CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Harry Bryant popped the collar of his top coat. The heavy wool blend barely protected him from the blustery arctic winds that had ravaged New York City off and on the entire week. Only a few days before the New Year and the northeast had already suffered its second blizzard. Still, the prospect of more winter snowstorms couldn’t compare to the hell Harry had lived through over the past three and a half months.
In spite of an exhaustive search by the NYPD, a ten thousand-dollar reward, and hundreds of dead-end leads, there had been no additional clues beyond his sister’s disappearance from Grand Central Station.
Harry’s steps slowed. Her abductor had used his sister’s love and loyalty to kidnap her. According to the police, Olivia had been told he’d taken ill and left with a gentleman supposedly dispatched by him. After that her trail went inexplicably cold.
Tired of sitting around wondering and waiting, Harry hired a Pinkerton agent to pick up where the NYPD had left off. But even the initial report he received from the detective two weeks ago hadn’t garnered any more evidence. Both Olivia and her kidnapper had fallen off the face of the earth.
Fortunately, Harry’s practice hadn’t suffered like his social life. He’d become so obsessed with finding his sister that his friends rarely came around anymore, but in a roundabout way he was grateful for their absence. Their incessant questions and conspiracy theories on top of all the false leads supplied by gold digging opportunists had only added to the madness.
Harry picked his way across Lenox Avenue, moving sluggishly toward his brownstone. It was no longer the refuge it had once been. Every room, every nook and cranny of their childhood home held memories of his sister. The only reason he hadn’t put the three-story row house on the market was because he still held out hope Olivia would one day return.
Heavyhearted, Harry slowly climbed the front steps. His feet made slush of the snow. “Home sweet home,” he whispered, yet took his time to find the key. Before he could turn the knob, the door swung open, surprising him.
“Lord, be praised!” Looking heavenward, Meredith clapped her hands. “I’ve been going out of my mind waiting for you to get home, Dr. Bryant.” She took his hat and coat in one hand and grabbed his arm with the other. “I called the office, but they informed me you’d left around three o’clock. That was more than two hours ago.”
“You know the IRT,” Harry offered up the excuse by using the unreliability of the Interborough Rapid Transit Company. When in actuality, he’d established a habit of making the long walk home. Feeling sheepish for lying to his housekeeper, considering all she’d done during his sister’s absence, Harry allowed her to pull him toward the stairs. He caught a glimpse of himself in the hallway mirror and shuddered. He’d become a bag of bones over the past few months.
“Guess who’s upstairs sleeping like a baby?” she asked, grinning broadly.
Harry’s eyes swung to the flight of stairs, his heart flipping painfully in his chest. “Olivia?”
Meredith nodded and a wave of nausea swept over him causing him to rock back on his heels. Harry grabbed onto the balustrade before he fell on his ass.
“H-how?”
“I didn’t press her for any answers, sir. Poor thing was dead tired and freezing. Can you believe she showed up in a long cotton gown with nary a coat to protect her from the cold?”
Harry remained glued to the spot, trying in vain to wrap his head around the fact that his sister was less than fifty feet away. “Other than the lack of a coat, was she okay?”
“Well cared-for as far as I could tell. She didn’t eat the potato soup I brought up. She took a bath, though. Requested it scalding hot and ended up sitting in the tub for over an hour.” Meredith placed her hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t you go on up and check on her?”
“Okay,” Harry uttered, but didn’t move a whit. Nervous, he wiped his hands on his trousers. Why was he still standing here? Upon receiving the news, he should’ve taken the stairs two at a time. Burst into his sister’s room and taken her in his arms. Not continue to stand here dithering, pondering his next move like some idiot.
“She doesn’t blame you, Dr. Bryant.” Meredith patted his arm. “Matter of fact she was so eager to see you, I had to convince her to stay put and wait for you to come home from work.”
Harry sagged in relief. All these months he’d been blaming himself for Olivia’s disappearance.
“Now that she’s home, I think it’s high time you forgive yourself.”
Somewhat bolstered by Meredith’s innate observation, Harry put one foot in front of the other and climbed the stairs. So many questions swirled around in his head. Where had she been all these months? Did she disappear voluntarily or had she been held captive by some sadistic bastard who’d used her body? Abused her? Was she the same vibrant girl who’d put his patients at ease or had she changed?
At the top of the landing, Harry sucked in a deep calming breath. He’d worked himself up with so many unanswered questions that he didn’t trust himself to go into her room. Having just returned from some unspeakable hell, Olivia didn’t deserve to be ambushed so soon for answers.
Tentatively, Harry entered his sister’s bedroom. He padded across the floor and stood over her bed. Legs tucked up under her, face resting on her outstretched arm like a child, Olivia appeared blissfully unaffected by her months-long absence. She’d pinned her long hair atop her head in a loose knot and her dark skin, a stark contrast to the white nightgown she wore, remained unblemished, blessedly free of any bruises.
Outwardly, she hadn’t changed a bit. She was still lovely as ever. Smiling, Harry sat down on the floor and took her hand in his. He stayed like this, sitting by her side, all night until the sun rose the next morning.
***
“Harry.” Olivia squeezed her brother’s hand, attempting to awake him. “Harry,” she said again.
He blinked up at her. “Liv?”
Brown eyes watering, she nodded.
“I thought I would never see you again,” he whispered, placing his cheek against her hand. Seeing the tears swimming in her brother’s eyes, Olivia swallowed around the lump in her throat.
“I assumed the worst as well,” she confessed. “But I’m here now so let’s put this behind us.”
Harry dropped his head in his hands. “Put it behind us?” he muttered. “You disappeared for almost four goddamn months and you want to pretend it never happened?” He clenched his hands in his tightly coiled locks like he wanted to pull them out. “Do you know the kind of hell I was in? I almost went mad wondering where you were.”
His voice cracked and Olivia’s heart tightened painfully. And here she was worried she’d upset Khalid over her disappearance when her own flesh and blood had gone through far worse.
“I’m sorry, Harry.” Olivia grabbed his hand. “I just want to forget what happened.”
“Answer this for me. Where did you go? Who was the man who kidnapped you? Give me some kind of closure.”
Olivia worried her bottom lip. How much should she actually divulge? She’d already decided to protect Khalid’s identity, but what if Harry was able to piece together everything and come to the correct conclusion?
“I got off on the wrong stop on the way to Washington, D.C. The hour was late and the next train wasn’t due to arrive until the next morning so I hitched a ride to a nearby bed and breakfast. Instead of taking me there, he…he drove me to some remote farm and kept me there.”
Harry shot to his feet. “You’re protecting him! For God’s sake, Olivia, the police and the private detective I hired said you were taken from Grand Central Station under the ruse that I was deathly ill. Several porters saw you entering a black sedan from there your trail went cold.”
He dropped to his knees and cupped her cheeks in his hands. Eyes so much like her own bored into her.
“Tell me what really happened, baby girl. I promise I won’t judge you.”
Olivia reached up and covered his hands with hers. “I…I thought you were sick,” she revealed, deciding to come clean. “I’d questioned the man’s story, how he knew you, and it seemed credible so I allowed him to escort me to the hospital. Upon getting into his car he drugged me. I awoke several days later on a ship heading to Africa.”
“Africa?” Harry jerked back. “And here I thought I would somehow run into you and…and…I would be able to rush over and save you. How absurd was that?” he asked, his voice cracking with emotion.
Olivia sniffled. “It isn’t absurd because every day I prayed you would do just that.”
“Who kidnapped you, Liv?”
Olivia scooted back onto the bed. “It doesn’t matter because he won’t be coming after me,” she fudged, protecting Khalid and Harry. If her brother ever discovered the true identity of her kidnapper, it would destroy him.
Harry shot to his feet. “How can you be so sure?”
“He grew weary of me and sent me home,” she lied.
“He tired of you?” Harry shoved his hands so deep in his pockets she feared he’d rip them. “You mean he abused you all these months, grew bored with you and then decided to ship you home like used goods.”
Olivia remained silent. The truth was much stranger than fiction. How could she tell her brother she’d fallen in love with her kidnapper, got cold feet and left him?
“Liv…is there a chance you could be carrying his child?”
“No!” she replied rather emphatically.
“You lay down with him every night.”
Morning, night or whenever the mood hit him, Olivia mused, remembering Khalid’s lusty nature. “Yes, I did,” she replied, yet refusing to expound.
“He kidnapped you, he raped you, and yet you won’t give me his name.” Harry started to pace frantically. “Liv, you deserve justice.”
“Finding him may take months if not years, Harry, and what then? We continue to languish waiting for news?” she pointed out, trying to get him to see reason. “And if you find him and take him to court, I’ll have to relive every embarrassing detail. I just want to move forward.” Olivia couldn’t wait for the day when the latter actually came to fruition. So far, she had been unable to put Khalid behind her. She thought about him incessantly, reliving every single moment they’d shared.
“Can’t you just put it to rest, please, for me,” Olivia implored.
Harry stopped pacing. “Continue to hold that bastard’s identity close to your heart because if I ever find out who did this to you, I’ll kill him.”
***
Harry wanted to pinch himself. The past few days felt like a dream. He feared at any minute he would wake up and the nightmare he’d been living in for the past one hundred and twenty days would be waiting for him.
“I can’t believe you kept the score sheet!”
Incredulous, Olivia flipped through the pages of the leather-bound journal he’d placed between them. After dinner, they’d retired to the living room to play a game of gin rummy. One of their favorite pastimes, along with dominoes and checkers, they kept a long-running score with Olivia in the lead by more than one hundred points.
“What’d you think we’d wash our hands of you when you disappeared? Other than some light dusting, Meredith left your bedroom untouched.” Harry scooted back from the card table, suddenly remembering something. “Matter of fact, there are a few more things I saved.” He walked over to the Christmas tree by the bay windows, squatted down, and picked up several presents.
Shocked, Olivia’s hands flew to her mouth, stifling a gasp.
“I hope you liked what I got you. You know me, I usually pick your brains for clues a couple months out.” Harry looked down at the four tiny gifts, which took him two visits to Wanamaker’s to pick out. He’d been oddly meticulous about his choices, wanting to make sure they were perfect. “This year…I…I didn’t have the same luxury, so I hope you like them.” he placed the four presents on the table.
Olivia looked at him, her eyes filling with tears. “Even though I was gone, with no hope of returning, you still bought me Christmas gifts?”
With tears in his own eyes, Harry scratched the back of his head. “I guess I sort of thought that if I bought these you would somehow miraculously reappear to open them. And in some way you have.” Anxious to see if he’d chosen correctly and to take some of the attention off him, Harry slid one of the gifts toward her.
Olivia’s bottom lip trembled and then like turning on a faucet, the tears rolled down her cheeks. Harry reached for her at the same time he pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket.
“Come on, baby girl,” he soothed as she clung to him. “What are all the tears for?”
“I’m so sorry for what I put you through,” she sobbed.
“Shhh…you’re not to blame. The bastard that stole you from us is the one to blame. Tell me his name, Olivia, and I swear I’ll have him tracked down.”
Sniffling, she drew away from him and reclaimed her seat. As an awkward silence fell between them, Harry cursed his big fat mouth.
“Did you celebrate Christmas while you were gone?” he asked, turning to a more neutral subject.
“Kha…we…ah…I completely forgot about it.” She dabbed at the wet streaks running down her cheeks. Harry clenched his fists so he wouldn’t do something stupid like pull her back into his arms. “Harry…do you think it’s too soon for me to return to work?”
Shocked and more than a little troubled by her decision, Harry chose his words carefully. “After all you’ve gone through? I don’t think that’s such a good idea. Take a couple more weeks to decompress then come back.”
Olivia shook her head. “An idle mind is the devil’s playground. I’ll only sit around here and just dwell on the time I lost and I don’t want to do that. I’m ready to move forward.”
Harry sat back. She had a point. One of the best ways to overcome psychological trauma was to put it behind her. “I’ll meet you down here for breakfast at seven,” he finally conceded, “and we’ll leave at eight.”
Olivia wrapped her arms around her brother and kissed him. “Oh, Harry, thank you!”
“Excuse me, Miss Olivia, you have a gentleman caller.”
“Who is it?” On high alert for anything out of the ordinary, Harry shot from his seat. “Goddamnit, Meredith, it’s almost nine o’clock in the evening. Hardly a proper time for guests to pay a visit.”
Meredith plopped her hands on her ample hips. “No, sir it’s not a proper time, but the young man introduced himself as a friend. And with all the well-wishers coming in and out of here of late I forgot to ask.”
“Stop being so hard on her,” Olivia admonished as she stood. “Meredith’s right, there’s been a parade of your friends and mine tramping through here at all hours of the day; it’s hard to maintain any sort of routine.”
She moved to receive her guest, but Harry forestalled her with a hand at her elbow. “Maybe you should let me go and see who it is.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. He’s not going to kidnap me in my own home.” She stepped forward to tweak his nose. “Plus, if he tries anything we wouldn’t get halfway up the block with the bodyguard across the street.”
“How did you know about the bodyguard?”
A small smile played along her full lips, softening her features. Harry’s heart swelled. When did the precocious, pigtailed school girl transform into this confident beautiful woman?
“I caught him in the window two days ago watching the house with a pair of binoculars.” Olivia walked toward the front foyer with Harry dogging her steps. “I had Meredith bake up a batch of sugar cookies and I hand-delivered them yesterday. Nice fellow.”
Imagining Detective Schilling’s face when he opened the door to the very woman he was hired to protect, Harry chuckled. His sister was one smart cookie.
Attired in a gray, slightly rumpled business suit, Olivia’s friend stood near the front door. His dark complexion was offset by a starched white collar and cuffs. Pricked by a sense of déjà vu, Harry stopped short of the foyer.
“Nathaniel?” As soon as his eyes fell on Olivia, the man virtually lit up. He puffed out his chest, straightened an inch or two, and screwed on a grin so bright it was almost blinding. He held out his hands to Olivia and she clasped them. “What on earth are you doing here?”
“You know Clarisse can’t hold water,” the man gushed. “She called me up as soon as she heard the news. I couldn’t sit still knowing you were home, so I boarded the first train out of D.C.”
Olivia took his hat and coat then handed them off to Meredith. “Are you hungry? Harry and I just finished dinner, but I’m sure we can fix you up something.”
“There were only sandwiches and fruit available on the train. I’d love a hot meal along with your company.”
Harry rolled his eyes. The guy was laying it on pretty thick. Still, in spite of his reservations, Harry allowed Olivia to steer her guest into the dining room. She seemed to perk up in the man’s company, and he couldn’t begrudge her time with an old friend. Plus, if the young man tried anything, Harry’s insurance policy lived across the street in Apt. H.