“You’re joking, right?”
Leah walked away without answering. She found her phone at the bottom of her purse. There were three messages. The first one had come in at 6:30 that morning.
“Damn it…uh, sorry, this is Vincent. Something happened last night. Boden called…at least I think so…and I had The Dream again. Daniel…my brother…” He sighed. “It’s complicated. I just need to talk to you, Leah. I think something really bad is happening to me. I…I…”
The next message was from an hour later, and Vincent’s speech was more than a little slurred.
“It’s Vincent again. Daniel is causing The Dream. I’m sure of it. He’s Locke, and the little fuck pretended to be Clementine too…today of all days.” After several seconds of silence, he continued. “I’m going to stop him. I just wanted to say I’m sorry for what happened with Bella yesterday. I should have told you about kissing her cousin, but I didn’t sleep with her. You gotta believe me. Anyway, I’m sorry I got you mixed up in this shit. You don’t deserve it. Thanks for everything.”
Leah, still keeping an eye on the reporter’s dramatic newscast on the television, couldn’t bring herself to listen to the message again. It sounded too much like a final confession.
Vincent, what have you done?
“What’s going on, Leah? You look like you’re going to puke.” Bekah stood up and put a hand on her shoulder. She looked scared.
Leah was scared.
Before Leah could say anything, her phone dutifully asked if she wanted to hear the next message. She took a deep breath and pressed the button.
“Dr. Chedid, Vincent Cruz has been arrested. It is imperative that he does not tell the police anything…complicated. Do whatever is necessary to get him out of jail. Post his bail. I will be in touch shortly.”
Even without the pauses, Leah had no trouble identifying the grave, commanding voice.
“Leah, what is it?” Bekah asked. “Who was that?”
Leah slowly brought the phone away from her ear and mumbled, “Boden.”
Chapter 25
The deep creases in Bekah’s forehead, combined with her worried frown, only intensified her resemblance to their mother.
“Who is Boden?” she asked.
Leah flicked through the menus on her phone, calling up the recent call list, and was unsurprised to discover that Boden’s call had come from a restricted number. She cursed.
“Leah?”
“I don’t know who Boden is. It’s a long story,” Leah replied, dropping her phone back in her purse. “But it looks like I’ll have to take a rain check on breakfast.”
She started to walk away, but Bekah wouldn’t relinquish her hold on her shoulder. “Where are you going?”
“To see Vincent.”
“The guy who tried to kill his brother?” Bekah asked. “Are you serious?”
Leah nodded distractedly. “I…I don’t know what’s going on, but I can’t believe Vincent would do something like that. I’m going to the police station.”
“Then I’m going with you,” Bekah insisted.
“No way,” Leah said. “Look, I’ll explain everything later, Bek, but right now a friend of mine is in trouble, and I have to help him.”
Bekah tightened her grip and she pulled Leah into a hug. “Just be careful, OK? I’ll be here when you get back.”
Good thing it’s Bekah. I never could have talked Zaina out of tagging along.
Leah took the fastest shower of her life, threw on an outfit that adhered uncomfortably to her damp skin, and gave her sister a fake but hopefully reassuring smile on her way to the door. She ran to her car, her teeth chattering.
As the neighborhoods whizzed past her window, the first few drops of rain streaked across the windshield. Her hands squeezed the steering wheel. Her mind raced. She wondered if she could trust Boden. She wondered if she could trust Vincent. But of the many questions spiraling around in her mind, one surfaced over and over again:
What the hell am I doing?
Maybe it was the mystery of it all that had her speeding toward downtown Milwaukee. Vincent’s unidentified sleep disorder, his motive for attacking his comatose brother, Boden’s identity, and his interest in Vincent—there was no shortage of unknowns. She told herself it was human nature to be curious. And Vincent was a patient, after all.
Bullshit.
Leah rubbed the back of her neck, combing her fingers through the wet strands of hair. Vincent wasn’t just a patient or lab rat. And he was more than her old friend’s estranged husband. Despite the fact that he tended to treat people like crap, he was her friend, and she wanted to help him.
But I don’t love him.
She supposed Vincent fit the profile for her collection of recent ex-boyfriends. After her three-year relationship with Aldrich had fizzled out a week after earning their doctorates, none of her subsequent love interests had been more than diversions, exciting deviations from a dull daily routine. In the end, the guys always turned out to be losers whose lives were going nowhere.
Is that was this is about…just another distraction?
Leah exited the freeway and took the most direct path to where she thought the jail was. She had a vague recollection of going there for a field trip back in grade school, but she suspected it was a hand-me-down memory, an impression her mind fashioned after hearing one of her sisters talk about it so many times.
After two wrong turns, she found it—a strikingly plain structure, especially when compared to the massive and many-pillared courthouse next door. As she approached the police station, her heart started to pound. She thought the building would have made for an intimidating locale for young students.
Then again, Leah’s favorite field trip memory involved a visit to the Milwaukee Public Museum, particularly when the day culminated with a stop at the gift shop, where she traded the guts of her piggy bank for old-timey treats. Pulling open the station’s heavy door, she doubted anything so sweet was waiting at the end of today’s adventure.
She was directed to County Lockup, second floor, where she had to pass through a metal detector. An unsmiling woman in uniform sat behind the reception desk. Age-wise, she could have been anywhere between a rough forty and a lucky sixty.
“Yes?” the woman asked without looking up.
An inhuman sound escaped from Leah’s lips. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I’m here to see Vincent Cruz. He was…um…brought here earlier this morning.”
The officer didn’t say anything for a few minutes, keeping her eyes fixed on a monitor Leah couldn’t see. Meanwhile, her fingers stabbed persistently at the keyboard. Leah was about to repeat herself when the woman asked, “Are you a family member?”
“No, I’m his…” She almost said “friend” but finished with “…doctor.”
The woman looked up, arching a narrow eyebrow. “Psychiatrist?”
“No, I’m a sleep specialist.”
The officer’s eyes shifted back to the computer screen, her fingers dancing an encore performance on the keyboard. “Have a seat. It might be a while, honey.”
Leah turned and saw that one corner of the room was lined with the kind of plastic-capped seats usually reserved for bus terminals. Two women sitting next to each other were staring at her.
Smiling self-consciously, Leah sat down, leaving two empty chairs as a buffer between her and the nearest lady, who continued to watch her. There weren’t any magazines, so she took out her phone.
I should text Bekah…but what would I say?
“Excuse me.”
Leah looked up. The nearest woman, whose hair was too light to be a brunette but barely qualified as a blonde, gave her a ghost of a smile. Pink, puffy skin ringed her eyes.
“Forgive me for being nosey,” the woman continued, “but did I hear you ask to see Vincent Cruz?”
Leah nodded warily. “I’m his doctor…and a friend. I specialize in sleep medicine.”
An unidentified emotion rippled through the
woman’s expression. “You must be Leah.”
Leah’s heart lurched.
Did Boden send her?
The woman must have interpreted Leah’s silence as an admission because she said, “Bella told me about running into you at Vincent’s apartment. I’m Eve, Vincent’s mother.”
The complete absence of a family resemblance was astonishing. Leah might not have believed her, except she couldn’t think of a reason why the woman would lie.
“Nice to meet you.” Leah considered reaching awkwardly across the vacant seats to shake her hand. Eve didn’t look like she was going to attempt the same, so Leah kept her hands on her lap.
Eve glanced at the woman seated beside her. “This is Suzanne Fortune. She works at the hospital where Daniel, my other son, stays.”
Suzanne smiled politely and said, “Hello.”
She looked to be slightly younger than Eve, in her early forties perhaps. Her long blond hair could have used some attention, but Leah knew she was the last person to criticize a hairstyle.
Looking at nothing particular on a far wall, Leah said, “I caught the end of a news report, but I don’t really understand what happened…”
Eve scoffed. “No one seems to know. The only eye-witness…other than Vincent…ran off.”
“Levi Nathan, a nurse at the hospital, was the one who said he saw Vincent trying to kill Daniel, but no one knows where he is now,” Suzanne clarified.
“It has to be a big misunderstanding,” Eve said, preempting the very sentiment on the tip of Leah’s tongue. “Vincent is not a murderer. What possible reason would he have to harm his brother?”
Leah thought back to the second message Vincent had left on her voicemail. She didn’t know why Vincent would blame Daniel for The Dream, but since she couldn’t mention anything about Vincent’s condition, she simply shrugged.
“Was Vincent having trouble sleeping?” Eve asked.
Knowing the question was coming didn’t make it any easier for Leah to reply. “I’m sorry, Eve, but I’m not at liberty to discuss anything pertaining to the health of one of my patients.”
“Are you sleeping with him?”
Leah nearly fell out of her chair.
“Eve!” Suzanne admonished at the same time Leah gave an emphatic “No!”
Rubbing her eyes, Eve said, “I’m sorry. That wasn’t a very Christian thing to say. It’s just that I love Bella, who is still my daughter-in-law, and she seems to think you’re the other woman.”
Eve’s eyes locked onto Leah’s again. “And I suppose I’m jealous of you too, because you know more about what’s going with Vincent than I do.”
Leah scratched the back of her neck. Summoning her most professional tone, she said, “I suppose the only thing we can do is sit tight and wait for more information.”
Eve leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms. Leah fidgeted with her phone, pretending to do something very important.
***
The small interrogation room reminded Vincent of the jail cell he had shared with Destiny. But the yellowish-white cinderblocks and oversized mirror would have been out of place in Valenthor’s world. Up until recently, they would have been out of place in his life too.
Vincent was pretty sure he wasn’t dreaming anymore. His hangover felt too real.
“Why did you go to the hospital today, Vincent?” The stiff-jawed detective bore a slight resemblance to Sir Angus. Vincent half expected the man to call him Valenthor.
For a fraction of a second, Vincent considered spilling his guts about The Dream. Everything had seemed to make sense on the cab ride to hospital. If Daniel really did go into their mother’s dream in the guise of an angel and if he were orchestrating The Dream, then he deserved to die. And even if everything that had happened last night was only in Vincent’s head, that meant Daniel was just a vegetable, after all. No harm in putting him out of his misery.
In retrospect, the logic seemed less than rock solid.
“You haven’t seen your brother since spring. Why visit him today?” the detective asked.
If Destiny was here, she could use her magic to tear the wall down.
“As drunk as you were, you couldn’t think of a livelier place to party than with a man in a coma?” The detective laughed. “Ever hear of a strip club, buddy?”
“I think I prefer Sir Angus,” Vincent muttered.
“What was that?”
Vincent coughed. “Can I get some water?”
The detective leaned back and crossed his arms. “Feeling a bit dehydrated? Yeah, you can have some water. But how about walking me through your morning first?”
Vincent shifted his weight, trying to get comfortable in the medieval torture device posing as a chair. “It’s like you said. I was blitzed. I don’t know why I went to see Daniel. Must have been feeling sentimental and missed my little brother.”
The detective grunted. “Interesting theory. Except your mother said that, by your figuring, Daniel Pierce has been dead since the day he went into that coma. I guess you were paying your respects, huh?”
Vincent couldn’t hide his surprise.
“Oh yes, I had a nice, long chat with your mom.” The detective smiled smugly. “You two never saw eye to eye on keeping Daniel hooked up to machines. Personally, I’m with you, Vincent. Your brother was a bona fide screw-up. He certainly doesn’t deserve all of those visits from your mother or the charity from her church, which keeps him breathing…his heart pumping.”
Top-notch care for his body while his mind roams freely…
The detective scooted his chair forward, scraping it against the cold floor and producing a sound like a dying animal. “A lot of guys around here wouldn’t blame you for trying to kill him. Pierce is a drug dealer, and he’s a killer…twice over, by my count.”
When the detective didn’t elaborate, Vincent asked, “What do you mean by that?”
The man lowered his voice. “The partner of the officer your brother shot…he blew his brains out a week after the botched drug bust. He must have felt terrible about not being able to save his partner. I saw him the day before he pulled the trigger. He looked like he hadn’t slept since it happened.” The detective leaned across the table. “That didn’t make the Journal’s front page.”
The temperature in the room plummeted.
If Daniel can mess with people’s dreams, what would stop him from haunting the man who shot him?
Something shifted menacingly in Vincent’s guts. “Can I have that water now?”
The detective didn’t blink. “Do you own a red Swiss Army knife?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you bring it with you to the hospital this morning?”
“I don’t know. I might have.”
“What happened when you walked into Daniel Pierce’s room?”
I chickened out. Even with half a bottle of whiskey in me and certain he was laughing at me while tormenting me with visions of Clementine, I couldn’t kill him. I must have passed out with the knife in my hand.
“Do you remember being attacked?” the detective asked.
Vincent sat up straighter. “Attacked?” What he saw with his mind’s eye was more like an impression than a memory. “Now that you mention it, I think someone did come up from behind me. I remember struggling against someone who was very strong…struggling for air.”
“Do you remember seeing a male nurse on your way into see your brother?”
Vincent started to shake his head. Then the image of a big man in white popped into his head. “I don’t know…maybe?”
The detective laughed mirthlessly. “Let me see if I got this straight. You don’t know why you went to see your brother because you were shit-faced. A nurse attacks you for no reason and tells the lady at the front desk you tried to kill a man in a coma.”
“I guess so.”
The detective’s eyes hardened. “If that’s true, you’re one unlucky son of a bitch, Vincent.” He stood up suddenly, causing the metal chair le
gs to screech against the floor again.
Vincent flinched in spite of himself. When the detective walked toward the room’s only exit, he asked, “Where are you going?”
Without turning around, the detective replied, “You wanted some water, remember?”
The door slammed, echoing throughout the small room and inside Vincent’s head. He ran a hand through his sweat-slicked hair. He felt a gnawing at his insides as he waited for the man to return. There was no clock in the room. Every minute was a piece of eternity.
He had been in trouble with the law twice before—once when he had had to answer those horrible questions the day Clementine died and then his DUI—but he couldn’t even bring himself to worry about the detective, the legal system, or anything as mundane as rotting in jail.
Every yawn evoked a fresh wave of panic. Whatever happened to him in the real world could not compare to the deviant delights his half-brother could cook up. Daniel hadn’t made another appearance after hitting him in the head with the staff. Then again, Vincent couldn’t remember dreaming at all after that.
Next time, I probably won’t be so lucky. Will he know what I tried to do to him?
Alone in the small room, Vincent could have sworn he heard Locke’s scoff.
Chapter 26
The doorknob turned, and Vincent leaned forward expectantly, surprised at how eager he was to see the detective again.
His drowsiness had escalated into full-blown exhaustion during the eon of solitude. Whatever the detective had planned for the next phase of the interrogation, it was bound to do a better job of keeping Vincent awake than sitting alone in the quiet, empty room.
The detective set a small paper cup on the table in front of Vincent. “You have some visitors. I’ll be right outside.”
he detective opened the door, and Evangeline and another woman entered the room. His mother took the empty seat across from him at the table. Her companion, an unremarkable woman who nonetheless brought the word “frumpy” to mind, remained standing near the door. The detective left.
Vincent had only a moment to puzzle over the stranger’s presence before his mother lunged forward, snatched up his hands, and started to cry. She asked if he was OK, and he nodded, not knowing what else he could or should say.
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