by Nell DuVall
A noise sounded from above. Cassie jumped. For a moment, her heart stopped.
She looked toward the roof of the four-story building, but saw only the roof edge and then the sky above. Someone might be up there. She scanned the roof edge with care, but saw no one. No further sound came. Had she imagined it? She listened, but heard only her own rapid breathing and the thudding of her heart.
Suddenly, a dark shape flew up from the corner of the roof. Cassie gasped, startled. Her heart raced. Then as the dark shape circled above, she recognized it as a crow. It let out several hoarse cries and then flew off. She released her pent up breath. Only a bird. It must have a nest on the rooftop.
The bird had frightened the bejesus out of her, but once seen she could forget it. The bird had nothing to do with bricks or the rabbit. The dream had falling bricks. Bricks.
She looked up again and glimpsed something on the roof above the entrance. Cassie walked closer. Her sneakers made no noise on the cement walk. As she stood at the entrance and peered up, she could just see the edge of a board jutting out. It looked safe enough. She walked past toward the end of the building and looked up again. From the color, it could be bricks stacked on the board. From the ground, she couldn’t be sure, but they looked stable.
Why didn’t Ian come? She paced back along the walkway, passed the entrance, and walked toward the parking lot.
Things fell off buildings, old buildings that is. Only last week a piece of concrete had fallen off an old downtown building undergoing renovation and hit a man. She studied the roof edge, but it had no overhanging cornices or decorative elements. She saw only a smooth façade with the board and those bricks above the building entrance. In her dream, the rabbit killed Ian with falling bricks.
With the building locked, she had no way to investigate the roof. She shivered and looked away toward the parking lot. She had come early, not even stopping for breakfast. To the east, the sun began its rise, painting the low clouds with pink and gold. It would be warmer once the sun rose. Cassie pulled the hood of her jacket tighter.
A gray car drove along the entrance road and parked. The driver, a man, got out, locked the vehicle, and walked with brisk strides toward the walkway. The early sun made his hair gleam blood-red.
* * * *
Brad smiled as he saw McLeod lock his car and start toward the building. He slithered across the roof to his booby trap and braced his shoulder under the edge of the plywood. He listened to a loud tattoo on the cement walkway. McLeod’s crisp footsteps neared. They paused for a moment. He must be near the woman. Then continued.
Brad held his breath. They sounded close, right below. He heaved upward.
The plywood board tilted. Bricks grated against the board. They began to slide. Brad gave a final shove. The bricks roared over the edge.
* * * *
“NOOOO,” a woman screamed. A body hit Ian in the midsection and knocked him to the ground.
Heavy thuds followed in rapid succession. A loud slapping sound. Then silence.
Ian groaned and tried to roll over, but the weight on top of him held him in place.
“Ah-chOO. Are you all right?” a breathless female voice gasped.
Ian stared up into the startled blue eyes of Cassie Blake. “You?”
She stared back for a long moment that threatened to stretch to forever. Her sea deep eyes pulled at him, demanding something. But what? She suddenly came to herself and pushed up and off him. The impress of her hands on his ribs almost made him laugh.
She scrambled to her feet. Dust clouded the air. She sneezed again.
“God bless you,” he said automatically.
“Thank you. It’s all this dust.” She held out a hand.
He ignored it and picked himself up. “What in the hell just happened?”
She pointed, and his eyes followed her finger to a pile of bricks and a splintered board lying on the sidewalk. He stared from the bricks to her.
He blinked and then blinked again as the realization dawned. “I could have been killed.”
She nodded, eyes solemn.
Ian stared up at the roof. A couple of red bricks teetered on the edge. He glanced at the tumbled ones on the walkway and back to Cassie. He wanted a rational explanation for what had happened.
The workers must have left the bricks too close to the edge. He’d have the hide of that contractor for criminal negligence. If it hadn’t been him, it could have been anyone.
He shook his head and brushed the dust from his suit. “Well, Miss Blake, why don’t you tell me what this is about?”
She shivered and rubbed dirt from her sleeve. “I’m not certain I know.”
A chill coursed through his body. He stared again from the bricks to the roof and then back to Cassie Blake as she rubbed her arms. “Are you cold?”
She nodded.
“If it were a little later, I’d suggest a stiff drink for both of us,” Ian said, still shaken and confused.
His thoughts turned to the jumbled bricks. “Look, I’d better check the building and see what caused this.”
Ian studied Cassie Blake unable to work out where she fit and why, but first he’d find out what caused the accident. She appeared cold and as shaken as he felt.
“Do you want to come with me?”
“I’d rather not be out here alone.” She glanced upward at the roof edge.
“You can wait in my office while I check the roof.”
Ian unlocked the door and held it open for her. She entered the building and he followed. Inside, he led the way to his office. He left Cassie in the reception area as he made a quick check of the office suite, but none of the staff had arrived yet. As he returned to the reception area, he pulled out a chair.
“I want to check out the roof. Why don’t you wait here?”
She searched his face for moment and then nodded. Her eyes still looked fearful.
“If you’re nervous, you can lock the door behind me.”
Cassie nodded.
When Ian closed the door, the lock clicked behind him. He rode the elevator to the fourth floor and took the stairs to the roof. He unlocked the door at the top and stepped onto the flat, tarred surface of the roof that extended in both directions. Only the clutter left by the workers lay scattered about. Near the front edge, he saw the remains of a stack of bricks. A wooden brick hod, a few boards, a pan for mixing cement, a hose, a shovel, and a forgotten thermos lay beside the bricks.
Circling the work site, he saw no sign of anyone. He walked to the roof edge and peered down to the tumbled bricks below. If he’d taken one step more, they would have buried him. He shuddered.
Turning back to the pile of boards and stacked bricks, he examined both more closely. He would have to call the contractor and ask him about the bricks. They shouldn’t have been piled so close to the edge. Nothing looked particularly suspicious, but neither could he decide what had made the bricks fall.
He retraced his steps to his office and knocked on the door. “Miss Blake? It’s me, Ian McLeod.”
The lock clicked and the door opened. Her bright blue eyes stared back. She wore her long hair in the same braid she had worn last night. Her eyes still wore that scared look.
It made him want to soothe her, to assure her everything was all right. “I didn’t find anything or anyone on the roof.”
“Just before you drove up, I thought I heard something or someone, but I didn’t see anyone. A crow flew up.”
He wanted a cup of coffee. Usually he waited until MaryLou came in, but... He looked at the wall clock. She wouldn’t arrive for another hour. “How about some coffee? Or better yet, have you had breakfast?”
Miss Blake shook her head. “I was afraid I might miss you.”
“Come on then. Let’s go to Bob Evans. I’ll drive.”
Ian took her arm and led her out of the office. Just as he was relocking the door, he heard a familiar voice behind him.
“Morning, Ian,” Bert greeted him. “Say, the workmen l
eft a mess on the ground.”
“I know. I’ll call the contractor.” Ian stared at Bert with the beginnings of suspicion. “What brings you in so early?”
“I have to meet Grayson downtown, and I need some papers. Figured I could pick them up on my way.” Bert looked with curiosity at Cassie Blake.
“Oh, yeah.” Relief coursed through Ian. It had been ridiculous even to think Bert could have any involvement. An accident, merely an accident, he reminded himself.
“Miss Blake, this is Bert Hansen, one of my accountants. Bert, Cassie Blake.”
“Hi, Miss Blake, nice to meet you.” He held out his hand as he studied her face. “Say, haven’t we met before?”
She stared at him, her eyes narrowed, then nodded as she smiled. “Tula Mohr’s party.”
“Yeah.” He snapped his fingers. “That’s right. You’re the one who likes Georgia O’Keefe. Good to see you again. I’d better get those papers if I don’t want to be late. See you later, Ian, I’ll lock up.”
“Thanks. Come on, Miss Blake, I need that coffee.” Ian took her arm and hurried her out the door and down the walk to his car.
During the short drive, he replayed his approach to the building in his mind. He had seen nothing as he walked toward the building except for Cassie Blake as she paced back and forth, but he hadn’t recognized her with her hood pulled up.
Within a few minutes, Ian parked in front of Bob Evans, a garish red building with white Victorian trim, a popular restaurant for breakfast. Ian seldom ate breakfast there because of the crowds, but this morning they arrived early enough to beat the usual press. The hostess seated them in a booth.
Once the server brought coffee for Ian and Miss Blake ordered tea, Ian studied her while they waited for her tea, which soon came. The server took their orders and left.
Miss Blake’s presence at his office had been too convenient. “All right, Miss Blake, why did you come to my office this morning?”
She sighed and sipped her tea before responding. Staring at him, she reminded him of a frightened schoolgirl being reprimanded by the head nun.
“I ... I had a dream. I know you don’t believe in them, but I do. I saw that rabbit again and it ... it was throwing bricks at you.” Her eyes grew wider. “One brick hit you and split your head open. The rest landed on top of you. I had to warn you.”
She cupped her hands around her mug and stared down into the milky surface of her tea. “After the last time, I figured you wouldn’t believe me if I called you, so I came.”
“Are you sure you didn’t arrange this?”
She bristled. “Don’t be ridiculous! Why?”
He shrugged.
“Why would I risk my own neck?”
Ian studied her for a moment with narrowed eyes, but her indignant innocence rang true. “Did you see anything or anyone?”
She shook her head, her eyes puzzled. “No, I only saw the bricks begin to fall, and you were there. It was like a slow motion film. I saw you walking and the bricks falling. I shouted and jumped toward you. I thought we might both be hit.”
The heap of tumbled bricks rose unbidden to his thoughts. “We could have been killed, or at least I could have. A stupid accident.”
Her eyes looked like dark restless seas. “No, it wasn’t an accident. I told you, the rabbit—"
“Look, a rabbit couldn’t move bricks.” That damned rabbit again. She really was obsessed by it. He squeezed the handle of his mug, unable to dismiss the fact she had saved his life. He relaxed his grip.
“I know that. I’m not stupid.” She gazed up at him. “Anyway, the rabbit isn’t really a rabbit. My subconscious is using it as a symbol, but I don’t understand what it means. The rabbit stands for someone who wants to kill you. I tried to tell you that last time.”
“I remember. Then, it was the coffee.” He ran a hand through his hair before continuing. “I hardly think someone in my office would try to kill me. Besides, poisoning the coffee wouldn’t guarantee I’d be the one to drink it. Someone else might have been killed instead of me.”
He looked straight at her. “No, I don’t believe it.”
Her mouth set in a stubborn pout. “Those bricks were meant for you. Why did they fall just as you reached the building?”
Ian frowned. The bricks were an unfortunate accident. They fell, but a logical explanation existed. Why look for anything else? Cassie Blake looked so concerned and earnest that he wanted to believe her, but his rational mind demanded facts.
“Maybe they weren’t stacked properly and some vibration set them off.”
“Did you feel one?” Her sharp gaze impaled him. “And at the precise instant you happened to be passing?”
Her words raised so many questions he couldn’t answer. None of it made sense.
“Why? Who would want to kill me? I have no disgruntled employees, no ex-wife after insurance, no injured client. So far as I know, I haven’t any enemies.”
“But someone wants you dead. This makes the second attempt.”
“If it was an attempt, it’s the first, and this accident is nothing more than an unfortunate coincidence. I am thankful to you for saving me from serious injury. I’ll have to speak with the contractor and the building owner and warn my staff, too.”
The server brought their orders.
* * * *
Cassie stared down at the plate of bacon and eggs. Ian McLeod still didn’t believe her. “You should call the police.”
“Call the police?” He stared at her. “And exactly what am I supposed to tell them? A pile of bricks fell off the roof. You saw no one. I found no one. Then I tell them you had a dream. What do you think they would say to that? They would call us frightened cranks. No, Miss Blake, I won’t call the police. No one pushed the bricks. They fell.”
“Oh, men are so stubborn. If you can’t see or touch it, you don’t believe in it. I only hope you learn better before you die.”
“You’ve warned me, okay? Just let it go. Eat your breakfast.”
He sounded just like Rod. For the life of her, she could not figure out why she cared about Ian McLeod. “I’m not hungry.” Cassie pushed the plate away and reached for her wallet. “How much do I owe you?”
“Forget it. You saved my life so we’re more than quits. Can I drop you somewhere?”
“My car’s at your office.”
“All right, if you wait just a moment until I pay the check, I’ll take you back.” Ian picked up the check and stood.
Cassie nodded and followed him to the cashier. Why would such an attractive and otherwise sensible man ignore her warnings?
She had failed to get Ian McLeod to recognize his danger, but at least she had saved his life this time. She shuddered.
She hated these dreams and wished they would go away. Until she knew what or whom the rabbit represented Ian McLeod would not listen to her. It was his rabbit, why didn’t he recognize it? Let him and that ... that perfect Sharon Arthur figure it out.
Chapter Fifteen
Brad swore. That damned bitch had interfered for the last time. How she knew where to be and when, he didn’t know. No one knew of his plans. Too bad, he hadn’t taken her out with his cycle that first time. The next time, the easiest way would be to send her on a wild goose chase. Somewhere far enough away so he could take care of McLeod before she could interfere.
The ‘accident’ had failed to kill McLeod. Worrying too much about the cops limited his choices. He needed a change of tactics. No one could tie him to McLeod. If someone got nosy and checked his records, they would stand up, even to police scrutiny. The records should. They were real enough.
Brad laughed. He had done a fine job of becoming someone else. The only thing that would give him away was not kept as part of the records. Funny how the government could be so nosy and yet make something like identity theft so easy.
He pulled on a pair of rubber gloves and drew out the blue, snub-nosed pistol. It would make a large hole in McLeod, and the police would never
tie it to him. Brad caressed the smooth grip. A little heavy, but so what? He would only carry it for a short time. Just long enough to take out McLeod.
Despite the gun registration laws, if you knew the right people, you could get a gun easily enough. It didn’t pay to carry one around though, especially if you rode a cycle. The local cops did random checks looking for drunken drivers. If they found a gun in the vehicle, they hauled in the driver on concealed weapon charges. If they discovered you didn’t have a permit, they really hit you. He wasn’t stupid and had no intention of being caught with a gun. It only took careful planning. He made his own luck.
Remembering the note he had found in McLeod’s office, Brad pulled it out and smoothed the crumpled edges. Dreams don’t... Could the interfering bitch who spilled McLeod’s coffee and saved his life be some type of mind reader? He’d heard about people who touched something of a person’s and knew everything about them.
The newspapers said some psychic occasionally worked with the cops. So far as he knew, most of the Columbus cops brushed off such people and only called on them when everything else failed. What if the bitch was a real mind reader? If she had the power, then maybe she knew his identity. Why hadn’t she told McLeod? The cryptic note said nothing about him. Maybe she didn’t know.
He didn’t like the bitch or the note. If she interfered again, he’d kill her.
* * * *
Ian arrived at Sharon’s place at seven for dinner. Her apartment reflected the same neat perfection as her appearance. The books on the coffee table stood in a neat stack. The newspaper lay folded on a side table. Ian always liked the restful feeling her favorite cool green on the walls and the comfortable blue furniture provided. He thought the small tangerine cushions a nuisance, but they brightened the room. He moved them aside when he sat on the sofa.
Sharon gave him a quick kiss as she hurried back to the kitchen. “I had a bad day today. The printer’s proof for our new brochure had a number of errors, and the radio station ran our announcement at the wrong time. I’ve spent most of the day on the telephone.”