Murder In Her Dreams (17 page)

Dreams and rabbits. None of it made any
sense. If only his picture hadn’t been in the paper. Maybe then, he
could have given her story some credence, but it made no sense. No
sense at all. Perhaps Miss Blake had been under too much stress. He
had never thought of a library as a stressful place, but who knew?
Or maybe she had just broken up with a boyfriend. Well, it wasn’t
his problem anyway.

He glanced over at Sharon. She had a frown on
her face and stared down at her empty coffee cup. Maybe he
shouldn’t have cut her off so abruptly. She wasn’t to blame for his
confusion.

“Sharon,” he whispered, “I’m sorry. We’ll
talk later.”

She nodded and then smiled at him as she
patted his hand.

Cassie Blake tugged at his attention. She
intrigued him, both because of her peculiar behavior and her
caring. She cared deeply about people. He had seen that for
himself. He found her attractive too. Not in the cool, elegant way
of Sharon, but in the cozy warmth of her spirit and in the relaxed
charm of her looks. He could easily see Cassie as a mother, but
still couldn’t see Sharon in that role despite what she had
said.

If it weren’t for his engagement to Sharon
and that bit about the rabbit, he might have tried to make friends
with Cassie Blake. The more he learned about her, the better he
liked her. Since she hadn’t said anything more about rabbits
tonight, perhaps she had gotten over her dreams. The laughter of
the audience at some remark by Mrs. Bush jerked Ian’s attention
back to her speech.

* * * *

In the car as Ian drove Sharon home, he
decided to caution her about Cassie Blake. “Sharon, I didn’t think
it wise to say much in front of Heather Roston. William is a
client, and I wouldn’t want word about Cassie Blake’s odd behavior
to get to any of my clients.”

“From what you’ve told me about her, I quite
agree.”

“She didn’t look, or act crazy tonight.”

“No, she didn’t, but don’t be fooled by that
Laura Ashley look. Appearances can be deceiving. Don’t forget about
Fatal Attraction
or that horrible Kathleen Turner film where
she played the murdering wife and mother. Then there was that Texas
cheerleader’s mother.”

“All right, I get the point. I’ve already
told you, I didn’t contact her — she came to me. We’ve both agreed
to avoid her in future. I had no way of knowing she would be there
tonight.”

“I realize that, but I didn’t like the way
she looked at you. She had a hungry look in her eyes. It frightened
me.” Sharon shivered.

“What?” Ian glanced over at her, surprised at
her comment. “I thought she looked frightened.”

“Men! You really aren’t very good at reading
body language. We women learn it from the cradle. Anyway, let’s not
talk about her. I’ve picked up some flyers from the travel agent
about Aruba, and I thought we could go over them.”

“Aruba?” Ian frowned. “I thought we had
agreed on London.”

“You mentioned it, but I don’t remember
agreeing on it. Really, Ian, we’ve had such a rainy, cool spring —
I could do with a little sun.”

Ian sighed. “I guess it doesn’t matter where
we go.”

“Just so we’re together. Mother was
disappointed about Easter dinner.” Sharon’s voice had an accusatory
note that irritated Ian.

He already felt guilty enough about Mrs.
Gannet as it was. “I’m sorry, it couldn’t be helped.” He reached
over and patted her hand.

Maybe now was as good a time as any to settle
things with Sharon about her mother. “Sharon, we haven’t talked
about it, but I guess we should. You know how she goes on so. She
doesn’t know when to stop. I don’t like being told what to do.”

Sharon opened her eyes wide and started to
protest, but he continued before she could respond. “I don’t know
how you feel about my mother, but I want us to start our own
traditions. An occasional holiday with your mother is okay, but not
every holiday.”

“Ian, she lives in town, and I can’t ignore
her.”

“I’m not asking you to do that, but I want us
to control our own life. I don’t want us to be expected to spend
holidays with anyone, your mother or mine. She should build her own
life independent of us.”

“I’ll tell her that,” Sharon said dryly, “but
I don’t think she will. I do owe her something.”

“Okay, but I won’t be committed to spending
all our time with her. Many families alternate Thanksgiving and
Christmas between their respective parents. I’m willing to do that,
but that’s it.”

“What about Mother’s Day?”

“We can take her to dinner, if we’re in town,
but we have my mother to consider, too.”

“What about your mother?”

“She lives in Florida and has a busy life of
her own so you don’t have to worry about her. She’s gone a lot and
more likely to visit us than to expect us to visit her.”

Sharon sniffed. “I’ve had a hard time
reaching her to sort out the guest list. She will be at the
wedding?”

“You’ve talked to her more than I have. I’m
sure she will, especially since she doesn’t have to do any of the
work.” Ian grinned at her. “Seriously, you do agree with me about
holidays, don’t you?”

“I see your point, but Mother may be
difficult.” Sharon sighed.

“I’ll leave it to you to manage her.”

Ian parked in Sharon’s driveway and walked
around the car. After opening the car door for her, he followed her
along the walk to her front door.

She unlocked and opened the apartment door.
“Would you like to come in?”

Ian looked at his watch, eleven-thirty, and
shook his head. “It’s late, and I want to be in early tomorrow. I
need to spend as much time as I can putting things in shape so we
get away for the honeymoon.”

“You’re not upset with me, are you?” Sharon
searched his face, a worried look in her green eyes.

“Upset? Good lord, no. I just wanted to clear
the air.” He pulled her close. “I’m marrying you, not your
mother.”

She leaned her face against his shoulder.
“Sometimes you get the family too.”

Ian pulled back and stared at her, wondering
if she could possibly be serious. “You don’t mean that.”

Sharon laughed, her eyes teasing. “No, but we
all come with strings. My mother is mine, and I do owe her
something. I’m sure we can work things out. After all, it’s not as
if she doesn’t like you.”

Ian stared at Sharon, searching her face.
“Sharon, I meant what I said about your mother. This is one issue I
won’t be pushed on.”

“Don’t worry, Ian, I won’t push you. We’ll
manage. What do you want me to do about Heather Roston?”

“Heather Roston?” Ian frowned. “What about
her?”

Sharon sighed. “The Literacy Council. You
remember, she asked about some help.”

“Oh, that. Well, if you can do it, great. If
not, just tell her so.”

She searched his face. “I don’t want it to
affect your business. I want to help you.”

“You will. Helping Heather would be great,
but if you don’t, I doubt it will affect what I do for William.
I’ve worked for him for five years now.”

He leaned down and gave Sharon a hasty kiss.
“It’s late. I really have to go. I’ll call you about dinner later
this week. Good night.”

Sharon closed the door as he backed out of
the driveway. He felt better now that he had made his position
clear about her mother, but Sharon had not been as responsive as he
had expected. He didn’t think he was being unreasonable. All those
mother-in-law stories must have some basis in fact. He had never
thought that in marrying Sharon he would be marrying into her
family. He had thought of it more as starting a new family.

If he had known Sharon expected to spend time
with her mother, would he have asked her to marry him? He didn’t
want to answer that question, because if the answer was no, it
meant he didn’t really love Sharon. He admired her and respected
her. That should be enough. He was marrying her, not Mrs.
Gannet.

Traffic on the River Road had thinned out. No
headlights reflected from the rearview mirror, and, for the moment,
he saw no one ahead. The black asphalt ribbon wound along the river
and through dark stands of trees and brush. As he approached Lane
Road, a deer leaped across the road, and he hit the brakes
instinctively. He needn’t have bothered. The deer disappeared into
the trees along the road, its white flag of a tail high.

The deer reminded him of Cassie Blake and her
frightened blue eyes. What had Sharon said? Hungry eyes. No, he had
not seen hunger. She had looked confused and frightened, but why,
he still didn’t know. He wasn’t likely to know either. Their paths
were unlikely to cross again. A twinge of regret stung him.

Chapter
Thirteen

Cassie went to bed as soon as she returned
home from the awards banquet. Sleep took a long time to come. The
image of Sharon Arthur clinging to Ian McLeod taunted her. Sharon’s
smooth elegance and her proud, proprietarial air intimidated
Cassie. The Ian in her dreams had been attracted to her, but it
didn’t mean he felt the same way in everyday life. Too bad.

Sighing, Cassie plumped up her pillow. She
pulled up the covers and tried to relax.

Why did Ian fascinate her so? He didn’t trust
her, and she couldn’t blame him. She had enjoyed working with him
at the Easter Dinner, once he had accepted her. Now the dreams and
Sharon Arthur stood between them. For the last week, her dreams had
remained free of Ian and the black rabbit. Maybe the danger had
passed.

The thought relieved her worry. Her breathing
slowed as the comfort of her familiar bed surrounded her. She
closed her eyes.

* * * *

The early morning air sent a chill through
Cassie, and she pulled her jacket close. A thin mist veiled the
building ahead. Sniffing, she smelled burnt vegetation and a hint
of wood smoke.

Something drew her forward. The sun had not
yet crested the horizon as Cassie paced back and forth in front of
Ian McLeod’s office building.

What had brought her to this place so early
in the day? She didn’t know why she had come except for a vague
feeling of dread and the sense of some warning for Ian, but she had
no idea about what. She stamped her feet and rubbed her arms to
keep warm in the damp cold of the new morning.

Then Ian McLeod approached and hurried past
her without a second look. Cassie started to reach out a hand to
stop him, but remembering his anger over the coffee, she pulled
back. What could she say? She had no idea why she had even come. He
bent forward to unlock the door to the building.

An ominous grating noise sounded above.
Cassie looked up.

Like a stop-action film, she stared in
horror. A pile of bricks tumbled over the rooftop in a lazy arc.
She wanted to yell, but her mouth refused to open. She struggled to
move, yet something held her fixed in place.

Each separate brick stood out in vivid detail
as it fell, edges harsh and rough. They came like heat-seeking
bombs with Ian as their target. She could do nothing.

As they fell, Ian looked up, openmouthed, but
before he could move, a brick hurled downward and struck his head,
knocking him to the ground.

Cassie screamed.

An avalanche followed, and soon he lay
covered in broken bricks and dust. Released by her scream, Cassie
rushed forward. Brown eyes open wide, Ian lay staring at the sky.
An ugly gash on his forehead leaked blood. His chest didn’t move.
No breath moved past his lips.

The sound of another brick falling caused her
to stare up at the roof. The black rabbit glared back at her, its
teeth bared in a snarl. It held one paw high. The growing light
bounced from a shiny nail in the forepaw. A nail?

Before she could ponder the significance of
the nail, the rabbit crouched low, its muscles coiled. Hate and
evil poisoned the air. Cassie staggered back.

The rabbit leaped from the roof. Its body
stretched out in an arc as it dove downward. Sharp, white teeth
exposed, it arced toward her. The brown eyes glittered with
malice.

A vision of those teeth tearing out her
throat filled her view. She tried to move, but her feet refused to
obey. The fetid breath of the creature made her gasp. Her vocal
chords froze, and the scream echoed only in her ears.

* * * *

Cassie woke. The dream scream hurt her ears,
and her throat burned. She struggled to get her breath and to slow
the racing of her heart. She glanced around the room, but saw only
familiar surroundings. Sweat ran down the valley between her
breasts. The clock on the bedside table read five a.m.

Who or what was the black rabbit? Why did it
hate Ian so much? She knew little about him and nothing at all
about the rabbit. Tula had said to think symbolically, but Cassie
had no idea what the rabbit represented. The striking contrast
between the nature of real rabbits and this creature’s fierce
nature struck her anew. Violence and harm seemed the rabbit’s sole
aims. Its only goal the destruction of Ian McLeod and now of her.
Why?

Before the dreams, she had not even known
Ian. They had nothing in common, at least not in real life. In her
dreams, he became a different man from the one she had met and
tried to warn. Last night at the dinner, for a brief moment she
could almost believe the two were one, but then reality set in, and
she knew she only fooled herself.

She wished to hell the rabbit would fill
Ian’s dreams instead of hers. Surely, he would understand the
rabbit better than she did. The dreams haunted her. She couldn’t
ignore them. This last one had been so vivid.

“Dreamers have a responsibility,” Tula had
said.

Cassie had tried to ignore that when she
dreamed of Ellie Latham and lived to regret it. She couldn’t let
Ian die, because she ignored her dreams.