Nick’s gaze snuck away, like the quiet street demanded his attention. No, like he couldn’t stand to look at a liar.
“Maybe we remember things really differently, but I always cared.” Alex paused, and he still didn’t raise his gaze. “It might not have seemed that way, but I swear to you, I did.”
“Okay, maybe you cared— but it seemed like you never heard me, just trampled right over me, over everything I said.”
“I never did that.”
Annoyance crept into his tone. “How about when I wanted you to stop pressuring me?”
Alex barely managed to fight back the retort: you mean let you be lazy? Snapping at him wouldn’t get them anywhere. How were they having a conversation instead of an argument about this seven years too late? Apparently she wasn’t the only one who’d carried this around for too long. “I was— I was only— did you ever say that to me? In those words?”
“I don’t know.” Nick shrugged to match his answer. “I shouldn’t have had to.”
Alex dropped her volume to the same murmur. “Can’t read your mind— but that doesn’t mean I didn’t care. I always thought you stopped caring.”
He pondered that a long time. Too long, it seemed. Alex tried to fill the silence. “I guess sometimes I rush too much, and… maybe don’t think enough.” Even as she said it, she realized how much that had changed since their relationship ended— since the dreams began. She’d learned to watch more, observe, analyze, slow down before she pushed ahead blindly. Was that enough to make a difference to him? “I didn’t mean to make you feel like I didn’t care,” she concluded. “And I’ve grown up a lot since then. I’ve had to. Guess we both have.”
Nick still didn’t look at her, but he nodded slightly. “I’d better get to work.”
Alex stepped aside to let him pass, though the sidewalk was wide enough for them both. He was a few feet away when she turned and called after him. “Candyce was driving your car that morning, wasn’t she?”
He glanced back. “Yeah. We traded for the week so she could pick something up at IKEA in Charlotte. Her car’s too small.”
She managed to not point out again how much that made him seem like the intended target, and Nick ambled away.
Alex pivoted to do the same, but hesitated before crossing the street. She scanned the evergreen boxwoods lining the parking lot Nick had disappeared into. Either the dream was still coming, or she’d actually prevented a murder.
She inhaled, savoring the potential victory. She’d take it.
If this was how the dreams were changing, she’d definitely take it.
Her triumph and conviction lasted right up until the dream started again the next morning. As much as she wanted to bound out of bed once she saw that same brick warehouse, she had to watch and see if anything changed. If she’d changed anything.
Nick walked down the street. The killer followed. He attacked, stabbed, ran, and Nick lay on the sidewalk, dying. She recognized the betrayal on his face from more than the last dream— it was the same expression he’d had when she shouted back things aimed to cut him, hurt him as much as he’d hurt her.
Alex tore herself from her dream with a sharp breath, as if watching Nick die caused her physical pain, like she was the one gasping for air, stabbed and bleeding. She whirled around to check the clock— 6:32. Still dark outside. Still time to make it to Nick.
She grabbed her khaki slacks from the chair by her bed. Would she run to him every morning? Would that be their new morning routine? Hey there, Nick, are you dead yet? No? Have a great day. Her dreams had taken her right over the edge.
She wasn’t sure she cared. Grateful the dreams had put her in the habit of showering at night, she fumbled over the buttons of her burgundy blouse and raced out the door.
It was still dark— darkish— when she pulled onto his street. In fact, it was perfect. If she had to, she could do this every day. No matter what problems they’d had, she couldn’t stand by and let Nick be cut down.
Or maybe she did still care about him “that way.”
There were no parking spots on the street this time— and no one lurking in the boxwoods— so Alex rounded the block and pulled into the apartment building’s cramped lot. The same one Candyce and Nick used in the dream. Alex kept well away from that silver Mazda but found a place she could still see the sidewalk amid the shrubbery.
If his car was here, he was safe for this morning. Or at least the whole sequence of events hadn’t started yet.
With the radio on low, she beat out an impatient rhythm on the steering wheel. The minutes crawled by even slower than the sun crept over the red brick warehouse and the ugly glass-clad skyscraper to the east. A train chugged by. A southbound flock of geese honked overhead. The fog burned away.
Alex waited until after 7:30. The sun was up, the sky much lighter than in her dream. Crisis averted.
Right?
She had to be sure. The street had been clear when she’d driven by, and she hadn’t seen Nick or anyone resembling the killer, but what if the dream wasn’t quite right on all the details?
Alex shook her head at herself as she climbed from the car. How many times would these dreams make her doubt her sanity before she lost it altogether?
She’d made her peace with the dreams, but she hadn’t bargained on having them change. Now her peace was shattered like the thinnest ice.
Trying to keep out of sight as much as possible, Alex crept to the pavement that led from the parking lot to the sidewalk. She peered around the corner— again, no cops, no blood, no body.
He was safe.
Alex turned back to get in her car and get a jump on her day’s work. As soon as she touched her door handle, she heard Nick’s voice. “Lex?”
And she was caught. She pivoted to him, but the look on his face— somewhere between intrigued and hurt— cut off her defenses.
“Why are you pushing this so hard?” he asked.
Did he have to use that word? She wasn’t trying to pressure him, not this time. She needed to be there. Didn’t he understand?
Alex almost laughed at herself. Nick wasn’t the only one expecting telepathy. But she actually did have some sort of clairvoyance. That was exactly why she was here.
And it was driving her nuts.
Nick’s expression shifted into concern. “What’s the matter?”
For the first time in at least six years, Alex let herself really focus on him, on his eyes, the deep, glowing amber that drove other people jealous. She’d turned to those eyes countless times for reassurance, for help, for peace.
Exactly what she needed. She’d carried this burden alone, barely alluding to the truth only to the most prying people for the last six years. She’d lived thirty-seven murders— thirty-eight, if you counted Nick’s— through the eyes of the killers.
“Would you believe me if I told you something that makes me sound crazy?”
“Detective Alexandra Steen, crazy? Having a hard time picturing that.”
Alex dropped her gaze, acknowledging his point with a silent chuckle. How many times had she questioned why the dreams would afflict someone whose best quality was her pragmatism? She waved him away. “Never mind.”
“No, wait.” He took her elbow before she could escape to her car. “Listen, I— the other day, after you left my apartment, I realized… you have changed. I thought you weren’t listening, but you weren’t shouting back at me like you would have before. You’re trying to analyze this, do it right, and I want to help.” He waited until she dared to meet his gaze. “You can tell me.”
Alex swallowed, staring at his bronzed hand, drawing in that little bit of warmth and strength. It’d been way too long since she’d had that silent support.
But she’d never told anyone about the dreams. Would Nick really be the first? She tried to swallow again, but her mouth was dry. “I… I had a dream.”
She dared to check Nick’s reaction. He managed to school his features from uncertain to unders
tanding in record time. “I’m guessing it wasn’t the same as Dr. King’s.”
“No.” Alex drew a bracing breath. Was she ready for this?
She was ready to share the burden, to not be the only one who knew about the dreams, to have someone believe her. But could Nick be that person? Or would she dump her burden on him only to never see him again?
Nick slid his hand down from her elbow to take hold of her fingers, adding his other hand to hers, too. Alex met his gaze again, and there was the acceptance she’d once felt from him so unconditionally. The rest didn’t matter now; she needed to take this leap to trust him. To find peace again. To save him. “I dream about murders before they happen. I saw someone attack Candyce, and now he’s after you.”
He didn’t pull away, but his eyes widened. He watched her in silence. “You’re not joking.”
She shook her head.
“How many times?”
“Total? Few dozen. About you two? Every day this week.”
Nick looked away, but not disbelieving— more like he needed a minute to process.
A minute? Years of murderous nightmares and Alex was still trying to get a handle on it.
“So how does this work?” he asked at last, a single note of skepticism in his voice. “You dream about murders, see who did it, and then arrest them?”
She couldn’t meet his disbelief. She focused on her car door. “No, I only see the murder itself, through the killer’s eyes. I still have to figure everything out.”
“And I’m assuming you’ve had your head checked.”
Alex huffed out a laugh in a cloud. The department psychologist usually didn’t get involved unless there’d been true trauma, not just another murder crime scene or “disturbing dream.” The one time she’d actually had to talk to the guy, he’d written it all off as déjà vu.
“And you’re not joking… or lying.”
Nick made the accusation in a light tone, but the seriousness jolted her. If there was one thing Nick could never stand, it was a liar. His father had lied to his whole family about even the most trivial things, and Alex had made extra sure to be scrupulously honest with Nick. She held his gaze steady. “You know I would never lie to you.”
He stood there thinking another minute. “You’re serious.” It wasn’t a question.
“Dead.”
He flashed a smile at the awful gallows-humor pun. “You’re sure I’m in danger.”
“I am.”
Alex held her breath while Nick thought it through yet again. It didn’t matter how long he thought about it— she’d spent hours herself— nothing about it would make sense. She’d barely come to accept it and understand the rules and use the dreams as best she could.
“There might be someone.” Nick offered the idea like a life preserver.
But what would he suggest? A doctor? A therapist? Dorothea Dix?
“I’d almost forgotten, but the guy just came into the office again last week.”
She tried to hammer the pieces together, but she didn’t have enough context to make them fit anywhere in the conversation. “What guy? Start over.”
“Sorry. A couple months back, we had to let one of our key employees go. He got pretty bitter about it online. To the point where we had to threaten to sue.”
Oh— oh. Someone who would want to hurt him.
He was accepting her dreams. He was trying to help. Surprise blanked out her mind for a split second. Of all the responses in the world, acceptance wasn’t one she’d actually imagined. Hoped for, but not dared to visualize. Something in her mind seemed to settle back into place, as if the time away from him or the disruption of the dreams had broken a piece inside of her and that little bit of validation finally fixed it.
“Any credence to his complaints?” she asked, leaning against her car door.
Nick pondered that. “Well, we did fire him, and he’d helped develop several of our products, but the things he was saying… we were unethical, immoral, blocking him from the unemployment he was entitled to— as if he wasn’t fired for misconduct. Candyce said we had a case for defamation and wrote up a cease-and-desist a week or two ago.”
So Candyce had gone on to law school like she’d always planned. Something about that was gratifying. But Alex needed to focus on the case. “Sounds like he was angry. Can you imagine him turning violent?”
Nick bit his lip like he was trying to hold back the truth. “Wish I could say no, but honestly, part of the reason we let him go is because his drinking’s gotten out of control, so I don’t know. He was raving when he came into the office last week. We nearly had to call the police— you guys.”
Alex suppressed a grim nod. Alcohol and indignation definitely made a volatile cocktail.
They finally had a suspect. They still didn’t know when he’d strike, but they knew what was coming. And maybe— maybe— Nick would be willing to work with her to fight back.
“Are your dreams always right?” he asked.
She met his gaze, like that would brace him for the answer. “Always.”
He shuddered, and Alex raised an eyebrow in silent question.
“You’re telling me I could die any day,” he said.
She studied him, the way his jaw settled into acceptance. The reality was really setting in. “I don’t mean to pressure you,” she said, “but we have to do something.”
He didn’t argue, but he didn’t agree either.
“I can’t let you live in fear. I think we need to fight back.”
Once again, she didn’t breathe as she waited for his reaction. “Okay,” he said at last.
Quenching relief flooded into her chest so quickly she almost wanted to fling her arms around him— but she didn’t. Instead, she said, “We need a plan.”
Nick nodded, squeezed her hands, and walked around to climb in the passenger seat of her car.
Alex tried not to marvel at how long it’d been since they’d been on the same team— instead, she reminded herself that they were on the same team now, and that was all that mattered to keep Nick alive.
She hoped.
Chapter Five
After a stressful morning in court on the Cook case, Alex was finally able to call Officer Harrison at the recess for lunch. She paced the waxed concrete floor, high heels clicking over the exposed aggregate. Even the ’80s styling grated on her nerves today. She hated to have a potential murderer arrested on a simple assault, but she needed this guy off the street before he could hurt Nick.
When Harrison answered, Alex cut directly to the point. “Nick Carpenter thought of someone who might try to hurt him.”
“Him?” Harrison asked. “Not his sister?”
Crap. But it wasn’t that much of a leap to think she might be in danger because of him, even if you hadn’t seen the dream. “Possible that they were attacking her to get back at him.”
Harrison contemplated that one a moment. “Okay, you got a name?”
“Geoff Bryant. Used to work for Nick— until Nick fired him.”
“Well, there’s your motive,” Harrison muttered. “Got an address?”
Nick had already texted her the photo and address from Carexa’s personnel files. “I’ll pass it on.”
“Okay. Any other information?”
Alex flipped through her memory of her conversation with Nick this morning. “He’s got a drinking problem, so be careful. Probably doesn’t have much of a criminal record, but that may’ve changed recently.”
“Great. Thanks for the lead.” His tone didn’t leave any room for an invitation to help work on the case. Granted, she had to be back in the courtroom in twenty minutes, but she could help after she was done testifying. Whenever that was.
Not good enough. “I want to work with you.”
“You are. But this isn’t a homicide.”
Sergeant Oscarson’s hard-nosed reputation preceded him throughout the department. He definitely wouldn’t appreciate her devoting more time to this case— and obviously she co
uldn’t play hooky from court.
“We’ll keep you in the loop,” Harrison promised, “and see if we can track Bryant down today.”
“Great.” Before she ended the call, Alex scrambled to find some reason or excuse to stay on this case. But the only compelling reason was the one she didn’t dare say out loud.
The afternoon crawled by with an excessively detailed cross-examination that kept Alex on her toes. By the time court adjourned for the day, she was mentally spent from watching her every word, walking a mental tightrope— but she had to see if they’d started questioning Bryant yet.
Alex wasn’t even to the parking garage when Harrison answered. “Detective Steen.” He didn’t sound pleased.
Then neither was she. “Harrison.”
“We went to the address you sent us, but no one was home. Neighbors said his wife left him a few weeks ago, and they haven’t seen him in a couple days. Weren’t sure where he might drink or stay. Checked bars in the area. They knew him but hadn’t seen him lately either. Haven’t dug up any family in the area. Brick wall.”
Wow. They’d done a decent job in a few hours— but that was definitely not what she wanted to hear.
“We also talked to a couple people who said it’s been months since he was laid off. Why wait this long if the motive’s revenge?”
“To serve it cold,” Alex murmured. “Plus, this week he came into the office raving.”
“We’ll try to follow up,” Harrison said. But they both recognized the empty promise. Harrison shifted gears. “Sergeant Oscarson called today. Making sure we weren’t taking you from your homicide duties.”
Alex swallowed a groan. If Oscarson’d gotten his back up, she needed to watch her step during work hours. Harrison’s case seemed to be dead-ending already. “No worries there,” she said. “Sounds like you’ve run down your leads.”
Harrison agreed and ended the call, leaving Alex frustrated as ever.
She had to save Nick. This went beyond her normal homicide duties, even beyond the drive the dreams gave her. Because she did still care about him. She needed him.
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