Dead Dreams (20 page)

With my back to the door, I worked a packet of Sleep-Aid from my jeans pocket and crushed one tiny white pill with a knife on the countertop.

“Can’t say you look too hot, yourself,” she shot back from the bedroom, when I reminded her about the bags under her lids again.

“We probably both need a nightcap,” I said as I drained the last ounce of the margarita into one of the crystal goblets she always used. I sprinkled the white powder into the margarita, swirled it, and rimmed the goblet with salt granules, just as she liked it.

“Whatever,” she said.

“One goblet will help you relax.” I hoped she’d take it. Of all evenings, I needed her to sleep tight tonight.

Later, after we said our goodnights, she yelled from my bedroom, “Don’t forget to turn on the alarm.”

“Will do, boss!” I sat on the sofa and rubbed my scalp with one finger. The dye made my skin itch. My free hand groped the velvet of the cushion. I was going to miss this lousy sofa. My parents had given it to me when I’d moved into the apartment. Deep purple velvet chenille fabric. It too, would be donated to the thrift store. I hugged Rosco, whom I’d taken out of my suitcase for company. I stared into his beady teddy bear eyes.

By nine thirty, Sarah was snoring in my bedroom. I pressed my ear to the door, and her steady breathing wafted through the gaps. Her margarita and Sleep Aid combo, it seemed, had worked beautifully
.
Thank you, Pastor Perry.

Wait a few more minutes till she sinks into deeper slumber, hopefully past the point of no return
. I went back to the sofa and lay still like a mummy under my blankets for a minute to gather my wits. But, when I turned on the stand-up lamp next to me and looked at the microwave oven clock, I realized I’d dozed off. But, I hadn’t even had any semblance of those gory nightmares of intruders trying to murder us. Peace at last!

Maybe my luck was turning. Maybe we’d get through the fear we’d suffered that past week, and in two days I’d be in London, then on to Switzerland. The Alps. We’d drink farm-fresh milk, eat meringue dipped into doppled cream, as my brother had done in his travels, and drive through narrow cobbled streets in European cars on the wrong side of the road.

Traveling was something I’d envisioned doing, but now I was glad I’d never had a passport, or my fingerprints would certainly be in the system, and the scheme wouldn’t have worked. I hoped Jim had disposed of our prints as promised.
If I could only get a hold of him to confirm.

It was 10:35, already! How late would the hospital allow visitors, even if I was the doctor’s daughter?

I heard something crash in my room. Sarah had probably knocked over my bedside lamp, since she was unfamiliar with the floor plan and arrangements of my furniture. Just my luck if she’d gotten up! She must have been more nervous than I realized, having trouble sleeping despite my concoction. I should have slipped in two or three tablet instead of one into her margarita. How was I to escape to the hospital unnoticed? If she barged out and found me gone, I’d have to answer with lies. I wrote a note for her and left it on the coffee table.

“Gone to sleep in your bedroom.” And I scribbled my loopy signature.

Hopefully, she was up only to rush to the bathroom, which thankfully was attached to that bedroom, too—the advantage of having two master bedroom suites in the apartment. (This was not an unusual feature of apartments in the Bay Area.) I tiptoed to my bedroom, and pressed my ear to the door. Was she still up? Silence inside.

The security system was on. If I turned it off, the beep of the alarm resetting would alert Sarah, especially if she was still awake.

That was when a brain wave hit me. If I could get out through Sarah’s window and sneak on the ledge to Mrs. Mott’s old apartment, which was a mere ten feet away, I wouldn’t have to use our front door. I was sure my ex-neighbor’s sliding door was open. After Mrs. Mott had moved out, a barrage of real-estate agents had shown the apartment. I’d noticed some prospective tenants standing on the balcony, peeking into ours, and then going back in. I’d even heard one complain loudly that Mrs. Mott’s old kitchen reeked of stale garlic. Since then, I’d seen agents leave a gap on the slider, presumably to air the place.

I checked the alarm pad and noticed it showed two windows not secured: my bedroom window—Sarah must have forgotten to check before she went to bed—and her bedroom’s. That must have been from the night before when I’d entered through her window.

I dragged some of the sofa cushions into Sarah’s old room and pressed the lock button on the knob, so she would think twice before knocking the door and “waking” me. She couldn’t guess I’d left.

I grabbed my LV, took a deep breath, and heaved up Sarah’s casement, enough so I could scoot out. Of course, now that I was to actually get on the ledge, ten feet seemed quite a distance to tiptoe my way on a six-inch ledge from here to Mrs. Mott’s balcony. But, what choice did I have? I sucked in my breath.
It’s doable,
I convinced myself. If I wanted to see my dad one last time I had to do this.

The night air blew upon my cheeks, cool and refreshing, and ruffled my new bobbed hair. I’d tie the ponytail extension later in the car, so my new hairdo wouldn’t announce anything to my family. I’d wear a beanie so the top of my head didn’t show the dark-red hair. Hopefully, no one would notice anything different especially since it was night.

With my LV backpack hitched over one shoulder, as I hadn’t had the time to switch back to my yellow duffel which sat in the bedroom Sarah slept in, I inched toward my goal. I prayed Sarah had not gone into our kitchen for a glass of milk or was staring at my bedroom window from the bed. Sarah would easily see me if she sat up in bed. I recalled that man’s face peeking in at the window, which even now I could not verify as a dream or reality. He could have been the one who scared Mrs. Mott enough for her to have that initial heart attack.

A deep grumble from some big vehicle revving its engine on the street below almost made me lose my grip, and I tripped over a particularly troublesome foothold. A red truck screamed past, and I tried to blend in with the beige stucco I was clinging to for my life.

Was this the truck from two days ago? The same one that I thought had tailed us to Fremont Bank—Sarah’s secret friend? If he’d parked on the street and looked up at our apartment, my brown jeans and brown hoodie would have been most visible. And, if this was Jim’s contact, Alias, supposedly guarding us, he might assume I was the intruder. The thought that these P.I.s might have guns crossed my mind and for whatever it was worth, I muttered a quick prayer that if they saw me they would think twice and not shoot. That Jim hadn’t even bothered to respond to my messages probably meant he’d taken his loot and split, just as Sarah had implied when I’d pestered her again. Everyone had a price, she’d said.

“Gawd, Brie. Give it a break. The man has other clients to take care of, you know?” She’d been visibly annoyed.

Regardless, no one must know I was sneaking out. Not even Jim.

And luck was on my side. I succeeded in getting to the hospital, undetected. But, in doing so, I left Sarah alone.

According to the night-duty nurse, Lilly and Mom had been installed in a room next to Dad’s. “The door marked 214.” Nurse Maisey said when I asked about my family at the desk. “Privilege of your dad being the resident surgeon here,” she explained. “No need to look so nervous.” She smiled and waved me on.

I nodded and quickened my steps toward Dad’s room.

“Brie!” My sister cried out and waved to me from a small lookout as I hurried past a closed door. She had her nose pressed to the glass of the window. It was way past her bedtime.

“Hey! You’re up?” I opened the door, and Lilly scooted back to her metal bed and beckoned for me to sit next to her. When I stood over her, she reached out and felt my fake ponytail.

“You cut your hair,” she said. The extensions didn’t fool her. “It’s darker, too.” Sharp kid. Even in this dimness, she noticed. Had Nurse Maisey noticed it, too?

I pulled the beanie further down over my ears. I nodded. “How’s Dad?”

“He woke up and asked for you, but we couldn’t find you. Did you see our messages?”

“Naturally. I was busy helping a friend.”

“I got worried when you didn’t reply. Mom was, too. So was Pastor Perry. Mom sent him to look for you.”

Had Pastor gotten to Stay Fit or Starbucks later and found out I’d quit? I reached into my LV backpack, watching Lilly’s face. She was sure to notice this new fashion and suspect something. I pulled out the teddy bear I’d hurriedly shoved into the LV before I’d left and held it out. “Keep Rosco safe for me.”

She hugged the bear. “Why’s he not safe with you?”

“You’re my babysitter. Practice, for when…”

“When what?”

“Never mind. I want Rosco back. So, you keep him, okay? Make sure Holly doesn’t maul him to bits. And don’t let Holly swallow Rosco’s eyes.”

She giggled and nodded, brows twisted into a frown. “Pastor Perry wants to talk to you.”

“He told you that?”

“I overheard him on the phone. He mentioned something about a nightmare he had about you. Three nights in a row, he said.”

My ears perked up. Nightmare? “What did he say, exactly?”

Lilly tilted her head as if she were scouring the back of her mind. “He dreamed you disappeared.”

People had dreams and nightmares all the time. But, why had he dreamed I’d disappeared? He hadn’t mentioned anything when we were together in the van, though he’d had that worried frown.

“Anything else?” I kept my eyes on Lilly. She swung her white-socked feet back and forth as she sat up on the edge of her metal bed. Maybe she needed an incentive. She’d always liked those colorful lollypops, and I’d snagged a few from the Fremont Bank teller’s jar when I’d slipped in to retrieve my forgotten duffel. Grape was her favorite flavor, and I had two. I dug my hand into the LV. I couldn’t remember if I’d transferred it here.

“Nice bag,” Lilly said.

“You want it?” I could dump all my stuff into a plastic bag or one of those vomit sacks they always had handy in hospitals: then I could give Lilly my new LV backpack. My going away present. I couldn’t imagine walking down the streets of Paris with Sarah, carrying identical bags. But, my fingers, deep in the backpack, wrapped around a phone. A phone in a gel casing, which felt unfamiliar. My Samsung was in a hard case, and I’d left it in the car, as I’d figured the ICU didn’t allow phones. This cell phone wasn’t mine: it was Sarah’s latest iPhone. I’d snatched Sarah’s LV in my haste.

“What’s wrong?” Lilly shook my arm, peering at my face. I felt the blood drain from my neck up and my lips went dry.

“I thought I had some lollypops for you. Sorry.”

“You got a new phone, too? You hit the jackpot?” Lilly smirked at me. Smart kid.

“I wish. Hey, I need to use the restroom.”

“Sure.” Lilly nodded toward an open door that led to the bathroom in the unit.

I dashed inside and locked the door, one hand still clutching Sarah’s iPhone. Maybe I could see who she’d called. But, she’d locked it. If I could bypass her password, I could check on that phone number she’d dialed yesterday. Who was it she’d sounded so sultry with on the other line? Red truck guy?

But, no combination I punched into the number pad made a difference, and I couldn’t unlock the phone.