Kerri exhaled and dropped back to her chair. “I’ll catch a few Zs upstairs. What do I have to go home to? The cat’s been fed and doesn’t miss me.”
Alex had tried, now it was Buck’s turn to reason. He, Alex and Jo Babiak had volunteered to stay and help with the sudden uptick of new sightings. One of them was a psychic who wanted cash for her exciting new reading. Six others weren’t much better. Still, no use arguing with the tired, pretty cop now mumbling back to Buck, trying to get comfortable with her arms folded and her cheek down on her laptop she was trying to use as a pillow.
He bent to her, spoke gently to the obsessed person with the squeezed-shut eyes. “Kerri, please, they’ve closed this one down. There’s no more funds for it. Don’t you have to worry about your cat’s future?”
“I’ve set up a trust fund.”
“Uh, detectives?” they heard from the door. Kerri raised her head and they both looked that way.
A uniformed man stood there with a worried-looking woman. Pretty, dark-haired, mid thirties, already looking back to the stairway they’d come up as if she’d changed her mind and wanted to flee.
“This way.” The officer made her mind up for her and led her to Kerri. “Another possible sighting of Sasha Perry,” he said, glancing at Buck, trying not to roll his eyes.
Kerri was up and alert again, offering a seat, welcoming the woman whose large dark eyes looked more uncertain than crazy or out for cash. She gave her name – Liddy Barron – and sat, clasped her hands, worked them against each other.
“You need me?” Buck asked after giving the newcomer the once-over, glancing hopefully for the door.
“No thanks, we’re good.” The two men left, looking relieved, and Kerri gave Liddy a friendly smile.
“So,” she said, opening her laptop and starting a new file. “You may have seen Sasha Perry?”
Liddy’s hands flew apart. “Big may. I may also be losing my mind.”
Kerri couldn’t help it – she laughed. “Welcome to my world,” she said, and watched the woman facing her untense a little; appreciate the shared moment of irony. Honesty up front, how different.
“And where do you think you saw Sasha?”
“On Prince Street last Sunday,” Liddy blurted fast to outrace losing her nerve. Then fell back in her chair, peered dubiously back to Kerri. “I’m waiting for you to laugh again.”
“Not at all.” Kerri smiled but said nothing, letting her silence prod.
Liddy breathed in. “I was with my husband and a friend at Gino’s sidewalk café. They were yakking and I was half listening, sketching people walking past. I’m an artist, and one of the people I sketched was, well…”
She reached and got out her sketchbook. Opened shakily to the page. Leaned to put the book open on Kerri’s desk, angling it to show her. “This girl.”
Kerri looked. Brought her face closer, blinking, then raised her eyes back to Liddy.
“I thought it was just another sketch,” Liddy said, still nervous. “Didn’t place the face at all. My friend Beth kept saying, ‘She reminds me of someone,’ but couldn’t remember who, and I forgot it till Beth called me today and insisted, ‘It’s her, that missing coed.’”
Kerri still stared at the sketch, frowning a little. “You didn’t place the face? This girl’s photo was in the news for over a week.”
“Coinciding with me being in the hospital. I was in an accident. Got, uh, run over, had a broken leg, two cracked ribs and a concussion.” Liddy clasped her hands again and looked down at them, clearly pained. When she looked back the detective’s eyes bore the intensity that had stared through the camera at the police conference.
“So I never saw those news reports. Never saw this girl’s face, though it’s been suggested to me that someone may have turned on the news in my hospital room as I started to get better. I don’t know. I don’t remember.” Liddy’s voice trembled. “From the concussion, there’s a lot I don’t remember.”
Kerri was tapping keys on her laptop. “Gino’s is at 110b Prince Street.”
“Right. A few doors down and across the street from the loft we just bought. We hadn’t seen it yet, actually. My friend Beth is a realtor and tried to talk us out of it.”
“Oh? Why was that?” Kerri was getting a funny feeling. The sketch and this story… She watched Liddy Barron hesitate, clearly pained.
“Because of what I’d been through…and because it’s the apartment where the actor Charlie Bass hung himself.” Liddy winced as she said it.
“I know that case. Very sad. He had promise, talent.”
The two were silent for a moment. Kerri’s gaze was back on the sketch. The resemblance was eerie; the eyes looked right back at her. But the most striking thing…
Kerri tapped the sketch. “You’ve drawn a stud in her ear.”
Liddy leaned and looked; nodded. “Right. A funny-shaped stud high in her right ear. Maybe a rounded daisy shape?”
“You saw her wearing that?”
“I must have, that’s what I sketched. Now I don’t exactly remember.” Liddy blinked; frowned a little. “Wait – I do remember, yes, it was an irregular rounded shape.”
Kerri held her breath. “That’s interesting, because Sasha didn’t wear that stud in her graduation picture. I don’t think it was in any of the photos released to the press.”
Liddy looked at the detective, surprised.
“Think hard,” Kerri urged, leaning an elbow on her desk to steady herself. Her heart pounded. “In your mind can you remember, a little more closely, what that stud looked like? You said it was rounded…”
“Yes, but not one rounded shape.” Liddy’s brow creased; she shook her head a little. “More like a small round on top of a bigger round…kind of like a snowman or…or – I’ve got it,” she cried, and pointed to the sketch. “It was a teddy bear!”
13
Shut it down, say no more, Kerri thought though she was bursting, just exploding to take it further. Liddy Barron had come close but there was more, something incredibly specific, to this tiny detail never released to the press. Kerri couldn’t say what but her mind raced, trying to figure this. Sasha had loved that stud but hadn’t worn it a lot – although, oddly, she wore it the night she disappeared; two friends had seen her, kidded her about it.
Just two friends but still…others had seen it other times; the description could have traveled - but to this Liddy Barron? Not part of the university scene?
Slow, Kerri decided, controlling her breathing. Get a fix on this. Ask more.
“Do you remember what else this girl was wearing?”
Liddy’s finger was on her sketch, tapping lightly on the little stud she’d almost just identified; had only depicted in a quick, charcoal blur. “Just that pale T-shirt,” she said vaguely, looking frustrated. “I don’t remember what color it was.”
She looked up. “Was I right about the teddy bear?”
Kerri smiled. “Close. Very close.”
“But not exact?”
“Not exact.”
Liddy felt defeated. Well, she’d been a good citizen, done all she could. She looked away and felt her heart speed up, wanting to say more but it would sound crazy. This was the most she could offer - a possible sighting, an address, and a not really identified piece of jewelry. She gave a regretful shrug; reached for her purse. “I’m sorry, that’s all I’ve got. It’s not much is it?”
Kerri’s eyes probed this woman who suddenly looked torn; just sat in a conflicted-looking heap holding her purse limply. Her sketchbook lay forgotten on the desk.
“There’s more, isn’t there?” Kerri asked quietly, leaning forward. “Something else you want to tell me?”
Liddy rose; shook her head no but slowly, as if in turmoil. “That’s it, I’m afraid.” She picked up her sketchbook and started to move; hesitated; then turned with tight-lipped capitulation on her face.
“Have I seemed sane to you so far?”
“Yes.” Kerri smiled, her e
yes soft.
The compulsion was building, building. Liddy’s heart beat hard and she couldn’t stand it another second. “Well, here’s where you will think me nuts because…” Her words tumbled. “I’ve been seeing this girl…Sasha…even before I knew who she was. I’ve seen her in…crazy places, where mist condenses especially, like on the shower stall glass, or three hours ago on the window glass next to plants I sprayed.”
Ping!
A white, bright light went off in Kerri’s head, which was odd, because what her police mind should have thought was, Okay, yeah, crazy. Hallucinating, seeing what isn’t there. But the water connection did it, made her think this might really be something. If they hadn’t been to Becca Milstein’s earlier…
She patted the chair Liddy had just left. “Sit,” she said gently, and Liddy did; looked relieved and dropped down again, slump-shouldered.
“The shower stall and plants?” Kerri prodded.
“I said I was crazy.”
“Crazy people don’t say they’re crazy. Tell me.”
Liddy gulped air and described because she wanted to, desperately. “Four days ago I thought I saw a girl’s face in the mist on the shower glass; then today I saw the face again, next to these huge plants that were Charlie Bass’s. They’re close to a big window that faces south, and the sun practically fries them so they need to be sprayed…” She exhaled hard. “See? Crazy.”
“Did the face appear before you sprayed the plants?”
“No. After. And today was more frightening because the sun was angling in just right to make the hair seem blond – well, the whole face glowed and seemed to be weeping, begging…you know, how condensation coalesces and then seems to cry down tears? I was freaked and staring at it just as my friend Beth called.”
“Did you tell her?”
“No. Don’t want her or my husband to worry, they’ve been through enough with my accident - from which I still haven’t exactly recovered.” A tear stung and Liddy wiped it. “I forget things, can’t remember…”
“Have you ever seen other things? Visions?”
“God no! Never. Beth is convinced I made Sasha Perry’s sketch from memory ‘cause I’d seen it in the hospital, internalized it because it too was a trauma.” Liddy wiped her other eye almost angrily. Clearly felt embarrassed.
Subtly, Kerri tapped her index finger in thought. Something was coming together for her. Maybe, she thought, and leaned forward, heeding a hunch.
“The shower and the plants,” she said, locking gazes with Liddy. “Both involve water.”
“I guess.”
“Do you swim? Do water sports?”
Liddy seemed surprised. “Yes. I was on a swimming team as a kid, and my husband has a boat.”
“Here in New York?”
“Yes. Docked at the 79th Street Boat Basin. We haven’t been able to use it because of my accident – that was on June 3rd. And we didn’t use it much before that this year because my husband works long hours, and now it’s for sale because we’re shifting finances.” Liddy’s face worried. “You think water’s some kind of connection?”
“Could be. When people experience trauma it’s the familiar things that go kablooey.” Kerri watched Liddy’s reaction to that; seem to find a little comfort. Then she asked, casually, “What’s your husband’s name, by the way? What does he do?”
Those dark eyes looked worn out, unguarded. “Paul Barron and he’s a neuroscientist. Researches and teaches at NYU. Mostly researches now.” Liddy seemed to re-think something and gave a start, leaned forward urgently.
“I’d die if he knew I came here.”
“He won’t.”
“He’s pure logic, thinks I’m too creative. We’re so different - I’m visual, he just sees facts. These crazy visions I’ve told you…if he heard about it-”
“He won’t.” Kerri reached and gave Liddy her card. “It was good of you to come. Please call if there’s anything else. I’d also like to call you if that’s alright.”
Liddy nodded and gave her cell phone number. Kerri thanked; smiled gently. “Do you have medications to help you?”
Liddy stood, gathered up her things. “Yes. Mild tranquilizers and a nice shrink who’s helping me through my whatever-it-is. PTSD, sort of, with a dash of amnesia.” She looked pained again; inhaled. “I thought coming here would help. Get this off my chest.”
“Has it helped?” Kerri rose and held out her hand.
“I don’t know.” Liddy shook wearily, mumbled a jumble of thanks, and left.
14
It didn’t help.
The apartment seemed oppressive, claustrophobic. The old apartment was how Liddy now thought of it, turning on a lamp. Filled Bekins boxes ready for the movers crammed the living room. She kicked one of them. Out popped one of Paul’s tennis balls, bonking and clunking across the floor, a weird, echoing sound. She wove through more boxes and so much stuff – antiques and curios they’d collected now crowding the room. She lit another lamp, but the room was still full of shadows. After Soho, so silent.
At least it smelled of turpentine, which meant home to her, although soon, soon, a real studio with a real north light. The thought lifted her spirits a bit.
By the window was her “temporary studio.” That’s what Paul called it, trying to cheer her when he hauled her easel and draftsman’s table and art supplies from the studio she’d been renting. He’d set her up next to the small, drab window which at least faced north, but overlooked the back of another apartment building. Under the easel and the rest he’d spread a tan tarp to protect the – ugh – ugly, wall-to-wall beige carpet that had been there since before he first took the apartment. “What bachelor redecorates?” he’d joked the first time Liddy saw the place.
She surveyed her about-to-be-old work area, thinking how pinched it looked. Then she looked at her current painting, drying on its easel.
It looked good. She’d worked on it the last three days, thrilled after they decided on the loft, and her excitement showed in her brushwork, the bright swoops and stabs of color pulled across the handsome warrior’s tense, high cheekbone. Rawlie, his name was apparently - brave space warrior fighting attacking aliens and simultaneously protecting beautiful princess Whatsername, tucked fearfully behind him in breast-revealing flowing fabric. Ha, see that? Even in the post-apocalyptic future it’s gotta be the guy protecting the girl dressed scantily even in raging battle, but the author was male and that’s the cover the publisher wanted, so that was that.
Liddy sat on her stool before the painting, contemplating now her wide palette busy-bright with blobs of squeezed-out pigment. There was even more energy still in her brushwork on the palette itself - dabbing, mixing, smearing till the new hue was just right, waiting to be hoisted up on the eager brush.
Liddy sighed.
The loft had energized her for three days. Even sleep had been better the last three nights, with no frightening dreams or visions re-appearing until…
Today. Thursday. That apparition glowing before Charlie Bass’s plants. Hours had passed and Liddy still saw the girl, young and blond, weeping on the glass; still felt that sense of cold shock. And that visit to the police! The surprise that the detective was most interested in Sasha Perry’s ear stud - which Liddy had seen and drawn and now couldn’t remember.
“Was I right about the teddy bear?” she asked.
“Close. Very close,” Detective Kerri Blasco smiled and said.
How the bleep close can you be to guessing a teddy bear and not have it be a teddy bear? It bothered Liddy; bothered her a lot because maybe remembering could help? Make the visions stop?
She shuddered. Stormed at herself to get normal again. Happier times ahead!
She moved off the stool, which she’d been using because her leg still hurt, and turned on the Tensor light over her draftsman table where she did her watercolors. She’d been rushing the Rawlie painting, working simultaneously on another job which called for an elaborate, scary watercolor o
f a woman fleeing terror in the rain. Jobs had piled up during her convalescence. Great, now there’d be the pressure of the move and catching up, and the fear of that poor girl’s face coming back...
Stop it, fight it! she stormed again, rubbing goose bumps on her arms, going into the kitchen.
Eight-thirty read the glowing red digits on the microwave. Liddy turned on the light over the counter and realized she was hungry. Pulled something in a box out of the freezer, shoved it into the microwave, sat and waited the three minutes while the magic motor whirred its low, rumbling song and then went Ding!
“Oh!” she jumped, felt her heart leap. So tense, she thought, gotta calm-
And her phone buzzed. She answered, gasping.
“Where’s the fire?” Paul, sounding worried.
“The microwave scared me.”
Silence. “My fault. You’re alone too much nights. So if the damned thing just went off it means you haven’t eaten yet, right?”
“Right.”
“Am I interrupting anything gourmet and delicious?”
“Dunno, didn’t look at the box.”
He laughed. “Then I’m just in time because I’m done for the day. Want to go out? Romantic dinner at Chez Pierre’s?”
“Be still my heart.”
“I’m leaving now. Be home in ten minutes barring traffic. Just think, soon - walking distance!”
15
She washed up and put on lipstick. In the bedroom changed into a white, belted tunic over her black jeans. Wandered the living room again while she waited.
After they married she’d prettied up the place as best she could, but the Recession had hit; her book-cover jobs ran dry and the research grant of Paul working alone was cancelled. So sorry, hard times, said the University and the Big Pharma firm that had wanted to partner. Four hard years followed; then suddenly things were better. Liddy found her work more in demand than she’d dreamed possible - and fifteen months ago, after Paul had moaned to Carl about losing his grant, a new grant with Paul and Carl researching together for better speed was re-instated, big time, with lots of excitement and heavy-hitting science and business types all hopped up waiting to hear their presentation in five weeks.
Fear Dreams Page 5