Murder In Her Dreams Page 3

“I’ve already picked the matron of honor and two bridesmaids so you need two ushers besides the best man.”

  “I suppose I could ask Jim Mears and Bert Hanson to act as ushers. I’ll have to think about the best man.”

  “Just don’t think too long.”

  The waiter brought their food, and they ate in silence

  As they rose to leave, Ian noticed the young couple still absorbed in one another and still holding hands. He doubted either of them would be plagued by the doubts and uncertainties that haunted him. With such a beautiful and suitable fiancée as Sharon, he should be jubilant, not glum. He sighed and followed her toward the exit.

  Sharon lived in one of those instant executive slums, an expensive, but rapidly constructed apartment complex, just off congested Tuttle Road. New ones cropped up almost overnight as Dublin and Hilliard vied for the title of fastest growing suburban community in Northwest Columbus. The new clients brought by the rapid growth tempered Ian’s annoyance with the traffic. He needed them to keep his business successful.

  Sharon had a corner unit. Dark green shutters against beige stucco walls framed the windows on either side of the front door. Ian parked in front and walked her to the door.

  “How about a cup of coffee,” she asked as she unlocked the door.

  “What? No, I’ve got to be at the office early tomorrow.” Still bothered by the thought of an early wedding, he dreaded the thought of giving Sharon any opportunity to question him.

  “So do I.” She sighed.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow.” He gave her a quick kiss and a hug and then walked back to his car.

  The scent of her musky perfume lingered and intensified his unease and guilt. Sharon had so much to offer the right man. Could he make this marriage work for them both?

  Ian took the most direct route home along the Scioto River. He lived in Upper Arlington, southeast of Dublin between the Scioto and the Olentangy Rivers. Tall trees bordered the riverside of the road and offered only occasional glimpses of the dark water of the river. No street lights broke the empty blackness. Only the glow of his headlights and those of the few oncoming cars illuminated the road. Most of the homes stood well up the hills lining the far side of the road.

  As he drove, he thought about Sharon. They had met at a Chamber of Commerce meeting and had dated off and on for several years. Competent and friendly, Sharon had impressed him. The public relations director for Star Bank, she managed her job and a heavy schedule of activities. Few things seemed to ruffle her. She handled petty details well. She was calm, organized, and always in control. Ian saw her as an ideal helpmate for a busy accountant.

  Two years ago, she had come to him for help with her taxes just after her divorce. The divorce had become final at the beginning of January the year before so there were no messy problems of joint filings or expenses to sort out. She seldom spoke of her ex-husband and had never discussed him in any depth with Ian. Unlike other divorced women he knew, Sharon never expressed bitterness about her ex or toward men generally. He liked her and just assumed her ex-husband had been a jerk. It still amazed Ian that she had accepted him.

  Most of their early dates had been at her initiative. She first asked him to escort her to a Women in Communications banquet and on several later occasions when she needed an escort. Eventually, Ian asked her to dinner and to a concert. When he thought about the future, it only seemed natural to include Sharon.

  However, this matter of choosing a best man bothered him. It made him realize how isolated he had become, not that he had ever had many friends. He had spent more time on his car than with girls in high school, and his few friends had had similar interests. After high school, he had just lost touch with those friends. In college, with his studies and his part-time job, he had no time for a social life.

  He supposed he could ask his brother David. They weren’t close and hadn’t seen much of each other for the last five years since David had gone away to college at Stanford. He had a job working for a software company in Santa Clara. Ian could never remember which one. Unless he could think of someone he had forgotten, he would have to rely on David.

  Suddenly a patch of darkness, deeper than the night, darted in front of the car. Instinctively, Ian hit the brakes.

  The tires screeched as they fought to grip the road. The car lurched sideways and came to a rocking halt with the car facing the side of the road. The acrid smell of burning rubber came through the partially open window and overlaid the smell of damp vegetation.

  In the glare of the headlights, two amber eyes glowed and a pair of long ears twitched. Ian stared at the creature in front of the car, and a black rabbit stared back, mesmerized by the bright lights. Blasted rabbit.

  Then it turned tail and ran into the underbrush. Ian’s heart beat wildly. He inhaled slowly, trying to regain control. A black rabbit? He had never seen a wild black rabbit before, just the brown cottontails. Maybe it was an escaped pet.

  That thought made him doubly glad he hadn’t hit it, but another driver might not see it or the dogs or wild cats would find it. At least he hadn’t killed or maimed it. He had no desire to end the life of one miserable rabbit by squashing it with his car.

  Ian started the car forward. With no traffic, no one had been behind him, so no one had hit him. The rabbit’s blurred motion across the road had caused him to brake automatically, but he cursed himself for being so stupid. One rabbit more or less wouldn’t make much difference, but an accident would. He could have smashed up his car. Ian cursed again.

  Somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to kill or injure anything— rabbits, stray dogs, or even spiders. Life was much too precious.

  He grinned. At least this rabbit could look forward to another day. He hoped it had a home.

  The grin faded. He still faced the problem of finding a best man. Sharon had surprised him by wanting to get married so soon. When he asked her to marry him, marriage had been a nebulous future thing. Now it bore down on him just as his gray Accord had sped toward the hapless rabbit.

  He hoped it felt less confused and uncertain than he did.

  Chapter Three

  The more Cassie thought about the man of her dream, the more apt Tula’s comments on her anemic social life appeared. She had avoided men after the break up with Rod Malvern more than a year ago.

  She and Rod had begun well enough. The unaccustomed attention of a handsome and charming man flattered her. He persisted until she finally agreed to go out with him, and after that, they became an item until Cassie dreamed about Ellie Latham.

  Rod laughed about the dreams when she first told him. He said they came from the newscasts and newspaper stories. Obviously, she let such things too easily influence her. However, the memory of those dreams still frightened her.

  The first dream began with vivid but innocent night images. She remembered seeing scattered clouds float past the bright disc of the full moon, a big, yellow harvest moon. The crisp air smelled of burnt leaves.

  Cassie stood on a rutted dirt road alongside the cornfield. At one end of the field, a tall microwave tower soared skyward. A light at its top flashed on, off, on to warn low flying aircraft. The bright moonlight glowed against a low-lying fog that shrouded the ground.

  The bucolic scene held no obvious danger, but unreasoning fear gripped Cassie and twisted her insides into a tight knot. The moon turned a hard, brilliant white. Cold light etched the long rows of dried cornstalk, sentinels against the obsidian sky. A strong wind blew through the empty field. The dried stalks rattled and clashed like old bones.

  Cassie wanted to walk forward, but something held her back. She struggled to move ahead, but her feet refused to obey.

  A terrible thing waited for her. It hungered for her.

  * * * *

  Cassie woke in a cold sweat. Beside her, Rod slept undisturbed. She shivered and pulled the covers up to her chin. She stared into the blackness, unable to sleep. She wanted to know, yet feared to discover, what lay among the withered stal
ks. Sleep eluded her, but so did dreams. Near dawn, she dropped back into a restless sleep.

  With the morning light, the dream and its sense of hovering doom faded. Cassie dismissed it as just anxiety. She said nothing about her dream to Rod.

  * * * *

  As an Assistant Children’s Librarian at the Upper Arlington Public Library, she worked hard to interest the younger children in books and reading. She had a presentation to make at the end of the week to her boss on the activities program for the next two months. She had spent a lot of time developing a theme, selecting stories, and identifying resource people.

  She had chosen fir trees as the symbol of life amid winter’s landscape. Mary Kendall, the third grade Tremont Science teacher, and her class were growing seedlings and planned to bring them for a show and tell session in the library. Nancy Grayson, a storyteller, had promised stories using several myths centered on trees, while Sandra Mason would give arts and craft lessons with pinecones and needles. The climax of the program would be a modified scavenger book hunt through the Children’s Section of the library using various tree-related clues. The theme also tied in nicely with the Christmas season and Christmas trees.

  Between stints on the Reference Desk, Cassie spent the day polishing her report and then making copies for the review committee. As the newest member of staff, she wanted the other librarians to approve her ideas for teaching and entertaining the children and also gain the parents’ support for the library’s programs. Centered in a well-to-do community, the library enjoyed broad support, but, with the city’s budget crunch, it too had experienced cuts.

  At the end of a busy day, she headed home to supper. Rod came by and they watched West Wing together, the local news, and then David Letterman.

  Tired after a long day, neither Cassie nor Rod gave their lovemaking more than a token effort. When he finished, she fell into an exhausted slumber.

  * * * *

  She stood on the dirt road next to the shadowed cornfield. Again, the acrid smell of burnt leaves assailed her nostrils. She tried to move forward, but like a swimmer in molasses, she struggled against the viscous air. The ground’s haze formed a thin white scarf between the rows of dried stalks, parting to reveal the ground and then hiding it. At last, she succeeded in moving forward, but she almost tripped as her foot encountered something soft.

  When she looked at her feet, a puddled, dark pile tangled around her shoes. Fear made her heart race. Ice encased her numb fingers.

  With reluctance and infinite care, she stretched out her hand. Something soft and woolly lay there. She lifted it. Drops of dew wet her fingers.

  Cassie raised the item to see it better. Bright moonlight shone on a blood red cardigan. Shock and horror touched her core. Her nerveless fingers released the sweater. The garment fell to the ground.

  A scream rent the air.

  * * * *

  “Cassie, Cassie? Are you all right?”

  She opened her eyes to see Rod leaning over her with startled hazel eyes. No cornfield, no bright moonlight. She lay in her own bed.

  Sitting up, Cassie rubbed sleep-crusted eyes. “I was in a cornfield...” She chafed her arms, trying to warm herself.

  “You screamed.”

  “It was the sweater.” She shivered and tried to shake off the horror.

  “A sweater?” He frowned, his eyes shadowed pits. “What?”

  “I think ... I think it belongs to Ellie Latham. Something has happened to her, something bad.” Cassie stared down at her hands. “I think she’s dead.”

  Rod raised his eyebrows and snorted. “Too much late night news. You’re too suggestible. They reported the kidnapping on the news, and you have nightmares. Stop imagining things.”

  Cassie shook her head. “No, it’s a message. I’m supposed to do something about it. Stop it in some way.” Her fingertips tingled, still sensing the softness of the red sweater. A shudder shook her.

  Rod scowled and glanced over at the bedside clock. “It’s four a.m., Cassie. The kid’s been missing for more than twenty-four hours. The odds are whoever took her has already done whatever they planned to do. She’s probably dead, and you can’t do anything about it. A lot of these kidnappings are never solved or not until years later, so let it go.” Rod’s closed face and hunched shoulders underscored his annoyed disbelief.

  She couldn’t let go. “Rod, I’m sure the dream is telling me something.”

  “Like what?”

  “Maybe where she’s being held.”

  Rod rolled his eyes. “Yeah, in a cornfield. Do you know how many cornfields there are in central Ohio, let alone in the entire state?”

  “I know, but this one had a tall tower near it.” She screwed her face up in a frown trying to see again the cornfield and its surroundings. “A microwave tower, I think.”

  “That narrows it down a lot.” The sarcasm in his voice made Cassie curl up into a tight knot as she hugged her legs. “All you have to do is get someone to check all the cornfields along the tower routes. Have you any idea how many miles that covers?”

  She shrugged and sighed. “I guess you’re right.”

  “Let’s get some sleep. I’m tired.” Rod turned over and yanked up the covers.

  Cassie lay back and slid down to lie on her side, her head propped on one outstretched arm. Images of the cornfield and the forlorn red sweater kept her from sleeping. A sense of guilt plagued her.

  She and Rod got up late the next morning and had a brunch at TGIF. They had arrived early enough to avoid the after-church rush. The hostess seated them quickly at a table by the front window. A server appeared with a pot of coffee and, at Rod’s nod, poured them each a cup. She then hurried off to the next table.

  They made a quick foray to the serving bar and returned with plates loaded with eggs, sausages, bacon, pancakes, toast, and fruit, that is Rod did. Cassie had stopped with eggs, toast, and fruit.

  “You look like hell.” Rod studied her over the rim of his coffee cup.

  “I didn’t sleep well.” Cassie stared down at the beige liquid in her cup. At home, her mirror had confirmed the dark circles under her eyes, while her lank hair refused to do anything except lie in separated locks no matter how much she brushed it.

  “I know. I didn’t either.”

  Rod took her hand. “Look Cassie, I’m sure you feel bad for the Lathams, but there isn’t anything you can do about the kid. Every kidnapping ends in a cornfield somewhere. You don’t know where your cornfield is or even if the kidnapper took the girl to such a place. You’re too imaginative. Just forget it.”

  Cassie pulled her hand back and sat rubbing her right thumb over the left. “I can’t. I know it may be a false lead, but it looked and felt so real.” She looked up at Rod seeking some sympathy and a little support.

  A frown etched his face. He stared back, impassive as a stone. “Nothing you dreamed has to be real. They’ve talked about the kidnapping on every newscast. The newspapers carried the story including what the kid wore. Your subconscious is just using that information. Stop talking like a wacko. You don’t know anything more about it. How could you?”

  As always, Rod took comfort in the facts, just the facts.

  “I’m not sure, but I think it meant something. I feel I should tell someone.”

  Helplessness enveloped her. Rod sat across the table, but he might as well be on another planet. He just didn’t understand what she was trying to say.

  “Like what? Call the police?” He laughed. “They’ll want to know where you got your information, and, when you tell them in a dream, they’ll either laugh it off or arrest you as a conscience-stricken accessory who withheld information.”

  He sipped his coffee. “You’d better forget it.” He then picked up his fork and continued eating.

  Cassie said nothing more, but the thoughts of Ellie and the cornfield nibbled at the edge of her consciousness and refused to leave. She picked at her food.

  “This brunch is wasted on you.” Rod glanced at
the half-eaten food on her plate. “Next time just order a regular breakfast.” Cassie nodded, too miserable to protest.

  That night she delayed going to bed until well after midnight. Exhausted, she felt certain she wouldn’t dream. She snuggled down to sleep. Rod had fallen asleep an hour ago. The warm bed comforted Cassie as her eyes closed.

  * * * *

  “NO.”

  Cassie tried to cry out as she faced the cornfield. No, don’t do this to me. It’s not my fault. I didn’t do anything.

  Yes, she answered herself, you didn’t do anything so it is your fault.

  At the edge of the cornfield, the dried cornhusks crunched under foot. Fear pushed her forward, but weighed her legs down and made each step a struggle. Making her way through the rows of stalks made her breathe just a little faster.

  By the time she reached the middle of the field, her breath came in ragged gasps as if she had run a long distance. Then she stumbled.

  She squeezed her eyes closed, fearing to look down. But she had to look. She had to know.

  When she peered down, staring blue eyes reflected the moon high above. The blonde hair spread out like a halo surrounded the face. The unclothed body looked virginal. Cassie reached out a hand to touch the little girl and felt hard flesh, cold and lifeless.

  She screamed and screamed. Her voice echoed in the cold, empty night, but no one answered.

  * * * *

  “Cassie, wake up.” Rod shook her.

  She opened her eyes and stared at him for a moment seeing nothing except the face of the dead child. Rod shook her again, harder.

  The words tumbled out of her mouth, unbidden. “I was in a cornfield ... I saw her, Ellie Latham, the child who’s missing. She’s dead.” Cassie rubbed her arms suddenly as cold as the child’s flesh in her dream.

  "She probably is,” Rod growled, “but there’s nothing we can do about it.” He ran a hand through his hair. “You’ve got to stop this. I can’t get a decent night’s sleep because of your obsession. Go to sleep.” Rod turned away from her and settled under the covers.