Chapter 21 #2
My vision grew dark, and I felt like I was floating, drifting away as my soul left my body. A few moments later, when I could see again, I peered down at my body and saw a naked woman with bleached blond hair with pink streaks made darker with the blood that had pooled from my slit throat.
I turned away from my lifeless body only to see Chase and Merilee lying on the floor, Merilee straddling Chase, riding him as he gripped her hips, growling with animalistic pleasure as he drove her to dramatic release.
Then he rolled her over onto the blood slicked floor, and lifting her hips, slammed into her over and over as they both panted and cried out with primal abandon.
I gasped, bolting upright as I woke from the nightmare. Instinctively, I grasped my neck, expecting to find the gaping wound from my dream, then checked my forearms. When I found nothing, I collapsed onto my pillows, relief so powerful overwhelming me, I couldn’t move again for several minutes.
Finally, still weak but my heart no longer hammering, I rolled over and reached for my phone.
It was 7 a.m. I’d only been asleep for a few hours.
Henry would be awake soon, and I’d have to pretend that nothing was wrong, that I hadn’t dreamt of Chase and Merilee murdering a woman, having sex while they bathed in her blood.
My stomach rolled. I swallowed the bile rising in my throat. My fingers shaking, I tried to text Whit to tell him what I’d seen, but I deleted the message without sending it. This wasn’t something I should send over text.
There was a rustle of movement in Henry’s room, then the click of the light switch in the bathroom. The morning routine had begun whether I was ready or not.
“Mama!”
“Coming, baby!” I called, my mouth so dry I could barely croak out the words. I wiped the perspiration from my forehead with the back of my hand then closed my eyes, taking a few deep breaths, pulling myself together.
“Mama! I can’t reach my toothbrush!”
I forced a smile, ignoring the fact that my lips trembled, and got to my feet. “My goodness, Henry James, we are impatient today!”
I felt like a ghost as I went through the motions of the day, taking care of Henry, working at the bookstore, trying to make sure I avoided running into Chase or Merilee.
And the next day wasn’t much better, but since it was my day off, Henry and I stayed inside, playing with his action figures and doing puzzles.
“This is boring,” he complained. “Can’t I go play with Addie?”
“Not today, baby,” I told him as I swept away the last of the puzzle pieces, making sure not to lose any so Henry’s favorite puppy cartoon character was complete the next time we put it together. “I wanted just the two of us to hang out today.”
He heaved a disappointed sigh, his bottom lip protruding in a little pout. “Yes, ma’am.” But a knock on the door brought a sudden smile to his face. “I’ll get it!”
“No!” I yelled, sprinting after him. “Henry, stop!”
He halted abruptly, giving me a confused look.
“It’s okay,” I assured him, giving him a shaky smile. “You’re not in trouble. I just don’t want you opening the door. It could be a stranger.”
His frown deepened. “But it’s my daddy!”
Now it was my turn to frown. I peered through the peep hole in the door, tears ridiculously springing to my eyes. I swung open the door and threw my arms around Whit’s neck.
“Hey, you,” he murmured, holding me close.
Henry tugged my shirt. “Me too!” he insisted, bouncing.
Whit pulled back and scooped him up, giving him a squeeze. “Hi, buddy. I missed you guys.” It was then I noticed Whit looked tired, his clothes uncharacteristically rumpled, his eyes slightly bloodshot as if from lack of sleep.
“Are you okay?” I asked, pulling him inside.
He kissed me tenderly but briefly. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just had a long couple of days.”
“What were you working on?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Just liquidating some assets, tying up some loose ends. I’ll be finished sorting everything out soon. Then it’ll just be you, me, and Henry.”
Later that evening, after Henry had gone to bed, I told Whit about my dream. He just stared at me in silence, his expression impossible to read.
“Whit, I’m not crazy,” I insisted.
“I don’t think you’re crazy,” he assured me, drawing a hand down his face. “I’ll go talk to Chase, check out the carriage house.”
I watched from the same window as I had before as Whit crossed the courtyard. Chase opened the door, looking irritated and tired, but I didn’t see any evidence of the blood bath I’d dreamed about.
Although I couldn’t hear their conversation, there was a visible tension between them.
Whit glanced back at me, and then motioned Chase inside, closing the door behind them.
I chewed the side of my thumb, worried for Whit’s safety.
After what I’d seen in my dream, there was no way I would ever be able to look at Chase and Merilee the same way, let alone trust them around anyone I cared about.
I don’t know how long I stood there before I saw Whit leave the carriage house and cross the courtyard.
“Well?” I asked when he opened the apartment door.
He shook his head. “I didn’t see any evidence of a murder, Zellie. Chase said he and Merilee did bring someone home the other night for a little consensual fun. But she left early the next morning. I didn’t see any blood anywhere.”
I shook my head. “But…”
Whit gently took hold of my arms. “Baby, I can’t do anything else. If I called the police, they would find the same thing I did.”
“You don’t believe me,” I whispered, deflated.
“I do believe you,” he insisted. “Chase said he and Merilee saw you in the window but didn’t see the need to mention anything about it to you. And there’s no denying the dream you had. I just don’t know if there’s a connection.”
I gave him a pointed look. “Then what about my dreams of Susanna Dawes? Are those just products of my imagination?”
“I really don’t know, Zellie,” he snapped, then immediately held up his hands. “I’m sorry. I just don’t know how to help you on this one.” He sighed. “Could we talk more tomorrow? I’m tired and sore—”
“Sore?” I interrupted. “What happened?”
He stiffened, his defenses going up. “From all the traveling. I’ll be fine.”
“When are you going to stop doing that?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Doing what?”
“Withdrawing, closing yourself off when I hit too close to home?” My tone was harsh, betraying my frustration. “Closing yourself to what, I have no idea! But if you want to marry me, Whit, you have to let me in.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets, but said nothing, his jaw clenching as if he was silently working through frustrations of his own.
I sighed and shook my head, not knowing what else to say. “I’m going to bed. You’re welcome to stay. If you leave, please lock the door behind you.”
I was just slipping into bed when Whit appeared in my bedroom doorway. “Was that our first fight?”
I pursed my lips. “Not if you count the first couple of times I talked to you on the phone.”
He chuckled and came in, stripping out of his clothes until he was down to his undershirt and boxers, then crawled under the sheets and stretched out on the bed, pulling me into his arms.
“You had every right to be angry with me then,” he said, his voice soft. “I never should’ve allowed Briggs to talk to you without already having a solution in mind. It wasn’t fair. I’m so sorry that’s the first thing you remember about me.”
I curled into him and hugged him tightly but immediately pulled back when he winced. “Whit, that’s more than just being sore from traveling!”
“Zellie, it’s fine,” he sighed, the exhaustion in his tone belying his words.
Unconvinced, I sat up and lifted his shirt, gasping at the extensive bruising to his ribs. “Oh, my God! What the hell?”
He gently caught my hand and pulled his shirt back down. “Disagreement with a tenant. That’s all.”
“That’s all?” I cried. “Whit! Your ribs could be broken! Who did this to you?”
“It’s handled. And please don’t worry. I’ll be okay in the morning. Really.” He gave me a tired smile and caressed the curve of my jaw with his fingertips. “I just want to hold you while I get some rest. That’s all I need.”
I pressed my lips together, my heart aching at the sight of him in pain. But I nodded and then laid back down, letting him draw me into the curve of his body. Seconds later, his breathing became deep and steady, his exhaustion too heavy to fight any longer.
I woke to a small hand gripping my calf, urgently shaking my leg.
My eyes snapped open, startled by the sudden interruption to what had been a blissfully peaceful sleep.
I expected to see Henry standing there and felt a momentary flare of panic at the thought of him seeing Whit in my bed, but the panic was instantly supplanted by something far worse.
It wasn’t Henry.
A little boy stood beside the bed, his skin pale, translucent, his eyes wide with fear.
David.
He shook my leg again and glanced toward the bedroom door as if expecting someone—or something—to burst through it.
David darted toward the door, pausing to look over his shoulder at me and motion urgently for me to follow. My maternal instincts roared to life. I threw off my covers and hurried after him.
“David!” I called, catching a glimpse of him passing straight through the apartment door. “Wait!”
I yanked open the door and chased after him, not bothering to close the door behind me.
He disappeared down the stairwell, glancing back once to make sure I was still following.
I hurried after him, only vaguely noting each floor we passed until the stairs ended abruptly, and I realized I was in the basement.
Panting, I stood at the base of the stairs, glancing around frantically for the little boy. The lights came on in succession down the hallway, something tripping the motion sensors as it passed.
A ripple of icy fear rushed through me. I swallowed hard, hesitating.