The Dream Awakened

by Leann M Rettell

  Jim’s face paled, anger draining away as he stared down the barrel of Makir’s gun. “It’s not a weapon.”

  “Gab, check him.”

  Malcolm didn’t want to leave Debbie unprotected but couldn’t let anything happen to Jim, either.

  Jim’s eyes darted between the gun, Makir, and Malcolm. “Gab? I thought you said your name was Malcolm?”

  “Nickname,” Makir said.

  Malcolm inched passed Makir and behind the desk. He reached and pulled Jim’s hand free of the desk. He clasped a small velvet box. Malcolm took the box from him, and Jim raised his hands above his head. Makir’s eyes never moved from him. Malcolm opened the box to stare at a shining diamond ring.

  “It’s my grandmother’s engagement ring. I was going to propose to her that night. I loved her.” Jim’s resolve crumpled as he collapsed in the chair, sobs breaking from him.

  Makir lowered the weapon, shifting the safety back on, and re-holstered it. “I had to be sure, Dr. Fischer.”

  “Sure about what?” Jim raised red rimmed eyes to her.

  “Sure you weren’t the one who murdered Tara.”

  18

  Jim Fischer stared up at Makir, face draining of all color.

  “We’re cannot prove it, yet.” Makir settled back into her seat. “And of course, a boyfriend who is also her professor would always be the first suspect.”

  Malcolm and Debbie returned to their seats, trying their best not to interrupt the conversation.

  Jim swallowed. “I, um, wasn’t her professor.”

  Makir shrugged. “Tuh-may-toe, tuh-mah-toe. It’s all the same to a jury.”

  “But I didn’t do anything. I loved her.” Jim ran his fingers through his hair.

  Makir leaned back in her chair. “Oh, I believe you, Jim. I can call you Jim, can’t I?”

  He nodded, still at a loss for words.

  “But you see, it’s making the police believe you and eventually a jury.”

  “I didn’t want her to die. I wanted to marry her. I didn’t care if the school found out about us. She was the one who wanted to keep it a secret.”

  “Can you prove it?” Makir checked her nails again. Her behavior clicked for Malcolm. She was playing good-cop/bad-cop as a one-woman show. He’d wondered why she’d done the exact same thing he’d done at Tara’s parents that she’d scolded him for, but she hadn’t been talking to a possible suspect. Even though she knew Jim hadn’t actually killed her, none of them knew who sent those men.

  “Her roommate knew. Rebekah and I discussed it with her. She’d vouch for me. I know it.” Rebekah had said the same thing to them, but Malcolm knew Makir wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

  “That may convince some, but others may think the two of you were involved. You know how people’s imaginations work. Let me ask you another question. Did Tara swim often?”

  Jim flinched as if struck. “All the time. She spent at least five mornings a week at the local YMCA. She swam at least ten miles each day and on weekends up to twenty.”

  Makir waved a hand. “You see how it seems more suspicious that she drowned.”

  “Why would I resize my grandmother’s engagement ring if I wanted to kill her?”

  “Good question. Some might say you were just throwing them off your scent.”

  “It was my grandmother’s ring. I had it sized.” Jim repeated himself, sliding the antique ring across the desk. Malcolm studied the exquisite ring. He remembered Tara’s memories of that ring on her finger from stealing her first dream, when her future changed. Now that future would never come to pass.

  He didn’t know much about law, but he’d guess the district attorney would be hard-pressed to convince a jury the ring had been a ruse.

  “Okay, okay. You make an interesting point. Do you know of anyone who would want to hurt Tara?”

  “I can’t think of anyone. She is…” his words caught, and he wiped at his eyes. “She was the most generous and beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”

  Makir snapped her fingers at Debbie who handed her the notepad and pen. Makir snatched it without looking at her. “We’ve heard from some sources that Tara was exceptional at stocks and bonds. Do you suppose she ever gave anyone some bad advice and they lost money?”

  He smoothed the desk with his hands. “Not that I know of. She never advised anyone on anything she wasn’t absolutely sure of. She left the riskier investments for herself. She didn’t have any prospects of becoming a stockbroker.”

  Makir made a show of jotting notes down. “Very good. And how did her riskier investments turn out? Did she borrow money from someone she shouldn’t have and lost it? Couldn’t pay it back?”

  A short olive-skinned male with thick glasses knocked on the door. “Hey Professor F, I came by to make up my test like you asked.”

  Jim got to his feet. “I’m so sorry, Jesus. I’m afraid I’ll need to reschedule.”

  Makir shooed to the student without looking at him. “No need to reschedule. We’ll just be a few more minutes. Why don’t you run down to get a drink or something and head right back?”

  The student’s gaze flicked back and forth between his professor and Makir. Jim cocked his head to the side. “That would be fine. Give us ten more minutes.”

  When the sounds of Jesus’ stepped faded down the hallway Makir resumed like they hadn’t been interrupted. “Now about that borrowed money?”

  Jim placed his elbow on the table, propped up his head, and squeezed the bridge of his nose as if getting a headache. “I didn’t have access to her personal finances, but as far as I know she never borrowed any money. She had a knack for business and stocks. She wouldn’t have been stupid enough to borrow money she couldn’t pay back, and if she did borrow money, she would’ve doubled it.”

  Makir cocked her head. “You seem pretty confident in her abilities.”

  “I was. Now I’ve answered your questions. I want to know why you think her death wasn’t an accident.”

  “One more question. Tell me about the Mayer Company?”

  Jim leaned back, irritation wafting off him. “She brought it up only a few weeks ago. She and I put our money together, equal parts, and bought several shares. We were planning on buying more after next tax season. Her plan was to eventually own the controlling stock in the company. She said it would make us never have to worry about money. It’s why she said she didn’t care to hide our relationship anymore.”

  That was an interesting bit of news. Their future had already begun to unfold. Malcolm watched the man fight hard to control his grief and felt all, perhaps, was not lost. If Tara had already managed to convince Jim to purchase stock, he may in fact follow through on the plan, if only to honor her memory. There was no way to know if it’d been Tara herself or the two together that would make the hostile takeover of Schneider Incorporated.

  “Now my turn. Why do you think her death wasn’t an accident?”

  Makir stood up, smiled, and snapped her head toward Malcolm. “My partner is a medium. Her ghost spoke to him.”

  Jim’s face flushed a vivid shade of red. “Get out of my office. Now!”

  19

  Makir took their rental car to the cabin where Tara’s last moments had flickered out. She wanted to check the scene of the crime before the cops realized Tara Booth’s death had been due to foul play rather than the accident they’d first claimed. Malcolm had considered going with her, but since he and Debbie were starving, and neither of them had any idea what to look for at a crime scene, he volunteered to stay behind.

  Makir winked at him. “More sex already? You’re going to wear that woman out.”

  Debbie sauntered up beside him and gave his butt a hardy squeeze. “Oh honey, it isn’t me you should be worried about.”

  Laughing, Makir cranked the radio, and drove away, leaving the two of them standing outside their hotel ready to take the short walk to the restaurant next door. Debbie shook her head. “I never know when she’s being serious
or when she’s joking.”

  “Tell me about it. Dinner?”

  “Absolutely. God, today was just like working with you at the store. I always had to remind you it was time to eat.”

  He rubbed at his still tiny, but noticeable, belly. “Not anymore. Perhaps we do need to ramp up the sex if I can’t get to the gym.”

  “You could try skipping the burgers and have a salad once in a while.” Debbie laughed while rummaging in her purse. She removed a gray and dark green scarf, tying it over her head like a cute headband. He wouldn’t have thought the peach blouse she had chosen that morning could’ve looked better, but the sea-green earrings and belt could’ve been plucked out of a magazine. She’d removed her usual dangling bracelets, and he found he missed the musical sound.

  He interlaced his arm with hers. “I’d much prefer to work it off with you. Salads indeed.” After millennia of not eating, he certainly didn’t want to waste time on glorified grass.

  Malcolm opened the door for Debbie, and the hostess said, “Hi, welcome to Applebee’s. Dinner for two?”

  “Yes,” Debbie said.

  They followed the hostess to a booth in the back. The golden sunlight shone through the side window, catching Debbie’s hair and making it shimmer in fine, reddish-brown strands. The waitress, a chubby teenager, appeared moments behind the hostess and took their order. His thoughts drifted to Makir while Debbie went to the bathroom. An uncomfortable feeling swayed inside his chest, reminding him of angry waves crashing upon the rocks before an upcoming storm.

  Debbie returned, and he pushed the thoughts away.

  “You look beautiful tonight. Not that you usually don’t, but tonight in particular. I want you to know how much I love you.”

  Debbie lifted her eyebrows. “I love you too. Is something the matter?”

  The waitress reappeared and gave them their meals.

  Debbie took a spoonful of hot French onion soup while he cut into a thick, medium-rare ribeye. The cooks had seasoned the meat with just the right amount of salt, pepper, and mushroom au jus. The flavors mingled on his tongue, and the loaded baked potato enhanced the sensations more. A hot roll waited for him with steaming butter running down the sides. The house salad sat ignored at his elbow. Not even the feta cheese, crumbled bacon, and house specialty ranch dressing could intrigue him.

  “You never answered me. Is anything the matter?”

  “No. Not really. I keep thinking about Tara. Beneath her terror, her final thoughts drifted to Jim. She thought she hadn’t told him enough how much she loved him. I don’t want to have those same regrets.”

  Debbie reached across the table and took his hand.

  His phone buzzed in his pocket. Instead of answering, he squeezed her fingers, wishing he had the luxury of turning the blasted thing off, and just escape from the world. Wiping his fingers on a thick black napkin, he pulled out his phone, pressing talk. “Nimue, how can I help you?”

  “Good evening, Gab,” she said in her soft, lush voice. He recalled her high cheekbones, almond-shaped vibrant green eyes, and gorgeous, flowing, dark-brown curly hair. If any of the dream thieves could’ve been described as royal or angelic, it was Nimue. Throw in her quick mind and astounding intelligence, and she could’ve ruled worlds.

  “Did you get my samples?” He’d found it tricky to overnight a sample of his saliva and inner cheek swab, not to mention the severed finger, but he’d gotten it done.

  “I did. The results are most surprising.”

  He shot Debbie a concerned look. “Good surprise? Bad surprise? Neutral?”

  Nimue didn’t hesitate. “Definitely not a good surprise. I’ve already spoken with Obadiah. He’s now in a general state of alarm and has further delved into the most recent Cos files. The finger belonged to a dream thief. Aelia to be precise.”

  Malcolm dropped his fork. “You’re shitting me!”

  “What?” Debbie mouthed. He held up a hand signaling to give him a minute.

  “No, I am not.”

  “How?” Malcolm had no words. His thoughts scrambled through scenario to scenario, each as unlikely as the last. He could come up with no reason in all the world why Aelia would cut off her own finger and leave it as a warning. Unless…“You all think someone has taken her.”

  “That is certainly a reasonable explanation, but until we find out more, we can only make outlandish guesses. I suggest we stick to the facts.” Nimue’s words chastised him as they were intended to. He definitely didn’t have a scientific mind.

  “Your sample, however, was much more interesting to me. Halek has explained to you my recent findings?”

  Debbie slid a notepad toward him. He took the pen she offered him and scribbled finger=Aelia and pushed it back to her. Debbie’s mouth dropped open as he imagined his had done. The waiter chose this moment to ask if they would be interested in dessert.

  Malcolm didn’t hear Debbie’s polite rejection. “Halek said you found some new element or something?”

  “A weak force, more precisely, along the lines of gravity. I’ve named it the talisman factor because our interactions with the Cos database have a sub-molecular reaction I can’t identify at present.”

  “Why do you call it a talisman factor then?”

  Debbie drummed her fingers on the table. He could understand her frustration at only being privy to one side of the conversation.

  Nimue started to say something but Malcolm cut her off. “Hey listen. Let me call you back in about five minutes or so. I’m in a restaurant and could speak more freely when I’m in private.” Plus he could put the thing on speaker so Debbie could hear too.

  “Fine.” The line clicked without her saying goodbye. That was a habit of the new age Nimue couldn’t be bothered with.

  Malcolm noticed the waiter coming back with the check that Debbie must have asked for when turning down dessert, and he slipped his phone in his pocket.

  Debbie couldn’t wait. “Oh my god. Aelia? What does that mean?”

  Malcolm handed the teen a wad of bills that would cover their meal with a hefty tip. “Keep the change.”

  Debbie needed no encouragement and hurried with him to the parking lot. The heavy evening traffic made any hope of a phone conversation pointless during their walk back to the hotel. He’d just have to call her when they got back to the room. Malcolm relayed the conversation as they walked through the lobby.

  Debbie punched at the up button of the hotel’s elevators. “Uhh, how come when you’re in a hurry, the elevator takes forever?”

  Malcolm chose to ignore the rhetorical question and, instead, stepped inside as the doors dinged. His phone rang yet again, Obadiah this time. “Hello?”

  Debbie rolled her eyes, not wanting to miss out. The signal faded in and out and Obadiah’s string of uhh and ehhs was incomprehensible. “Hold on. I’m in an elevator.”

  Back on their floor, Obadiah’s voice cleared. “Hello? Can you hear me?”

  Debbie used the keycard as Malcolm put him on speakerphone. “I’m here with Debbie, go ahead.”

  “Where’s Makir?”

  “She’s investigating the murder scene.”

  Obadiah swore in ancient Italian. “You’ve spoken to Nimue?”

  “Partially. I was about to call her back.” Malcolm sat on the bed, pulling off his shoes and socks.

  “She told you about Aelia’s finger.”

  “Yes, but I can’t fathom what it means.”

  Debbie took the phone from his hand, raising it to her lips. “Would she have cut it off herself and sent it to us as a warning? I know you all are immortal, but that seems too morbid. You know?”

  Obadiah sighed, the song long and soulful. “We know she wasn’t in the best state of mind, and during her next regeneration she would have it regrown, but I can’t see her doing that. In the meantime, I want all dream thieves, including you, to stay with at least one other dream thief. The only exception is if you have a target.”

  “What about you?” Malcolm aske
d.

  “Aelia, Lother, and Caelieus are still off the grid. Someone has to be the odd man out.”

  Malcolm swallowed hard. Gods, how he missed his quiet life at the bookstore with the occasional target. How good he had it back then, and he didn’t realize it. “You be careful.”

  “I will. I’ve found out some other things.”

  Malcolm suppressed a groan, unsure if he could take any more surprises. “What?”

  “I’ve been retrieving all the encrypted files. There is way more than we realized, but I can’t find a pattern…Didn’t you say in your vision from Tara’s body you saw men questioning her?”

  A chill ran through Malcolm as those men loomed over him, not him, but Tara, in those memories. Her feelings meddled with his, and he couldn’t help the spread of fear that lanced through him. “Yes.”

  “Why would they question her? Wu Sun and Tobias Miller’s murders were committed in such a way they could easily be ruled as accidental—carbon monoxide poisoning and failed breaks—but the later ones were cruel, fueled by emotion, as if whoever killed them was angry and wanted revenge. The latest, however, have changed again. The targets are being held and questioned, but for what purpose? It’s like there is some big master plan.”

  Debbie covered her mouth before saying. “You mean now whoever is behind this is really trying to undo the future. They’re trying to make whatever bad outcome that was avoided happen?”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  Malcolm swore. “Any news on Caelieus?”

  “Every lead that Heris and Tiaret find goes empty.”

  Could they have anything but fuck-tastic news?

  The phone buzzed in Debbie’s hand. “Oh, it’s Nimue asking to FaceTime.”

  “Bye,” Obadiah said.

  Debbie clicked Nimue on. “Hi, sorry. I’m Debbie. He’s right here.” She handed the phone over, and Malcolm stared at Nimue. If anything, she’d gotten more beautiful since the last time he saw her.