Murder In Her Dreams

by Nell DuVall

  “So what? They have to find me first. I won’t stick around after I finish with you.”

  Ian studied the tall figure, trying to identify the man. The black clothes looked like a sweat suit. They had no marks or slogans.

  “Tell me who you are. If you’re going to kill me, I can’t tell anyone. Surely you want me to know.”

  * * * *

  In ten minutes, Cassie reached the parking lot where McLeod had his offices. Sure enough, his gray Accord sat close to the building. She didn’t see any other cars.

  Cassie screeched to a stop in front of the building. Jumping out of her car, she ran to the door. She yanked it open and slipped inside.

  No one in the lobby area. With trembling fingers she eased open the unlocked door to McLeod Enterprises. Hearing voices in Ian’s office, she crept closer.

  “That’s right. You’ll be dead.” The hoarse whisper sounded like the voice on the phone.

  Dead? He planned to kill Ian. Cassie started to rush forward and then stopped. The man must have a weapon of some type. She needed help. The parking lot had been empty except for Ian’s car.

  She scanned the reception area quickly. A computer workstation, In/Out trays, phone books, a dictionary. She needed something heavy, but what?

  * * * *

  As Ian listened to the hoarse whisper he realized the man must be disguising his voice. Why? Because Ian would recognize it, but why bother?

  “You can talk in a normal voice. You must want me to know who you are or you wouldn’t be talking to me?”

  The gunman said nothing, but took a step closer.

  “Hey, normal people only kill for a good reason. I don’t even know you.”

  The gunman threw back his head and laughed, but the gun never wavered. “Don’t be too sure of that.”

  “Of what?” Ian raised an eyebrow.

  He had to hold this nut’s attention until he could think of something to do. If the guy came just a little closer, maybe he could reach him before the gun went off.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “Zip it, McLeod.” The man moved closer, but not close enough for Ian to reach him. “You missed the point.”

  “Oh? Tell me what you mean then.”

  “I’ve got reason to kill you, two of them. I’m your judge, jury, and executioner. You caused the deaths of an innocent woman, and, like the Bible says, the sentence is ‘an eye for an eye.’ Your death for hers.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Ian stared at the man. “I’ve never killed anyone. You’ve got the wrong man.”

  The gunman shook his head slowly. “I’ve got the right man. It’s taken me more than a year, but now I’ve got you. And this time, I’ll make sure you die.”

  Ian saw the extension light on the phone glow. Somebody must be using MaryLou’s phone. He prayed they knew about the man. If he could just keep this guy talking.

  “Someone will hear the shots.”

  “Who? No one’s here. Even if they did, they’d be too late to save you. Cut the crap, McLeod.” He pointed the gun at Ian’s head. “I’m going to have a little fun. A little target practice first.”

  The door to Ian’s office burst open as a small whirlwind blew in. At the sound of the opening door, the gunman whirled and aimed at the desk chair propelled by Cassie Blake. She shoved the chair at the gunman. He jumped to the side.

  “You again." He aimed the gun at Cassie.

  Ian leaped for the gunman as the gun swung toward Cassie. “Cassie, watch out."

  She dropped to the floor, and Ian grappled with the gunman. A shot rang out.

  Ian’s head rang. He hung on to the gunman’s arm and struggled to reach the gun. The man kicked out, knocking him down. The gunman jabbed his right elbow into Ian’s windpipe. He then brought the gun down with a vicious swing.

  Ian blacked out.

  * * * *

  As the man raised the gun to shoot, Cassie shoved the chair toward him. She ducked behind the side chair in front of Ian’s desk.

  “I called 9-1-1. Can’t you hear the sirens? They’ll be here any minute.”

  “You fucking bitch!" He raised the gun.

  Cassie wondered how much protection the chair back would provide against a gun. She clutched Tula’s pendant and prayed.

  The muted whine of sirens screeched outside.

  “It’s the police,” she shouted.

  The gunman looked from her to Ian. He straightened his arm and pointed the gun at Ian. The sirens grew louder.

  “They’ll catch you," Cassie screamed, half-rising from behind the chair.

  Lights flashed outside the office windows. The high-pitched whine of the sirens deafened her. As the gunman hesitated, she shoved the chair toward him. He bolted for the door.

  Cassie crawled over to Ian. She felt a pulse, but his eyes remained closed. She lifted his head and pillowed it on her lap.

  “Ian, are you okay? Speak to me. Please."

  Suddenly, the door to the outer office burst open and the room filled with blue uniforms as two cops trailed by a paramedic crew entered.

  “What’s happened?” The taller of the cops spoke.

  Cassie looked up. She held Ian’s head cradled in her lap. “A man hit him on the head with a gun. The guy ran out when he heard the sirens.” She pointed toward the outer office.

  “What did he look like ma’am?”

  “I don’t know. He wore black and had a ski mask on. He hit Ian, Mr. McLeod, with the gun.”

  The paramedic gently lifted Ian’s head from Cassie’s lap and put the medical monitors on him. Cassie watched him check Ian’s pulse, heart, and blood pressure.

  The cop nodded and turned to his partner. “Joe, let’s check out the rest of this place.” He thumbed on his handset. “Suspect at large, armed and dangerous.”

  The two cops left and Cassie hovered over the paramedics. As they checked Ian’s scalp, he groaned and opened his eyes. He tried to sit up.

  “God, my head hurts. What hit me? My head feels like Michael’s basketball after a slam dunk.”

  The paramedic grinned as he pushed Ian back down. “I’ll bet. You’ve got a scrape here and a knot is forming.” The paramedic probed the side of Ian’s head. “Other than a possible concussion, you should be okay. We’ll take you into Emergency. They can take some X-rays.”

  Ian started to shake his head and then held up a hand instead. “No, I’m fine, just a headache.”

  The paramedic motioned to his partner with the gurney. “It’s standard procedure to take victims with head wounds to the hospital.”

  “Why waste city resources? I’m conscious, okay?” Ian pushed himself up to sitting position.

  The paramedic shook his head. “We can’t force you, but it’s advisable. If you notice dizziness, drowsiness, or blackouts, you should call us or go to the hospital at once. Stay awake for the next ten hours.” The paramedic began to remove the monitors and to pack his equipment away.

  Ian pushed himself up from the floor and eased onto the chair Cassie had used as a battering ram. “I prefer to go to my own doctor.”

  “It’s up to you.” The paramedic shrugged. “You never know with blows to the head.” He followed his partner out.

  * * * *

  The policeman came back. “I’ve got a couple of men out looking for the assailant.” He pulled out a notebook and began making notes. “A woman called 9-1-1. Was it you, ma’am?”

  Cassie nodded.

  “Your name and address, please?”

  Between anxious looks at Ian, Cassie gave him the information.

  “The reason you called 9-1-1?”

  “I had a funny feeling and stopped by to check on Mr. McLeod. When I arrived, I heard voices in his office. The man said he was going to kill Mr. McLeod, so I called 9-1-1. When he heard the sirens, he hit Mr. McLeod. Then he ran.”

  The policeman nodded. “Lucky for this McLeod you did.” He turned to Ian. “You McLeod?”

  Ian nodded. “Ian
McLeod.”

  “Did you recognize the gunman?”

  Ian shook his head and then wished he hadn’t. “He wore a ski mask and spoke in a sort of hoarse whisper. He said he wanted to kill me.”

  The policeman nodded. “Did he say why?”

  “He said I deserved it.”

  Ian said nothing about the gunman’s insistence Ian had caused the death of a woman. The police might think he had. He still didn’t understand that. Another puzzle to solve.

  “Do you?”

  “What?” Startled, Ian stared at the policemen.

  “Deserve it?” He held his pencil poised to record.

  Ian snorted. “Of course not.”

  “Have you received any threats?”

  Ian refrained from shaking his head this time. “No, not exactly.”

  The policeman watched Ian, his head cocked to one side. “What does that mean?”

  “Umm, well, a few days ago some bricks fell off the roof and just missed me. I didn’t see anyone up there when I checked. We had had some repairs being done on the roof. It could have been an accident.”

  “But now you’re not sure?”

  “The gunman said he had arranged the ‘accident,’ but thanks to Miss Blake, it failed.” Ian glanced at Cassie, and she smiled back.

  “Can you describe your assailant?”

  “He wore black. His face was covered by a ski mask. And he wore gloves.”

  “No fingerprints then. Hair, eye color, height?”

  “I couldn’t see his hair. He had dark eyes I think.” Ian looked to Cassie and she nodded. “It all happened so fast.”

  The policeman sighed. “How tall was this guy?”

  Ian looked up at the policeman and squinted his eyes as he tried to compare the size of the gunman to the officer. “About two inches shorter than you.”

  “His weight? My size or bigger?”

  Ian eyed the officer again. His belly hung over his belt. The gunman had been trim and strong.

  “I’m not sure. In black sweats it’s hard to tell. Maybe a little lighter. Sort of medium.”

  “Is there anything else you can tell us?”

  “Not really. He spoke in a hoarse whisper. I wondered if he was trying to disguise his voice.”

  “Someone you know?”

  “I don’t know, but I’d swear I’ve never seen the man before.”

  The officer turned to Cassie. “Do you have anything to add, ma’am?”

  “Not really. I just remember this big man in black. I thought he was going to kill Mr. McLeod.” She shivered.

  The policeman sighed and turned back to Ian. “Well, if you think of anything else, call us. I’m Officer Jackson.” He handed Ian a business card. “Since you didn’t see his face, I guess there’s no point in asking you to look at the mug shots. If we find anything, we’ll let you know.”

  “Thanks.” Ian shoved the card in his pocket and watched as the policeman left.

  Cassie Blake rubbed her right hand over the left. “You should see a doctor. Concussions can be serious.”

  Ian smiled down at her, glad she had stayed and even more glad that she had come, although the danger she had put herself in troubled him. “You seem to be making a habit of saving my life. How did you get here?”

  “Someone called and pretended to be you. He asked me to meet him at the Bermuda Onion. It sounded like the man with the gun.” She looked up at him, her blue eyes dark.

  Ian’s eyes widened. “I didn’t call. Look, I’m sorry you’ve gotten mixed up in this. I know I didn’t believe your dreams, but this guy said he wanted to kill me. I guess you were right after all.”

  Cassie nodded. “I tried to tell you.”

  “And I refused to listen. Don’t remind me.”

  “I’m glad I got here in time.” Cassie studied him for a moment. “Can I take you to your doctor?”

  Ian shook his head. “I’m fine. Really. I want to get out of here for a bit. All I need is a cup of coffee. You could probably use one too.”

  Cassie gave him a bright smile. It made his heart lighter.

  “How about Bob Evans?”

  She nodded. Ian took her by the arm and steered her out of the office.

  A few minutes later, they sat in a booth at Bob Evans. The waitress greeted them and soon returned with coffee for Ian and tea for Cassie.

  Ian loaded his with cream and sugar for some quick energy. “Now tell me why you came to my office.”

  She stared down at the dark surface of her tea. “I ... I had the oddest feeling. When I started for the Bermuda Onion, I wondered why you would want to meet me there and not someplace closer to your office. Then that voice, and all that static. It bothered me.”

  “Why didn’t you just call me?”

  Cassie blushed and looked down at her hands. “I didn’t think of that. I had this ... compulsion to see you. I sensed something was wrong so I came.”

  “I’m glad you did, but that man could have killed both of us.” Ian pinned her with a steely stare. “Did you think of that?”

  She gulped. “Not really. I wanted to stop him. He has no right to ruin your life or mine. I’ve had enough of him.”

  Ian raised an eyebrow at that. “You’ve seen him before?”

  “Yes. No. That is, he’s the rabbit in my dreams. I don’t know who he is yet. I’ve been trying to figure it out.”

  “Dreams.” Ian stared down at his coffee. “I never expected to believe in them, but I have to admit you’ve shown up at the right times. At one point I even thought you might have planned the accident so you could save me.”

  “What?” Cassie stared at him, her eyes wide. “Of all the stupid...” she sputtered.

  “It was easier to believe than dreams and intuition.”

  She glared at him, obviously offended.

  “But I knew you couldn’t have gotten to the roof, and you had no motive.” Ian smiled at her. “Besides, why would you or anyone go to all that trouble?”

  She looked thoughtful. “You know, I have a theory about intuition. I think some people pick up all sorts of information, hints here and there, and they’re just better than other people at seeing meaningful patterns in what they learn. Some people are better at reading other people. It’s sort of like that.” She looked up at him again, her face solemn.

  Ian rubbed his chin. “That’s an interesting thought, but it doesn’t explain your dreams.”

  Cassie sighed. “No, it doesn’t, but suppose that somehow I learned or saw something and my subconscious mind put it all together and created the dreams.”

  “It makes sense, but had you ever heard of me before?”

  “No.” She looked down at her hands.

  Ian leaned back in the booth. She really wanted him to accept her dreams, and he wanted to do it for her sake, but how could intuition have anything to do with it? “Then it doesn’t really explain your dreams about me.”

  “I don’t know. Whether you like it or not, they’re real, and if we don’t listen to them, something terrible will happen.” She clenched her fingers into tight fists. “I won’t let it. Not this time.”

  “What do you mean, this time?”

  “I told you about Ellie Latham, remember? She was kidnapped. It happened over a year ago.” Cassie’s face took on a faraway look. “I dreamed about her, but when I told Rod, he just laughed and told me to forget it. I waited too long to tell the police, and they found her dead, just like in my dream.”

  Rod? Who was Rod? Ian felt his pulse race. He wanted to ask her, but she needed reassurance first. “Those things happen. What could you have done to prevent it?”

  “If only I had gone to the police after the first dream. The kidnapper didn’t kill her until after my third dream.”

  “But what could you have told them?”

  “About the cornfield and the microwave tower. It might have helped them find her.”

  “That doesn’t sound like much help.”

  “Maybe not, but they migh
t have found her. At least I would have tried.” Her eyes took on a haunted look.

  “You shouldn’t blame yourself. You didn’t kill her. Didn’t you say someone named Rod told you not to contact the police?”

  “My ex-boyfriend. We broke up because of the dreams.” Her voice took on a harder tone. “He couldn’t handle that.” She looked up at him and studied his face. “I guess you can’t either.”

  Ian breathed a little easier. He was not like this Rod. Maybe he hadn’t taken Cassie on faith, but he couldn’t ignore the evidence, not now.

  “Don’t be so sure. Now that this killer has come out, it proves your dreams may be right. Dreams or no, I can’t argue when someone tries to shoot me. Thanks to you, he didn’t.”

  “Thank God. I couldn’t stand for you to die like Ellie because I didn’t try and stop it.” She shuddered. “I could have saved her, and I didn’t.”

  Ian saw tears in her eyes, and he wanted to comfort her. Nobody, especially someone as caring as Cassie, deserved to carry such a load of guilt.

  “Hey, that’s too much.” He reached over and took her hand in his. “It’s okay, Cassie. You saved me. If anything happens, it won’t be your fault.”

  “You’ll be careful?” Her eyes, pupils wide, looked almost black.

  “I sure as hell will, but until I can figure out who is trying to kill me and why, it won’t be easy. Why don’t you ask the rabbit or the dream me who he is?”

  Cassie stared down at her tea, her face sad. “I’ve tried everything else. I’ve become an expert on rabbits, but none of it helps. I just don’t know. I really don’t want any more dreams.” She rubbed her arms.

  Suddenly, the realization hit Ian that he had dragged Cassie into one hell of a mess. The killer wanted him dead. Cassie had only become involved by trying to help him. His stomach twisted as he remembered the deadly gun pointing at her.

  “Cassie, this guy knows about you. You’re a target too. He said he’d gotten you out of the way. I don’t want him to focus on you.”

  “Me?” She stared at him, wide-eyed.

  “He called you. At home. He knows who you are. I don’t like this at all.”

  The more Ian thought about the gunman and Cassie, the worse he felt. The man could be anywhere. He could attack at any time. With the bricks he had tried to fake an accident, but with the gun he had come out of hiding. What would he try next?