• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

“I know, Dillon, I know that when that knife comes down I’ll die.”

It was no longer dark in the bedroom. It was a soft pearly gray, yet dark enough so that it was still just two people sharing confidences in the night. He knew she had to tell him all of it now or she might never tell him. She was vulnerable now. He didn’t know how much longer it would last. Probably not long.

“The dream began just after Belinda was murdered?”

“Yes. I’ve thought about it and thought about it over the years. It’s as I said before—if I’m not the one who’s there, then it’s as if I’m actually following her same path, feeling the terror she felt.” Her fingers clutched the hair on his chest and he jerked a bit.

“Sorry, Dillon. Oh my, you’re not wearing any clothes. I’m sorry. I hadn’t realized before.”

“It’s all right. I’m wearing boxer shorts. Ignore it. How long since you’ve had the nightmare?”

“Well over a year. This time I went through it all the way to the center of the maze and he was there, only it was so dark I couldn’t see him, but I saw the silver arc of his knife. Then I screamed and it woke me up.”

“Do you think what you did in Boston brought the dream back?”

“I don’t know. Probably.”

He was silent for a moment, then said very quietly, “So this was why you were so sure exactly what Marlin was going to do. It wasn’t just the Profilers’ reports, it wasn’t all the study you’ve done during the past seven years, all the thought you’ve given to it. You knew every step. Because of the dream, you knew each move to make, each move he would make.”

“Yes. But it still doesn’t make any sense, does it?”

“Not just this moment, but it will sooner or later.”

“I have studied him. The Profilers had it right—he hated women who cursed, and that’s why he cut out their tongues. What they couldn’t have been certain about was that the women also bad-mouthed their husbands. But I knew it was true. That’s why I had to be the bait—I knew exactly how to get him to come after me, I knew which buttons to push. He didn’t have to doubt for a second that I was the best candidate for punishment around.

“But there was a difference that I realized just now. In my dream, when the murderer raised the knife, it wasn’t the same way that Marlin raised his knife in the center of the maze in Boston. It wasn’t so vicious in the dream. It was as if he—”

“As if what?”

“As if he wasn’t really serious, but I knew he was and I was scared to death. I’m sorry. That doesn’t make a lick of sense.”

He thought about that a moment, then said, “But in Boston, you’d put him on the defensive. He wasn’t facing a terrified, helpless woman. That could make the difference.” He tightened his arm around her again. “Listen to me. Even if that damned dream does continue on some night in the future, even if he does stick a knife into you, you can’t die. It’s just a dream. You’ve got to believe that. As real as it seems, it still isn’t. It never will be.”

She shuddered, then was quiet against him. Her hand had been fisted on his chest. He’d managed to ignore it, but now her hand was lower, nearly to his belly. His breathing speeded up.

“What do you think it all means?”

He thought about that a long time. It took him longer than usual because he was hard, his heart was pounding fast and strong, and he was having a good deal of difficulty concentrating. His brain no longer had any control. He wanted to pull that beautiful soft peach nightgown over her head and—

“I don’t know. It’s almost as if you have some connection with Belinda. No, that sounds like psychic nonsense. But regardless, there’s got to be something there. Something that happened that you don’t remember. Don’t you think?”

Her hand was now a fist on his belly. “I don’t know. What could have happened? Why wouldn’t I remember? I was never hurt at that time. No trauma or head wound of any kind.”

He laid his own hand over hers, pressing down until her fingers splayed over him, her palm soft and flat against his flesh. “Just relax.