Table of Contents
Cover Page
Excerpt
About the Author
Books by Charlotte Douglas
Title Page
Cast of Characters
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Epilogue
Copyright
Jared couldn’t shake the chill…
He poured coffee into a mug, carried it to his chair in front of the fireplace, then touched a match to logs and kindling, until a blaze hissed in the stillness.
But images from his nightmares still replayed in his mind: the beam of sunlight that had turned the beautiful woman’s hair to glistening jet, the priority envelope she chose from a stack of mail, and the force of the explosion as it knocked her off her feet.
She had been determined, independent and good-natured. And now, in his dream, she was dead. “I loved her,” Jared whispered.
Anguish skewered his heart. The woman in his nightmare hadn’t been a stranger. He hadn’t yet met her in his waking life, but he knew now that he would. He knew he would love her, too…and then she would die.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
In July 1995 Charlotte Douglas became an American Romance “Rising Star” with the publication of her first American Romance novel, It’s About Time. Since the appearance of that debut novel, Charlotte has continued to write and is now looking forward to yet another great debut with this, her first Harlequin Intrigue novel, titled Dream Maker. The author lives in the Tampa Bay area with her high school sweetheart, whom she married over three decades ago.
Books by Charlotte Douglas
HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE
591—IT’S ABOUT TIME
623—BRINGING UP BABY
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Dream Maker
Charlotte Douglas
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Tyler Harris—Her search for independence led her into danger.
Jared Slater—A killer was stalking the woman of his dreams.
Pete Stanwick—The cop was devastated by his wife’s murder.
Evelyn Granger—She refused to believe a killer was after her.
Sam Wifek—Pete’s former partner holds the key to the truth.
Arnie Anderson—He failed in his attempt to stop his father’s execution.
Prologue
Jared Slater bolted upright in the darkness with a scream on his lips and blood thundering in his ears. Another dream. Cold mountain air struck the perspiration bathing his bare chest, while his senses reeled from the horror his mind had painted.
He fumbled for the switch on the bedside lamp, but its soft glow brought no comfort. Blackness hovered in his memory, and although the red digits of his radio winked two a.m., he knew sleep would elude him for the rest of the night.
After pulling on sweatpants, a sweatshirt, and thick crew socks, he sprinted down the narrow flight of stairs and flipped on the lights in the great room, the scene of his nightmare. The tranquil setting, with its deep leather chairs, massive fireplace rimmed with mountain stone, and timbered cathedral ceiling, contradicted his dream. Every piece of furniture stood in its place, the door remained securely locked, the ceiling-high windows that overlooked the valley glistened whole, unbroken. And the braided rug in front of the hearth—
He shook his head in an attempt to clear the image of a young woman sprawled there, a bloody gash marring the smooth perfection of her high forehead, and her eyes, the color of mountain mist, staring sightlessly at the ceiling.
Forcing himself across the braided rug where her body had lain in his dream, he removed a pad and pencil from his desk and carried them into the kitchen, where he turned on the coffeemaker before trying to capture the details of the horror that had awakened him. The insidious nightmare coiled like a python in his brain, strangling all thoughts except the visions from his dream.
The woman had seemed familiar—he had experienced an overwhelming affection for her—but awake, he had no idea who she was or why she had been there. A shudder racked his body. Even with the central furnace pumping warm air into the room, he couldn’t shake the chill. He poured steaming coffee into an earthenware mug, carried it to his chair in front of the fireplace, and then touched a match to logs and kindling. In a few minutes, a cheerful blaze crackled and hissed in the stillness.
Pictures hovered in his head of the woman who had died—a small-framed woman in her twenties, with long black hair, gray eyes, a heart-shaped face and a clear complexion. She’d been determined, independent, good-natured, and incredibly beautiful.
“I loved her.”
His words echoed back from the high ceiling, and the grief that had seized him in the dream refused to release him. Anguish skewered his heart with a numbing, intimate despair. The woman in the dream hadn’t been a stranger he’d never known, would never know; he had loved her.
Images from his nightmare replayed in his mind: the beam of sunlight that had turned her hair to glistening jet as she entered the room through the front door, calling him by name; the glimpse of rhododendron blooming on the mountainside; the stack of mail she had sorted before extracting a priority envelope with a look of pleased anticipation; the force and direction of the explosion as it had knocked her off her feet.
Exhausted from reliving the woman’s death again and again, Jared drained his cup, padded into the kitchen for a refill, and tossed another log onto the fire. Then he settled into the leather depths of his chair again.
The dreams had begun two years ago. He’d considered the first one merely a creation of his sleeping brain until he read in the newspaper that the woman he’d dreamed about had died. When the second horrible vision visited him in his sleep, he’d worked frantically to identify the woman in order to save her. He had discovered her identity too late. Now, already faced with the death of a third victim, the doom of a fourth woman had been thrust into his consciousness.
Was fate playing some horrible practical joke, showing him the future while denying him the ability to change it?
Or was this latest dream a sign that he could finally make a difference? The woman had been in his house, his living room. To keep her safe, all he had to do was deny her entry. If he couldn’t save the others, at least he could save her.
For the first time since awakening from the grisly vision of the woman’s death, the tension eased from his muscles. Jared laid his head back against the soft cushion and stared at the flickering flames.
The fire burned low, and bleak predawn light tumbled through the high windows before he finally drifted back to sleep.
Chapter One
Tyler Harris shivered in the freezing wind, tugged her jacket tightly around herself, and paced the pavement of the almost deserted service station. The only other customer, a burly man, turned up the collar of his black leather topcoat and stared at her from beneath the raised hood of a black Blazer, parked in the repair bay. Under the pale sodium lights that had been activated by the storm’s encroaching darkness, his lifeless eyes glistened like pools of stagnant water in a face as hard and chiseled as the granite of the surrounding mountains.
With a nervous shudder, she turned from
his disturbing scrutiny to the elderly attendant who had just filled her tank. “I’m headed for the Slater place at Lake Toxaway. Is this the right road?”
“Well, missie, it is—and it ain’t. Ice storm’s blowing in across the mountains. Weather bureau’s just issued travelers’ advisories.” The grizzled old man counted out her change and pointed across the highway. “You could put up at the motel there. It’s right clean and not too pricey. That fellow with the Blazer’s already reserved his room.”
The thought of being snowbound with the Blazer’s menacing owner repelled her more than the sleeting rain that stung her cheeks. She slipped into her car and consulted the map folded on the seat. “I’d better get moving. I can reach Lake Toxaway within the hour. If I delay and the roads ice up, I could be stuck here for days.”
The attendant’s kindly face fell. “Suit yerself.”
“Brevard’s a lovely town,” she said, attempting to salve his disapproval, “but I’m reporting for a new job today, and I don’t want to make a bad impression by arriving late.”
The attendant moved away, but before she could raise her window, the man with dead eyes appeared beside her car. “You’d better stay away from Slater’s place.”
She shivered at the threat in his voice. “What do you mean?”
His shrugged his leather-clad shoulders. “People around Slater keep turning up dead.”
She forced herself to meet his lifeless gaze. “What people?”
“Good-looking women, like you.” He eyed the UNC-Chapel Hill parking sticker on her windshield. “If I were you, I’d turn around now and head back where I came from.”
She searched for meaning in his blank expression, but his rough face told her nothing. “Do you know Jared Slater?”
“I wish to God I didn’t.” The man turned abruptly and paced across the pavement toward the garage without a backward glance.
“Just drive careful, missie,” the attendant called as she pulled away from the pumps. “Those mountain curves are treacherous in the best of weather.”
She closed her window against the icy blast and turned up the heater. In an attempt to regenerate her excitement over her new job, she dismissed the stranger as a crank. For all she knew, the man didn’t know Slater at all. He looked like the type who would get his jollies from frightening women with his sullen looks and threats.
“A nut case,” Tyler decided as she pulled back onto the deserted highway. She refused to consider that Jared Slater might be dangerous. That fact would throw a major kink in her well-laid plans.
Only two weeks ago, she had discovered an ad posted in the main staff lounge of the university library.
Wanted immediately—full-time research assistant for freelance writer. Must be willing to relocate to Lake Toxaway, N.C., and occasionally travel. Salary negotiable. Room and board provided.
Jared Slater’s name and E-mail address were at the bottom of the ad.
She had completed her research, tracking down every tidbit of information she could glean about Jared Slater before composing a response. She’d almost given up hope of landing the job, when three days ago his acceptance of her application and an irresistible salary offer had arrived in her electronic mailbox.
The position made her dream of independence come true. She welcomed the opportunity to earn her own living and at the same time escape the velvet clutches of her darling, but overprotective, grandmother.
The wind buffeted her car and blasted rain across her path as she headed up the steep grade, lighted only by the high beams of her headlights. Other travelers must have heeded the weather advisory and taken shelter from the sleeting rain, for she passed only a large tractor-trailer truck, easing its way in low gear down the mountain.
While concentrating on the slippery road, she considered what she’d uncovered about the man she would meet within the hour. Jared Slater had become a man of mystery. Born in Virginia to a family that had made their wealth through tobacco, he’d had a brief but stellar career as an investigative journalist in Washington. After recovering from a life-threatening illness, he’d resigned from the Post and disappeared into seclusion in the North Carolina mountains. No one seemed to know what he’d been doing since. If he’d been writing freelance, as his ad stated, she could find no trace of his work.
She’d studied the grainy photo that accompanied his last article, completed just after his illness. Wide-set eyes softened the Hollywood ruggedness of his square jaw, patrician nose, and strong brow. Those eyes had reflected a strange, haunted look, possibly the result of his earlier brush with death, but a latent kindness had shone there, too. A good thing, since it would be just the two of them working alone each day in his mountain retreat in the back of beyond.
She pushed aside her niggling doubts and the stranger’s bizarre warning and wondered why a trained investigative reporter would need his own researcher and what he was working on, hidden away in the Smokies.
The storm’s intensity increased, and by the time she reached the turnoff to Lake Toxaway, her hands were cramped from clutching the steering wheel, as if the force of her grasp would hold her car to the treacherous road. Her head pounded from straining to see the highway through the freezing rain and darkness.
She pulled into the parking lot of a small grocery, the only commercial building in sight, extracted a penlight from her purse, and reviewed the map and directions Jared had sent.
“Why didn’t he just say the middle of nowhere?” she grumbled as she threw the car into gear again. She re-entered the deserted highway and searched through the blackness for the church he had specified.
“I hope your directions are good, Jared Slater,” she muttered through clenched teeth. “I don’t fancy spending the night lost on this mountain in an ice storm.”
She found the turnoff at the church and the first and second forks, but when her odometer indicated she’d gone too far since the last fork, she knew she’d missed Slater’s driveway. She turned around in front of a summer cottage, shuttered against winter storms, and eased her way back down the road.
A blowing evergreen branch had obstructed Slater’s sign on her first pass, but this time she located his driveway and headed up the gravel road, longing for a cup of hot coffee and a roaring fire. In spite of the heat blasting from her defrosters, her windshield iced as the temperature dropped. Water had crystallized on the trees and shrubbery lining the narrow drive. She jumped at the gunshot crack of a limb, broken by the weight of its frozen burden, that scraped the trunk of her car as it fell. Through leafless trees, a building loomed in the darkness on the mountaintop, like a setting for a Gothic horror film. Light from its tall windows glittered dimly through the dangerous storm.
Inching her way forward over the icy road, she focused on the narrow strip ahead, all too aware of the dark ravine on her right. Should her car slide, there was no barrier to prevent a plunge down the mountainside. When she reached the entrance to Slater’s house, the cramping in her fingers had spread to every muscle of her body.
She parked in front of the garage doors, left her bags in the car, and, slipping and stumbling, managed to reach the front door without falling. When she banged the massive brass knocker, the howling of the wind muffled its pounding.
Ice coated her jacket and hair, and cold bit into her bones while she waited. Just as her teeth began rattling, the door swung open, and Jared Slater glowered down at her. Shocked recognition flashed in his eyes, which seemed odd, since she’d never met him.
“Good God, woman, are you lost?” He hesitated, then opened the door wider and with an air of reluctance pulled her inside.
“I w-was, but th-then I—” Her chattering teeth made her words incomprehensible.
After he stripped her sodden coat from her shoulders, she maneuvered close to the blazing fire, the only source of light in the dim, cavernous room.
“Anyone else with you?” he asked.
Afraid to trust her voice, she shook her head and stretched her frozen hand
s toward the fireplace, conscious of her isolation on the mountaintop with a man she knew nothing more about than the few facts she’d gleaned from her research—and a stranger’s dire warning.
His movements sounded behind her, but she didn’t shift her gaze from the mesmerizing, flickering flames. The sight of his disapproving eyes had only increased her uneasiness. Slowly warmth returned to her hands and feet, and her teeth no longer clacked like castanets.
“You can’t travel back down the mountain in this weather.” His rough baritone blended with the screaming wind that buffeted the windows. She jumped when he grasped her elbow, then flushed with embarrassment at her nervousness as he guided her into a deep chair that enfolded her like an embrace.
“Didn’t you hear the travelers’ warnings?” Disapproval colored his words. “What are you doing up here in this godforsaken weather?”
She tore her gaze from the flames and forced herself to study Jared Slater. “Looking for you.”
His deep brown eyes assumed a hooded look and his jaw hardened. In the fire’s dancing light, his towering presence and stern expression emanated a strong sense of menace. Prickles of uneasiness crept along her skin. Maybe the stranger at the gas station hadn’t been a nut case after all, because the man before her, with his haunted eyes and lips set in a tight, ominous line, looked capable of mayhem.
He sat opposite her and leaned forward, clasping the long fingers of his strong hands between his knees. “Why are you looking for me?”
Chills flittered along her spine from the roughness of his tone. Why had he offered her a job, then acted as if he didn’t know why she was there? Anger dispersed her shivers.
“I’m reporting for work. I’m Tyler Harris.”
JARED FELL BACK in his chair. The knowledge that she was Tyler Harris hit him like a falling boulder. “I’m sorry, Ms. Harris, but the position is filled.”
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