of the neighborhood suggested that wealthy people no longer occupied them, however. And every time Keelin thought some building looked vaguely familiar, another popped into view that she thought was familiar, as well.

“I just don’t know,” she said. “The more I look, the more confused I become.”

“We need help,” Tyler admitted, slowing the vehicle and staring at a beautiful old commercial building, his brow furrowed. “I’m going to take you back to your hotel for a while to rest.”

To rest or to sleep? Was he hoping that she would dream yet again, perhaps see the area through Cheryl’s eyes?

Glancing at the building that had Tyler’s focused attention – it looked to have been recently renovated – Keelin asked, “And what will you do?”

“Go to my office where I’ll call the North Bluff police chief, see if he can get Chicago’s finest to cooperate and do a thorough search.”

“You’re going to tell the authorities about me?”

Keelin was horrified. She wanted no contact with the constabulary. That’s why she’d gone to Tyler in the first place. Her pulse surged and her mouth went dry at the thought of being questioned…and, no doubt, being held in suspicion.

“I’ll be careful what I tell them.”

“Trust me…they won’t believe you,” she said, suddenly feeling desperate.

Trapped.

“All right. I won’t involve you at the moment. I’ll say that
I
scoured the area, acting on a hunch.”

Thinking Tyler sounded as if he actually did have a hunch of some sort, relieved that she wouldn’t be held up to ridicule again, Keelin relaxed. His attention was still absorbed in the renovated building as the traffic before them began to move.

“We have the green,” she murmured.

His attention snapped back to the street and he started up the vehicle. “I’ll tell whomever I deal with that I showed Cheryl’s photo around until the guy in the newsstand recognized it,” he went on. “I’ll have dozens of copies made so they can use them to identify her.”

“And if the Chicago authorities refuse to help?”

“Whether they do or don’t cooperate, I’ll still get my investigator on it. I’ll give Bryant the go-ahead to bring in more men to comb the area. If the police won’t do it,
he
can start a door-to-door search.”

Keelin nodded. Not that she believed the people living in the area would necessarily cooperate any more than the authorities would. But she also knew that Tyler had to have hope to hold onto, or he would go out of his mind with worry.

And while he was busy setting up the actual search, perhaps she would delve further into motive.

KEELIN FOUND THAT, despite her initial reluctance to come near a computer, she was able to move along the information superhighway, albeit at a crawl, with a bit of instruction. After Tyler had dropped her off at her hotel, she’d freshened up and had taken a taxi straight to the station. Skelly had finished his morning taping and had readily agreed to do a little more digging for her. At the moment, however, she was mourning the fact that she hadn’t actually found anything of note.

Skelly popped back into his office, waving a videotape. “Lookie, lookie.”

“You actually found something? You are an amazing man.”

“I found a
big
something.” Skelly popped the tape into the recorder and turned on the monitor. “Wicker Park rang a bell. I didn’t have to go back very far into our video morgue to find the footage.”

Keelin watched with fascination as he punched in some kind of code on the equipment. The machine whirred softly, clicked, and an image gelled on the monitor.

“… a tragedy in Wicker Park this afternoon,”
came the newswoman’s voice.
“An eleven year old boy died searching for his missing pet. It happened at this newly renovated Milwaukee Avenue building…”

Keelin stared wide-eyed. The newswoman was standing before the commercial building that had caught Tyler’s attention while they were waiting in traffic.

Then the image changed.

“Harry was just lookin’ for his lost dog. My son didn’t mean no harm to nobody. An’ he wasn’t doin’ nothing wrong. If that stairway wasn’t safe, why wasn’t it boarded up or something?”

The man speaking was stocky and had salt-and-pepper hair. His features were grief-stricken.

And startlingly familiar.

“A question that authorities want answered from L&O Realty, as well,”
said the newswoman, reporting from the rear of the building.

The stairway in question was now boarded to block entry, but the broken railing on the second landing was still evident. Keelin swallowed hard, imagining a poor child falling to his death on the pavement below, even as Skelly stopped the videotape.

“The man’s name is George Smialek,” he said. “And he’s suing L&O Realty over his son’s death.”

“Maybe that’s not all he’s doing,” Keelin murmured, excited. She kissed Skelly’s cheek and hurried to the door. “Thank you, cous,” she said, picking up his Americanism.

“Let me know if you need something else. This detective work kind of reminds me of why I became a journalist in the first place.”

From the doorway, Keelin flashed him a grateful smile before rushing off to share her conclusions with Tyler.

THE CHICAGO POLICE PROVED TO BE far less cooperative than Tyler had hoped…probably because he’d not been convincing enough even though he’d told them his daughter was being kept for ransom. Only a single team of detectives would make the rounds of the Wicker Park area looking for anyone who had seen Cheryl. And though the squad patrols would keep an eye open for her, as well, he didn’t consider that nearly enough action to find his daughter fast.

Even Jeremy Bryant was being elusive. He’d called the private investigator’s office three times, so far, but the man seemed to be unavailable.

So it was up to him, Tyler figured, rereading the missive that had been waiting on his desk when he’d returned to the office.

Get your act together – and your money – fast. The kid’s one in a “million”. I’ll be in touch.

A million dollars!

Not that he wouldn’t pay any amount for Cheryl’s safe return, Tyler thought. And not that his net worth wasn’t far more than a million.

The problem was his getting his hands on that kind of cash. He could probably scrape together a few hundred thousand in a day or two. He’d already called his broker and, against the woman’s advice, had told her to sell what she could. A second mortgage on the North Bluff estate would get him what he needed – as would a sale of his Barrington land – but either would take time. Still, he had his top agent checking on both possibilities for him.

All of his assets were tied up in stocks and property.

Or in the company.

The company. Tyler was reminded of Brock’s determination to dissolve their partnership immediately. Would he be willing to come up with several hundred thousand cold cash to make it happen?

Though Tyler still wanted to work things out, he knew this was something to consider.

In the meantime, Tyler planned on going door-to-door in Wicker Park himself. He didn’t count on Keelin showing up unannounced.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. “Did you –”

“No dream,” Keelin said, deflating the small hope he’d nurtured that she’d have a clearer idea of where his daughter was being held. “But I learned something else that may be important. It has to do with George Smialek.”

Tyler started. “How did you find out about Smialek?”

“My cousin Skelly.”

Of course. The mudraker
. “What did he tell you?”

“He showed me the news clip about the boy falling to his death on the L&O renovation site in Wicker Park,” she said, her expression sympathetic. “How well do you know the father? Is it possible that he wants revenge?”

“I’m sure he’ll get it, big time.” Though no settlement, no matter how much money, could bring back a lost child. “You did know he’s suing us?”

“Did
you
know he’s been keeping a close eye on you personally?” Keelin countered, the claim amazing him.

“What makes you think so?”

“Monday when you left me waiting while you fetched the Jaguar, a man stood in the shadow of another doorway,” she said. “He crossed after you into the car park. I had the oddest feeling, but then you drove out and I put it to coincidence…until I saw Skelly’s footage. The man was definitely George Smialek. What could he have been up to?”

Figuring out how to plant a ransom note?

Tyler swore under his breath. After telling her about the second note, he said, “Maybe we should ask Smialek about it in person.”

He called Pamela and asked her to check the legal documents for Smialek’s address. When she didn’t get back to him immediately, he grew fidgety.

Five minutes later, he said, “Wait here and I’ll see what’s taking so long.”

Tyler found his assistant in a close huddle with his partner at the end of the hall. He stopped and stared at Brock’s intense expression. His partner seemed to be angry with Pamela about something. What in the world was going on? Denise was Brock’s assistant, while Pamela worked exclusively for
him
.

Then Brock spotted him and broke up the secretive huddle. With a curt nod to Pamela, Brock strode into his own office and slammed the door.

Leaving Tyler wondering.

Brock had been acting so strangely the past few days.
Desperate
perfectly described the man’s emotional balance.

Takes one to know one,
Tyler thought, running a hand through his hair.

Desperate enough to kidnap his partner’s child?
a small voice asked.

Tyler shook the unconscionable thought away and approached his assistant. “So what the hell is Brock giving you a hard time over now?”

Pamela flushed. “Nothing important. Brock and I get along fine. He’s just not in the best of moods today. Not for you to worry, okay?”

When had Brock last been in a good mood? Tyler wondered. No doubt the man was merely taking his dissatisfaction out on the people who worked for them. And Pamela was correct. Getting involved in employee relations was too much for him to handle at the moment.

“Did you find the papers?” he asked.

“Right here.”

She handed him the legal documents apprising him of the lawsuit against L&O Realty. He quickly took note of George Smialek’s Wicker Park address.

“Thanks.” He handed the document back to her.

“That’s it?” Pamela asked, eyebrows raised.

“All I need. Keep trying to get hold of Bryant for me.”

With Keelin at his side, he left the building, tension mounting fast.

After pulling from the garage a few minutes later, Tyler drove down the city streets like a madman, praying no cop would interfere. George Smialek. A grieving father wanting to give the source of his anguish some of the same. It made sense. If Smialek were the guilty one, he wasn’t really after the ransom money – he’d undoubtedly get plenty through the lawsuit – he was after revenge.

Torturing him with Cheryl’s disappearance might only be the beginning, he realized with a sick feeling.

Tyler hoped talking would keep his blood pressure down.

“The building on Milwaukee was an old department store that we’re renovating into a retail shop and loft apartments,” he said. “Harry Smialek’s death was a tragedy, but it was a terrible accident.”

One over which he’d had a few sleepless nights himself.

“The boy was looking for his dog, was he not?” Keelin asked.

Tyler nodded. “He must have thought he heard the mutt in the building. He climbed the construction fence in back and went up the rear porch. The second floor landing’s side rail was in place but apparently not fully secured. Harry must have leaned on it. He fell through. The dog found him and stood guard over his broken body until the next morning.”