Requiem & Reverie (The Sandman Duet Book 2)

by Keri Lake

  “I’m not too good with these things. I’m a bit awkward when it comes to death.”

  “I’ll remember that at the funeral.” I pause for a moment and something about that makes me laugh. It’s dark, inappropriate, hysterical laughter that takes over me, and I slap a hand to my mouth to clap it before someone hears me.

  “Are you sure you’re okay, Nola? I don’t mind driving you home. We can take your car, if you’re more comfortable.”

  “And how would you get home?”

  He shrugs. “Walk.”

  I shake my head at that. “I’ll be fine. I’m just … tired of all the death. I’m tired of worrying. I’d love nothing more than to go to sleep for a long time.”

  “I understand.”

  “I’m gonna go. Thank you for walking me to my car.”

  “Anytime. Careful getting home. Listen …” He tugs a pen from inside his pocket, along with what looks like his receipt from earlier, and jots down a number. “Can you just call, or send me a text when you’re home, so I can sleep okay tonight?”

  I get it. The guy probably feels responsible for me, thanks to Dale assigning him the task of babysitting me.

  “Sure. I can do that.”

  “Good. I just …. I feel like I’m going to regret not driving you, but if you text, I’ll feel better.”

  “Okay.” With a nod, I close the door and start up the vehicle. As I pull out of the lot, I hear sirens and spot two police cars rounding the corner just past the diner in my rear view. When they turn into the parking lot, that’s when it finally hits me.

  I break.

  For a split second, when I looked down at Beth and Harv lying in the back of that van, I imagined Oliver in their place. Sleeping peacefully, as if he lay down to nap and never woke.

  It left me wondering what his last thoughts would have been. If he’d wonder why I never came for him. All those days of wondering if I’d ever find him.

  Perhaps he thinks I’ve given up on him.

  I haven’t.

  I never will.

  17

  Voss

  I’ve already showered and changed back at my hotel, and I’m just slipping on my jacket to head back to the Conservatory when a call lights up my phone.

  Nola’s number flashes, and I swipe it up to answer. “Hey, everything okay?” I ask, adjusting the sleeve of my coat.

  “I … I shouldn’t be driving, and …” The shaky quality of her voice bleeds through the line, like she’s trying to talk and breathe at the same time.

  “Nola, what happened?”

  “Beth and Harv …. They …. Their bodies … at … Duli’s.” Anxiety punctuates every word that comes across. Not crying, but wheezing, like she’s having a panic attack.

  “Come to my hotel. The Marriott. Same room as last time. Or I’ll come to you, if you’re too upset to drive.”

  “No. I … I’m not far.”

  “Good. I’ll wait for you in the parking garage.”

  “Okay. I’ll … be there … in a few minutes.”

  “I’ll watch for you.” Clicking off the call, I turn around to switch off the television, but pause at a news report. A helicopter view shows the white van parked in the lot, where police have the area sectioned off from a gathering crowd. The caption on the screen says: Two Bodies Found In A Diner Parking Lot.

  “What was the point of this?” I mutter to myself, watching police scramble around the van, but they’ve apparently not yet moved the bodies out of it. “What distraction does this serve for you?”

  My thoughts drift back to the night when I was only ten and Carl was seventeen. He’d brought some classmates back to grandfather’s property to show off a raccoon he managed to catch in a cage. From the window outside the shack, I peered in, as the small group of boys gathered around the cage, and he seared the helpless animal with a blowtorch.

  I was horrified by the act, but more than that, the look on Carl’s face made my blood turn cold. It wasn’t just the joy of having hurt an innocent creature. It was the pride of having done it in front of the other boys.

  Placing the bodies in a conspicuous place in the middle of the day is his way of taking pride in the fact that the police haven’t caught him.

  I don’t think they will.

  * * *

  I wait for Nola to park her car, and stroll up to her as she exits the vehicle. Don’t even have to touch her to know she’s trembling, and my suspicions are confirmed when I pull her into me, and she buries her face in my chest.

  “Oh, Voss. What if …” She’s trying not to cry, it’s obvious in the croak of her voice, but when she clutches my coat and sniffles, I know it’s a lost battle. “All I … could think is … what if that was Oliver?”

  “What did I tell you, Nola? This shit doesn’t help you. Don’t think that way.” I push her off of me just enough to look at her, hooking her chin to guide her eyes to mine. “We’re going to find him. Alive. Hear?”

  Wiping her face, she frowns and nods. “You’re right. This is useless.”

  Taking her hand in mine, I lead her to the elevator and wait for the patrons to step off before we get on. Once the doors close, I stare at her across the small space. “He knew you were there. You know that, right?”

  “How? It doesn’t make any sense. I never told anyone I was going there.”

  “He’s closing in on you, Nola. He’s removed everyone in your life that stands in his way.”

  “Except you.”

  “I’m as much a part of this game as you are. There’s a finale coming soon. You need to be ready for it. Rested.”

  The elevator stops at the sixth floor, and two young women step on, abruptly cutting the conversation short. Trying to be subtle, I stare at their reflection in the elevator door.

  Beautiful. Young—early twenties, at a guess. Brimming with life and innocence.

  The very thing this bastard serial killer has sought to destroy.

  I thread my hand in Nola’s, as if she knows exactly what I’m thinking, and when the two women get off on the floor with the pool, I lift our clasped hands for a kiss. “This is going to end soon.”

  Glancing over at me and back, she frowns. “I want to be a part of it, Voss. I want to be there when it goes down. I need to see him take his last breath.”

  “No.”

  Her head snaps back to me, and she wrenches her hand free of my grasp. “What if it was you? What if I stole that from you?”

  “The closer you are to him, the better his chances of winning,” I say, as the elevator dings, and I nab her wrist again, tugging her to follow.

  “How?” She wriggles her arm to get loose, but I don’t allow it, not until we’re standing at the door and I’ve swiped my keycard to enter.

  Ignoring her, I enter the room first, performing a quick sweep, as usual.

  “How does my presence increase his chances of winning, Voss?”

  “Just does.”

  “Just does.” She mocks me and crosses her arms. “I don’t give a shit who you are, or what power you think you wield over me. I’m going to be there. I’m going to be the first face my son sees. And you’re not going to stop me.”

  “The hell I’m not. What the fuck do you think you’re dealing with, Nola? Some asshole with a machete that you can spot in a crowd? Some monstrous bastard with a disfigured face that’ll warn you to stay away?” I stride over to the window and point down at the city below. “Imagine someone just as fucked up and evil as a monster, with the face of a goddamn angel. He’s a manipulator. A psychopath. He will crawl beneath your skin and make you question yourself, because that’s what he’s good at. You won’t even know you’re looking right at the fucking devil until it’s too late.”

  “You’re just like Jonah. I thought you, of all people, would understand how important this is to me. But you don’t! You treat me like I’m some goddamn invalid, incapable of taking care of myself! You don’t think I know how cunning he is, Voss? You don’t think I know what he�
�s capable of?” A flicker of distress dances across her face. “I go to sleep at night with visuals of those women in my head. How terrifying it must’ve been for them, laid out, while some sick and deranged bastard took amusement in torturing them. I think about how helpless they must’ve felt, knowing no one would ever save them. No one would find them.” Jaw tight with her resolve, she shakes her head. “I won’t let that be Oliver.” She crosses her arms, her face holding all the beautiful determination I’ve missed in her.

  Unfortunately, it’s not going to get her anywhere with me. “Your brother was right to keep you away from him.”

  “Fuck you.” As she spins to leave, I stride quickly after her, catching her arm before she reaches the door. One hard yank, and she crashes into my chest. “Let me go!”

  “First opportunity, and you’d hand yourself on a silver platter to this asshole.”

  “If it means getting my son, you bet your ass I’ll do whatever I have to.”

  “That doesn’t work for me, Nola.”

  “Too bad! I’m not here to ask your permission. I’m not here to do what works for you. This is about my son!” She wriggles against me, twisting her arms to break my grasp. “I don’t expect you to understand. You don’t have kids. You don’t have a wife. You’ve never cared about a goddamn thing but yourself!”

  “Bullshit.” The sting of her words slaps me in the face, and I set my mouth to her ear, trying to hold back the anger. “I care about you. More than I want to. You make me weak, Nola. Weak!”

  She stills against me, her chest rising and falling with the effort of fighting.

  “That’s why you can’t be there when this shit goes down. Because if something happens to you, I don’t know what the fuck I’ll do. Probably snap, and I can’t afford to do anything stupid. Not with him.”

  I bury my face in the nape of her neck, inwardly cringing at all these confessions pouring out of me. “Please trust me. Trust me to find him.”

  “I trusted my brother to do the same. He couldn’t. And I can’t blame him, really, but it’s like you said, Voss. This sick bastard wants me. And he’s not stupid. I’m not letting an opportunity slip through my hands again.”

  I don’t blame her. Her son is her entire world. Without him, she essentially has nothing. Nothing to live for. Nothing to fight for. Without him, she’ll be empty, a shell of herself, just like I’ve lived all these years. It’s not happening, and she’s not going to be anywhere near him, but reasoning with her is futile. Nola’s ready to jump off this train at the first opportunity of finding her son—at her own expense.

  Which means I need to get to Carl before he gets to her.

  “Are you hungry?” I ask, letting her go. “I’ll order up some food.”

  “I’m fine. I just … didn’t really want to be alone after seeing the two of them …” Her brows furrow, and she makes her way toward the bed, taking a seat there. “How do you do it, Voss? How do you kill people?”

  Stuffing my hands into my slacks, I shrug. “Just got easier over time.”

  “With all you’ve … been through. What makes you so different from him?”

  I offer a slight smile, my thoughts taking me back to when I was eight years old, on an errand with my mother.

  I pack the last of the groceries into the trunk and make my way into the passenger seat of the car.

  “You are the sweetest grocery assistant I’ve ever had,” my mom says, planting a kiss to the top of my head. “Thank you for unloading the cart.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  She starts the engine and throws the car in reverse.

  A hard thump makes both of us jump, and I twist in my seat to see a man standing behind our car, the top of a stroller beside him.

  “What the fuck is your problem!” he shouts slamming his palms against the trunk, startling my mom again. “I got a baby here! Why don’t you watch where the hell you’re going?”

  My mother’s lip quivers, and she turns away with tears in her eyes, rolling down the window. “I’m so sorry,” she says, and the jerk behind us probably doesn’t know that shaky quality to her voice is how she sounds just before she’s about to cry.

  At the sight of her, something dark and violent stirs in my chest. I imagine throwing the car in reverse and slamming on the gas, running the guy over. I can visualize the blood spattered up on the back windows, and the baby screaming in its stroller.

  “Barrett?” My mother breaks my musings, tipping her head in my periphery to gain my attention. “Is everything okay, baby?”

  “You should’ve run him over with the car.”

  Her brows pinch together in a troubled, but expectant, expression. “That man was just protecting his baby. He had every right to be upset.”

  “He’s an idiot.” The rage pumping through me burns surprisingly hot, and I curl my hands into tight fists at my sides. “He doesn’t deserve an apology.”

  “Barrett …” My mother’s voice is calm and soothing, and when she sets her hand gently on my shoulder, it’s like water to the flames. “You channel that anger toward those who warrant it. Those who hurt people. Not the ones who protect.”

  “Like Grandfather and Carl?”

  Her eyes flicker as she lowers her hand from my shoulder. “They’re family.”

  “But family can sometimes hurt you.”

  “You’re right. They absolutely can.”

  “Do you think you could ever kill an innocent person?” Nola’s question breaks my thoughts, and I look up to where she’s still sitting at the edge of the bed.

  “No. I don’t enjoy it. Just happens to be something I’m good at.”

  “I never thought I’d say this, but I’m glad in this case. I want that bastard dead.” She glances back at the bed and backs herself to the headboard. “I think I’m going to lie down, if that’s all right.”

  “Of course. I think you should stay here tonight. I don’t trust you going back to your place alone. Not after what he pulled today.”

  “Do you think he wants to kill me?”

  There isn’t a doubt in my mind, though I never quite understood why Carl chose Nora to keep all those years ago. “Absolutely.”

  18

  Nola

  “Nola, wake up.” The voice doesn’t register as familiar, but I do as it commands, opening my eyes to a blinding light that leaves me desperate to shield myself.

  Beyond the boundaries of that light, I can just make out the whites of eyes staring down at me, like an audience standing over me. “Where am I?”

  “Whatever Voss told you is a lie. I’ve no interest in killing you.”

  It’s then I realize my arms won’t move. They feel weighted down, heavy, along with my legs. An obscure face stares down at me, blank white, without any distinct features. In his hand is a scalpel, and in that very moment, I realize I can’t blink my eyes, which have been pried open. My instincts are screaming with panic, but my body feels numb. Impenetrable.

  “It’s okay, Nola. We’re all witnesses.”

  “Who? Who is a witness?”

  The lights flip on, and the eyes I saw before are the dead bodies of Beth, Harv, Denny and Oliver. All of them on top of me, burying me in what morphs into a casket. I can’t breathe with the weight of them pressing down on me.

  “No! I don’t want to be buried! I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe!”

  Jolting upright, I open my eyes and scream into the darkness.

  “No!”

  My breaths arrive on shallow pants, as I search the unfamiliar space, trying to make sense of my surroundings. My throat is bone dry, my body shaking and cold. Confusion begins to fade when realization sinks in, and I draw in a long, deep breath, flicking on the nearby light.

  On the nightstand sits a note, signed by Voss: Will be back soon.

  “At least he has the courtesy to leave a note,” I mutter.

  A tray of food stands off in the corner, with a silver cover to keep it warm. Scrambling from the bed, I hurry tow
ard it, my stomach growling with two days’ worth of hunger, and I nab one of the freshly-baked rolls from inside a linen-wrapped basket . The bread helps fill the empty void in my gut, soaking up the acids and queasiness from before, and I lift the silver cover, find a platterful of prime rib, and potatoes with steamed vegetables, and a small cup of au jus on the side. Nabbing a thin slice of the meat, I dip it in the juice and shove it into my mouth, closing my eyes with the savory flavor that dances on my tongue. And it’s right then that a thought pops into my head.

  Has my son even eaten? Has he had one single meal in the last week?

  I lower the meat from my mouth and swallow what I’ve already chewed, setting the uneaten bit back onto the plate.

  Why should I eat and rest, when he likely hasn’t?

  Ashamed with myself, I cover the food and push the tray out of the room, into the hallway.

  Noticing inside the room has grown darker, I crack the heavy drapes to see night has fallen on the city below. “Where are you, Oliver?” I whisper, refusing to let tears surface.

  Aside from what little I cried for Beth and Harv, I’ve managed to keep my emotions in check, and that’s what I plan to do until I find my son. But I have these moments, these niggling moments of fear that tickle my thoughts, taunting me into the darkness of my imaginations. I have to stay away from them, or risk doing something stupid and reckless.

  A light flashes in the window’s reflection, drawing my attention to where my phone lies on the nightstand, and I rush to see what it is. The number in my texts is unrecognizable to me, and I immediately click on it.

  Thanks.

  A text from Simon, in response to the one I sent him earlier when I first arrived at Voss’s hotel. I’ve never been good with that, and in all honesty, Simon’s worry was the last thing on my mind when I arrived here. But I don’t need him showing up at my doorstep again, to check on me.