Night Sky

by Suzanne Brockmann

  “Dana, I’m so—” I started.

  “Don’t,” she warned, holding up a hand.

  “So they never recovered her body?” Calvin asked.

  “No,” Dana said flatly. “They recovered nothing. The cops didn’t care.”

  I knew what that was like.

  “So then why do you think she’s definitely…” Cal’s voice trailed off.

  “Do not. Say it. She’s dead.” Dana’s voice actually quivered, her pain still so raw and horribly real.

  I wanted to hug her, and I also knew that a hug wouldn’t do a bit of good.

  Finally, Milo spoke up. “It’s important to both of us to find the people who are responsible for killing Lacey and…Sasha.” He turned to look directly at me. “Whatever we find, Sky, it’s going to help make it harder for these people to kidnap the next girl.”

  Cal’s nod was determined. “Girl, I am so eff’n serious,” he said, slapping a hand onto Dana’s shoulder, “I got your back.”

  I looked at Milo. He took my hand.

  I had no idea about… I nodded toward Dana.

  I know. I wanted to respect her privacy. I wanted to wait for her to say something.

  That day she was gone, I remembered. Was she…?

  Visiting her father in prison, Milo told me. She’s allowed to see him every two weeks. Wherever she is, she makes sure that she gets there—although sometimes they make it hard by moving him around. He’s currently in a maximum-security lockup in Georgia.

  “Oh God,” I said aloud.

  “Hey,” Dana said sharply, peering into the rearview mirror at Milo and me. Quickly, I let go of Milo’s hand. “Let’s not have any backseat poor Dana powwows. Let’s just pretend that nothing’s changed, because it hasn’t. Lacey’s still dead. She’s dead. Got it? No more mind-talking or consoling or Kumbaya-ing. Conversation’s over.”

  “Okay,” I said quietly. Milo looked visibly uncomfortable, so I stared out the window, feeling worse than ever.

  “It’s going to be okay,” he whispered to me.

  And, sighing, I pretended with all of my might that I actually believed him.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  I must have been dreaming.

  It wasn’t the jewel-hued clouds swishing lazily across the horizon that gave it away, and it wasn’t the splash of yellow from the wildflowers as I all but floated through the field.

  My unconscious had somehow accepted this as a normal scenario.

  It was the fact that Milo and I were walking hand in hand through that aforementioned field—and the fact that for the first time in weeks I actually felt happy.

  So, yeah. I must have been dreaming.

  But my dream self didn’t seem to feel as though waking up was high on my list of priorities. In fact, I found myself pausing for a moment in the center of the field, watching as billows of magnificent clouds provided a glorious backdrop to Milo’s handsome face. And I found myself smiling.

  He smiled back and pulled me close to him. I could have sworn I heard violins swoon.

  Or maybe I’d tricked myself into believing there was music. Either way, my stomach was hovering in my throat, like I’d just soared down the highest hill of a roller coaster.

  And then, his lips brushed mine, and all I could smell…or feel…or…something…was vanilla and sunshine. And love. Unabashed and unapologetic love.

  This was no crush. This was the real deal, the Big One, the bona fide mondo emotion.

  But before I had a chance to laugh out loud at the lovely sensation of his impossibly soft lips against mine, I felt my heart skip another beat, and I looked around me. The field was gone. And Milo and I were horizontal.

  Horizontal…in a bed.

  And love was still coursing through the air like it had its own individual pulse, but something else was casting a spell that lingered as it blew through the lit candles and brushed against the red rose petals sprinkled across the bedsheets.

  It was desire.

  I wanted Milo bad.

  And then Sir Mix-A-Lot was blaring through Cal’s car speakers.

  Wait. Car speakers?

  I awoke with a start, gasping as I sat up in the backseat of Cal’s Audi.

  “Ho boy!” I yelled.

  From the other side of the car, Milo jumped in his seat, clearly just waking up too. He looked over at me, his mouth slightly parted, as if he were about to say something important.

  Calvin waved to both of us from the front seat. “’Sup, guys? Done with your nightmares?”

  I tucked my hair nervously behind my ears, willing my heart to slow down.

  Dana had pulled off the highway and was parking at a rest stop.

  “Nightmares?” Milo asked warily, shifting slightly in his seat.

  “Yeah,” Dana replied, grinning in the rearview mirror. “It’s been almost an hour. You two have been moaning and groaning the whole time. I wanted to wake you up, but Cal thought it was funny.”

  I looked at Milo. Milo looked at me.

  He’d been moaning and groaning. I’d been moaning and groaning.

  I’d dream-molested him.

  “Oh my God,” I said, and swung the door open before Dana had a chance to completely stop the car.

  “Wait!” she called, slamming on the brakes. But I didn’t stop. I booked it toward the ladies’ room, where I could be absolutely mortified by myself for at least a few minutes.

  Maybe I’d just move into this rest-stop restroom for the rest of my life.

  Yes. It was a good plan. I had running water and a selection of soft drinks and Cheez Doodles from the vending machine. It was an attractive alternative to actually coming out and facing Milo again, knowing that only a few moments ago I’d planted unbelievably erotic scenarios in his unconscious—against his will, to boot.

  Unfortunately, however, I still had to find Sasha. So my genius plan of becoming the official reclusive hermit of the Chipley, Florida rest area wouldn’t exactly work. I’d eventually need to bite the bullet and endure the walk of shame.

  Of sorts. Because it was, after all, a dream. Dream shame, however, felt much like real shame.

  Sighing, I went to the sink and splashed a good-sized amount of icy water onto my face.

  I didn’t want Milo, I didn’t want Milo, I didn’t…

  I was screwed. I so wanted Milo to be my boyfriend.

  Miserably, I tried to dry my face using one of those air blowers and finally gave up. I trudged out of the bathroom still slightly damp.

  Cal’s empty car was parked out front. I spotted Dana in line inside the convenience store. Calvin was probably still in the bathroom. And Milo was—

  “Skylar!”

  There he was. Of course. Waiting for me. His shirt was rumpled from sleep, and he’d already developed the slightest shadow of stubble on his jawline. On anyone else, it would’ve looked disheveled or messy. On Milo, it was…

  Sexy.

  I swallowed hard.

  “Hey.” He was clearly embarrassed, his cheeks tinged with red as he forced himself to meet my gaze. That only served to make him more attractive. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry…”

  I put a hand up. “Wait. Did you honestly just apologize?”

  Milo frowned and bit his lip, a look that only exaggerated his deeply set dimples. “I…well, I feel kinda terrible, you know, about the whole dream.”

  “Milo! Seriously? What is wrong with you?” I put my hands up to my face. I wanted to look like I was exasperated, but the movement was mainly to cover the blush that had begun to spread across my cheeks. Unlike Milo, when I blushed I looked like a tomato. “I can’t believe you’re apologizing for something I did. I’m the one violating you in my dreams. You’re the victim.”

  Milo laughed out loud at that. He raised an eyebrow. “Victim?” He
shook his head as he said the word.

  “Yeah! I mean, those are my dreams, and they’re completely inappropriate and…pathetic…and…”

  “It wasn’t pathetic,” Milo interjected. “And as for inappropriate, I was doing everything you were, so…you’re not any more inappropriate than me.”

  “But you…”

  “I’m pretty sure that dream was at least partly a product of my imagination. And, to be honest, Skylar? Even if it was all you, I really don’t mind.”

  My jaw dropped. I didn’t have time to respond, because Dana and Calvin were back outside and approaching us.

  Milo bit his lip again, inadvertently showing off those infamous dimples. I wished he would stop doing that. It wasn’t making me feel any better.

  Dana’s arms were filled with plastic bags of random goodies. She plopped a few of the bags onto Calvin’s lap before looking up and glaring first at me and then at Milo.

  “All right. What the hell’s up?”

  Milo smiled a little bit. Which pissed me off.

  “Seriously,” Dana continued. “You don’t need a Skylar-nose to detect the tension right now. What just happened? Spill.” She looked at us sternly.

  I thought, for just a moment, about any number of white lies I could tell. But then I looked over at Milo, who was still smiling, and I opened my mouth.

  “Okay. Okay, you wanna know what’s up?” I exclaimed wildly. I pointed a finger at Milo. “That’s what’s up. He’s what’s up. And he won’t stop smiling! Like this is funny or something. But it’s not funny! I’m just a…a…dream molester. And he won’t even let me feel bad about it because he keeps apologizing for something that I did wrong!”

  I gazed at Milo, my voice quavering. “And that’s why you’re so goddamn freaking wonderful! Because you do stuff like that! And I’m just the dream molester liar who said she doesn’t want a boyfriend, but I do want a boyfriend, and lying about it is the first terrible step on the slippery slope of full-on, unrepentant Greater-Than-power-induced sociopathic boyfriend-stealing behavior! And I will not do that! I will not become that!

  “But I already did. I already am a monster, because I already lied twice!” I continued. “I lied about Tom Diaz, and the truth is that he wasn’t half as cool as you are. And I’m sorry if I’m blowing your cover, but maybe you aren’t so cool if you think it’s okay to dream-cheat on Dana, but the thing is, I don’t even think you’re like that. You’re just way too nice, so stop being nice for a second and be unforgivably lame so that I can at least have a fighting chance to loathe you. Because that’s all I really want, Milo, just a chance to think you suck, but you won’t let me do that!

  “God! Just be annoying or gross or something besides absolutely amazing and wonderful and perfect and everything I’ve ever dreamed of—” I laughed out loud, and it sounded insane to my ears. “No pun intended—because otherwise I think I’m going to absolutely lose my shit if I haven’t done so already. Which, I think I’ve done already, right? I mean, this is me losing my shit. Shit. Lost. Gone.”

  I took a deep breath and looked around me at three extremely stunned faces. Milo was still smiling. In fact, he was damn near grinning his ass off.

  “Someone say something,” I begged.

  There was an extremely awkward and prolonged silence.

  “Who’s Tom Diaz?” Dana finally asked.

  Milo took a step forward. “Skylar,” he said quietly, even as I buried my face in my hands again. “I really don’t blame you for those dreams. In fact, I’m certain I was orchestrating at least a part of them. That room we were in a little while ago—with the candles and the…” He tactfully left out the rest.

  I nodded miserably.

  Cal giggled.

  “That was my apartment back in Santa Fe. You couldn’t have possibly known what it looked like. That was me. Not you.”

  I looked up. “But you and Dana are…” And something in Milo’s eyes made me stop. I glanced at Dana. “Dana said…” I stopped again and replayed that conversation we’d had at the Pizza Extravaganza in my head as I realized that Dana had never actually said the word boyfriend. She’d told me to back off, and that she and Milo had been together for years, but… “So okay, you didn’t say it, but you certainly implied that Milo was your boyfriend.”

  Milo’s smile disappeared as he turned to look at Dana as well. “Did you tell Skylar that?”

  “No.” She paused. “Well, kind of. I knew what she thought, and I didn’t correct her misconceptions. Was it really my fault if she misunderstood?” It was Dana’s turn to smile, just a little bit.

  Milo was as furious as I’d ever seen him. “Dana! What the hell?”

  “It was a test!” Dana replied defensively. She turned to me. “Congratulations, Bubble Gum, you passed. You are an honorable, loyal, and true friend.” She turned to Milo. “As far as your potential girlfriends go, I confess to being really picky, but…she’ll do.”

  Milo shook his head. “I don’t believe you did that. You knew how I felt!”

  “You’re welcome,” Dana said.

  “Wait!” I interjected as Calvin continued to giggle uncontrollably. “So…you and Milo aren’t…?”

  “Milo’s not my boyfriend, Sunshine. Never has been.”

  I looked at Milo, and he nodded. “Dana’s like a sister to me.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Wow.”

  “Wow just about says it all.” Dana took the opportunity to grab Cal’s shoulder. “Come on, Scoot. Let’s bring these bags of junk-food goodness back to the car.” The two of them moved briskly away.

  I turned to look again at Milo.

  “Skylar,” he said, smiling again. “You should know that I think you’re amazing and wonderful and perfect as well.”

  That roller-coaster feeling was back with a vengeance. “Really?” I managed, even though I could hardly breathe, never mind eke out a word.

  “Really,” he said. “And you gotta stop believing the crap you read on the Internet. Greater-Thans just don’t become sociopathic monsters. And even if there was the tiniest chance that you could? There’s no way you’d ever cross over to the dark side. It just wouldn’t happen.”

  I wanted to believe him.

  He must’ve seen my doubt, because he got serious. “I promise,” he said, “if I ever see you start to lean in that direction, I’ll warn you, and we’ll have plenty of time to figure out how to stop it from happening.”

  It was that we’ll that convinced me, and I managed to nod and even smile.

  Then, like something out of the most amazing and romantic movie in the world—French, I would bet it would be French, with subtitles—he reached for my hand. And then, gazing into my eyes, he kissed the top of it. And then, he turned it over and kissed my palm.

  Instantly, that same rush of vanilla and sunshine poured through every inch of me.

  There. Do you believe me?

  I looked at Milo as he let go of my hand, and then I smiled.

  “Yeah,” I said, reaching for his hand again. I didn’t want him to stop touching me.

  He intertwined our fingers, and we gazed into each other’s eyes for a moment. I couldn’t help it. I started to laugh.

  I trust you. And I did.

  I trust you too. His smile faded again. You really do believe that Sasha is still alive, don’t you?

  My gaze didn’t waver. “Yes,” I said out loud.

  “Well, let’s go find her, then,” he said.

  And, hand in hand, we walked back to the car.

  —

  Part of me wanted to fall back to sleep again, just so that I could experience at least one delicious Milo dream without any angst or guilt.

  But when Dana steered us back onto the highway, sleep was the last thing on my mind.

  “We’re officially in a different time zone,” Calvin announ
ced.

  Dana nodded gravely. “It’s a long-ass drive to Alabama.”

  “I wish we knew which part of Alabama we were heading toward. Are we there yet?” Cal asked, his voice tinged with intentional whininess.

  I closed my eyes, focusing on the ever-present mental tug. “We’re getting warmer,” I mumbled.

  When I opened my eyes again, I looked over at Milo, who was gazing at me.

  “Hi,” I said.

  “Hi,” he said back.

  We smiled at each other.

  From the front seat, Dana made a barfing noise.

  “Time zone!” Milo blurted abruptly.

  All three of us jumped at his declaration. “What?” I asked.

  “Time zone! Sky, don’t you get it? We’re an hour behind now.”

  Dana frowned into the rearview mirror. “And the significance of this is…”

  Milo leaned forward. “Skylar’s vision inside of that room, with the big ugly man and the computer… We all assumed the vision wasn’t in real time because the clock was wrong, but it was an hour behind.”

  “It was an hour behind,” I repeated, “because the clock and the computer and room—and Sasha—were in a different time zone.”

  “It was just after nine, our time,” Milo continued.

  “Which is just after eight, Central time,” I concluded.

  “Oh, snap,” Cal said.

  Dana shook her head, pessimistic as ever. “You’re reaching,” she said. But something about the look in her eyes as she glanced in the mirror made me think she wasn’t entirely sure we were wrong.

  Milo grabbed my hand. Immediately, a surge of energy worked its way through my bloodstream. Let’s work on what you saw.

  I locked eyes with him. Back in the pet store?

  Yeah. I know you can remember it. Shoot it back to me. Let’s review the images.

  I winced, unsure if I was comfortable forcing such ugly visions onto somebody I admittedly really, really liked.