Murder In Her Dreams

by Nell DuVall

  * * * *

  In the car as Ian drove Sharon home, he decided to caution her about Cassie Blake. “Sharon, I didn’t think it wise to say much in front of Heather Roston. William is a client, and I wouldn’t want word about Cassie Blake’s odd behavior to get to any of my clients.”

  “From what you’ve told me about her, I quite agree.”

  “She didn’t look, or act crazy tonight.”

  “No, she didn’t, but don’t be fooled by that Laura Ashley look. Appearances can be deceiving. Don’t forget about Fatal Attraction or that horrible Kathleen Turner film where she played the murdering wife and mother. Then there was that Texas cheerleader’s mother.”

  “All right, I get the point. I’ve already told you, I didn’t contact her — she came to me. We’ve both agreed to avoid her in future. I had no way of knowing she would be there tonight.”

  “I realize that, but I didn’t like the way she looked at you. She had a hungry look in her eyes. It frightened me.” Sharon shivered.

  “What?” Ian glanced over at her, surprised at her comment. “I thought she looked frightened.”

  “Men! You really aren’t very good at reading body language. We women learn it from the cradle. Anyway, let’s not talk about her. I’ve picked up some flyers from the travel agent about Aruba, and I thought we could go over them.”

  “Aruba?” Ian frowned. “I thought we had agreed on London.”

  “You mentioned it, but I don’t remember agreeing on it. Really, Ian, we’ve had such a rainy, cool spring — I could do with a little sun.”

  Ian sighed. “I guess it doesn’t matter where we go.”

  “Just so we’re together. Mother was disappointed about Easter dinner.” Sharon’s voice had an accusatory note that irritated Ian.

  He already felt guilty enough about Mrs. Gannet as it was. “I’m sorry, it couldn’t be helped.” He reached over and patted her hand.

  Maybe now was as good a time as any to settle things with Sharon about her mother. “Sharon, we haven’t talked about it, but I guess we should. You know how she goes on so. She doesn’t know when to stop. I don’t like being told what to do.”

  Sharon opened her eyes wide and started to protest, but he continued before she could respond. “I don’t know how you feel about my mother, but I want us to start our own traditions. An occasional holiday with your mother is okay, but not every holiday.”

  “Ian, she lives in town, and I can’t ignore her.”

  “I’m not asking you to do that, but I want us to control our own life. I don’t want us to be expected to spend holidays with anyone, your mother or mine. She should build her own life independent of us.”

  “I’ll tell her that,” Sharon said dryly, “but I don’t think she will. I do owe her something.”

  “Okay, but I won’t be committed to spending all our time with her. Many families alternate Thanksgiving and Christmas between their respective parents. I’m willing to do that, but that’s it.”

  “What about Mother’s Day?”

  “We can take her to dinner, if we’re in town, but we have my mother to consider, too.”

  “What about your mother?”

  “She lives in Florida and has a busy life of her own so you don’t have to worry about her. She’s gone a lot and more likely to visit us than to expect us to visit her.”

  Sharon sniffed. “I’ve had a hard time reaching her to sort out the guest list. She will be at the wedding?”

  “You’ve talked to her more than I have. I’m sure she will, especially since she doesn’t have to do any of the work.” Ian grinned at her. “Seriously, you do agree with me about holidays, don’t you?”

  “I see your point, but Mother may be difficult.” Sharon sighed.

  “I’ll leave it to you to manage her.”

  Ian parked in Sharon’s driveway and walked around the car. After opening the car door for her, he followed her along the walk to her front door.

  She unlocked and opened the apartment door. “Would you like to come in?”

  Ian looked at his watch, eleven-thirty, and shook his head. “It’s late, and I want to be in early tomorrow. I need to spend as much time as I can putting things in shape so we get away for the honeymoon.”

  “You’re not upset with me, are you?” Sharon searched his face, a worried look in her green eyes.

  “Upset? Good lord, no. I just wanted to clear the air.” He pulled her close. “I’m marrying you, not your mother.”

  She leaned her face against his shoulder. “Sometimes you get the family too.”

  Ian pulled back and stared at her, wondering if she could possibly be serious. “You don’t mean that.”

  Sharon laughed, her eyes teasing. “No, but we all come with strings. My mother is mine, and I do owe her something. I’m sure we can work things out. After all, it’s not as if she doesn’t like you.”

  Ian stared at Sharon, searching her face. “Sharon, I meant what I said about your mother. This is one issue I won’t be pushed on.”

  “Don’t worry, Ian, I won’t push you. We’ll manage. What do you want me to do about Heather Roston?”

  “Heather Roston?” Ian frowned. “What about her?”

  Sharon sighed. “The Literacy Council. You remember, she asked about some help.”

  “Oh, that. Well, if you can do it, great. If not, just tell her so.”

  She searched his face. “I don’t want it to affect your business. I want to help you.”

  “You will. Helping Heather would be great, but if you don’t, I doubt it will affect what I do for William. I’ve worked for him for five years now.”

  He leaned down and gave Sharon a hasty kiss. “It’s late. I really have to go. I’ll call you about dinner later this week. Good night.”

  Sharon closed the door as he backed out of the driveway. He felt better now that he had made his position clear about her mother, but Sharon had not been as responsive as he had expected. He didn’t think he was being unreasonable. All those mother-in-law stories must have some basis in fact. He had never thought that in marrying Sharon he would be marrying into her family. He had thought of it more as starting a new family.

  If he had known Sharon expected to spend time with her mother, would he have asked her to marry him? He didn’t want to answer that question, because if the answer was no, it meant he didn’t really love Sharon. He admired her and respected her. That should be enough. He was marrying her, not Mrs. Gannet.

  Traffic on the River Road had thinned out. No headlights reflected from the rearview mirror, and, for the moment, he saw no one ahead. The black asphalt ribbon wound along the river and through dark stands of trees and brush. As he approached Lane Road, a deer leaped across the road, and he hit the brakes instinctively. He needn’t have bothered. The deer disappeared into the trees along the road, its white flag of a tail high.

  The deer reminded him of Cassie Blake and her frightened blue eyes. What had Sharon said? Hungry eyes. No, he had not seen hunger. She had looked confused and frightened, but why, he still didn’t know. He wasn’t likely to know either. Their paths were unlikely to cross again. A twinge of regret stung him.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Cassie went to bed as soon as she returned home from the awards banquet. Sleep took a long time to come. The image of Sharon Arthur clinging to Ian McLeod taunted her. Sharon’s smooth elegance and her proud, proprietarial air intimidated Cassie. The Ian in her dreams had been attracted to her, but it didn’t mean he felt the same way in everyday life. Too bad.

  Sighing, Cassie plumped up her pillow. She pulled up the covers and tried to relax.

  Why did Ian fascinate her so? He didn’t trust her, and she couldn’t blame him. She had enjoyed working with him at the Easter Dinner, once he had accepted her. Now the dreams and Sharon Arthur stood between them. For the last week, her dreams had remained free of Ian and the black rabbit. Maybe the danger had passed.

  The thought relieved her worry. Her breathing slowed
as the comfort of her familiar bed surrounded her. She closed her eyes.

  * * * *

  The early morning air sent a chill through Cassie, and she pulled her jacket close. A thin mist veiled the building ahead. Sniffing, she smelled burnt vegetation and a hint of wood smoke.

  Something drew her forward. The sun had not yet crested the horizon as Cassie paced back and forth in front of Ian McLeod’s office building.

  What had brought her to this place so early in the day? She didn’t know why she had come except for a vague feeling of dread and the sense of some warning for Ian, but she had no idea about what. She stamped her feet and rubbed her arms to keep warm in the damp cold of the new morning.

  Then Ian McLeod approached and hurried past her without a second look. Cassie started to reach out a hand to stop him, but remembering his anger over the coffee, she pulled back. What could she say? She had no idea why she had even come. He bent forward to unlock the door to the building.

  An ominous grating noise sounded above. Cassie looked up.

  Like a stop-action film, she stared in horror. A pile of bricks tumbled over the rooftop in a lazy arc. She wanted to yell, but her mouth refused to open. She struggled to move, yet something held her fixed in place.

  Each separate brick stood out in vivid detail as it fell, edges harsh and rough. They came like heat-seeking bombs with Ian as their target. She could do nothing.

  As they fell, Ian looked up, openmouthed, but before he could move, a brick hurled downward and struck his head, knocking him to the ground.

  Cassie screamed.

  An avalanche followed, and soon he lay covered in broken bricks and dust. Released by her scream, Cassie rushed forward. Brown eyes open wide, Ian lay staring at the sky. An ugly gash on his forehead leaked blood. His chest didn’t move. No breath moved past his lips.

  The sound of another brick falling caused her to stare up at the roof. The black rabbit glared back at her, its teeth bared in a snarl. It held one paw high. The growing light bounced from a shiny nail in the forepaw. A nail?

  Before she could ponder the significance of the nail, the rabbit crouched low, its muscles coiled. Hate and evil poisoned the air. Cassie staggered back.

  The rabbit leaped from the roof. Its body stretched out in an arc as it dove downward. Sharp, white teeth exposed, it arced toward her. The brown eyes glittered with malice.

  A vision of those teeth tearing out her throat filled her view. She tried to move, but her feet refused to obey. The fetid breath of the creature made her gasp. Her vocal chords froze, and the scream echoed only in her ears.

  * * * *

  Cassie woke. The dream scream hurt her ears, and her throat burned. She struggled to get her breath and to slow the racing of her heart. She glanced around the room, but saw only familiar surroundings. Sweat ran down the valley between her breasts. The clock on the bedside table read five a.m.

  Who or what was the black rabbit? Why did it hate Ian so much? She knew little about him and nothing at all about the rabbit. Tula had said to think symbolically, but Cassie had no idea what the rabbit represented. The striking contrast between the nature of real rabbits and this creature’s fierce nature struck her anew. Violence and harm seemed the rabbit’s sole aims. Its only goal the destruction of Ian McLeod and now of her. Why?

  Before the dreams, she had not even known Ian. They had nothing in common, at least not in real life. In her dreams, he became a different man from the one she had met and tried to warn. Last night at the dinner, for a brief moment she could almost believe the two were one, but then reality set in, and she knew she only fooled herself.

  She wished to hell the rabbit would fill Ian’s dreams instead of hers. Surely, he would understand the rabbit better than she did. The dreams haunted her. She couldn’t ignore them. This last one had been so vivid.

  “Dreamers have a responsibility,” Tula had said.

  Cassie had tried to ignore that when she dreamed of Ellie Latham and lived to regret it. She couldn’t let Ian die, because she ignored her dreams.

  Had the rabbit, or whoever the rabbit signified, already killed Ian or was there still time to warn him? She had no idea, but she could only assume the dream had come, like the others, as a warning. She jumped out of bed and fumbled for her clothes.

  With fingers that hardly functioned, she pulled on her jeans and a warm sweatshirt. She skipped her socks and just hastily pushed her feet into her sneakers. On the way out the door, she grabbed her hooded parka. A sense of urgency propelled her out the house and into her car. The absence of other cars on the road as she drove north to Ian’s office disconcerted her and added to her anxiety. Would she be in time? Could she convince Ian this time or would he dismiss her yet again?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Brad arrived at the McLeod Enterprises office building about five-thirty. He pulled on a pair of worn leather gloves. They would protect his hands and leave no fingerprints. Careful of any observers, he slipped into the building and made his way up to the rooftop.

  The black tarred surface stretched before and behind him, broken only by the hump of the door from which he had entered. A wooden brick hod, several pieces of plywood, a few boards, and stacks of bricks had been piled to one side, all the raw materials he needed.

  He sorted through the plywood and selected one narrow smaller piece. It would make the platform he had in mind. A stubby length of two by four would serve as a prop. He balanced the plywood on the roof edge and positioned the upright two by four at the other end.

  Brad worked steadily to build his stack of bricks. Finished, he stood back to survey his handiwork and nodded, satisfied. One little upward push and the bricks would roar down.

  He wanted to see them squash McLeod with a loud splat, mashing his head to wet pulp. With no warning, McLeod couldn’t escape his fate. If the bricks didn’t kill him, he would be crippled. Brad smiled.

  He sat back, opened his thermos, and relaxed as he sipped the hot, bitter coffee. That might even be better. He wanted McLeod to suffer. The man had no idea how much pain he had caused. Now McLeod would know.

  Brad pressed the switch on his watch to check the time. In the graying darkness, the numbers glowed bright green. His watch showed six. McLeod would arrive soon. Too bad he couldn’t test out how the bricks would fall. He couldn’t risk the noise. Anyway, he wouldn’t have time to clean up the mess and rebuild his pile before McLeod arrived.

  Brad twisted his mouth into a bitter smile. No one would be able to connect him with the accident. He had worn gloves, not that bricks carried fingerprints anyway. It would look like an accident. A careless worker had left the bricks too close to the edge and they had fallen, just like that broken brick had fallen the day before. Lucky that stupid jerk had tossed that broken brick over the edge. Brad chuckled. He’d scared the hell out of that asshole.

  He glanced around the roof. Only the piles of boards, bricks, and odd tools met his gaze. Nothing of his. He replaced the thermos cap.

  Brad stood, stretched, and stamped his feet to get rid of the kinks. He flexed his arms and placed them behind his head and stretched again. Glancing west then east, he knew the sun would rise soon. Already the horizon had changed from black to gray.

  He surveyed the empty parking lot and then looked again at a lone car parked near the building. Blue, it looked like an Escort. McLeod drove a gray Accord. He usually arrived an hour before anyone else. Brad hadn’t heard the car arrive and didn’t recognize it.

  His gaze darted along the walkway from the parking lot to the building. “Damn.”

  What in the hell had brought someone here at this hour? Brad ducked down below the roof edge and cautiously peered over. A hooded figure paced back and forth below. It looked too short and slim for McLeod. He couldn’t tell if the figure was a man or woman. He slumped back below the roof edge as his thoughts raced.

  He rubbed his chin and pulled at his ear. Should he abandon his plan? Would the presence of this unknown person make any diffe
rence? A witness, but to what? All the person could do would be to confirm the ‘accident.’ So long as nobody saw him, no one could make anything more of the fallen bricks than a tragic accident.

  He smiled. Why abandon a perfectly good plan? If this ‘witness’ got in the way and got hurt, so what? It only added to the accidental nature of the event.

  Yes, everything worked for him. Watch out, McLeod. You’re gonna get yours, bastard.

  Brad crawled along the rooftop toward the parking lot side to watch for McLeod’s arrival. This had turned out even better than he’d planned.

  * * * *

  Cassie shifted from foot to foot as she stood on the sidewalk near the entrance to Ian McLeod’s office building. She stamped her feet and paced back and forth, rubbing her arms. The retro style building, mostly brick and glass, looked normal. Its clean, boxy lines soared up four stories above her, but didn’t look threatening or forbidding.

  Her steamy breath spiraled upward. The effects of her nightmare still clung to her. Where was Ian? Why didn’t he come? Had something already happened to him?

  Cassie had dressed in a hurry. Now she wished she had stopped for socks. She paced the walkway and wondered what she could say to convince Ian. “I dreamed about a rabbit killing you.” Last time she’d said that he’d thrown her out of his office and told her not to come back.

  He hadn’t said anything last night about either the rabbit or the Easter dinner. Cassie smiled. An awards banquet is not exactly the place to talk of weird things, and he had his fiancée with him. Cassie’s smile faded. He had looked at her with curiosity, but had said nothing.

  Cassie walked to the entrance and tried the door, but found it locked. No other cars were in the parking lot. She paced back along the walkway. Maybe she should just leave. Then, the memory of the bricks striking Ian held her fast.