See Me in Your Dreams

by Patricia Rosemoor

  Suddenly Weaver cried out. Keelin saw his head snap back and his body jerk. Tyler took the advantage, grabbing the man by his shirt front and heaving him into the windshield. A panicked Weaver scrambled over the glass and onto the hood of the prow. Tyler vaulted onto a seat and followed.

  Keelin held her breath as the men tightly circled one another around the confined space. Tyler found an opening. He clipped Weaver in the jaw, stunning and pummeling him until the younger man fell prostrate over the bobbing prow.

  Appearing ready to pass out himself, Tyler stumbled toward them.

  "Are you all right?" Keelin yelled worriedly, rushing between the seats to meet him.

  Tyler leaned forward, hands against the windshield, gasping for breath. "I'll survive."

  She reached up and touched his bruised and bloody face. "Foolish, foolish man."

  "I wasn't about to chance living without the woman I love," he said, the unexpected declaration thrilling her.

  "She may have to live without you!" came a raspy voice from behind him.

  Under a canopy of colored brilliance combined with smoke that shadowed the sky as far as the eye could see, the scenario played out in slow motion before Keelin's horrified eyes.

  Weaver was on his feet, hand raised and grasping something gleaming and sharp. His energy spent, Tyler obviously had to force himself to turn around to face the aggressor once more. He exposed his chest even as the man's arm began its downward arc.

  Suddenly Jack Weaver jerked and froze, a surprised grimace distorting his features. His chest bloomed dark against his lighter shirt. His fist opened and the weapon fell, clattering and slipping into the lake.

  And, like a felled tree, Weaver followed.

  Keelin didn't even hear the splash.

  Then her gaze flew to a dazed Helen, still pointing the gun straight where her lover had stood.

  "OUR FINAL REPORT IS AN UPDATE on the disappearance and recovery of North Bluff teenager Cheryl Leighton," Skelly McKenna told his television audience. "A fantastic story of greed and violence. A complex and far-reaching plot was allegedly hatched by businessman Nate Feldman, seen here as police arrested him early Sunday morning."

  Snugged in the crook of Tyler's arm at his home, Keelin watched The Whole Story with him, nervous about his reaction to her cousin's coverage. Skelly focused on Feldman himself, leaving out the exact details of Tyler's twelve-year monetary arrangement with Helen as well as Keelin's own paranormal connection with Cheryl. His discretion surprised and pleased her, though Keelin knew at least some of the details were bound to come out during Feldman's trial. Helen had already pleaded guilty to kidnapping and extortion, but also pleaded self-defense to her lover's death. Lake Michigan's waters still cradled Weaver's body.

  As far as anyone had been able to tell, Vivian and Brock had only been involved peripherally, and while in love with Brock, Pamela had remained professionally loyal both to Tyler and L&O Realty, so Skelly never even made reference to them.

  "In a bizarre twist," Skelly went on, "Feldman is also allegedly responsible for the unsecured porch railing that caused the death of Harry Smialek, the Wicker Park boy who died on an L&O Realty renovation site..."

  Tyler had already received apologies from the Smialeks and had learned that their lawsuit against L&O Realty had been instigated by one of Feldman's lawyers.

  To Keelin's relief, Cheryl was more resilient than she imagined. The girl hadn't invaded her dreams at all since the rescue. And, even now, Cheryl had insisted on being with her friends since everything was back to "normal." Keelin knew Tyler had made an appointment to take Cheryl to a family therapist, but instinct told her the teenager would fully recover.

  "At least this story has a happy ending," Skelly was saying, the visual a shot of Cheryl wrapped in a battered Tyler's arms.

  And for her a new beginning, Keelin thought, at last free of the guilt that had haunted her. She had finally put the ghost of Gavin Daley to rest.

  Skelly was on camera once more. "Tomorrow, a story on Lily Lang, The Blonde Bombshell, who, convicted of murder, escaped from prison thirty years ago this week."

  Tyler pointed the remote at the television and turned it off. "Maybe your cousin's not quite the sleazoid I accused him of being."

  Equally pleased, Keelin agreed, "I think there's hope for Skelly yet." He'd even asked for their blessing before doing the follow-up.

  "What about us? Is there hope for us?" Tyler asked, the question making her heart leap.

  Though they'd professed their love for each after their night terror had ended, the last two days had been divided up between the police and sleep, Cheryl's well-being and Keelin's family matters. While Uncle Raymond had greeted his long-lost niece with enthusiasm, Aileen had suggested she wait a bit before broaching the subject of the reunion.

  And, amidst all the chaos, she and Tyler had not gotten around to discussing them.

  We do come from different worlds," she reminded him.

  "But not different planets. I'm sure you've heard of jet travel."

  She frowned. "You would be happy with a long distance relationship?"

  "Certainly not." He kissed her nose and tightened his grip on her. "The closer the better. I meant we could be an international family with two homes if that would make you happy."

  Her pulse raced and familiar yearnings filled her, yet Keelin argued, "Then there are more personal differences."

  His eyebrows shot up. "You mean because you're a woman and I'm a man? I believe that's the way it's supposed to be."

  Not smiling at his attempted humor, she said, "I come from a Catholic country."

  He immediately grew serious. "I'm open-minded and flexible. Isn't it possible to work something out?"

  Before meeting Tyler, Keelin had never considered she might fall in love with someone outside of her country, no less someone outside of her faith. Her Aunt Rose had faced the same dilemma, and her determination to marry the man she loved had caused the initial rift between the McKenna triplets. But Keelin understood exactly how her aunt felt, for she was of the same mind. Tyler was a good man – for herself, she could find none better.

  "Two people who love each other can always find a solution," she said solemnly.

  "Like marriage?"

  She softened in his arms. "Are you asking me to marry you, Tyler Leighton?"

  "I am, Keelin McKenna. Cheryl has already given her approval."

  Keelin's heart soared and the differences were forgotten. "Then we must hurry. Make plans immediately–"

  "Whoa." Tyler laughed. "I believe the red tape might take more than a few days. And what about your family? Don't you want to give your parents and siblings enough time to get here?"

  Suddenly dreading what Da would have to say on the subject, not wanting to spoil the moment by discussing his possible wrath, Keelin murmured, "Tis nearly a month after my thirty-third birthday now. I cannot wait if I am to accept my grandmother's legacy."

  "And what legacy would that be? If it's money you're worried about–"

  "Money is the last thing Moira McKenna would have worried over for her nine grandchildren." She quoted, "'I leave you my love and more. Within thirty-three days after your thirty-third birthday – enough time to know what you are about – you will have in your grasp a legacy of which your dreams are made. Dreams are not always tangible things, but more often are born in the heart. Act selflessly in another's behalf, and my legacy shall be yours.'"

  "A lovely thought."

  "Moira was a lovely woman."

  "And has an even lovelier granddaughter."

  With that, Tyler kissed her so lovingly that Keelin realized that the dreams born in her own heart had already come true.

  Read an excerpt from Book 2 in The McKenna Legacy: TELL ME NO LIES

  Tell Me No Lies

  Prologue

  LILY LANG STARED OUT at the fog blanketing the river valley as the church clock below struck eleven. With a shrug of her shoulders, her dinner dress slithere
d down her full hips and puddled around her sling-backed high heels.

  A fog of unhappiness was choking the very breath from her.

  How had it come to this? Her life was in the dumper. Her divorce from Noah was to be finalized within the week. No matter how much she still loved him, she couldn't put it off any longer. His monstrous jealousy was too frightening. And news of the public fight she'd had with Frank earlier that evening was undoubtedly already spreading like wildfire.

  What else would she expect? The citizens of her home town had always been hypercritical of her, no matter how highly she was regarded by the rest of the country.

  Maybe she never should have left Hollywood.

  But if she'd never left, Claudia wouldn't have been born.

  Thinking about the pretty, shy daughter who – to her constant amazement – was a budding young woman, brought a bittersweet smile to her lips, anguish to her heart. Noah had threatened that unless she gave up on what he called her crazy divorce idea, he would seek sole custody of their only child. With his old family money and social position, no doubt he would succeed. He would name every man she'd ever been seen with during their several separations. And the courts would believe the worst of her, even as he did. Even as the town did.

  Once notorious, always notorious.

  Who was she to be a role model for an impressionable thirteen year old?

  Claudia's mother, that's who, Lily reminded herself.

  Tears slipped down her cheeks as she crossed to the dresser in the dark, finding her brush and stroking the long tresses for which she'd become known. Her nearly waist-length silver-blond hair was not only her vanity but had made her famous.

  Perhaps if it hadn't...

  Lily threw the brush down to the dresser. She needed a good cry. She deserved one. About to indulge herself, she went all wide-eyed instead when a sharp noise emanated from below.

  A gunshot?

  Heart pounding, she rushed to the bedroom door and threw it open even as a second shot rang out.

  Fingers curling into the hand-carved landing rail, her mouth too dry to call out, Lily looked down to the first floor. She could see nothing from where she stood. The staircase and foyer below were as dark as her bedroom had been. Only half-considering the advisability of facing someone with a loaded weapon dressed as she was in a satin slip, Lily tore down the stairs, her treacherous heels making her stumble as she neared the bottom.

  Catching hold of the banister to steady herself, she noted a light shone from beneath the pocket doors of the front parlor.

  Holding her breath, Lily crept forward and listened intently. Through the wooden panels, she could hear nothing but the tortured sound of choked sobs. With shaking hands, she slid open the double doors...

  ...unprepared for the horrific sight on the other side...

  Chapter One

  Chicago

  "THIRTY YEARS AGO TODAY, Lily Lang, better known as The Blonde Temptress to her fans, escaped the Dwight Correctional Center for Women."

  Rosalind Van Straaten paced before the television set. “Can you believe this atrocity?" she asked her father, who calmly sat watching from the cream-on-cream sofa in the day spa's office. “After all these years, someone had to go and dig up the old scandal."

  That someone being Skelly McKenna of The Whole Story, a televised tabloid news program. His office had contacted her, requesting an interview – one she had turned down in no uncertain terms – so at least she had been forewarned. She glared at the image of the too-good-looking, too-assured dark-haired man.

  "People don't care how old a story is," Rip Van Straaten said, “as long as it's juicy."

  "A pleasant if not great talent, Hollywood starlet Lily Lang earned her fame and nickname during World War II, when she became a poster girl for our boys overseas."

  The on-screen shot was the infamous black and white photograph of a stunning blonde reclining on a chaise, satin tap shorts and a sequined halter top hugging her lush curves. Her waist-length hair curled along the right side of her face and waterfalled over her shoulder. A mole at the left corner of her mouth punctuated full lips that were parted, as if in invitation to a kiss.

  "Amazing how very much you look like your grandmother," her father mused, irritating Rosalind further.

  "Sh-h!"

  "After the war, Lily returned to her home state of Illinois only to reveal that she had married Lieutenant Noah Lang in a secret ceremony before he was shipped off in 1943. Lily retired from movie stardom and with her Winnetka-based husband, founded a hair product and cosmetics empire – none other than Temptress."

  "I can't believe it!" Rosalind cried. “Not only is he dragging our family through the muck again, but his spotlighting the company is bound to ruin my day spa before it has a chance to get off the ground."

  "Don't complain. Free publicity."

  "Publicity's fine, Father. Notoriety's not."

  "While Temptress flourished, the Lang marriage did not," Skelly McKenna went on, his expression serious, as though he had a personal stake in the union. “After years of upheaval, the Langs first separated in 1959. Lily took their daughter Claudia, then nine, back to her home town of Galena."

  Rosalind clenched her jaw and only hoped no one had been distasteful enough to suggest her mother tune in. Claudia Van Straaten never talked about that time in her life, acted as if nothing untoward had ever happened.

  "Lily and Noah tried reconciling several times, but four years later in 1959, divorce was imminent on that fateful day when State Senator Frank Sullivan entered the Langs' Galena home for the last time."

  Rosalind stared at the photograph of the politician and his aide, a young man whose face was strikingly familiar. When the image dissolved to lurid shots of a bloody Sullivan sprawled across the parlor floor, she glanced away, unable to stomach the sight.

  "Frank Sullivan was shot to death just before midnight. Lily Lang herself called the authorities and confessed to the heinous murder of her latest lover."

  Her grandfather had told Rosalind that despite the confession, his Lily had been innocent. And she'd always done her best to believe him. Rosalind didn't want to have any doubts for his or her mother's sake. Or for her own, she had to admit. Even though she'd only heard from her grandmother a few time in her life – and that years before – she felt an inexplicable bond with the now elderly woman.

  "Her sentence...life imprisonment. Lily accepted her punishment without objection. But on the third anniversary of her incarceration, The Blonde Temptress staged a daring escape. Working in the laundry, she stole a black and white striped dress that belonged to one of the employees. She waited until dusk, at which time she went over the twelve-foot fence topped with barbed wire, changed into the dress and wrapped a scarf around her famous hair.

  "So disguised, The Blonde Temptress hitchhiked a ride, the then unsuspecting driver of the car taking her nearly one hundred miles south of the prison."

  Rosalind again focused on the so-called reporter, wondering if he derived real satisfaction from digging up muck that could still hurt several people she loved.

  What kind of a human being was this smooth-tongued devil who played word games with other peoples' lives for ratings and profits? A three decade old murder was entertainment, not hard news. Did he have a conscience – would he even care if he realized he might be re-opening old wounds? Why couldn't he have left them in peace?

  "The escape was executed thirty years ago, and to this day, Lily Lang has eluded authorities..."

  Rosalind took the satisfaction of zapping off the television on a close-up of Skelly McKenna's pretty face. “This could kill Grandfather," she said, her voice shaky.

  "Noah's a crusty old devil."

  "With a bad heart."

  "He'll survive."

  "And what about Mother?"

  "I'm certain whatever Claudia thinks, she will keep her opinion to herself."

  The change of inflection in his tone wounded Rosalind. An only child, she wanted to
be part of a real family, an impossible wish when her parents had slept in separate bedrooms, lived separate lives, for as long as she could remember. They were achingly polite to one another. They never argued, for heaven's sake. But they might as well be strangers.

  The only time Claudia Van Straaten seemed to remember she had a husband was when she accompanied him to obligatory business functions. Rosalind knew her father had seen other women from time to time, and, as much as she hated the very notion of infidelity, she could hardly blame him.

  She sank down into the chair behind her desk. “How to handle this?"

  "I'd advise you ignore the whole thing. If anyone brings it up, tell them it's ancient history, nothing to do with you. Say it with a smile. No one will hold this against you, sweetheart. Or against your pet project here. So cheer up and take me on that tour you promised."

  Rosalind knew her father was trying to distract her. A warm, supportive man, always quick to smile or laugh, he was the very opposite of her mother.

  Humoring him, she rose and crossed to the door, forcing a half-smile. “Sure. Let's start with the wet areas." She led the way, her pride in her accomplishment wiping away her distress for the moment.

  Taking her into the business the day after she'd earned her M.B.A., Rip Van Straaten had made Rosalind his personal assistant so she could quickly learn Temptress inside and out. The company gave them more than a comfortable living, but she'd soon realized her father was far better at employee relations than innovation. He hadn't made any significant changes in product lines or services since her grandfather had retired.

  Young and ambitious, Rosalind had decided the day spa was the very thing to move the company into the future. The new venture would give her a chance to expand Temptress, to build a niche that was uniquely hers. Her concept was to make pampering accessible even to women of moderate means. Services would range from hair and nail care to facials, various massage encounters to eucalyptus inhalation and water therapy. The beauty products used in the spa would of course be manufactured by Temptress.