Читать книгу For Her Eyes Only - Sharon Sala - Страница 7

Jessica watched with a wary eye as the nurse who was accompanying Dr. Noah Howell on his rounds removed the IV from her hand.

“Just take it easy when you get home,” Noah said as he signed off on Jessica’s chart.

Jessica glanced at the dim, flickering light in the hallway. Since she’d been admitted, she’d spent most of her time sleeping and was still confused about the time that had actually passed.

“Is the power still off?”

He nodded. The last few hours had been chaotic, and it would seem there was no end in sight.

“Yes, we’re still operating on generators, although I’m told that the crews are out in full force, but the mudslides keep knocking new poles down. I’m sure it won’t be long before power is restored. For now, all you need is a bed.”

Briefly fingering the small white patch of gauze above her right eyebrow, she winced. “That and a new head of hair.”

“We didn’t cut away all that much,” Noah said.

Jessica tried to smile. “That’s easy for you to say.”

He smiled and patted her on the knee. “It’s not so bad. And it will grow back. You’ll see.”

She sighed. “Sorry. I don’t usually whine. After all, what’s a little missing hair compared to everything else that’s been happening.”

The smile disappeared from Noah Howell’s face as he thought back. Olivia Stuart. No matter how hard they’d tried, it hadn’t been enough to save her, and somehow, that still surprised him. Just before she died, she’d whispered the word “coal.” Soon afterward, they’d lost her. Masking his weariness, he tried to focus his concerns on the patient before him.

“You have the instructions the nurse gave you. I’ll see you back in my office in a few days to remove the stitches, okay?”

A few days. What else, Jessica wondered, could happen between now and then? She nodded. “Okay.” Then she added, “These phones aren’t working, I don’t have my cell, and I need to call my sister so she can come get me and take me home.”

Dr. Howell handed her his phone. “Use this.”

The line was busy. “I’ll have to try again after I get dressed.”

Moments later, she was alone. She glanced at the clock. It was close to five p.m. She thought of going home to a house without power, without refrigeration—possibly without a means of communication since her phone was still on her desk at work. She looked down at the wad she’d made of the covers and tugged at the neck of the hospital gown she was wearing. While the aspect of those discomforts was disheartening, the idea of crawling into her own nightgown—and into her own bed—was enough to make it all worthwhile.

She sat up and looked out the window. On the surface, everything about Grand Springs seemed the same. The lush green of the majestic mountains marking the skyline of the city were capped by low, overhanging clouds, but for now, the rain had stopped. The sky was dark and overcast. Night would come early.

Dusk was near. Normally, streetlights would be coming on and people would be closing down businesses and hurrying home for the evening meal. But not tonight. The streets were eerily empty, and the lack of vehicles on the roadways seemed an ominous sign of impending doom.

Suddenly, she wanted to be home. To find the familiar within her own house before dark. Throwing back the covers, she got out of bed and went to the closet. Brenda had brought her clean clothes as well as the discount flowers. At least she wouldn’t have to go home in torn and bloody clothing.

But getting dressed wasn’t as simple as she’d expected it to be. Every time she leaned down, the room started to spin and she was forced to grab onto the bed to keep from falling. It took all she had just to put on her underwear and jeans, and by then she was in a cold sweat. Barefoot and clutching a T-shirt to her chest, she staggered to a nearby chair, where she sat staring at the tennis shoes still in her closet. They were less than a yard away and it might as well have been a mile. Hating this feeling of helplessness, she closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall.

“Bug breath.”

It was a fair comment on her condition, as well as her state of mind.

* * *

This time when Stone entered Vanderbilt Memorial, he went in the front door and took the stairs on the right to the third floor. He came out of the stairwell, his long stride carrying him down the hall with single-minded intent. Under the weak glow of the generator-powered lighting, the shadows beneath his eyes seemed darker, the strain lines at the corners of his mouth deeper, and the sun-bleached highlights in his hair gleamed like wheat in a noonday sun. His expression was grim. It was what his friends called his “cop face.” But all he needed was some more rest. And that would come, after he’d seen for himself that Jessie was really all right. He’d tried to talk himself out of this trip all the way to the hospital, yet when he’d parked and gotten out of his car, he knew he would never have been able to rest without seeing her face…hearing her voice…even suffering the guilt he would feel when he saw her. He had to know she was all right. Then he could rest.

“Richardson, haven’t you gone home yet?”

Stone paused and turned. Noah Howell was coming out of a room he’d just passed.

“Hi, Doc. I thought I would look in on Jessie Hanson. Last night, they said she’d been put in 339. Do you know if she’s still there?”

Noah nodded. “But not for long. I just released her to go home. In fact, I’m on my way to the nurse’s desk to call her sister to come and get her.”

Stone didn’t stop to think why he was offering, he just blurted it out before he changed his own mind.

“Don’t bother. I’ll see that she gets home okay.”

Noah grinned. Stone’s defenses went up.

“Get that look off your face,” Stone warned. “Just because I’m concerned about an old friend, it doesn’t mean anything. Hell. I dated her sister once. Besides, she’s just a kid.”

“If my memory serves, she’s twenty-six, old buddy. That’s hardly robbing the cradle,” Noah said.

Stone ignored the comment and knocked, waiting for an invitation to enter. When it came, he went in, unprepared for the woman inside.

* * *

Jessica jerked as the knock sounded on her door. Still sprawled in the chair with the T-shirt clutched to her chest and expecting one of the hospital staff, she spoke without thinking.

“Come in.”

When Stone walked into the room, she gasped and grabbed her shirt with both hands, holding it up beneath her chin.

“How dare you!” she muttered, and tried hard to glare, but frowning made her head hurt worse.

Stone was transfixed. He’d expected her to be safe in bed and covered up with a sheet, not half dressed and sprawled out in a chair with a shirt clutched to her front like a shield. All he could think to say was “You told me to come in.”

Jessica’s lower lip slid forward. “But I didn’t know it was you.”

She looked so lost and hurt sitting there. Stone fought the urge to hold her.

“Sorry, do you want me to leave?”

She nodded, then groaned. If only she could remember to speak instead, it would be a lot less painful.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She grimaced, closing her eyes to steady the sudden sway of the room.

“Of course I’m not all right!” She sighed, trying to relax the tension knotting at the back of her neck.

Stone frowned. The past two years had certainly changed one thing about Jessie. She never used to be so angry.

“I told Doc Howell I’d take you home.”

Jessica’s eyes flew open, and the shirt began to slip. When it revealed two mounds of creamy flesh held fast beneath a white lace bra, Stone reacted by pointing at the T-shirt.

“You gonna wear that home or just carry it?”

Jessica’s eyes teared in frustration as she stopped its escape. “I got dizzy.”

His expression softened. “Need some help?”

She hesitated.

“Come on, honey. I’ve seen it before.”

The look on her face was priceless, and Stone knew he’d reminded them both of something better left forgotten.

Jessica’s ire rose. “Just turn around, you mealymouthed snake.”

He grinned slightly as he turned. “Dare I turn my back on a woman who’s just called me a snake?”

Jessica glared at his backside, reminding herself to ignore the wide shoulders, narrow hips and long legs as she thrust both arms in the shirt, yanking it down over her head in haste. But she’d forgotten the bandage at the edge of her hairline and yelped in pain when the neck pulled too tight for comfort.

Stone spun, took one look at the predicament she’d put herself in and stalked across the room without waiting for an invitation.

“Easy,” he warned, and pulled the shirt back up enough to give himself room to maneuver. She started to sputter. He frowned. “Calm down, damn it. I’m trying to help.”

When she muttered something he didn’t understand, he figured it was better to let lost curses die. This time when he eased the shirt down, he started the opening at the back of her head first, then pulled it toward the front, stretching the fabric as it slid past the bandage. When it cleared her nose, he looked down. Two orbs of pure blue were gleaming up at him with malevolence.

“You’re welcome,” he drawled.

She resented his arrogance. Why did devastating men always smirk?

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

The question took him off guard. What was he doing here? Last night had resulted in a multitude of disasters that had sent literally dozens of Grand Springs residents to the hospital. And Jessica wasn’t the only one he knew who’d been admitted. Why had he felt the urge to make sure she, above all others, was going to be okay? Uneasy as to how to answer her, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“I was on my way home. Thought I’d stop by.”

“You live on the other side of town.”

His eyes narrowed. He wasn’t prepared to pursue the issue. Not with her. Not even with himself.

“I know where I live. Do you want to go home or not?”

Jessica’s shoulders slumped. “Yes, please.”

Satisfied to be back on firm ground, Stone nodded. “That’s fine, then.” He looked down at her feet. “Where are your shoes?”

Jessica pointed toward the closet and started to cry. Not loudly, just huge, silent tears spilling out of her eyes and down her face.

At that moment, something tore loose inside of Stone that had nothing to do with compassion. If he hadn’t been so rattled by a particular tear hanging on the edge of her lip, he might have realized the emotion for what it was. But he was, and he didn’t, and by the time he got the shoes on her feet, the notion of pursuing the thought had long since passed.

Their drive home was silent. A half hour later, he pulled into Jessica’s driveway and parked. Every house on the block was little more than a dark shape against the shadows of the coming night. Now and then a weak glow of some lantern or candle could be seen shining through curtains, but it was the depth of darkness out on the streets that made Jessica jumpy.

After offering to carry her inside, and getting a quick glare for his efforts, Stone settled for walking her to the house. Lit only by the glow of a three-quarter moon, he guided her to the porch steps. They were at the door before Jessica drew back in dismay and slapped her hand against the side of her leg.

“Wormy, wormy fudge,” she muttered.

He chuckled beneath his breath. One thing he’d loved about her was the uniqueness of her colorful language, but even that sounded gross to him.

“What’s wrong?”

“My keys are in my purse, and it must be back in my office at the lodge.”

“Not to worry,” Stone said, and slipped a small lock pick from his jacket pocket. Moments later, the lock clicked and the door swung open. He stepped aside.

“Don’t mention it.”

She glanced up at him in silent appreciation. “Thank goodness you’re on our side.”

Stone followed her in, shutting the door behind him. “Got a flashlight or candles?”

“Both in the kitchen. Top drawer on the right.”

He traded the lock pick for his own small flashlight. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

When he started toward the back of the house, Jessica frowned.

“How do you know where the kitchen is?”

“I’m following my nose.”

She sniffed. He was right. The scent of burned bacon was still evident.

Smart aleck.

But she didn’t voice her thoughts. She didn’t have it in her to complain anymore. An old Elvis Presley song came to mind as she leaned against the wall to keep from falling. Yes, her legs were shaky, and her knees were more than weak. She was definitely all shook up, but from the accident, of course. Not from the fact that she’d just spent the better part of an hour with a man who’d haunted more than one of her dreams.

Jessica closed her eyes and took a slow, deep breath. When she looked up, he was coming toward her, carrying a lit candle. His face was cast in shadow, but the cut of his cheekbones, a broad slash of jaw and his lower lip were highlighted by the soft yellow glow.

Exhaling slowly, she watched as he set the candle on a nearby table and then led her toward the chair beside it. She sat.

“Here,” Stone said, and dropped her flashlight into her lap.

Suddenly the intimacy of being alone in the darkness with this man was too much. She’d spent two years trying to forget how it felt to go to sleep and wake up in his arms.

“Goodbye, and thank you for bringing me home.”

His easy laugh did things to her nerves she didn’t need to feel.

As Stone chuckled, it crossed his mind that his ex-wife would have cried and clung with every ounce of her being. She’d hated his job as a cop, but she’d hated her lonely life as a cop’s wife more.

“Damn, honey. I’ve had the brush-off before, but never so sweetly.”

Muttering beneath her breath, she looked away. “That wasn’t a brush-off, and stop calling me ‘honey.’”

He cupped her chin, tilting her face until she was forced to look at him.

“Hey, you.”

Now her nerves were really on edge. There was a low, breathless quality to his voice that she’d never thought she’d hear. At least, not when speaking to her.

“What?”

“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

Jessica’s heart started to thump erratically. “Long time since what?”

His voice deepened. “Since we’ve been together.”

“I’ve spent two years trying to forget,” she muttered.

“So that’s why you left without so much as a goodbye.”

She swallowed, trying to get past the pain. “You’d made yourself painfully clear,” she said, and then looked deeply into his eyes. “There wasn’t anything left to say…was there?”

He looked away, and then back. “Will you be afraid?”

She gripped the arms of the chair as her heart skipped a beat. Afraid? The only thing that ever scared me was losing you and I survived that. This is a piece of cake. But she didn’t answer.

“If you are, I can have a patrol car swing by here every so often to make sure you’re okay.”

She gritted her teeth. “I’m not afraid of the dark, and I want you to go.”

He sighed, then stood up, hesitating. Sitting there in the dark with nothing but candlelight by which to see, she seemed awfully small and so alone. He couldn’t bear to leave her…at least not like this. He thrust his hand in his pocket and pulled out his card.

“If you need me, the number is on the card.”

Jessica fought an urge to cry. Her fingers curled around the card as he shut the door behind him. Even after the sound of his car engine had faded away, she sat unmoving, clutching the card as if it was her lifeline to normalcy in a world lost in darkness.

She fell asleep in the chair, and when she awoke, the candle was out, yet the room was not dark. Disoriented, it took her a moment to focus on the fact that the light she was seeing was coming through the windows, and that it was growing brighter and brighter with each passing second.

Tension pulled the muscles at the back of her neck, and her breath began to shorten. Her fingers dug into the arms of the chair as the familiarity of her home began to change before her eyes. Unable to look away from the light, she stared into a nightmare that wouldn’t let her go.

* * *

Olivia Stuart smiled as she walked around the kitchen, adding the finishing touches to the ensemble she’d chosen for Hal’s wedding. Teal was her favorite color. Somewhere between true blue and green, it accentuated her coloring to perfection. She paused in front of the sink and picked up a picture that stood on the windowsill, smiling to herself as she remembered the day it had been taken. Eve had been fussing with her hair, and Hal had been laughing at her futile attempts to make it glamorous. Even as adults, they were good children.

Just as she started to move toward the table, to pick up her purse and the umbrella lying there, the scent of flowers drifted into the room. A slight frown drew between her brows as she tried to identify the scent. Gardenias! She was smelling gardenias!

A hand came around her mouth without warning, and Olivia dropped the picture and shrieked, swallowing her own cry as the fingers upon her face clamped too tightly for the sound to escape. Fear shattered her control as she reached behind her, trying to tear free. The struggle was brief. Shock turned to pain as a sharp, burning sensation pierced the back of her leg.

She remembered thinking that this didn’t make sense. Her leg had been stabbed, but there was pain in her chest. She reached out, gasping desperately for air. She wasn’t going to make Hal’s wedding, after all.

My son…my son.

Pain blossomed and burst, splintering throughout her body in a white-hot heat.

* * *

Jessica jerked. The bright orb of light was still present, but there was a constant, repetitive thump that hadn’t been there before. She blinked, then blinked again as she realized this wasn’t part of the dream. Someone was knocking on her door.

It took her a moment to switch gears, and when she did, her first thought was that Stone had come back. And then she heard her sister’s voice.

“Jessica! Are you in there? Jessie, it’s me, Brenda! Let me in!”

Jessica blinked again, her perception of what she’d just seen suddenly clear. The light was nothing more than the headlights of Brenda’s car shining through the sheer curtains at her front window.

I must have been dreaming again.

“Be right there,” she called, and headed for the door. As soon as she turned the knob, Brenda came rushing in and threw her arms around Jessica’s neck.

“I went to the hospital and they said you’d been dismissed! Why didn’t you call?”

“I tried. It was busy, so I got a ride home.”

Brenda threw up her arms in disgust and pointed to Jessica’s phone on a nearby table. “Is your phone working yet?”

“I don’t know. Stone brought me home. I didn’t think to check.”

Even in the shadows, Jessica was aware of her sister’s shock.

“Stone? As in Richardson?”

Jessica shrugged. “Do we know another? For Pete’s sake, Brenda, come inside. I need to sit down.”

Brenda’s mouth pursed. “Obviously you’ve been keeping secrets from me. However, we’ll discuss that later. You need to be in bed. Here, take my flashlight.”

“I have one somewhere,” Jessica muttered, looking back toward the chair in which she’d been sitting.

“No. Take mine and don’t move,” Brenda said. “I’ll be right back.”

Jessica waited while her sister killed the car engine, turned off the lights, then returned, carrying an overnight bag in her hand.

Jessica pointed the beam of the flashlight at the small blue bag. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Spending the night. And don’t argue. You have a concussion. You shouldn’t be alone.”

Jessica groaned. The last thing she needed was a baby-sitter, but from the look on Brenda’s face, it would seem she was getting one, just the same.

“You’re a mess,” Brenda said, fingering Jessica’s matted hair and drawn expression. “Come with me. I’ll get you cleaned up and tucked in a bed.”

“I don’t need to be tucked in. Besides, someone told me water is being rationed.”

“Up to now, you haven’t used any, so I’d say you’re allowed a quick bath. And you know what Mother used to say. Everything will look better in the morning.”

Jessica sighed. She knew better than to argue with Brenda when she got on a roll.

“Then, will you help me wash my hair? It feels awful.”

Brenda hugged her. “We’ll have to be careful not to get your stitches wet, but I suppose something can be arranged.”

“Then, okay. But you have to stick to your side of the bed.”

In the glow of the flashlight, Jessica saw her sister grin.

* * *

Jessica awoke in a panic and sat straight up in bed. Her heart was pounding, and the scent of gardenias was thick in her nostrils. She covered her face with her hands, fighting the urge to cry. Why was this happening? Why did she keep having this same awful dream, over and over and over?

Brenda sighed and rolled onto her back, one arm outflung on Jessica’s pillow, the other trailing off the side of the bed. Jessica glanced down and frowned. As if the dreams weren’t bad enough, Brenda had a tendency to take her half of the bed from the middle. She patted Brenda on the shoulder.

“Brenda!”

Brenda snorted softly, muttering something in her sleep.

The pat turned into a shove. “Brenda!”

Brenda groaned and cracked an eye. “What?” Then she remembered where she was and why she’d come. When she saw Jessica sitting up in the bed, she came awake in an instant.

“What’s wrong? Are you in pain?”

“No, but you’re going to be if you don’t move over,” Jessica muttered.

Brenda blinked like a baby owl. “Sorry,” she said, and scooted back to her side of the bed.

With a defeated sigh, Jessica tried to go back to sleep. But she kept seeing the needle glittering in the lamplight as the assailant plunged it into the back of Olivia Stuart’s leg. Something kept telling her there was more to what she was seeing than just a dream. Long minutes later, she rolled over.

“Brenda. Are you asleep?”

Brenda shoved a lock of hair from her face. “I’m not now,” she mumbled.

“Have you ever had a vision?”

Brenda rolled over. “Jessie, honey, does your head still hurt?”

“Of course it does. But one thing has nothing to do with the other.”

Brenda eyed the clock and groaned. “It’s three in the morning. Don’t you think we could save this conversation for daylight? You need your rest. I need my rest. Go back to sleep.”

“I’m afraid to,” Jessica said in a quiet, resigned tone.

Brenda sat up, her attention caught. “What do you mean?”

Jessica picked at a loose thread on the edge of the blanket without answering until Brenda yanked the blanket away.

“Jessica Leigh Hanson, I asked you a question.”

Jessica’s smile was slight as she looked up. “You sounded just like Mother.”

Dismayed, Brenda sighed and slid her arm around her sister’s neck. “Jessie, if you don’t talk, I can’t help.”

Jessica frowned. “I could talk from now to daylight and I still don’t think you can help. In fact, I don’t think anyone can help.”

“You’ll never know until you try.”

Jessica sighed. “I keep having this dream about Olivia Stuart dying.”

Brenda’s voice softened. “Oh, honey. That’s understandable. You must have been in the ER when they brought her in.”

Jessica shook her head. “I don’t think so. If I was, I don’t remember. I don’t remember much of anything after I hit my head.” Except Stone Richardson…but that doesn’t count.

“Maybe talking about it will help. What were you dreaming?”

“She was by a table.”

“Who was by a table?” Brenda asked.

Jessica rolled her eyes, trying not to let her frustration show. “Olivia Stuart,” she repeated. “At first I thought she was at my desk, but she wouldn’t come help me.”

Brenda brushed the hair away from Jessica’s bandage and patted her arm. “Honey, head injuries do weird things to people. Maybe you just—”

Jessica drew back in frustration. “I knew you would say that, but it’s not so! I know what I saw. I mean… I know what I saw in my dream, and in my dream, Olivia Stuart did not die from a heart attack. She was stabbed.”

Brenda gasped, for the moment caught up in the telling. And then she remembered. “But don’t you see? Now you know for certain it was just a dream. I heard that the doctors and nurses at Vanderbilt worked on her for some time. They would have seen a stab wound. There would have been blood. Lots of blood.” She patted Jessica’s arm. “It’s just a bad dream caused by the blow to your head.”

Fighting exhaustion and tears, Jessica laid back down and pulled the covers up to her chin as her sister rolled over to her side of the bed. Wrapped in quiet and lulled by a false sense of security, Jessica began to settle. But at the edge of sleep, her voice broke the silence.

“She wasn’t stabbed with a knife. It was a needle. A hypodermic needle…in the back of the leg.”

* * *

Brenda thrust her foot into the leg of her jeans and yanked them up while Jessica watched from the bed.

“Thank you for spending the night with me,” she said.

Brenda smiled. “That’s what sisters are for.” And then the smile quirked. “That is, when there are no good-looking cops around.”

Jessica refused to look at Brenda. Her heart was so full of memories that she feared if Brenda saw her face, she would know. “I already told you. I have nothing in common with the man. You’re the one he dated, not me.”

“And there’s your answer. Dated. As in…past tense. Also, that was ages ago. I haven’t given him a thought in forever.”

Yeah, well, I wish I could say the same.

Brenda stuffed her nightgown into her bag. “There. I think I have everything. I need to go home and feed the cat and check my messages.” She glanced toward the clock and realized it was running. “Oh, look! The power is back on.”

Jessica followed her sister’s gaze and sighed. At least one part of this nightmare was over.

Brenda continued, unaware of Jessica’s disinterest. “The boss is out of town and probably frantic because no one’s there. However, I doubt there’s a soul in town who’s interested in redecorating their home right now.”

Jessica nodded. “I know. I was in the middle of payroll at the lodge when the power went off. Everyone’s probably having a fit because their checks will be late, but I didn’t want to risk direct deposit—and I was right. Who knows if the bank would have received everything.”

Brenda picked up her bag and then fixed her baby sister with a long, assessing stare.

“Jessie.”

Jessica looked up.

“About last night and what you said…”

“What about it?” Jessica asked. Her voice was defensive and she knew it.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t be telling just anyone that you’re having hallucinations. They might get the wrong idea.”

Jessica’s lower lip slid slightly forward. “What if it’s not a hallucination?”

Brenda shrugged. “I still wouldn’t be talking about them.” Then she glanced down at her watch. “I’ve got to run. You’ve got juice in the fridge and cereal in the cabinet. However, your milk is sour.”

“Oh, yummy.”

Jessica’s sarcasm was not lost on Brenda. She grinned. “I’ll call you later. Stay in bed. Rest. I love you.”

Jessica rolled her eyes. “In spite of your incessant need to boss me around, I love you, too.”

Brenda left, and then moments later, came back on the run.

“Jessie, have you seen my car keys? I can’t find them anywhere. I thought they were in my bag, but they’re not.”

Without waiting for Jessica to answer, she began turning the bedroom upside down, looking under cushions and then dashing into the adjoining bathroom to see if they might be there.

Just as Brenda slammed a cabinet door, Jessica began to lose track of where she was. The air in front of her seemed to shift, and suddenly she had a clear and perfect vision of a set of keys sticking out of the lock on a trunk. She got out of bed just as Brenda came out of the bathroom.

“Shoot,” Brenda muttered. “I can’t seem to find them—”

“You left them in the trunk lock last night.”

In the act of looking under the bed, Brenda froze. Slowly, she looked up, meeting her sister’s gaze over the edge of the mattress.

“What did you say?”

“I said, they’re in the lock on the trunk.”

Realization dawned. Brenda remembered opening the trunk to get her bag. Yes! That was the last time she’d had them! She got to her feet with a look of relief on her face and was almost out of the room before it hit her.

Jessica hadn’t been outside. In fact, she hadn’t been out of her bed since Brenda had put her there last night. She stopped and turned.

“Jessie?”

“What?”

“Why did you just say that?”

Jessica shrugged. “I don’t know. I just suddenly saw them dangling out of the lock.”

The hairs stood up at the nape of Brenda’s neck. She shivered, refusing to give way to what she was thinking. “Nothing more than a lucky guess. That’s all it could be.”

Jessica’s expression didn’t change. “Go see if I’m right.”

She listened, and when she heard the sound of a car engine firing, she shuddered and crawled back into bed.

Toad tracks. Now I am scaring myself.

She lay back on her pillow and flung her arms above her head in a dramatic gesture of disgust. The longer she lay there, the more convinced she became that something out of the ordinary was happening to her. The question remained—what was she going to do about it?