In Dreams

by Patricia Rosemoor

  Lucy sat down to wait, and to pass the time, practiced laying out her own tarot. She found it hard to concentrate. So much depended on tonight.

  And when the night was over…

  Soft music filled the air and guests began filtering into the ballroom dressed in their designer finery—women in formal gowns and sparkling jewelry and men in dark tuxes.

  Lucy’s pulse skipped a beat or two. This was it. Show time.

  Thankfully, her first few customers were not handsome, married politicians whose name began with C. She relaxed a little, though still keeping an eye out for her prey. Not that he was guaranteed to want his tarot read, but she was the only tarot reader in the room…

  She spotted Mama, who was still oblivious to her daughter’s presence.

  And Daddy, who was not. He passed by and nodded, his signal that he’d done what she’d asked. She glanced around and saw that he had.

  After finishing with another customer, she spotted Justin. He was so damn attractive in his rented tux that her pulse triggered and juices started flowing.

  Would it always be like this?

  Would she always quicken just getting a glimpse of him through a crowd?

  “Are you free to read my tarot?” a deep male voice interrupted.

  “Yes, of course…” Lucy nearly choked as she looked up into the handsome face of Louisiana senator Carlin Montgomery.

  17

  WITH HER PULSE gone ragged, Lucy softly choked out, “Sit, please.”

  Carlin Montgomery was a good-looking man with a winning smile. Winning enough to fool a young girl into falling in love with him? Lucy wondered.

  She set down the cards in front of him, saying, “Cut please,” then watched his face to see if he reacted to the artwork.

  He cut, then said, “Interesting deck,” and her heart skipped a beat.

  “Yes, I inherited it from a friend—another tarot reader who unfortunately died recently.”

  Montgomery didn’t comment. His face muscles didn’t so much as twitch. Lucy couldn’t get a read on him, no matter how hard she tried. While she laid out the cards in a Celtic cross pattern, she glanced over Montgomery’s shoulder to see that Justin was nearby, very aware of who was at her table.

  “So what do you see there?” he asked. “Am I going to win the election?”

  “I see that you’re very ambitious…and in the recent past, you’ve done things you want to keep hidden.”

  He laughed. “All politicians have secrets, Missy.”

  “But someone knows yours. That person could be dangerous to you.”

  Montgomery sat back in his seat and frowned at her. “I’m not sure where you’re going with this, but I’m not liking it much.”

  “I’m simply reading the cards.”

  “The hell you are. I know you supposedly psychic people like to add drama to your readings, but you’re just carrying this too far.”

  With that, a disgusted Montgomery rose, dropped a twenty in the donation bowl, and walked away.

  Lucy glanced at Justin. He was keeping an eye on the irritated politician, who took a drink from a roving waiter’s tray and then found a woman to charm.

  Another customer approached Lucy, so she had to let go of the senator, not knowing if she’d hit a nerve because he was guilty…or because he was simply ticked because he found her outrageous.

  The hour passed slowly, even though she read tarot for several more customers before spotting Charles Cahill in the crowd. Dinner would be served in another twenty minutes or so. People were already being herded toward the central staircase to make their way up to the third-floor ballroom. Lucy worried that she would never have a shot at Cahill. But the next thing she knew, Justin was part of the Councilman’s group. A moment later, the two men were laughing together and Justin pointed to her.

  Cahill nodded and approached her table. “I hear you give the most interesting readings in town. Considering how many psychics New Orleans has, that’s saying a lot. So how good are you?”

  “One way to find out,” she murmured.

  “All right then.”

  Cahill sat and Lucy had him cut the deck. He showed no interest in the artwork, but stared at her, his mouth curved in a slight smile. Lucy wasn’t smiling, though. She was getting a goosey feeling from the cards that she didn’t like, one that made her uneasy.

  She laid out the cards starting with the one he picked, which represented him—the Hierophant. “Well, that’s appropriate for a politician in power,” she murmured of the figure in ecclesiastic robes, crossing it with a Ten of Swords and the High Priestess. “You’re facing much adversity,” she said, recognizing that she was the source.

  As she laid out the rest, her breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t set this up. She frowned at the Six of Cups reversed that represented his far past and that spoke to her of things done to him she couldn’t have imagined.

  “What is it?”

  “I’m sorry…someone in your past was very cruel to you…had you under his…no, her power….” It was as if the cards were speaking to her, through her, when she said, “You were in great pain, and you lost everything.”

  Lucy met Cahill’s gaze and saw the truth of what she’d just said in his expression. Someone had done something terrible to him in his youth.

  He quickly covered, saying, “So tell me something I don’t know.”

  Lucy looked to the right at his future—Judgment—and said, “You’re going to be caught.”

  “At what?”

  She fingered the card to the left that represented the recent past—Death. “Something you’ve done recently.”

  “I’ve done a lot of things, chère. You’ll have to be more specific.”

  His unctuous tone sent a chill through Lucy. She blinked at him, then couldn’t stop herself from being direct. “A young woman…who disappeared.”

  The way he was looking at her gave her the creeps. Cahill wasn’t offended the way Montgomery had been. More like he was amused.

  “And what is it you think I’ve done with this young woman?”

  Lucy got a quick image of a girl on her knees in front of Cahill, whose features were slack with lust. “Things you shouldn’t have.”

  He laughed. “That’s pretty broad. Can you narrow it down some?”

  “She was too young…underage…” Lucy didn’t know where that came from, but the words choked out of her rang true. “…and she threatened you with exposure.”

  “You have an active imagination.”

  “Active enough to see a knife.” She could, in her mind’s eye, something that had never happened to her before. No doubt about it—her sixth sense was telling her that Cahill was definitely the one.

  “Ah, now there we are. You think I killed the little twit, don’t you?”

  The breath caught in her throat. “Did you?”

  “No. I don’t know what happened to Theresa. I tried telling her sister Erica that, but the bitch was going to bring me up on charges. Not that they would have stuck, but it would have ruined my career. Then that other so-called psychic tried to blackmail me with the knowledge.” His voice went soft and threatening when he said, “You know what happened to her. And now what is it you want, Lucy Ryan?”

  Her eyes widened at the mention of Theresa…at his knowing who she was…at the gun he pointed at her from the folds of his jacket so that no one else could see.

  “Justice,” Lucy croaked. She could feel her pulse in her throat. It pounded hard enough to choke her. And her insides knotted so that she could hardly breathe at all. “Do you plan to kill me here, in front of all these people?”

  She darted her gaze to Justin, who swung around toward her. But before he could step off, Kat Ryan stepped in front of him, blocking his path.

  “Not here.” With the gun barrel still pointed at her, Cahill indicated she should rise. “If you don’t want me to shoot someone you care about…let’s take a walk.”

  There was no helping it. She had to obey.
Though most of the crowd had advanced up to the formal dinner, too many innocent people were still in the vicinity, including Justin and her mother. She would be all right, she told herself.

  Besides, Justin wouldn’t let anything happen to her. He’d promised.

  A quick glance told here he was trying his best to dance around her mother, but Mama looked distraught and caught on to his arm and wouldn’t let go. She danced him around so Justin’s back was to Lucy.

  “If you’re wondering how I recognized you, Lucy Ryan, my man Walter staked out your friend and followed him to that charming little cottage on Magazine where he picked you up.”

  Lucy felt as if her legs were wooden as Cahill pushed her to the wall, then behind a set of heavy velvet drapes.

  He went on. “Not a very competent investigator. Your loss.”

  A hidden door led outside. Lucy wanted to pull free and call for help, but Cahill opened the door and shoved her through to the garden.

  JUSTIN FINALLY pulled free of Lucy’s mother and whirled around, seeking out Lucy. She was gone!

  “Mr. Guidry, please tell me what’s going on!” Kat Ryan cried again.

  Her voice reverberated through his head as he ran across the room and frantically looked for an exit. A heavy velvet drapery looked slightly askew and he pulled it from the wall to find a hidden door.

  Justin slipped outside onto a small porch to see Cahill down in the garden, pulling something from his pocket. A click and a blade sprang free. A switchblade!

  “Cahill!” Justin yelled, vaulting forward over the railing.

  The politician’s hand wavered and Lucy shoved at him, but before she could get away, Cahill caught her arm and twirled her body into his, yelling, “Take care of him!”

  Cahill’s two thugs got between Justin and the politician. Justin swung at Mr. Shoe Fetish—the guy they’d identified as Phil Beatty—and made contact with his jaw, but the other one, Walter something, grabbed him from behind. Phil got in a good punch that snapped back his head. But as the thug came at him for more, Justin levered his body against his captor and kicked out with both feet to catch Phil in the gut. Then he dropped forward and toppled Walter over his head.

  About to go after Cahill, Justin realized they were surrounded by a half dozen burly men, two wearing tuxes, who were fast tightening the circle. More of Cahill’s bodyguards! But rather than looking as if he were in control, the politician seemed ready to panic.

  Two of the men stepped over to the ones on the ground, got them flat on their faces and knelt on their backs to hold them there.

  “It’s over, Cahill,” came a familiar voice from behind Justin, just as sirens wailed nearby. “If you want to live, let my daughter go and drop your weapons. Now!”

  Even as Jack Ryan came down the stairs, Cahill obeyed and Lucy ran to her father and threw her arms around his neck. “Thank you, Daddy!”

  Though Justin wanted in the worst way to wrest her from her father’s arms and hold her close forever, he held his ground, waited for her to come to him. He thought Lucy’s expression was one of longing as their gazes met, but she didn’t budge from her father’s side.

  As if they meant nothing to each other. Is that how this would all end? Justin wondered sadly.

  And then the moment was gone when the sirens stopped yards away. The side gate opened and Lucy’s mother came flying around the mansion followed by uniformed police, weapons drawn, Detective Mike Hebert bringing up the rear.

  LUCY SAGGED with relief once Cahill and his two thugs were read their rights and carted off. After reassuring her mother that she was just fine and that she would tell her everything later, she asked her father to lead her back into the fund-raiser. The dock workers her father had hired to protect her left, muttering their gratitude that they could finally get out of their tuxes, loosening their bow ties as they practically ran to their cars.

  That left her, Justin and Detective Mike Hebert to talk things out.

  “Somehow I get the feeling I was left out of the loop a bit,” Justin said.

  “I asked Daddy to provide us with backup. I didn’t want you to get shot again, even if you are wearing your bulletproof vest. Daddy employs some of the toughest and most loyal dock workers in the country.”

  “But you left me out of the loop why?”

  “You said I didn’t believe in myself. I wanted to prove that you were wrong. Telling Daddy everything, getting him to help was a big step in that direction for me.”

  “There’s a certain twisted logic to that, I suppose.” Justin looked at Mike. “And you arrived in the nick of time to make an arrest why?”

  “Lucky coincidence. Mrs. Ryan led us out here. But we came because our geek retrieved the deleted e-mails on Theresa Vaughn’s laptop. Lover boy was using a fake name, but we were able to track his e-mails back to his office account. So we were headed here to arrest Cahill anyway.”

  “You found proof that he’s the murderer?” Lucy asked.

  “Proof that he sexually assaulted a minor. Theresa was only seventeen when she fell under his spell. It’s the best we could do for the moment. Poor kid, she’s undoubtedly another murder victim. We just haven’t found her body yet.”

  “Cahill said he didn’t kill her,” Lucy said. “That he didn’t know what happened to her.”

  “And you believe him?” Justin asked.

  “He admitted to killing both Erica and Sophie, so why would he lie about Theresa?”

  “He admitted to murder? Too bad no one else heard it.”

  “We have it on tape,” Justin told him. “Lucy’s wired.”

  “We’ll see if we can get it to hold up as evidence,” Mike said. “But back to Theresa. If she’s not dead, then where?”

  Lucy shook her head. “I tried to find her,” she said, still wondering why she’d dreamed about the Goth club, instead. Then it hit her. “Wait a minute…maybe I did!”

  “Did what?” Mike asked.

  “Dreamed her.”

  “Huh?”

  “Don’t ask,” Justin said. “Just believe her.”

  Lucy wanted to challenge that, but later. “All this time, she’s been hiding in plain sight!”

  She borrowed Justin’s cell to call Jenn and get the name and address of the Goth club. She made arrangements to meet her sister there. Justin suggested Mike might want to come along. Thankfully, the detective didn’t argue the point.

  They hurried to their cars.

  “I couldn’t figure out why I dreamed about Jenn last night,” Lucy said when she and Justin were speeding toward the club, Mike following in his unmarked car. “She was arguing with another Goth. I told her about it, and she said it was this girl Tess who ran away because she was in trouble. Jenn was trying to convince her to return to her parents who loved her, to let them help her. I simply didn’t put it together until now.”

  “You mean Tess—”

  “Is Theresa Vaughn.”

  Jenn was waiting for them at the door of the club. And Tess/Theresa was inside.

  At first the girl-in-disguise denied ever hearing of Theresa Vaughn, but when Lucy told her she’d seen Sophie killed by Charles Cahill and that Sophie had been looking for her with her sister Erica, Theresa broke down in tears and admitted all. She’d threatened to go to Cahill’s wife and tell her about their affair. Then Cahill had threatened her. She’d been terrified for her own life and had been living first on the street and then with a couple of Goths ever since.

  Lucy introduced Theresa to Justin and to Mike, who volunteered to take her home to her father. Though she was crying and still terrified, Theresa agreed.

  After thanking Jenn, Lucy left with Justin. She was filled with a happiness that made her eyes sting.

  “This whole last week was so horrible, but something good came of it. We did get Cahill before he could kill again. And Mrs. Vaughn can come home now,” she said, remembering Mr. Vaughn saying she couldn’t bear the loss of both daughters. “Theresa will need her.”

  “We
’re some team,” Justin said as they reached the car.

  “Investigating.”

  “In every way.” He took her arm and turned her against the car door. “We’re good together, Lucy Ryan. I think we should think about a more permanent arrangement.”

  He was so close he made her body want to scream yes. But more than bodies were involved here. “You and me?” she murmured. “Not hardly.”

  Justin rested a hand on the car behind her and leaned in closer. “Are you saying you don’t care for me?”

  “I love you, Justin, so much it hurts, because sometimes love isn’t enough.”

  “What more do you need?”

  “You asked me to believe in myself when you didn’t believe in me.”

  “Who says?”

  “You said.”

  “Uh-uh. I said I didn’t know what to believe when it came to your dreams.”

  “Exactly.”

  “But I did give that dream credence, chère. Why do you think I was wearing the bulletproof vest when I was shot?”

  Lucy blinked at that. “Because of me? You’re saying you believed me?”

  “I believed you believed in the dream, and that’s what matters, because I believe in you. Besides, I’m a man who likes to hedge my bets. Right now, I would bet you want me to kiss you.”

  He did and Lucy nearly melted. Heart fluttering with an outpouring of emotion, she pushed him away. “You’d lose that bet. I want a whole lot more than a simple kiss.”

  HE GAVE IT TO HER.

  Upon entering his loft, Justin kissed her again, his hands stripping her of her clothes. Anxious to feel skin-on-skin, she tore at his, too.

  Then they were both naked.

  He leaned her back against the sofa, spread her thighs and knelt between them. She was breathing heavily before his tongue even slid along her soft inner flesh, opening it to his rhythmic stroking. With love in her heart she watched his head between her thighs. She tangled her fingers in his dark hair and opened herself wider, allowing him deeper access.

  It was a dream, the whole thing. She was too happy for this to be real.