“Gee, where to begin,” I said sarcastically.
She said recalling how the insects were treated or behaving in the dream is also useful. “When you are completely surrounded or overwhelmed by insects, you are probably so distressed about something that you’re ready to freak out,” she said.
“Great.”
“Or,” she went on, “it can be a sign of something to come.”
“Sorry?”
She put her pad down on the table next to her, unfolded her legs, and sat up.
“Hear me out. I know this is going to sound a little out there, but there are some who believe that dreams about insects can be a foreboding. A warning almost, that something is coming. Something that will change your life forever.”
“Something bad, I’m guessing?”
“Usually, yes.”
I was skeptical by nature, and even though I didn’t know what else to make of the dreams, this was a hard pill to swallow. My face gave me away.
“You’re not buying it,” she surmised.
“Honestly, no. I believe in science and logic, not ESP.”
“I understand, but I think it’s pretty clear your subconscious is trying to tell you something. I won’t pretend to know what, but I think this is worth exploring further at our next session.”
I looked up at the clock on the wall and, sure enough, our hour was up. She closed by suggesting I incorporate more exercise into my daily routine, and to calm my mind before sleep by reading a book. Fiction preferably, nothing scary.
She also asked me to start a journal, to write out my thoughts and concerns, my fears and feelings, as well as a detailed log of any new dreams. She expected to see it at our next appointment.
We agreed to meet again in a week, and I assured her I would call if I needed her sooner. Like if her premonition came true.
Chapter 51
There was one appointment booked for Wednesday. Vera texted me Tuesday afternoon to let me know. New patient, routine exam, referred by a previously existing patient.
“Yes! One at a time,” I’d said. “That’s how we’ll get them back.”
When I arrived at the office, I reviewed the plan. “Kill them with kindness. The customer is always right. Service is job one.” And every other lame platitude I could muster.
I sat in my private office catching up on emails, waiting for our first and only patient of the day to arrive. When I was done sorting and deleting emails, curiosity got the better of me and I Googled my name.
Mistake.
There it was. All over the different news sites. The once innocent optometrist who claimed self defense… arrested, charged with manslaughter, out on bail. Without an interview, the so-called journalists that penned these masterpieces apparently had it all figured out.
The way they told it, I lay in wait as Carlos shot up the bank. Once I was certain he was out of ammo, I took it upon myself to act as judge, jury, and executioner. Instead of staying hidden like everyone else, I decided to play weekend warrior and “get my gun off.” Someone actually wrote that.
I even found a video one of my patients had shot while I was being arrested. Apparently he or she had uploaded it and it had gone viral.
I clicked off the computer in disgust and rose from my desk just as Vera was walking in. She handed me a chart and said, “She’s in the exam room. Enjoy.” She gave me a peculiar smile, the meaning of which was unclear.
Until I walked into the exam room.
As soon as I saw her, I froze.
It was her. Sitting in my exam chair. The gorgeous woman I’d seen at Dr. Norris’s office. What was she doing here? Was she looking for me? Was this just some fantastic coincidence? My brain was in overdrive, and I wasn’t sure what to do next.
I just stood there, stunned, taking her all in. Her brown hair with auburn highlights, which had recently been straightened, hung just below her shoulders. Her green eyes still shone brilliantly even in the soft light of the exam room. She wore white linen pants and a grey and white stripped crop top that hung off the shoulder and accentuated the shape of her breasts. There was no evidence of a bra strap, and the cold exam room had raised her nipples.
I caught myself before she took me for a complete pervert, and I looked away. It was only a few seconds, but her beauty was captivating and her confident sexuality was hard to ignore.
I managed to say hello and introduced myself. I think I even got my name right. She introduced herself as Callie Ann Hollis, and we shook hands. Her skin was soft like calfskin, her grip gentle but firm. I didn’t want to let go. When she spoke, she had the slightest hint of a Southern accent.
I took a seat on my little stool and tried to go about business as usual. I asked her what the reason for her visit was, how she learned about our office, and if she or anyone in her family had a history of eye problems. I knew words came out, but I couldn’t be sure what I said. I even tried my best to listen to her responses, but I failed miserably. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
There’s beautiful, there’s gorgeous, and then there’s Callie Ann Hollis. Everything about her was flawless. Her high cheekbones, her perfectly aligned white teeth, her magnetic smile, and a body that would put any Victoria’s Secret model to shame. I struggled to keep my eyes up, and whenever she looked away, I stole a glance at her stunning figure.
As we talked, I became convinced she had no idea who I was. She clearly didn’t recognize me from Dr. Norris’s office, or from anything she may have seen in the media. Either that or she was simply too polite to say.
I started the exam and I could hear my heart inside my chest. Being this close to her was exhilarating, and the combination of her vanilla and lavender scents was intoxicating. I wanted to touch her, somewhere, anywhere. I didn’t know why, but the urge was overwhelming.
When I stood over her to put drops in her eyes, her top hung loosely and I could see directly down onto her cleavage. I stared a little too long, but fortunately for me, her eyes were closed. I thought of Sara as I tried to reign in my lustful looks. I handed Callie Ann a tissue, and when she closed her hand around mine to take it, I could have sworn she held my hand for a fraction of a second longer than was usual. As I returned to my stool, I told myself I imagined it, but the idea excited me. I’d never been physically aroused by a patient before, but then again, Callie Ann Hollis was not your typical patient.
I went through the rest of the exam as professionally as possible, doing my best to keep my attention on her eyes. But being that close to her, smelling her, touching her, didn’t make it easy.
I moved slower than I normally would have, for obvious reasons, but finally completed the exam. I assured her everything was great, her vision was normal, and her eyes were perfectly healthy. She tucked her hair behind one ear and gave me a smile. I almost fell off my stool.
I turned away and made a few final notes, hoping she couldn’t hear my heart pounding in my chest. I closed her chart, pocketed my pen, and stood. I reached for the door, ready to escort her to the front desk, but she stayed seated in the exam chair. She crossed her legs, folded her arms, and stared right at me.
“So, how long have you been seeing Dr. Norris?”
The question took me completely by surprise. After feigning ignorance for the better part of thirty minutes, she clearly had recognized me from Dr. Norris’s office. How, I wasn’t sure.
Why would she do that? Was she embarrassed? Was she trying to avoid embarrassing me? Or was it something else entirely?
With a sideways glance, I saw a wry smile on her face as I slowly returned to my stool. I placed her chart on the desk, took a seat, and turned toward her.
Questions raced through my mind. Did she know who I was all along? Is that why she was here? Did she know about the shooting?
There were no other patients waiting for me, so I had plenty of time to find out. Part of
me was excited. She’d started a conversation I was dying to have, and it gave me an excuse to spend more time alone with her, but why the smoke and mirrors?
I sat back in my chair, folded my arms, and gave her a smile in return.
“I didn’t think you saw me.”
She smiled, but said nothing.
“Honestly,” I said, “I’d rather not talk about it. It’s personal.”
I couldn’t even imagine what William would say. If he found out I was talking to someone, anyone, about the shooting or my trips to the psychiatrist, he’d lose his mind. Maybe she was a plant sent by the prosecution to get me to talk! Who better than a gorgeous woman to break down a man’s walls? My paranoia was growing by the day.
“If that was true, you wouldn’t have sat back down,” she said, still smiling.
She had me there.
“Be that as it may, I’m not really comfortable talking about it.”
She unfolded her arms and her gaze softened. “I understand,” she said.
“What exactly do you understand?”
“I understand what it’s like to go through something traumatic and have other people asking you questions when you’re not ready to talk about it.”
“What makes you think I’ve been through something traumatic?”
She tilted her head and made a face. “Really? I’ve seen the stories.”
So she did know about the shooting. I started to stand. “Look—,” I began.
She held out a hand to stop me. “Would it help if I went first?”
“I’m not sure what you mean...” I said, halfway between sitting and standing.
But she didn’t answer. She looked down at the floor and her shoulders sagged a little. I sat back down and stole another glance at her bare shoulder, the curve of her breasts, and her raised nipples. She took a deep breath, looked up, and said, “Six months ago, a man broke into my house.” Her words snapped me out of my perverted gaze and she had my attention. “He followed me home from a restaurant where I’d just had dinner with friends.”
She stared at the floor, her eyes in the past.
“I didn’t see him. I should have, but I wasn’t paying attention. I had a few drinks and I was thinking about the friends I’d just left.”
She dabbed her eyes with the tissue she was still holding, and I knew whatever was coming wasn’t going to be good.
“I was getting undressed when he came in. He kicked in the door that I’d forgotten to lock and quickly made his way to my bedroom.”
She took a breath, fighting back tears, and went on.
“I had just begun to get undressed. I was on the far side of the bed when he came in the room. I backed up and pressed my back against the wall. He stood in the doorway and just looked at me, smiling. I was wearing only my underwear, and a twisted look appeared on his face. He started moving toward me, and that’s when I saw the knife in his hand. I didn’t know if he was going to rape me, kill me, or both. Before he got too close, I lunged for the top drawer of my nightstand and grabbed my gun. I shot him three times before he reached me.”
She paused, tears in her eyes and a look on her face I was all too familiar with—guilt.
She dabbed her eyes, still looking down at the floor.
“The police called it a justified shooting. They said he probably would have raped and killed me. That I did the right thing. But how is killing someone ever the right thing?” She looked up at me. “How am I supposed to sleep at night knowing what I did?”
I rolled my stool a little closer to her and put my hand on hers. Not because I wanted to—and I did—but to comfort her. If anyone knew how she was feeling, it was me.
“I see him in my dreams,” she said.
Chapter 52
Guilt washed over me as I pulled into the parking lot. We had agreed to meet, but just to talk. Other than Ingo, she was really the only person I knew that understood what I’d been going through. After she’d told me her story, I had agreed to tell her mine another day.
I was excited to see her again, but that excitement was watered down by an equal amount of guilt. I had convinced myself the meeting was innocent enough, but what would Sara think? The more I dwelled on it, the more I began to think maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.
Getting together with another woman, any woman, without Sara’s knowledge was not typical behavior for me. Especially with a woman as gorgeous as Callie Ann Hollis. I told myself Sara would understand. She would want me to do whatever it took to feel better, move forward, and leave Carlos behind me. But what would she say about this?
As my subconscious waged war over it, my desire to see Callie Ann began to edge out any guilt I was feeling about it. I had no sinful intentions, though it was certainly hard not to think about it. It’s just not that often you meet someone as incredibly gorgeous as Callie Ann Hollis, and even rarer to spend time with her. I didn’t know much about her, but I did know she’d been dealing with a lot of the same emotions and issues I had been. She needed someone to talk to, and so did I.
I sat in my car outside the combination bookstore/coffee shop as the internal debate raged on. I had my hand on the gear shift and was seriously considering driving away when my cell phone buzzed. It was a text message from Callie Ann. She was inside waiting for me.
A spark of exhilaration coursed through me when I saw her name pop up on my phone and I sat up a little taller in my seat. My excitement-guilt cocktail stirred some more.
This is stupid. It’s a public place. You’re only here to talk. Just go inside.
I turned off the engine, got out, and walked to the door.
Well, that didn’t take much convincing.
Once inside, I did a quick scan. It didn’t take long to spot her, sitting alone at a small, two-person table sipping on something hot. She was hard to miss.
She smiled when she saw me and gave a little wave. My heart beat faster and I gave a half wave in return. I headed in her direction, unable to take my eyes off her. Her auburn streaked hair, now wavy, was hanging loosely to one side, perfectly framing her beautiful face. Her green eyes shone as she watched me approach. She was wearing a purple and gray long-sleeve workout shirt with a half-zipper on the front. It was partially unzipped and, with the way she was leaning forward, her cleavage was visible.
“I wasn’t sure you were coming,” she said.
“I wasn’t sure myself,” I confessed.
“Do you want something?”
I just stared at her. My mind raced as I considered the meaning of the question and all the things I wanted at that moment. Then the cloud lifted, my brain engaged, and I realized what she meant.
“No thanks. I’m not much of a coffee drinker.”
I put my hand on the top of the chair opposite her and began to pull it out from the table. Before I could sit, she pushed hers out and stood.
“I reserved a private reading room,” she said. “I don’t want to be disturbed while we talk.”
With that, she picked up her drink, slung her bag over her shoulder and headed toward the back of the cafe. For a moment I just stood there, watching her walk away. Her matching yoga pants hugged her curvaceous bottom, and I couldn’t help but think Callie Ann Hollis was the sexiest woman I’d ever met. I thought about Sara and her own collection of yoga pants and curbed by lascivious notions.
Pangs of guilt bludgeoned me as I followed her into reading room number four.
Over the next hour, I opened up to her more than I had to anyone about that day in the bank and my experiences since. I didn’t tell her everything—I couldn’t risk it—but I told her enough. William would kill me if he knew, maybe Sara would too. But it felt incredible to share what I’d been thinking and feeling with someone who had been through a similar experience.
When I talked to Dr. Norris, I was cautious and reserved. With Callie Ann,
I told her almost everything. I held back the one thing I didn’t dare tell anyone.
But I told her about the protesters at my office, the press hounding me, the skewed media coverage, my arrest, and my pending court case. It was obvious from her reaction that she was somewhat grateful that her ordeal ended almost as quickly as it began. Mine was still going.
When I told her about the nightmares and how they’d been affecting me, she reached across the table and put her hand on mine. To comfort me, I think, but electricity coursed through me nonetheless. Was she flirting or just being supportive? I wasn’t sure.
Slowly, reluctantly, I withdrew my hand, feigned a small yawn and stretched.
“Maybe I should have some coffee after all.”
Chapter 53
The ball arced silently through the air with perfect rotation. When it came down, it swished through the hoop and the crowd cheered. Brock did his usual celebration, holding up three fingers, then pumping his fist as he ran back on defense. Two dozen yards from the court, just inside the tree line, a high-speed camera was aimed at Brock, clicking away.
On the other side of camp, a football spiraled toward the sideline as Jordan out-jumped the defender and snatched it from the air, landing just in bounds and giving his team a big first down. With a huge smile on his face, he tossed the ball to the ref and headed back toward the huddle. Another camera inside the woods clicked away, capturing everything.
Away from the playing fields, Sara emerged from one of the cabins. She was escorting a new camper, giving him a tour, and making him feel at home, even though he was a long way from his. She had no idea she was being photographed.
As the pictures were taken, the images appeared on a computer screen hundreds of miles to the south. The two brothers leaned in and watched as the pictures materialized, the newest ones pushing the others down the page.
“This should get his attention,” Enrique said.
Gustavo nodded. “If it doesn’t, I will.”
“Not yet. We still need him.”
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