And Nick.
And her dreams.
Alex tried to push aside the creeping doubts and pulled into the muggy parking garage. Hard to believe she’d been shivering on the street a few hours ago. While she waited for the underground shuttle to the hospital, worries snuck back to her brain. Could her connection to Nick and Candyce, long ago as it was, have anything to do with the dream? Ever since the dreams started, she’d never figured out why. In all those years, she’d never dreamed about someone she recognized, never a place she’d been before, not even a killer she’d known somehow— all of which she’d come across in her non-dream cases. The one thing that seemed to tie the dreams together was that everything was unfamiliar— and the dream quickly became the only way to solve the case.
But all that had changed. Alex knew the scene. She might have even prevented it if she’d been a few minutes faster. She knew the victim, and Candyce wasn’t dead.
Could Candyce and Nick be the reason the dreams had changed?
The shuttle finally arrived and Alex boarded. She chose to stand facing the doors and gripping a metal pole, like that could keep her anchored to reality instead of drowning in her thoughts.
It didn’t. What did this mean for the dreams? Could this one be wrong?
She needed certainty. Till now, the dreams had given her that, in a way. Sure, she didn’t know why or how they’d started, why they had to happen to her, but at least they had a purpose. They gave her a purpose. She’d made homicide with them. If she couldn’t rely on the dreams, maybe she didn’t deserve to be a homicide detective.
Could she solve this case without— or in spite of— the dream?
The shuttle pulled into the hospital stop, shifting her momentum. Alex tightened her grasp on the metal pole. She was off her game. She needed to focus, home in on the goal, get this done.
Solve this case. Figure this out.
She headed up to Candyce’s room and paused in the open doorway. Candyce’s athletic swimmer’s frame drooped, and even her tawny brown skin betrayed a little pallor. She was obviously beyond exhausted. Nick sat by her bed, his hands clasped in his lap. Something about his slumped posture broke Alex’s heart all over again, but in a different way. Because everything else was different.
Maybe she was intruding. Maybe this was a family time. Seven years ago, she would’ve been right by Nick’s side, and some small, stupid, sad part of her wished she were there now. But the dreams weren’t the only things that’d changed.
She wasn’t intruding. She was doing her job. Her calling. Alex lifted her knuckles to knock, but the movement caught Nick’s attention before she contacted the door’s blond wood. Confusion flashed across his features, but he leaned back in his chair as if they ran into one another every day. “So you’re a cop now?”
“Have been for a while.” She should ask what he was up to— she wanted to— but she was here on business. She tilted her head for a better view of Candyce. “Are you up for questions?”
Candyce drew and released a deep breath like her entire body was deflating. “I guess.”
Alex would take it. Her gaze fell to the silver letters embroidered on Candyce’s hoodie. Bartlett University. Candyce’s alma mater, Alex’s— and Nick’s. He’d pretty much lived in an identical hoodie back then. Back when he loved her.
For a second, her throat began to close around a lump, but she shoved aside the emotion. This wasn’t about back then. This was about today, when Candyce was attacked. Alex came to stand at the foot of Candyce’s hospital bed and put on her best bedside manner. “Have you remembered anything about what happened this morning?”
Candyce closed her eyes, thinking. After a moment, she shook her head, then winced, one hand lifting to her bandaged forehead.
Times like these, the dreams were almost a disadvantage. Alex didn’t dare plant memories for Candyce, not without corroboration from witnesses. That’d bite them in the end. Especially when she couldn’t be totally sure the dreams were trustworthy.
“Can you think of anyone who might’ve wanted to hurt you? Maybe a boyfriend? An ex?”
Nick sighed audibly. The irony of asking Candyce about her dating history— in front of Nick, no less— was obviously not lost on either of them, but Candyce merely said no.
“Someone you owe money?”
Nick shifted noisily in his chair, like he was trying to advertise his discomfort. Candyce pinned Alex with a piercing glare. “Yeah, my bookie,” she scoffed. “Of course not.”
Well, if she was up to copping an attitude, she must be feeling better. “Someone from work, maybe?”
“She didn’t see him,” Nick cut in. Interrupting her? Normally— years ago— he’d sit there and stew in silence. “It can’t be someone she knows. She doesn’t even live here anymore.”
Alex turned to Candyce to verify that. She did. “I moved to Charlotte after I graduated.” She grimaced. “I’m sorry, but I’ve answered all the questions the best I can. I didn’t see him, and I don’t know why anybody would attack me. I guess that other officer was right— just a random act of violence.”
Durham had that reputation, earned during the national crime wave of the ‘80s and ‘90s, but this didn’t seem like random street crime or gang violence. The killer was surprised to see who he’d attacked. He was targeting someone— someone else.
“Candyce, I know random acts of violence, and something about this doesn’t seem right.”
Her eyebrows pulled down into a deep, furrowed V, and Nick practically shot to his feet. “Okay, I think my sister needs her rest.”
“It’s key that we pursue any leads in this case early on, before the clues go cold—”
“What clues?” He jutted his chin out at her, daring her to contradict him. “Nobody has anything to go on, so all we want is to recover and move on.”
“Recover and move on? From your own sister being attacked? You don’t want answers?”
“I know when I shouldn’t push someone.” And then, as suddenly as he’d challenged her, Nick shut down, sliding back into his chair.
Of course he did; he always did. He’d challenge her, and she’d challenge back and then he’d withdraw, like doing exactly what he was doing made her a terrifying monster.
Alex snapped her mouth shut, shoving down the heat rising in her chest. Five minutes in the same room and they were back in the same argument that ended their relationship. Next, he’d say she was too pushy, moved too fast, did too much, never gave him room to breathe— when he was the suffocating one. The suffocating one who somehow didn’t want to move forward in their relationship.
The longer she stood here, staring at him and stewing, the angrier she’d get. If he wanted to stonewall the investigation, fine. Alex pivoted on her heel and marched out.
She was halfway down the antiseptic hall when the long-striding footsteps caught up to her. “Lex,” Nick began, his tone… conciliatory?
“What?”
“Listen, we want to help. We’re not trying to make things harder for you guys. She just doesn’t remember.”
Right. Alex chose not to respond.
“So pushing her won’t help,” he finished.
Alex looked into his warm, tawny brown eyes— the same eyes she’d loved through high school and college. “Will time help her remember?”
Nick averted his gaze. It was only then Alex remembered how he’d told her even her stare came off as a challenge.
During their last argument. Right before they’d started shouting. Right before he’d told her, after four years of dating, he didn’t want to get married. Right before she’d grabbed her toothbrush and her picture frames. Right before she’d left his apartment for the last time.
Now they were both back in their hometown, thrown together— not by fate. By her dreams. Unless her dreams were fate?
“Look,” Nick began on a sigh. “I just want Candyce to be able to move on. I’d do the same for you.”
Alex whipped around to face him again
, but before she could say anything, Nick continued. “Anything I can do to help?”
Maybe he could— best not to read anything into his other offer. His neighbors had been canvassed and he’d been interviewed, but there could always be gaps. “You live in the neighborhood?”
“West Village.”
The remodeled apartment building right where the attack was? She’d assumed he lived nearby, but it was still a surprise. In her mind, she could only picture him in his college bachelor pad, eating cheap takeout and playing video games. Instead, he had a place in the heart of twenty-first-century yuppie-ville. He really had gotten his act together.
She pressed on with the questioning. “Have you noticed anyone hanging around the neighborhood lately, anyone suspicious or out of place?”
Nick tucked his hands in his pockets as he thought. “It’s downtown, you know? Sometimes there are shady folks around, but you don’t think much of it. Homeless men, maybe. Did someone like that attack Candyce?”
She knew the answer, but she certainly couldn’t tell him the truth. She couldn’t tell anyone that. “Can’t rule anything out yet. How long have you lived there?”
“A few years, since I started my company.”
He’d started his own company? Definitely sounded like someone had given him the kick in the pants he’d needed when they were dating. She wanted to focus on the investigation, but curiosity got the best of her. “What do you do?”
“Medical database software.”
“Going well?”
One corner of Nick’s mouth turned up in that modest-yet-cocky grin of his. “Pretty well. Twenty employees. Just moved into a new office space.”
Huh. Maybe she wasn’t the only one who’d changed since college.
“I promised Candyce something from the vending machines.” The cockiness of his grin wore off, and suddenly he looked so familiar that Alex’s heart caught in her chest. How many times had he given her that almost-shy smile? Junior year of high school, the first time he’d sat with her at lunch. That summer, the first time he’d asked her out. Senior year, the first time he’d kissed her.
She’d never been able to say no to that smile. Something about it— about him— relaxed her honed defenses, even now. “I’ll walk with you,” she offered.
This wasn’t high school or college or their carefree summers. This was a police investigation, and Alex had to remember that. “What do you think happened this morning?” she asked as they fell into step almost too easily.
“Mugging gone wrong?”
She couldn’t rule that out, but why would she start dreaming up visions of muggings instead of murders? And the killer ran away when he realized it was Candyce— because she wasn’t the right target.
“Random question,” Alex began, “but do any of your neighbors look like Candyce, even vaguely?”
Nick narrowed his eyes, though Alex couldn’t tell if he was disagreeing or merely thinking. “Nobody springs to mind.”
Didn’t mean there weren’t any. She’d have to check with Harrison and Pfeiffer. It was the only explanation that made sense, after all. The killer was absolutely going to murder someone this morning, but it obviously wasn’t Candyce. So someone else in the neighborhood must be easily mistaken for her. At least in the dream, with her oversized, bulky sweatshirt, it was impossible to tell who she was from behind.
They reached the vending machine lobby, and Nick fed the machine quarters— too many quarters. He punched in two selections, and a Snickers and a Kit Kat dropped to the bottom.
He retrieved the candy and opened the Kit Kat. Alex tried not to eye the chocolate. Stupid, the things she remembered after this long— they had the same favorite candy bar.
She wasn’t the only one who remembered. Nick snapped off two chocolate bars and held them out to her. What was she supposed to do, play stubborn to spite him? “Thanks,” she said, keeping her tone to its most businesslike.
“Sure.”
Alex crunched into the first bite of the crispy, chocolate-coated wafers. She tried not to look at or even think about Nick standing next to her, but the memory surfaced anyway. Seventeen. Their first kiss. He’d wanted the moment to last, so just before their lips met, he pulled back, softly nuzzling her nose with his, two, three, four times. She was ready to shout for him to kiss her already when his lips touched hers. She could still taste the sweet chocolate of the Kit Kat he’d been eating, and then he gave her the last piece.
Nick touched her shoulder, pulling her from the past. She’d been gazing off into space— at him. Great.
But it wasn’t awkward, though Nick might have been remembering that same moment. Even in this little hospital alcove, under the angry cicada buzz of the cruel fluorescents, everything seemed… natural. Easy. Comfortable in a way she’d never found with other men she’d dated. Maybe they’d shared too many of these candy bars, but something about standing here with Nick was familiar and peaceful and right.
No. Not right. Not anymore. He wasn’t annoyed or having an off day all those years ago when he’d cut off their relationship. He would’ve apologized if he didn’t mean to say she was pushy and ornery and headstrong— that he didn’t want to marry her. But he wasn’t sorry. He’d meant it. And there was nothing peaceful or right about dating all those years only to be blindsided. Betrayed.
Alex backed away, breaking the spell of his presence. “Hope Candyce feels better soon.”
Uncertainty flashed across his face, almost a wince. “Thanks.”
“Tell her I said so. I’ll keep you posted on the case.”
Nick nodded, and Alex backpedaled out of the room.
She didn’t need her dreams changing. She definitely didn’t need to go falling for Nick all over again.
She’d help him and Candyce, but that was it. She’d help them, and her dreams would go back to the way they were, and more importantly, she and Nick would go back to the way they were— blissfully oblivious to one another.
The sooner things went back to normal, the better.
Chapter Three
Alex knew the dreams, knew their patterns, knew what to expect. Every couple months, a new one, starting the day of the murder. Seeing life seep out of a stranger through a murderer’s eyes. Searching for tiny clues to piece together the case. Solving the homicide. Until now.
And the next night only left things more complicated.
The dreams had repeated before, sometimes. Always the same, beginning to end. Always not quite enough to solve the case. Always another push for Alex to find the killer.
Not that night.
The dream started with the sky a little darker, but at the same unmistakable location downtown. Alex held her breath. The dream was starting earlier. If it was the same dream at all. This time, the dream began filtered through evergreen shrubs. The killer was hiding, though he’d be in plain sight if it weren’t for the night’s shadows.
A car’s headlights swept across the other side of the hedge. Through the killer’s perspective, Alex scanned the parking lot. A silver Mazda pulled into a spot.
Candyce got out of the driver’s seat, the hood shielding her face. So this was a repetition. She ambled to the sidewalk. The killer moved out. The same as yesterday, he followed her, grabbed her, saw her, dropped her, fled. That part, at least, remained unchanged. A repeat.
Alex snapped awake. The red numbers on her clock glared 5:36. The dream was different— again. The killer had lain in wait. But still not for Candyce.
No answers came during her morning run or shower or coffee. Turning it over in her mind didn’t help, and there was no one to talk to— she couldn’t tell anyone about the dreams in the first place. Now she couldn’t tease apart this tangled mess. In a distorted way, the dreams had become the one thing she could depend on, simultaneously driving her mad with guilt and keeping her sane. The content might be different, but they always had the same format, message, reason.
Now the reality she’d constructed for herself, where these
dreams made sense, where they gave her purpose, where she exorcised her guilt at “committing” those murders by solving them— that was all slipping away like the Outer Banks’ shifting sands. She needed a grip, needed her bearings, needed something to grab onto before the eroding logic of the dreams made her doubt her sanity.
Years ago, she could’ve run to Nick. She would have. Even if she couldn’t explain the dreams to him, he’d always brought her that peace. Who else could soothe you when his sister was hospitalized and you were in the least romantic spot in the world?
But Nick had proven he wasn’t the person she needed. Not if he could reject her— who she was, at heart— the way he had. He didn’t want to marry her. No use in regretting that anymore. She’d moved on, finished her degree and pressed ahead without him. That had gotten her places. Like the homicide unit. Where they needed her.
Alex pulled into the station and headed straight for her desk. Not much new on the murder board. She helped a couple guys who’d dredged up a cold case she’d worked originally. Once she’d gone over the files with them, Alex consulted with another officer on the case he’d have to testify in next week. Fairly straightforward: carjacking gone wrong. They’d caught the guy driving the victim’s car. Why he thought he was better off facing a jury, she had no idea.
She was about to dive into a cold case when something snagged her curiosity. Did the killer mistake Candyce for someone else because of her car?
Alex pulled up the state DMV database and typed in Candyce’s first and last name. One listing popped up: a forest green Mustang.
Wait, what? Alex closed her eyes and called the new beginning of the dream back into focus. Candyce was definitely driving a silver Mazda. Was that not real?
Or there could be another explanation. Borrowing the car, from a relative, maybe. Their dad hadn’t been in the picture since Candyce was a baby— something that’d always haunted Nick— but maybe she borrowed her mom’s car. Alex deleted Candyce’s first name from the criteria and narrowed the search to silver Mazdas. Once again, one listing popped up.
All Hallows' Eve Collection Page 20