The Dreamstalker

by Barbara Steiner

  “We’re twins, Captain.” She tried to relax in a chair near the fire. She felt as if she’d never be warm again.

  “Karen, I need to ask you some things I may have asked before. Why did you think someone came in through Gordon Anderson’s window?”

  “I told you that already. He always left his window cracked, no matter how cold it was. Everyone knew that.”

  “Karen, they didn’t. But you’re right: Mr. and Mrs. Anderson confirmed that he had a phobia about not getting enough fresh air. They had tried to convince him it was silly in the dead of winter, but even when they closed the window, he’d get up and open it before he went to sleep. They figure he did that the night he died.”

  “But he had an asthma attack anyway?”

  “It looks that way.”

  “Maybe he said he did that, and I remembered it. We talked about phobias once in our psychology class. That must be it. How could I know it otherwise?”

  “I don’t know. Don’t you think it’s kind of strange that you dreamed about all three of these people before they died?”

  “Of course I think it’s strange. I don’t understand it any more than you do. What are you saying, Captain Martin? That I had something to do with these people dying?”

  There was silence for a few seconds. “Karen, I don’t know you very well, but I don’t really think you’re capable of killing three people, two of whom were close to you. Do you?”

  Not without knowing it. She couldn’t do that, could she? The strangest feeling came over her. Could she be losing her mind in some way? Could she be doing things she didn’t know she was doing, didn’t remember doing? Was she really doing this and having her only memory of it in a dream? She rubbed her forehead and took a deep breath. Why? Why would she do this? No! No, she didn’t, she couldn’t. She knew she couldn’t have hurt Jesse or Alysia under any circumstances.

  “No!” Suddenly she was angry that he’d even think that. “No, I couldn’t have! How could you even think that?”

  “I have to think about everything, Karen. Sometimes people are sick. They do things they wouldn’t do under normal circumstances.”

  “I wouldn’t kill anyone—especially my friends—under any circumstances. Besides, the doctor says Alysia died of a heart attack. And Gordon choked because of his asthma. You’re trying to say that someone—me—killed them? That they were—were—”

  “Murdered, Karen. Say it. I don’t know how, I don’t know who, but I don’t think three deaths like this, so close together, are a coincidence. I think someone is responsible. How well do you know Dr. McArthur?”

  Karen gasped. That idea was almost as crazy as her being a murderer. But she calmed down and thought about it. Hadn’t she had the same idea earlier herself?

  “Not very well. He volunteered, or was hired, or something to teach our special class. We all agreed we were interested in psychology.”

  “The study of human behavior. How people react when friends are dying.”

  “He’d have to be crazy. He’s a bit strange—but Captain Martin, I can’t think he’s murdering his students. Can you? I can’t believe he’d kill us off one by one to see how we’d react. That would be like using us as human guinea pigs, laboratory animals.” Karen closed her eyes and pressed on her temples. This conversation was getting them nowhere.

  The police chief didn’t answer. She stared at the fire, snapping and crackling merrily. She had always enjoyed an open fire in winter. It made a room cozy, a house welcome during a storm. But there was nothing cozy or comforting about the discussion she was having with Captain Martin.

  “Dr. McArthur did know Alysia was afraid of sharks,” she said.

  “Someone had to have come in the house and dressed her that way. He or she must have had a key, or have been there already. No one broke in.”

  “Now you’re back to saying it was me.” How could she be so calm about that possibility? Because she didn’t believe it, that was why. She couldn’t believe it and stay sane. But maybe she wasn’t sane. That’s what Martin was saying.

  “Dr. McArthur could have known that Gordon was afraid of choking,” she continued. “That he left his window open. We filled out a questionnaire when the class first started. It had all sorts of things on it—favorite color, favorite pastime, fears we had, personal things. He said he wanted to get to know each of us really well. He made appointments to talk to people alone. Interview them, explore personalities. He said he was really interested in the adolescent mind. We told him we didn’t like to be called adolescents. We were past that. He said some of us might be, but others probably weren’t.”

  “Did you ever talk to him? Alone?”

  “Yes. I enjoyed it. He’s a very smart man. And I was thinking I might want to major in psychology in college. He was also fascinated by twins—twinship, he called it. He talked to me once about that, and he talked to Kerr alone, then both of us together.”

  “Would you talk to him again now? Make an appointment to talk about your dreams, pretend they’re bothering you?”

  “I don’t have to pretend, Captain Martin.”

  “All the better. And, Karen, if the connection, the common denominator, for these deaths is this class, you realize you might be in some danger, don’t you?”

  Karen hadn’t thought of it. It didn’t take her long to say, “I’d rather think I’m in danger from someone else than think I had something to do with Alysia’s and Jesse’s dying and don’t even know it. What do you want me to ask him?”

  “I don’t know. Talk to him and see what he says. Just see what you can find out. Use your intuition. Ask him—tell him I’ve suggested you could be doing this and not know about it. See what he says.”

  Karen remembered something. “Captain Martin, I lost it in class last week. Dr. McArthur said there are no bad dreams. That everything in a dream is a part of you, like a secret desire, I guess. I broke down and said maybe I had caused Jesse’s death by dreaming about it. Dr. McArthur tried to calm me down. He said I didn’t, that he knew I didn’t. He seemed so sure of it.”

  “Okay, that’s the sort of thing I want you to look for. Say anything that comes to your mind about all this. Get his reaction. Try to remember everything he says.”

  Karen watched Captain Martin leave. She didn’t know whether to feel better or worse. She was glad for someone to talk to, even if that someone had suggested that she might be psychotic. That she might be a murderer and not even know it.

  She was connected to all of this. She was sure of that. It was the only thing she was sure of. It gave her some comfort that she could help Captain Martin in his investigation, that there was something she could do. She’d go upstairs and call Dr. McArthur right away. She’d make an appointment to talk to him.

  Chapter 14

  As an experiment, I’d say this is paying off beautifully. In fact, there’s no doubt of my being able to kill whomever I please. I have never been so fascinated by anything in my life. And the power! I feel as if everyone around me is totally in my power.

  Alysia was so afraid. I like observing fear. It’s something I have lived with ever since I can remember, but seeing it in other people gives me a thrill. Especially when I know I have caused the fear. I’m in charge of handing it out. Here’s your allotment of fear for the day. If it scares you to death, all the better. I didn’t ever realize that people could actually be scared to death. I thought that was a cliche.

  I think I would like to see Karen afraid. She is so self-assured, so confident. How would she act if she were afraid, I mean, really afraid?

  I need to think about this some more. I need to decide what situation I could put her in where she would have fear.

  Dr. McArthur had said he had more time to see Karen that day after school than any other day. She told him she wasn’t coming to class but would meet him after school.

  “I always need some reinforcements after your class, Karen,” Dr. McArthur said, laughing. “Brilliant teenagers are quite a challen
ge. Holding this class was an experiment, but I hope it will continue. But then, next year’s seniors may want to study science or history and I’ll be out of the picture. I’ve grown accustomed to the English custom of tea. Why don’t you meet me at Ada’s Tearoom? On Main Street.”

  Karen was pleased he didn’t want to meet in the classroom. She wouldn’t have to go to school, to risk seeing any of her friends. And the tearoom was a public place. If she had anything to fear from Dr. McArthur, she wouldn’t be alone with him.

  “I’m sorry about Alysia, Karen,” he had said before he hung up. “I know you were best friends.”

  “Thank you, Dr. McArthur. See you at four.”

  They were a three-car family. Her mother drove an old Buick Skylark that had seen better days, but was still fairly reliable. Mom was watching TV when Karen went downstairs, dressed for going out.

  “Mom, may I borrow your car?”

  “Oh—my—I forgot you were here, Karen. What? Oh, sure, if you’ll get some groceries. I haven’t had time to go out today.” Her mother hadn’t wanted to go out. She was afraid to drive in the snow and ice. She had hardly been “out” since before Halloween.

  “Give me a list. And some money. I need a little extra for tea. I have an appointment with Dr. McArthur.”

  “You’re going to see a doctor? Aren’t you feeling well? You aren’t sick, are you?”

  “I’m not sick, Mom. This is one of my teachers.”

  “Oh. Well, get my purse.” Her mother reached for a scrap of paper and a pencil on the table beside her favorite chair and scribbled a grocery list, a long one. “And anything else you want.” She handed Karen fifty dollars. There was no lack of money at their house. Her husband had a good job. He gave them all some cash every payday.

  Karen arrived at the tearoom before Dr. McArthur. That was all right. It gave her a chance to think over what she wanted to say to him. What did she want to say? She’d just tell him everything she could think of.

  Ada’s was decorated with cutesy mountain forest pictures and knickknacks. The walls were covered with original paintings of deer and landscapes of the mountains. A collection of music boxes rested on shelves along one wall. Swiss and German Cuckoo clocks ticked on every wall. People ignored the decorations and the cutesy dirndls and white blouses Ada and the help wore. Ada made the best cakes and pastries in town.

  Hungry, Karen ordered strudel and coffee. She’d go ahead and eat so she could talk while Dr. McArthur had a snack. It surprised her that she didn’t feel the least bit nervous waiting for him. She knew it was because she couldn’t believe what Captain Martin had suggested, that he was responsible for anyone’s death.

  He hurried in ten minutes after the birds had popped out and cuckooed four times. “Sorry to keep you waiting. Several people wanted to talk. It seems they’re upset by this last death, even scared.” He opened the subject right up, guessing that it was what Karen wanted to talk about, too.

  “I know more than they do, Dr. McArthur.” She told him everything she had gone over, everything she knew, while he ate two cream puffs—why wasn’t he fat?—and drank two cups of tea. He was starting on a fresh pot when she stopped to catch her breath. He held his cup between both hands and stared at her.

  All the time she had talked, she had watched him for any reaction that might be a clue that he already knew all this. There was none. He just seem to pay really close attention.

  Finally he raised both eyebrows and spoke. “Pretty fascinating material. What do you make of it?”

  “Please don’t play psychiatrist with me, Dr. McArthur. How do you feel about that?” She mimicked the classic and cliched line. “I can’t make out anything. That’s why I called you. I hoped you’d see something I was missing. I think this policeman thinks I have something to do with everyone’s dying.”

  “Do you?”

  “Of course not. Would I murder two of my best friends? And could I do something like that without even knowing it?” She was trying to keep some emotional distance from all this in order to talk to him, but murder wasn’t a neutral word.

  “You don’t seem like that kind of person, but there again, murderers have no specific personalities, as people seem to think. They aren’t even always evil. They’re disturbed, or angry, or opportunistic. Most murders aren’t even planned.”

  Listen to us, talking about murder as if it were an everyday occurrence, as if it happened anyplace except on TV. “Dr. McArthur, remember that all three people died of natural causes. The only thing strange is the way Alysia and Gordon were dressed, and the fact that I dreamed about them before they died. Why did I do that?”

  He stared at her.

  “Please don’t say you don’t know.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Have you ever had feelings that everyone is against you?”

  What did this have to do with it? “No. Why do you ask that?”

  “Well, in each dream it seems that you have a crowd or a gang against one. A bunch of bullies gave Gordon some of his own medicine, but it proved fatal. All those football players—tigers dressed as football players—attacked Jesse. The symbol of the tiger came from the team’s name, of course. That’s easy. Then a pack of sharks attacked Alysia. Her friends, the killer whales, couldn’t help her. Jesse’s team couldn’t protect him. And Gordon—well, Gordon stood alone. I could guess that he always felt alone. Bullies aren’t known for making too many friends, unless they’re bullies, too. And Gordon didn’t have a gang, did he?”

  “No, he wasn’t much of a leader.”

  “You and Kerr are twins. You actually seem to be better adjusted, perhaps more social than he is. Tell me about you and Kerr.”

  Karen didn’t know what this had to do with the subject, but she told him a little about them, their childhood. “We’re trying to become individuals as we get older. I think I always have been, but I can see that I’ve made Kerr rather dependent on me.”

  “You’re the stronger?”

  “I don’t know if you could say stronger, but he seems to need me more than I need him. Does that sound egotistical? I mean I have more friends, good friends.” I did have. She swallowed the lump that formed in her throat at her realization that she had no close friends now, either. “Kerr still depends on me to be his friend. He doesn’t get along too well with people. And I guess I’ve always fought his battles for him and protected him when he needed protecting. And, to be honest, Mom and I have both spoiled him. I’m seeing that was wrong, but I’m not sure what to do about it.”

  Karen told about how Kerr was jealous of her some of the time. “I guess he’ll get over it as we get older.”

  “What are your parents like?”

  This seemed off the subject, too, but Karen answered him quickly. “Mom’s rather a weak person, and lately she seems tired and depressed a lot. She stays home alone most of the time. My father is never home. I don’t think he needs a family. He’s the classic workaholic. I’m guessing they might be headed for a divorce, except that neither has ever said anything like that to us. They never do anything together any more, and we never do things as a family.”

  “Hummmm.” Dr. McArthur made a church steeple with the fingers of both hands. He leaned his lips on his pointer fingers, and rocked back and forth, even though his chair was solidly resting on four legs.

  “Have you ever had any psychic experiences, Karen?”

  “No. I thought of that. No one suddenly becomes psychic, does she?”

  “Anything is possible. People usually push down the talent if it scares them, but it can surface any time. Do you ever remember a psychic experience?”

  “Not unless you count—no, that’s not psychic.”

  “What were you going to say?”

  “Kerr and I always used to know what the other was thinking. We often communicated without speaking. Isn’t that pretty normal for twins? Twins who are as close as us?”

  “You’d say you’re close to your brother?”

  “Of cours
e I am. He’s my brother, my twin brother.” That had always fascinated Karen. Two baby chicks, popping out to join the world at the same time. Even though she had been born fifteen minutes before Kerr.

  “I was born first. Kerr sometimes laughs and calls himself an afterthought.”

  “Kerr has a low self-image?”

  “Oh, I don’t think so. He has a very strong ego. He’s smart, and he knows it. He’s handsome, and he knows it. On and on ad nauseam. It’s hard to take sometimes.”

  “Does he resent being dependent on you?”

  “I didn’t mean he was actually dependent on me. It’s just that we’ve been so close, and I think it’s healthy for us to go our separate ways. I hope we go to different colleges, but I can’t tell Kerr what to do.” Karen let the waitress pour more coffee to warm hers, then sipped it. “What does all this have to do with my dreams and three people dying?”

  “I’m interested in twins. But something seems to be happening in your mind, Karen. I was trying to find out more about you.”

  “I’m creative. I have a pretty good imagination. Can—could I be—be taking all these things that are happening into my head and—and—”

  “Are you crazy?” Dr. McArthur laughed. “No, I don’t think you’re losing your mind, Karen. Frankly, I’m puzzled by all this. It’s rather fascinating, if you don’t mind my saying so. But I don’t know what to make of it. I’d like to think it over and talk to you again. Does that suit you?”

  “That’s all I can ask. I appreciate your taking the time to see me, to listen to this. It makes me feel better to talk to someone about it.”

  “Good. That’s usually the case.”

  “One more thing, Doctor.” Karen hadn’t known whether or not to bring up this idea, but it was bugging her. “I saw a movie where a guy went into people’s dreams and killed them. You don’t think that could actually happen, do you?”

  McArthur smiled. “I saw that movie, too. I enjoyed it, but it was pure fantasy, Karen. I’ll get your coffee.” He reached for the check.

  “Please, let me.” Karen beat him to the scrap of paper the waitress had left on the checkered tablecloth. “The price of tea and cakes isn’t equal to psychiatrist’s rates, but—” She laughed rather than finish the sentence.