Every Waking Dream

by Lauren Eason

  “I didn’t get a good look at them because of the lighting in the room. Does that mean something to you?”

  “Maybe...I’m not sure how dreams work. Whenever I dream, they’re always so abstract. It could mean anything, but I remember Gabrielle saying something about being asked to help with our school newspaper. She said it was an honor to be considered since she won a literary award over the summer,” Jess added.

  “Is our newspaper really so bad we have to ask twelve-year-olds to come write for us?” Raven muttered.

  “That is a strange request. Jason mentioned joining the school newspaper a couple of months ago. Maybe I should check it out,” I said mostly to myself.

  “It would get you started with the outreach program,” Jess commented. “The school newspaper is a part of that. That’s how they discovered Gabrielle.”

  “Wait, were the other missing girls a part of this program as well?” I asked as Raven turned back to her computer to pull up school records.

  “Are you seriously hacking into our school website right now?” I asked, amazed at her hidden talent.

  “Did you think you knew all my secrets? Read those names off to me, will you?”

  “Emily Douglas, Gabrielle Nguyen, Jessica Corbis, Nicole Wright, and Tanesha Johnston,” I said as Raven searched the school records within the outreach program.

  “Holy shit,” Raven swore under her breath.

  “No. You’re lying,” I said, bolting from the bed and rushing over to the computer with Jess right next to me. “They were all involved with this program between the schools. Did they gravitate towards one of the activities?”

  “Let me check,” Raven stated, the sound of keys clicking. It was the only sound in the room as we all held our breath. “Unfortunately, it looks like our girls were a little all over the place. They were all a part of multiple activities.”

  “When was this program started?” I asked. “Can you look into their website?”

  “Maybe. Depends on their firewalls,” Raven said, tapping out of the school website and jumping over to theirs. “Ew. This website is a mess.”

  “What do you mean?” Jess moved in closer to get a better look.

  “They’ve put some weird encryptions within their code. Password protected, obviously. I feel like if I try to delve any further, I’m going to trigger an alarm,” Raven declared, pulling out and returning to the main site. “Whatever you want to learn, you’ll have to pull it from the front pages. No way are my skills good enough to get us back there.”

  “I think I should call Detective Highwater,” I said, glancing over at the clock on my desk. “I suppose we have a minute before it’s a decent time to do that.”

  “Do you think he’ll look into it?” Raven asked. “It could be a coincidence. That program is pretty well-liked by the community, so a bunch of parents enroll their kids in it.”

  “It says it was started a year ago, but it doesn’t list a founder,” I observed.

  “Maybe they want to remain anonymous,” Jess remarked.

  “No...there’s a way to find out who owns the organization. Mom could probably let us know. She knows what legal documents we can look into,” I replied, sitting back down on my bed.

  “Do you really want to get Mom involved with this?” Jess asked. “Maybe we should keep this between Detective Highwater and us.”

  “Do you two trust him? The detective?” Raven spun away from the computer to face us once again. “Are we sure we can even talk to this guy?”

  “We have to, don’t we? He can investigate places we can’t,” I pointed out. “We only have access to what’s in the news about the disappearance of these girls, but he has photos, evidence, let alone the experience, to be beneficial.”

  “What if he doesn’t want kids involved?” Raven questioned. “You think it’s worth the risk?”

  “I want Gabrielle found,” Jess piped up in between Raven and me. “The only way that’s going to happen is if we have someone from the law on our side who can conduct searches and arrest warrants. We have to at least try and see where he stands.”

  “Fine,” Raven sighed. “Aislin, do you think you can try and focus to get back to Gabrielle’s dream?”

  “I’ll try, but I can’t make any guarantees. I don’t even know if she’s still asleep,” I tried to explain. “Do you guys have any suggestions for me?”

  The two of them glanced at each other before shaking their heads.

  “You know more about your ability than any of us,” Raven stated. “You’re the one who’s been telling us about how it works.”

  I thought about her words for a moment and realized she was right. While they had decided to help me with the investigation, Jess and Raven had no idea how or why I could do what I do. I was the one telling them what I had found out over the years, as minuscule as that information was. It was going to be up to me to figure it out the rest of the way.

  “You want us to keep waking you up so you can go in more dreams?” Raven asked with a yawn.

  “Nah, you two get some rest. This is something I’ll have to learn to do on my own,” I declared.

  “Goodnight, Ais,” Jess said before leaving my room and heading for her own. Raven hopped in the bed beside me with an exhausted sigh, turning the lamp off beside her.

  I laid in the darkness, staring up at the ceiling before closing my eyes. I tried to visualize Gabrielle in my mind and where I had last seen her in her dreamworld. As I felt myself fade into the void of sleep, my mind’s eye changed, melting into a pool of colors. As I watched the spiraling dance, a new image came into view, but it wasn’t what I was trying to accomplish.

  I stood in the center of a large recreational center. A stage lay at the end of the room with bleachers rolled into each other along the sides. Booths were set up in two rows down the center with students I had seen from school and others I didn’t recognize. There were so many faces, I couldn’t tell whose dream I was in.

  I walked along and took note of the booths. Unfortunately, whoever’s dream it was, their mind couldn’t remember the names of the clubs and organizations, so the writing was illegible. Glancing around me, I saw Gabrielle near a newspaper stand. As I approached her, I noticed the other missing girls at other booths signing their names to participation sheets.

  “Whose dream is this?” I questioned aloud, knowing no one could hear me. Each student I passed, I peered into their face trying to figure it out. They obviously knew all of the victims to have them appear in their dreams.

  Steven passed by me, heading towards a station nearby. At first, I thought it could be his dream, but he didn’t have a significant role in it. He acted like all the other stand-ins, without purpose. Near the doorway that led into the area, I saw a tall, broad-shouldered man glancing around the room. A sense of pride emanated from him as he walked in, waving at students and volunteers alike.

  I took a mental note of his appearance: crisp business suit, salt and pepper hair, and cuff links with the initials H.M. He brushed past me towards Steven’s booth, picking up the sign-up sheet to glance over the names.

  “Business seems to be doing well for you,” he commented, letting the clipboard clatter on the top of the table as he dropped it back down.

  “Have you ever thought about doing more than recitals with children?” he asked.

  I couldn’t understand Steven’s muffled answer. It was one of those dreams where only the dreamer knew what was being said. I concluded I was in a memory dream, which reflected more accurate depictions of real-life situations.

  “I own a jazz club on the east side near the beachfront. I was thinking you and I could conduct some business there,” the mysterious man said, brushing off whatever Steven had uttered.

  Steven muttered another response I couldn’t make out as I inched closer to the scene.

  “That’s too bad. If you change your mind, meet me next Friday when we open. I could always use a pianist like you,” the man said, handing Steven his business
card.

  I took the opportunity to squeeze in beside Steven and glance at the card over his shoulder. The club was called The Ocean Blue Lounge. I had passed by the place several times since my arrival in this town. It was unclear if this was any sort of lead, but it was the best shot we had.

  As the man left the area, it disintegrated, ending the dream. I opened my eyes to light, gently caressing my face as I checked my clock on my phone. It was only 7 A.M., the expected time for any business person to wake up.

  Grabbing my journal from my side table, I slowly sat up to not disturb Raven next to me. After jotting down what I could remember from the dream, I slid out of bed and tip-toed to my bedroom door. I saw my mother’s room was closed off at the end of the hallway. She must’ve gotten back in the wee hours of early morning.

  Heading downstairs and into the kitchen, I made myself a cup of coffee as I took a telephone book out of one of the drawers. I flipped to the names starting with the letters I had seen on those cuff links.

  “Great,” I muttered. “Only hundreds of them.”

  Closing the book with a huff, I slid it away from me on the kitchen island and took my cup in my hands. The warmth from the coffee seared my palms as I sat in thought. My mother’s purse lay on one of the barstools, begging for me to take a peek. Glancing around the room, I shifted over to the seat beside the unaccompanied purse and picked through it. As I took out her cellphone, it slumped over, dumping its contents to the floor with a loud thud.

  “Shit!”

  Hopping from my seat, I quickly scooped up the contents, frantic over the thought of someone coming downstairs to witness my snooping. As I picked her wallet up from the floor, a business card fluttered to the ground. Retrieving it, I noted the same picture and lettering from my dream. I searched The Blue Ocean Lounge on my phone and scrolled through their website for the owner’s name. Unfortunately, the name I got was Sheridan Lee—not the H.M. I was looking for.

  I looked her up, but the only article about her was a business profile page. Nothing out of the ordinary. It was something I would have to have Raven help me with, considering her hidden computer skills.

  I scrolled through my contacts until I found Detective Highwater’s and hovered over the call button for a few seconds. Finally building up the courage, I pressed the button, placing the phone to my ear. As silently as I could, I slipped out the back door onto the deck for privacy.

  “Detective Highwater speaking, how may I help you?” he said in a gruff tone. He sounded like he hadn’t slept in days.

  “Hi Detective, this is Aislin Smith. We spoke the other day about Gabrielle Nguyen and Emily Douglas?”

  “Ah, Ms. Smith. To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked. I heard his chair creak in the background.

  “I have some information for you, but I’m not sure how helpful it’ll be,” I began.

  “If it’s anything like the info you gave me last time, then I assume it will be,” he commented.

  “What do you mean? You looked into that motel?” Excitement raced through my veins at the prospect of a potential lead.

  “I did. The front desk person remembered renting Emily a room the night she disappeared. Emily used a fake I.D. and was visiting her boyfriend who hadn’t told us about that part in the beginning,” Detective Highwater revealed. “How did you know about it?”

  “I already told you. Sort of psychic. Anyway, what did the boyfriend say?” I asked, brushing off his question.

  “Only that when he got to the motel, the door to the room she was in was ajar, and Emily was gone. It does help us since we’re sure we know the origin from where she was taken. The only downfall is that the room had been cleaned by the maids before we got there, taking whatever evidence they found with them,” he replied with a sigh.

  “Wonderful,” I muttered. “Do you know anything about the youth outreach program? The one that connects all the school systems in the county?”

  “I’ve heard of it, yes. It also happens to link to all the victims. Is that what you were going to say?”

  “Uh, yeah, I was. Have you looked into it?” I asked.

  “The volunteers within the program—yes. The people who actually run the program—no. There’s a re-election coming up, and that program is one of the things that Governor Wilkins helped set up during his term. My hands are tied when it comes to accessing its benefactors,” he admitted.

  “Do you know who created it or at least pitched the idea?”

  “There were several prominent people within the community: Samuel Lockhart, Hunter Mathis, and Elias Ridgway. Those were the big three who founded the program, but the others are enshrouded in red tape,” he answered.

  “Ridgway. Are they related to Susan Ridgway?” It was worth a shot to find out since the detective offered insight about the case with me.

  “Elias was her husband, but he passed as soon as development started for the program. His money was in the pot, so his name is still listed as a founder in the database,” he replied.

  “How come they don’t have the founders listed on their website?” I asked curiously.

  “Hmm...they don’t? Well, I suppose privacy is a privilege,” he said nonchalantly. “It’s about the only thing I can get out of the Governor.”

  “So, why are you telling me?”

  “Your neighbors with one of the founders. If anyone can get close to one of them, it would be you,” he implied.

  “I also work at her flower shop now, but I have a feeling you already knew that.”

  “Excellent. Now, I can’t tell you to go all amateur teen detective on me, but if you have any useful information—suspicions, I’m only a phone call away,” he insisted. “I have to get ready for a press conference this morning, so I’m going to have to cut this a little short.”

  “A press conference? About the case?” I asked, jotting what I could down into my journal as I sat on the back patio.

  “Yeah, we have more news to release. The press has been biting at the bit to get whatever information they can out of us. We’re trying to keep this local without national attention.” I knew right away that was unlikely, given his tone of voice.

  “Did something else happen?” I started to sweat, my hand clammy as I hung onto my phone.

  “Up until now, all the victims have been young girls. You may want to tune in to the news this morning once we hang up,” he replied. “I’ll talk to you soon. Have a nice day.”

  “You too,” I said as I hung up with him. Bolting from my chair, I turned the news on and waited eagerly for Detective Highwater to appear. The press swarmed him with questions before he could even make a statement. He held up his hand to silence them.

  “My name is Detective Highwater. Many of you know about the recent string of kidnappings in the area. While I am here to talk about our findings, I am also here to report a fifth missing person. His name is Jack Franklin. He’s eleven-years-old with curly blonde hair and blue eyes. He was last seen riding bikes with friends on the streets of his neighborhood. As his friends went to their respective houses, he was on his way back home. If you have any information, please give us a call.”

  I watched as the photo of the boy flashed across the screen along with the tip hotline. Muting the screen, I saw a distraught couple standing behind Highwater, the parents of the young boy. I wondered if he had been a part of the outreach program as well.

  Raven descended the stairs and came into the living room. She stopped as she saw the news and live updates appear across the screen. “This is getting really out of hand.”

  “I know,” I added. “I’m worried if whoever’s doing this draws too much attention, they’ll get cold feet and never see the inside of a prison cell.”

  “What do you want to do?” Raven asked.

  “I’m going to find out more about that program.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Order for Harrison?” the young man said as he approached my counter at the flower shop. Spinning around, I opened the
cooler door and searched through the cards for Harrison. Spotting the flower arrangement, I took it out and placed it in front of him as he handed me a credit card.

  “I hope my girlfriend likes these,” he mumbled as he smelled a few of the flowers. Swiping his card and ringing out the total, I handed it and the receipt back to him with a smile.

  “Yellow roses are my favorite. They brighten the room,” I replied. He nodded and walked away as I sat back down on my stool behind the counter.

  Susan walked through the little door and set another vase down beside me. “You’ve been such a big help to me. Thank you for doing this. I know it cuts into your free time.”

  “Well, actually, I wanted to talk to you about that—”

  “Oh, no. Did I speak too soon?” Susan asked as she took off her gardening gloves.

  “No! Not at all! I just wanted to ask—if it’s okay with you—if I could have Tuesdays and Thursdays off. My parents want me to join the youth outreach program with my sister. They say it’ll look good on college applications.” It wasn’t a complete lie. My parents were so wrapped up in their own drama they had forgotten entirely about the ultimatum they had tried to impose on me. At this point, I didn’t think they cared about either me or Jess.

  “Oh. You should’ve led with that first, dear,” she smiled. “Of course, you can have those days off. Your school comes first.”

  “Thanks, Susan. I knew you’d be understanding,” I added. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure,” Susan replied, grabbing another vase from a shelf to prepare another floral arrangement. “What’s on your mind?”

  “I don’t mean to pry, but you haven’t mentioned a Mr. Ridgway since I’ve known you.” I hated to bring up any bad memories for her, but this was the best way I knew how to start off.

  “Oh...” she sighed. “He passed away about two years ago.”

  “I’m really sorry. I didn’t know,” I lied.

  “It’s quite alright. He was a wonderful man, always working with the community. He was a professor at the local college and taught courses in physics. I couldn’t understand a word of it, but he had a knack for the sciences,” she remarked with a weak smile.