Sleep No More

by Susan Crandall

  Jason shot a curious look at Kitterman, but Abby couldn’t decipher what was behind it. “No problem.”

  “So, Abby,” Kitterman said as they walked back toward the house. “How long have you known Dr. Coble?”

  “I’ve known who he is, you know, just around town, since he moved here. We’ve just recently become friends.”

  “Are you and he dating?”

  Dating? She and Jason had become much closer over the past four days than dating could have provided. Her circumstance had acted as a crucible, burning away all of the frivolous and extraneous bullshit that dating entailed.

  She answered, “No. He sort of got sucked into helping me after my accident. He’s a nice guy that way.”

  “So you aren’t romantically involved.”

  She thought of their kiss. Although she’d felt a connection entirely new and exciting to her, one that shot right to her core, it didn’t qualify as a romantic entanglement. “No.” It made her a little sad to admit it aloud.

  “Was he with you when any of these events occurred?”

  “I stayed at his house last night, after the break-in and the message on the mirror—I assume you know of that?”

  “Yes.”

  “So he was with me when my tires were slashed during the night.”

  He looked pointedly at her. “He was with you, the entire night?”

  “Well, no. I slept in his daughter’s room.” She stopped walking and threw up her hands. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding! There is no way in hell that Jason had anything to do with any of these things.”

  “I’m just asking questions, Ms. Whitman, that’s how I get the information to do my job.”

  Her ears burned with indignation. “Listen, all of this crap started after my accident.”

  “As did your friendship with Dr. Coble.”

  “Again, not possible.” She rubbed her temple. “There are a couple of things I need to tell you about the accident… so you have all of the information to do your job.” She told him of the headlights and their abrupt about-face the night of the accident, as well as the pleading call she’d received in the middle of the next night.

  He didn’t respond with as much as an eye blink. “Have you had any contact with the Robard family since the accident?”

  The question brought hot shame to her cheeks. “No. I… I’m just not sure what the right thing to do is in a case like this.” She looked up at him. “Should I, do you think?”

  “I was thinking more in the context of them contacting you.”

  “Oh.” It sunk in. “Oh!”

  “Until we get your phone records and find the source of that middle of the night call, we have to keep open minds.”

  She nodded. “But that doesn’t explain the headlights.”

  “They may or may not be linked. It might just have been kids up to no good scared off by the approaching police cruiser.”

  She said, “We think that whoever made the 911 call is getting worried that I’ll identify him, and he’s trying to scare me off.”

  “I’ll listen to the 911 recording, see if I can get anything off of it; but the report says that the caller didn’t say anything. They found the accident by locating the cell phone signal. I’ll also get your phone records, maybe we’ll get lucky. Don’t hang your hat on it. It really could have just been a drunk.” He paused. “When you say ‘we think,’ I assume you’re referring to yourself and Dr. Coble.”

  “Stop making statements like that—like he’s up to something. He’s just trying to help me.” She strode on ahead a few steps, unwilling to listen to this innuendo anymore.

  Abby grew more distant with every passing mile on the two-hour drive to Savannah. By the time Jason parked his car in front of Sonja’s house near Forsyth Park, Abby was like a stranger sitting next to him.

  He was glad he’d given Sonja all of the information she would need on the phone to hypnotize Abby. It would make things go more smoothly once they were inside.

  He reached across and took her hand. “Don’t expect too much.”

  She looked at him, her eyes clear from her night of sleep. “If I’m anything, Jason, I’m a realist.”

  The truth of that statement stabbed at his heart. How long had it been since she’d allowed herself to dance with dreams?

  She got out of the car and closed the door. She was still standing there looking up at the house when Jason reached the curb.

  “This is an amazing house,” she said.

  “And inside is an amazing woman.”

  A shadow flickered in her eyes just before she lowered her lashes, hiding from him.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  Her gaze snapped back to his face, the shadow replaced with steely determination. “Nothing. Let’s go.”

  Abby walked up the steps to the porch, resisting the urge to take Jason’s hand. Resisting mostly because that urge sprang from proprietary feelings she had no right to have, not a need for support.

  Sonja’s house reinforced all of Abby’s suppositions of the woman. An imposing Greek revival, it truly was magnificent. Its age provided just enough imperfection to make it interesting. The setting sun filtering through the giant trees highlighted the azaleas blooming around the porch foundation: vibrant pink and snowy white, new life against old brick and stucco. This place looked like a watercolor painting, the kind tourists bought in local art galleries while vacationing in Savannah.

  Jason rang the antique doorbell and Abby braced herself to face a woman whom he considered amazing.

  Sonja—the name said tall, blond, exquisite, brilliant, worldly. Amazing.

  The door opened to a tiny woman with short salt-and-pepper hair, dressed in a pink skirt-suit, pearls, and ivory heels. She looked like an aging pixie in Southern gentlewoman attire, complete with a button nose and sparkling eyes.

  Abby feared this was the magnificent Sonja’s mother.

  Jason stepped close and gave the woman a brief hug. “It’s so good to see you, Sonja.”

  Abby exhaled her relief loudly enough that Jason cast a curious look her way.

  Luckily Sonja reached out her hand, giving Abby a reason not to explain.

  “This must be Abby,” Sonja said, her voice smooth and gracious and oh-so-Southern.

  “Hello,” Abby said. “I really appreciate you seeing me.” And not being some Euro-hottie past love of Jason’s.

  “Come in, you two. Can I offer you an iced tea or something?”

  Abby politely declined, anxious to get on with the hypnosis. Thankfully, Jason declined, too.

  Sonja took them into an elegant front parlor filled with a mix of beautiful antiques and comfortable upholstered furniture. The late-day sun streaking through the tall windows gave the rich jewel tones of the decor more brilliance. It was a room that beckoned a person to curl up with a good book.

  This evening Abby was the book. And she hoped that book would be filled with answers.

  Sonja directed Abby to the sofa and asked Jason to close the interior shutters.

  Sonja took a seat in one of the chairs near the sofa. “I can see you’re anxious to get started, so let’s begin. It’s most important that you feel comfortable. First, I need to know if you want Jason in or out of the room.”

  Abby looked at Jason. He hadn’t taken a seat and was lingering near the wide doorway to the entry hall. Respectful.

  He’d come all of this way with her; Abby couldn’t imagine taking this step alone. “I’d like him to stay.”

  “All right,” Sonja said. “Jason, you know the rules.”

  Jason offered Abby an encouraging smile. He wondered if she was as wound up inside as he was. He felt as if he was about to open the door to a closet. Would it be empty? Would it hold forgotten treasures or hellish nightmares? Or would the hinges be rusted closed and refuse to open at all?

  Abby was so hopeful that this would provide her answers. He’d done his best to prepare her for disappointment. But, he now realized, he hadn’t pre
pared himself as well. His insides were twisted with dread. No matter what lay ahead in this hypnosis session, he couldn’t see anything but upset and pain for Abby.

  He wanted to hold her hand, give her a loving anchor as Sonja delved deep into Abby’s defenseless subconscious. But Sonja was right, he knew the rules. He took a seat at a small table set with a chess board that was located behind the sofa, where he would be out of Abby’s sight. This would be like watching as Sonja performed surgery on Abby, but this procedure would lay bare things much more vulnerable than internal organs. And unlike surgery, Abby would feel the pain—and she would remember.

  Jason pressed his back against the chair and braced himself for what was to come.

  Sonja, ever the prepared professional, had left an unlined notepad and a pen next to the chess set, in case he needed to communicate with her during the hypnosis.

  She instructed Abby to lie back on the sofa and close her eyes.

  Jason settled in for what could well be a long wait, almost hoping Sonja’s attempt to hypnotize Abby would fail. Even though Abby was a woman who guarded herself well and therefore not an ideal candidate for hypnosis, Sonja was extraordinarily good at what she did.

  It took a full forty minutes of Sonja’s soothing Southern voice before Abby was in the proper mental state. Even though Jason couldn’t see her, he could hear the alteration in her breathing, could feel her release control one slender thread at a time. And as each fiber slid free of her fingers, it immediately sought out his heart and wrapped tightly around it. With each beat, his own tension escalated.

  “Now Abby,” Sonja said softly, “we’re going to go back to that night, the night of—”

  Abby broke in. “There’s smoke.”

  “Smoke?”

  “It’s dark. I don’t know how I got to the living room.”

  Sonja shot a questioning look at Jason. He motioned for her to continue.

  “What living room?”

  “In our house.”

  Jason tensed.

  “Abby, I want you to know you are perfectly safe now,” Sonja said. “There is no danger to you whatsoever in answering my questions. Where is the smoking coming from?”

  “The dining room. I can see bright flames in there—hear them. It’s so hot. The smoke stings my eyes.” Abby sucked in a sharp breath. “Courtney’s screaming.” There was a break in Abby’s voice. “She sounds hurt and terrified. She’s in the back of the house. But it’s too hot to go that way….”

  Abby fell silent.

  “Abby? What happened?” Sonja asked.

  “I don’t know. Everything is gone now.”

  With his heart breaking with sympathy and his entire body thrumming with tension, Jason quickly scribbled a note. Ask what she remembers before the living room.

  Sonja did.

  Abby was silent for a moment. “I was reading in bed until very late. I was only allowed to read until ten-thirty. But it was Little Women, I couldn’t stop.” There was a smile in Abby’s voice that tugged at Jason’s heart. “I pretended to be asleep when Momma checked on me at eleven. Just after I turned my light out I heard Court get up to go to the bathroom. I must have gone right to sleep. That’s all I remember.”

  Jason wrote, Time?

  “What time did you turn out your light?” Sonja asked.

  “It was almost two.”

  Sonja looked up at Jason, brow raised in question.

  He shook his head. There was no reason to push Abby any more about the fire. She’d come to find out about the accident. They needed to get it done while Abby’s mind was still open.

  “All right, Abby. We’re going to leave that time. I want you to tell me about the night four days ago, the night of your accident. Begin when you left Jason in the Jeter’s parking lot.”

  “I wish he’d kissed me.”

  Jason saw Sonja’s smile in the dim room. As much as he was pleased by Abby’s admission, he felt like a real creep. This was akin to reading a private journal without permission. Even though he supposed Abby had given her permission when she’d elected to have him stay in the room.

  He motioned for Sonja to move forward in time.

  “Did you drive straight home when you left Jeter’s?”

  “Yes. I stopped in the shop to check messages. I thought about working, but it was bedtime, so I went on home.”

  Sonja raised a brow. “Do you go to bed at the same time every night?”

  “Yes. It’s part of the ritual.”

  “Ritual?”

  “The one Dr. Samuels created for me when I was a kid. It helps with sleepwalking.”

  “So you went through your ritual. Then what?”

  Jason was a little disappointed that Sonja hadn’t asked what the ritual entailed. Again, he was ashamed of his voyeuristic desires. But the more time he spent with Abby, the more he wanted to know everything about her.

  “I wonder if Jason will really call me. I think about him for a while. Then I go to sleep.”

  “What is the next thing you remember after falling asleep?”

  “Red lights.”

  “Where?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Jason scribbled a note on his pad and held it up.

  “How many red lights?” Sonja asked.

  “Two.”

  He scribbled another question.

  Sonja nodded. “Are they in front of you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you see anything else?”

  “No. Now it’s black.”

  “What do you remember next?”

  “I hear gravel dropping around me.”

  “Did the sound wake you?”

  “Yes… no, I was waking up anyway. But it isn’t gravel. It’s glass. It fell off me when I moved. My head hurts. My feet are wet.”

  As Abby talked about the glass, something that had been nagging Jason since he’d first heard her story came into focus. He wanted to know if there was any other broken glass on the van and if the crash investigation team had a theory about how the driver’s window had been broken. Glass on the inside of the van would indicate it had been broken by a blow from the outside.

  “What do you see?” Sonja asked.

  “It’s so dark. The fog is hanging over the water. My van’s sitting at an angle. One of my headlights is shining under the water.”

  The picture she’d just painted sent chills down Jason’s arms. She was alone, disoriented; she had to have been terrified.

  The questions continued. Jason listened as Abby recounted the same scenario that she’d told him about the time after exiting her van until the police arrived. Except that she hadn’t told him of her panic prompted by the idea of gators and snakes in the water. His chest had squeezed tight and his fingernails bit into his palms when she described her fear.

  When Abby had finished telling about her ride in the ambulance, Sonja looked up at Jason with a raised brow again.

  He nodded and she began to bring Abby out from under.

  Sonja began the process, making certain that Abby would remember everything after she awakened.

  Jason was mulling over Abby’s responses when he heard Sonja call his name.

  He shook off his distraction and looked at her.

  “I said I think Abby could use some iced tea. Would you be a dear and help me in the kitchen?”

  He knew Sonja wanted to question him privately to see if they’d achieved Abby’s goal. But he wasn’t ready to leave Abby just yet, so he lingered when Sonja left the room.

  He moved to stand in front of Abby. She was now sitting on the sofa, looking as if she’d just awakened from a nap. His heart was raw from listening to her, but she appeared calm. Her strength astounded him.

  He reached down and touched her cheek. “There are two amazing women in this house.”

  She smiled and put her hand over his. “I suppose since I remembered the time between leaving Jeter’s to going to bed, my memory loss of the rest of the accident can’t be from the bu
mp on my head. I was sleepwalking. And it’s just like you said, I don’t have any memory of it.”

  He wondered if she remembered her recounting of the fire. Abby was a woman who focused on a goal. And her goal here was the accident. He almost questioned her about it, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not now.

  He looked into those brown eyes, so much darker in the dim light, and said only, “I’m sorry.”

  He didn’t remind her that her hypnosis had been of some value. Although she’d been fairly certain of it, they now knew for a fact she’d gone home after Jeter’s and gone to sleep. But that wasn’t what Abby had come here for. She wanted answers about the accident.

  He left the room without bringing up the red lights. She needed a break, a bit of time to digest what she’d just gone through. They could dissect all of this later. Right now he wanted to thank Sonja as quickly as good manners allowed, and get out of here. He needed some time alone with Abby, as much for his sake as for hers.

  CHAPTER 18

  Jason was quiet after they left Sonja’s, probably because he knew it was useless to rehash the same old details of her accident over again. And honestly, Abby was grateful. She’d thought she’d been realistic in her approach to this session, taking a nothing-ventured, nothing-gained attitude. So the hollow well of her disappointment caught her off guard. She reminded herself, she was no further behind now than she had been. And yet it felt as if she’d lost significant ground, surrendered the field of battle. She had no other defense to launch.

  Maybe she was just looking for a way to rid herself of blame for Kyle Robard’s death. Maybe it was time to step up and accept full responsibility publicly.

  That idea led directly to another, more practical, thought. Would the people who’d already ordered flowers for Kyle still want to keep those orders? Abby would have to call each one and make certain before she processed them; those outside Preston might have no idea she’d been involved in the accident. She’d grown accustomed to providing funeral arrangements for people she knew, even for her own family. But this was an entirely different thing: flowers for someone she’d… killed.

  How could Jason even be interested in someone like her, a person who killed people and didn’t remember?