“I’ll see you soon,” she whispered.
“Not soon enough.”
He hung up, still smiling. He quickly checked his messages and noticed that Jim Sheridan had called sometime between when he’d arrived and hung up with Alice. His grin vanished. All the warmth he’d been experiencing talking to Alice evaporated, to be replaced by a grim sense of dread. He quickly redialed Jim’s number. He’d been waiting for the call.
A few minutes later, Dylan hung up his phone and sat heavily in his chair. The truth was indeed out, although not entirely. Jim had just informed him that he’d called his contact at the FBI and left a message, but hadn’t yet spoken to anyone in person. Jim had given them a few extra hours by calling the FBI in the evening.
He was definitely going to have to tell Alice tonight. The Durand kidnapping case was about to officially be reopened.
Elbow on the desk, he rested his forehead in his hand, rubbing his closed eyes with the ridge of his palm. Without his bidding, the image of how she’d looked several nights ago when she’d awakened from her nightmare flew into his mind’s eye. He’d never seen her so vulnerable . . . so afraid . . . so aware of her loss, and therefore never more grief stricken.
“He told me he was right beside me, and that he always would be. And he liked chocolate ice cream as much as me . . . And then Mommy was telling me to run and hide again, and there was blood on her ear and neck.”
The last part echoed, it’s effect like an igniting spark on his brain.
Slowly, he lowered his hand and opened his eyes. A tingling sensation scurried down his back and arms.
Why would a doting mother encourage her four-year-old daughter to hide in a dark, scary hole beneath the stairs? Or in any of the other castle hidey-holes, for that matter?
Why hadn’t he thought of that before? True, Dylan had always been closer to Alan than Lynn. He’d never known Lynn as an adult, only as a teenager. Still . . . the hide-and-seek scenario Alice had described seemed completely out of character from what he knew of Lynn Durand. Addie had been the prized princess of the household, adored and loved and protected. Lynn hardly ever let her out of her sight. That was one of the reasons Dylan had felt so guilty about the kidnapping for years; because the Durands trusted less than a handful of people with their daughter, but they’d given it to Dylan.
Why the hell was Lynn sending Addie off to cower in dark, hidden places, spots where most small children would be terrified to be alone? It clearly hadn’t scared Alice, though. She’d found the game fun. It’d been that memory that had first returned, hearing Lynn playing that game with her.
What if it had only been a game for Addie, though? What if it had been a dead-serious exercise for Lynn?
What if Lynn had been preparing her daughter, training her for potential danger?
“Dylan, are you sure she wasn’t there when I was taken in the woods?”
Lynn Durand had definitely not been in the woods on the day Dylan was stabbed and Addie was kidnapped. But had he been wrong in telling Alice she’d never seen Lynn that way? What if Alice really
was remembering something traumatic that had happened, something that had occurred on another day . . . not the day of her kidnapping? What if someone had hurt Lynn and threatened to harm Addie? And being fearful of it, Lynn had trained Addie to run and hide in one of the good spots?
Again, Alice’s voice came to him: “They were her hiding places, too.”
A moment later, he flung open his office door.
“Janice Ahehorn called again, and I can’t find—”
“Not now, Mrs. Davenport,” he growled, charging toward the door. He got a glimpse of his secretary’s openmouthed shock at his harsh interruption. For once, she gave no snippy reply.
THEY had a mandatory camp-wide meeting on the marina beach following dinner, after which there would be a big inter-team beach party. Their evening meal had been especially light because Mira, the camp cook, would be providing food and drink for the festivities later tonight. The kids bubbled with anticipation and good spirits. A DJ had been hired to play music later, and there would be a bonfire. A lifeguard was present and the beam lights would be turned on in case any kids wanted to swim.
Like the kids, Alice was wired tonight, still ebullient from her hiring meeting and the prospect of meeting Dylan in a few hours. She’d missed him so much, despite the uncertainties she’d been having thanks to Thad’s accusations. From experience, however, she knew that as soon as she saw Dylan, as soon as he touched her, that all her doubts would be forgotten.
Because of her keyed-up state, she was standing a few feet back from her seated group of kids, too excited to sit still.
After the meeting, the managers all undertook the task of handing out a photo booklet to each camper and counselor. It was like a camp yearbook, filled with photos and commemorations of memorable events, both serious and amusing ones. There were blank pages where the kids could have staff and friends sign. Other managers were walking among the kids, carrying boxes with Camp Durand keepsake pens. A few other managers were passing out T-shirts and hats.
A party atmosphere prevailed. She watched as Sal Rigo passed out the booklets to her kids, feeling happy but a little melancholy, too, at the idea of saying good-bye. She’d grown so fond of them. Their faces all looked alight with the setting sun and excitement, but Alice thought she recognized something else. They looked . . . proud.
She thought back to her interview with Dylan. Finally, she understood what he’d meant. Camp Durand really wasn’t about strutting corporate philanthropy, publicity, prime photo ops, or even hiring the best and brightest managers. It was about the kids. Communities and people-building didn’t have to be kept in a separate realm from corporate success and growth. In many ways, this camp was like the lifeblood of the whole organization, the origins of its driving principles, the source of its yearly renewal. Alan and Lynn Durand had recognized that. They’d nurtured that ideal, and so had Dylan.
Standing there on that beach as the kids’ excited chatter and shrieks grew to a dull roar, she suspected that maybe . . . just maybe, she could really belong at Durand Enterprises. This was Alan and Lynn’s legacy. It was Dylan’s.
A newly born sense of pride swelled large inside her.
She beamed at Sal as he walked toward her.