Too Familiar (Fear Familiar Book 2)

by Carolyn Haines

  She made the introductions. “Adam thinks you’re fierce,” she told Bounder as she gave him a hug. “I told you not to scowl at people. You do look as if you could swipe their heads off with one angry blow.”

  “I intended to look fierce, just in case he meant you harm,” Bounder said. He looked at Adam and spoke to Cassandra. “I was surprised to find a man in your home.”

  “Life has a way of handing you lots of surprises, Bounder.” She gave him a cup of coffee. “Now, where is Running Stream?”

  “At the reservation working in the trading post. She sent me. She was worried about you. When she tried to call, the phone was dead. The drive to your house was road blocked when I came up.”

  “What?” Cassandra looked quickly at Adam. “What do you mean?”

  “One of those orange and white sawhorses, like road crews use. It was across your driveway with a sign saying the road was out.”

  “That’s absurd!” Cassandra said.

  “I know that now.” Bounder smiled. “I walked up here, and there’s nothing wrong with your road. So who put the barricade up?”

  “Good question,” Adam noted. “And why?”

  He caught Cassandra’s eye. They were thinking the same thing. The stranger from last night. The man had no doubt driven in, put up the barricade, and then come up to the house. Why? There wasn’t a single answer to that question that Adam liked.

  Cassandra told Bounder about the intruder. The young man insisted on checking the area, even though Adam had gone over it thoroughly.

  “No offense,” Bounder said with the first real smile on his face, “but historically, I’m better at this.”

  Adam laughed. “I’ll go, too. There’s always the chance I can learn something new.”

  Cassandra returned to the window as Adam and Bounder went out into the warming sunshine to look for clues.

  Alone with her thoughts, she felt a growing dread. Something was happening around her, something that she had no real part in, but she had been pulled into it nonetheless. Fragments of her earlier dream returned to her. The images were watery, flickering in and out. The girl. She’d been young, vivacious. For some reason Cassandra had an image of shoulder-length brown hair. Straight and shiny. A happy face with eyes that crinkled. Who was she? More importantly, was she the next victim?

  An idea formed in Cassandra’s mind. The girl in her dream said she had a job. The other two women who had been murdered had been in the area to work, too. If she could drive around, maybe visit a few shops and restaurants, she might find the girl and warn her. It was a straw to clutch at, but so far, the only one she had.

  She rushed into her bedroom and began pulling out clothes. She found a casual dress and flats, something suitable for an afternoon in the shops. By the time she heard the front door open and close, she was ready to go.

  “We have to go into town,” she said before Adam or Bounder could say anything. “I have to find the young woman.”

  “Cassandra,” Adam said slowly, “have you lost an earring?”

  She automatically reached up to her ear. The tiny stud was still in place. She checked the other one. “No. But listen, we have to go to town.”

  “It isn’t hers,” Bounder said, his eyes hard and speculating. From his pocket he withdrew a shiny, dangling bit of metal. “Cassandra doesn’t wear this type of jewelry. No hoops or dangling things. I knew when I found it that it wasn’t hers.”

  Cassandra took two steps toward the earring. The sun, which was fully out now, caught the bits of metal and glinted from them. The tiny pieces clinked together as Bounder held it aloft.

  “It’s Carla’s earring,” Cassandra said. She recognized it immediately. “I saw it in the dream. It almost touched her shoulder. Her hair was short....”

  Adam was at her side, his strong arm around her waist. She wasn’t going to faint, but she liked his support anyway. “You found that in my yard?”

  Adam answered first. “I missed it completely when I looked. It was buried under some dirt and leaves from the rain. Bounder found it.”

  The Indian walked forward and gave the earring to Cassandra.

  “Is there any way we can find out from Sheriff Beaker if Carla Winchester was wearing earrings?” Cassandra said. “I’m certain this is hers, but I want to know for positive. From a source other than my dreams.”

  “You saw the earring clearly?” Adam asked.

  “Yes. It was unusual. I remembered it.” She hesitated. “I liked it, the way it hung from beneath her short hair. This is it, I’m certain. Dead certain.”

  “I doubt Beaker’ll tell us much of anything,” Adam said. “We could take him this earring. If she had only one when they found her, and if it matched this one, he’d have to believe us.”

  Cassandra examined the earring in her hand. It was inexpensive, but pretty, a mixture of shiny metal and light-catching crystals. She could picture it dangling from Carla’s short, curly hair, just above her shoulder. Tears threatened suddenly and she blinked them back.

  Adam’s grip tightened around her. He gave a gentle squeeze of support. “We could do that, but it might only convince Beaker that you’re involved in the murders. He did imply that, you know.”

  “Damn!” Cassandra exploded. “You’re right. I can’t take this to him and try to help, because he suspects me. What am I supposed to do?” Her frustration was evident.

  Bounder and Adam exchanged looks. They had no simple answers.

  “Why did you want to go to town?” Adam asked.

  Cassandra told them her idea about looking for the girl in her dream.

  “It’s a long shot,” Adam acknowledged, “but so far, it beats sitting here and waiting. We’ll take the earring. Maybe we’ll think of some way to approach Beaker with this.”

  “You could take it to the shops and ask the clerks if they remember someone buying it. It is an interesting piece of work. Those crystals are not expensive, but many of the local craftsmen are using them for jewelry,” Bounder said.

  “Many Flowers makes jewelry from them. I’ve been helping her. If someone bought the earring as a gift for the dead woman, then you have a lead.”

  “That’s a great idea,” Cassandra said. “If we could find the shop, maybe they’d remember the earring, then....” She paused. “Then I could reasonably assume that the man who was watching my house is the killer.”

  “Or that Carla was here, on your premises for some reason shortly before she died,” Adam added. “That’s what I’m afraid Sheriff Beaker will assume.”

  “Let’s go before I lose my nerve,” Cassandra said. “Bounder, tell Running Stream that I’m fine. I’ll stop by to see her on my way home, if Adam will take me. My car’s in the shop.”

  “I will,” Adam agreed. “And we’ll give Bounder a ride to his car. I want to take a look at that barricade with him. He does have an eye for details.”

  The two men exchanged a smile, and for the first time in hours, Cassandra felt a moment of satisfaction. It was her strong opinion that Bounder needed to know more men away from the reservation. He was heavily involved in political movements within the Indian community and some of the men who influenced him were spoiling for trouble. Bounder had a right to make his own choices, but Cassandra wanted to be certain they were informed choices, not emotional ones. He needed to learn that not every white man was evil.

  “Watch the house,” she instructed Familiar as she started out the door behind the men.

  “Aren’t you going to lock it?” Adam asked.

  Cassandra shook her head. “There’s no point. If someone wants in, they’ll get in. I’ve never locked my door.”

  “It might be time to start,” Adam said. He took Cassandra’s keys from her hand. “No, let’s rephrase that. This is absolutely the time to start taking precautions.”

  * * *

  “I can’t EAT another thing.” Cassandra pushed the cup of frozen yogurt over to Adam. They were in their fourth restaurant of the afternoon. They�
�d had coffee, tea, and sampling of different menu items, all in an effort to watch and talk with waitresses. They’d also made a quick tour of most of the shops along the main drag of Gatlinburg. They’d seen several young women who looked like the brunette in Cassandra’s dream. On closer inspection, though, none of them had seemed to be the right girl.

  “There are resorts all over the area. Ski lodges, candy shops, craft shops, antique stores, and firecracker stands.” Cassandra wanted to march to Sheriff Beaker’s office and demand help in her search, but she knew she couldn’t, and the frustration was tying her in knots. “We’ll never be able to search everywhere. That girl could die. And I might be able to stop it.”

  “You’re doing everything you can,” Adam said softly. He took her hand from the table and held it. It was so small and dainty, yet the texture of the skin showed the work she did outdoors. She was a charmingly petite woman, but her spirit was gritty and filled with energy. She was no piece of fluff. Adam’s fingers closed over hers. “And I’ll do everything I can to help you.”

  “My mother told me once that whenever I needed someone in my life, they would be there for me. She said I would never be alone in a time of need. And she said that those who came to me at those times would be special and unique people, people I should value.” Cassandra looked down at the table for a moment as she struggled for composure. “I thought at the time that it was just something she said to me because she was leaving me alone. You know, some sort of pat voodoo solution so she could take off and lead her own life.”

  Adam saw the conflicting emotions cross her face. He was more drawn to her than ever.

  “The first time I thought about those words my mother said was when I met Running Stream and Bounder. The second time is now, with you. Perhaps my mother had more wisdom than I ever gave her credit for.”

  “People respond to your own generosity of spirit, Cassandra. You could ignore these dreams you’re having. Sure, they frighten you, but it really isn’t your concern, is it?”

  “I don’t know that I could do anything else except what we’re doing. But I want to thank you for being here with me, Adam. Thank you for believing me.”

  “I do believe you. I do. I’m going to be completely honest and tell you that I’m not certain what I feel about your dreams. The earring—” he patted his shirt pocket where it was “—I just don’t know. I’d like to ask Beaker about it myself. What I do know is that you need all of your friends around you now. I intend to be here.”

  “Let’s go,” Cassandra said, putting her napkin on the table. None of the waiters or waitresses in the Kettle Inn had known a girl who looked like the one Cassandra described. None of them had known Carla Winchester, either.

  “Ready to go to the reservation?”

  “No.” Cassandra stood up, stretching to her full height of five foot three. “To Beaker’s office. So, let him suspect me.” She didn’t wait for Adam’s objections; she led the way to the car.

  They were almost at Sevierville when Cassandra spoke again. She’d been watching Adam’s profile, wondering how she’d been lucky enough to meet him at this time in her life. “If the earring plays a role in this, then you’ll believe me,” she said softly.

  “It doesn’t matter what I believe. Beaker won’t put any weight in your dreams, and he’s the one who matters.”

  “Yes, but not completely. If you’re going to spend your time helping me, I want you to believe.”

  “Cassandra,”Adam touched her shoulder, “isn’t it obvious that I care enough to help, whether I believe or not?”

  Cassandra searched his face. The emotion she saw there made her skin tingle. “That may be the most valuable gift anyone has ever given me,” she said, her voice a husky whisper. “Why?”

  “That question keeps popping up in all our conversations.” Adam signaled left to turn into the courthouse parking lot. “I don’t have an answer to that question…yet.” The clear blue of Cassandra’s eyes had captured him. Was that why he was so determined to help her? He’d come to get her to endorse a product, a business arrangement. He hadn’t thought of Good Stuff Cereals in days. What was happening to him?

  “I hope Beaker’s at work today.” Cassandra was uncomfortable with the emotions Adam unleashed with such simple honesty.

  “Let’s go to the reservation and find Running Stream,” Adam suggested as they stood in the parking lot.

  Cassandra’s smile was slow and tired. “After coming all this way? We’ll visit the sheriff’s office, and then try to find Running Stream.”

  The skinny dispatcher was still at the desk when they entered. “Sheriff Beaker, you got someone here to see you,” she called to the back office.

  Beaker’s pleasant expression changed immediately when he saw Cassandra. “I don’t have time for dreams and visions, Miss McBeth.”

  “Was Carla Winchester wearing a single earring?” Cassandra took the aggressive stance. She walked to the counter and stopped directly in front of Beaker.

  “We’re not revealing any details of the murder.”

  “A single earring, bits of metal and crystal?”

  “Why?”

  Adam brought the earring out of his pocket and put it on the counter.

  “I have to know. Was she wearing the mate to this earring? If she was, then it proves I saw the murder before it happened in my dream.”

  “Where’d you get the earring?” Beaker asked. There was little interest in his voice.

  “I found it,” Cassandra said. She looked at Adam for support.

  “Well, I’m going to tell you this, Miss McBeth, you and your friend, so maybe you’ll go home and leave me alone to do my job. Miss Winchester’s ears were pierced, but she wasn’t wearing any earrings at all.” He smiled. “Are you happy now?”

  “Is this the truth?” Cassandra asked. She felt as if the air had been knocked from her. She’d been so certain it would match, so positive.

  “It’s the truth,” Beaker answered, suddenly angry. “Now if you don’t mind, I have work to do.”

  “Sheriff Beaker, is it possible that in the fall down the ravine, where the body was found, the earring might have come loose?” Adam asked. He wanted to put his arm around Cassandra but he checked the impulse. Now wasn’t the time. Such a gesture would only make Beaker think she was weak, when she certainly wasn’t.

  Beaker gave Adam a long look. “Sure, that’s possible. And she could have given the earring to the murderer as a keepsake.” His sarcasm drew a laugh from the radio dispatcher, and he grinned.

  “My men combed that ravine. We took dogs. We had metal detectors. We spent three days working that site. We found nothing like an earring.”

  “The next victim will be a young woman with shoulder-length brunette hair. She has a soft drawl, maybe Georgia. She’s about two inches taller than me. Her eyes crinkle when she laughs, and she likes to laugh.”

  Beaker looked at her as if she were mad.

  “If I have my way, there won’t be another murder,” Beaker said slowly.

  “I hope you have your way,” Cassandra answered, not backing down an inch, “but I don’t think so. Unless you find the killer, soon, that woman I just described will die.”

  6

  “The sheriff has no understanding of the power of a dream.” Running Stream put three cups on the table and began to pour the hot tea. It had a pungent odor. “I knew he’d react this way.”

  “What can I do?” Cassandra asked. She’d gone to the Cherokee reservation trading post, but Running Stream had already gone home. They’d tracked her down to her small cottage just over the Tennessee/North Carolina border.

  Sitting silently at the table, Adam could hear the desperation in Cassandra’s voice. He hoped the Indian woman might have answers, because he had none. He had only a bad feeling that Cassandra had made an enemy of Sheriff Beaker. The touchy lawman did not care to be questioned about his investigative tactics, especially not by a “crazy psychic.”

  “Listen
to your dreams,” Running Stream said as she took a seat with them at the old wooden table.

  “I hate them,” Cassandra said fiercely. “I hate all of this. I don’t want it. I don’t want to feel responsible for something I can’t understand or stop!”

  “You must not fight it,” Running Stream said softly. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but it is a gift. Your mother was correct. Among my people, the dreamer is honored.”

  “I want to work in my garden and write my books,” Cassandra said. “A simple life. Not this.”

  “You have been given a great chance. A human life has been handed to you, Cassandra. You have intelligence and ability. You have been challenged to use them.”

  “That isn’t fair,” Adam said quickly. “You make it sound as if it really is up to Cassandra to stop this killer.” The glance that Running Stream turned on Adam was calm and calculating. “You want to protect her, but you cannot. This is for her, Mr. Raleigh. You can help her, but you must not interfere.”

  Those words chilled Cassandra more than any others she’d heard. The full burden of her responsibility settled on her shoulders.

  Adam saw the way she slumped. It had been a bad idea to go to Sheriff Beaker. Coming to visit Running Stream had been an even worse idea.

  “I have only my dreams,” Cassandra said softly.

  “And the earring Bounder told me about,” Running Stream said. “You must not give up. This killer has to be stopped.”

  “And I must do it?”

  “Listen to the dream. Yield to it. Remember all of it,” Running Stream said. She grasped Cassandra’s hand. “Allow Mr. Raleigh to offer you comfort and support. Call on me and Bounder to help you.” She smiled. “You aren’t alone. And how is that fine black cat?”

  “Controlling the household,” Adam answered. He was rewarded by a slight smile from Cassandra.

  “He and Adam are the nice things that have happened to me. I somehow feel that Familiar was sent to help me, too.”