They didn’t have time to wait around for Bryant to stagger home. That dream would come true one of these mornings. But if he’d already run, they might never find him in time to stop him.
Then again, Alex knew where to find him. She just had to figure out when.
An evening of investigation was just as unsuccessful as the uniformed officers’ had been. Early the next morning, Alex glanced over at Nick, in her passenger seat again, waiting. The dream had been the same that morning, but for now, he was alive and breathing next to her, and they were waiting for a killer to take his place in the shrubs. Nick eyed the bushes uncertainly.
The terrain was familiar, but staking out his own neighborhood could only be new territory for him. It was above and beyond her normal duties, too. And she had to tell him that, what this meant to her— what he’d meant to her, even if he still didn’t want her. The words weighed on her tongue, bitter and sweet.
“Is this what you do with every dream?” Nick broke the taut silence.
“First time,” she murmured, fixed on the street. “Never had enough details to stop them before.”
He rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Tough to watch, huh.”
Alex patted his hand. She couldn’t quite bring herself to admit that it was, but for someone who wanted to be out there proactively protecting people? “Tough” was the understatement of the year.
Every dream up to now, she hadn’t made it in time to wait for the killer to strike, only to try to bring some semblance of justice. But nothing she did would ever give those parents and spouses and children their loved ones back.
This time, she was doing exactly that. She shrugged deeper into her jacket, wishing she had Nick’s hoodie. Almost eerie— the darkest before the dawn. They were waiting for someone who wanted to kill Nick. She was here, but there were no real guarantees he’d be safe. For all she knew, their plan was part of the set-up of the dream that she wasn’t privy to. They could be making the dream come true.
She could be sending Nick to his death.
Her heart dipped at the thought, but that was all. It should’ve been scary, or at least unnerving. But she wasn’t doing this alone. Simply sitting in silence together was comforting. Peaceful. She’d missed this, the reassurance, the centering, the peace— him.
“Thanks for trying to save my life,” Nick said. “You didn’t have to—”
“Of course I did.” Alex looked to him, to those eyes that somehow understood even the craziest thing she’d ever told anyone. “I… I’ve missed you.”
The modest side of his smile flashed across his face. “I’ve missed you, too.”
She studied his expression. Worry grated at her nerves. If they were unwittingly making the dream come true, this might be her last chance to tell him all the things jostling in her mind. “I’m sorry— I’m sorry I pushed you so much that I pushed you away.”
Nick turned to gaze out the windshield. “I’m sorry I let you.”
“Why?” she barely dared to breathe. “Why didn’t you want to get married?”
He gaped at her. “You were the one who said you didn’t want to get married.”
It was Alex’s turn to stare out at the street. Hadn’t he said that? She sifted through the sharp shards of the argument in her memories. She was pushy. She was controlling. Every time she brought it up, he didn’t want to talk about marriage. But had he ever actually said he didn’t want to get married? Had she been the one to say it? So angry and hurt that she’d imploded the relationship? And she’d spent years blaming him?
She couldn’t remember what she’d said anymore. But the words seemed to echo back to her, this time in her voice.
Nick continued. “Just because I’m not doing something as fast as you want doesn’t mean I’m doing nothing.”
Was that how she’d treated him?
Of course it was. Wasn’t she surprised to hear he’d actually gotten off his butt and set up a successful business instead of worrying and wishing? She never doubted his ability to do it, but… part of her believed if he was ever going to pursue his grandiose plans with the way he always obsessed over the nitpicky details instead of taking action, someone else would have to kick and drag him into it. Probably her.
But only because she wanted him to fulfill those dreams, too. Because she’d loved him.
And part of her still did.
“And—” Nick began, but cut himself off.
“And just because I press doesn’t mean I don’t care.”
He licked his lips and fell silent again. “I was going to say sometimes I still regret letting you go. Making you go. When I did want to move forward.”
She whirled on him. “You did? But— I thought— you said—” Or had he?
“I think we both said some things— a lot of things— we didn’t mean that day. I was always so scared I couldn’t do it, couldn’t be married. I couldn’t repeat my father’s mistakes. I had to be absolutely sure. To be comfortable.”
To feel safe. The implicit message echoed in the car. That was all either of them had wanted— what they’d found with each other— what they’d lost. Then Alex had lost it all over again when the dreams started.
She’d begun to find that safety again, and now she was risking it all— that peace, that centering, even Nick himself— to try to make him safe for good.
Before Alex could put that into words, movement on the sidewalk across the street caught her attention. Black jacket. Jeans. Athletic build.
She checked with Nick. His lips compressed, taut and grim, and he nodded. It was Bryant. It was their guy.
Bryant glanced around. Alex froze, even her heartbeat suspended for a long second. But he didn’t notice them parked a few cars down across the street. No other pedestrians— no witnesses— roamed the sidewalk, so he took his place among the boxwoods.
Silence coated the inside of the car like a thick layer of ice. They waited long enough that it wouldn’t seem suspicious before she started the engine. Nick covered his face with one hand on his forehead like he had a headache. Alex was careful to not look at Bryant as they pulled past, though she did watch in the side mirror once he was in sight. No movement.
Good.
They rounded the block and pulled into the lot where they’d met an hour ago. The bag with a prescription for Candyce waited on the front seat. Making the dream come true right down to the details.
Except the final ones, she hoped. Her heart seemed to be covered with fine frost, as if it would crack if she dared to use it.
Alex pulled in behind his car and looked to Nick. There was a very real chance this was the last time they’d see each other. The last time he’d see anyone. Anything could happen once he left the car.
Were they playing into the dream or changing it? She couldn’t breathe.
Nick leaned across the center console and planted a kiss on her forehead. “Thank you,” he said. “No matter what happens.”
She wasn’t a mind reader, but the subtext in his eyes was hard to miss. All the things that’d stood between them all these years suddenly weren’t half the problem they’d seemed. They could work together, even respect one another. There might be hope for them— as long as they survived the next ten minutes.
Too many words hung unsaid in the car, choking out the air until Nick opened his door. Of course, the minute he was behind the wheel of his car, Alex thought of all the things she should’ve said— she’d be there for him, she wouldn’t push him like that again, she still cared.
She loved him.
Instead, she sat in silence as Nick pulled away, headed to his parking lot.
To make her nightmare come true.
Although she still couldn’t help feeling like part of her mind was spinning out of her reach, something about this felt good. Felt right. She was finally taking control of the dreams and the power they should’ve given her from the beginning. She could— she would— stop a killer before he claimed his victim.
Alex f
ollowed Nick onto the road, but he was already down the block. He passed over the train tracks just before his parking lot— and just before the red railroad crossing signal lights began flashing.
No, no, no. This little side street had no barrier gates, but the train was only a few yards from the crossing. Even her lights and sirens wouldn’t do her any good.
Alex stomped on the gas, though she knew she couldn’t make it. She needed Nick to wait for her. She fumbled for her phone to call and tell him, but her frenzied fingers only flipped the phone onto the floor of the passenger side. She watched, helpless, while Nick turned into his parking lot. Then the train charged past, cutting off her view.
She slammed on the brakes, stopping short of the danger zone. Her heart hammered louder than the cars clattering over the tracks. How long could this train be?
Alex leaned down, straining her seatbelt and her arm to reach her phone where it had slid, the farthest corner of the floorboard. Would he notice she wasn’t there? He wasn’t supposed to look back; he was supposed to trust her and her plan.
She had to call him. She had to warn him.
Before she reached her phone, the train’s last car passed. She could still make it. Alex stomped on the gas and shot down the street to save Nick, like she had the past three mornings. Only this time, the threat was certain.
She slowed down to whip into the parking lot— but a car pulled up the wrong direction in the narrow entrance, blocking her out. Her blood froze. With the traffic coming the other direction, this car would be waiting a while.
“No, no, no.” Alex slapped the steering wheel and jammed the accelerator. Alternatives, alternatives— a couple small streets on the right, and then this street dead ended at Duke Street— a one-way that’d take her farther from the scene.
One thought sliced through all the others. Nick would die, and it was her fault. She’d pressured him into this.
Snapshots of the dream flashed before her gaze. Walking up behind Nick. Her throat contracted.
Was that happening now?
She scanned the street again— then she saw it. A maintenance path through the apartment complex. Her car wouldn’t fit down there, but she certainly would.
Alex swerved across the street between two cars coming the other way, pulling backward into a handicap spot. She vaulted out of the car and flat-out ran past the building and down the maintenance path.
And slammed into wrought iron bars. A fence. Her pulse screamed a protest in her ears. Of course there was a fence. All vertical bars, it was unclimbable. No gate, no nothing to get through to the private patio area beyond.
The dream cut in on her mind again. Through Bryant’s eyes, she followed Nick down the sidewalk. Her arms— but not her arms, out of her control— wrapped around Nick’s neck.
No. She couldn’t let that happen. Her heart throbbed in her throat as she raced back to her car, and then past. She’d have to cut through the parking lot on foot.
Alex rounded the building and hit the parking lot pavement at a dead sprint. Just past the rental office, a car backed out in front of her. No time to stop. It barely clipped her hip, bumping her a foot to her left. Hot pain flashed up her side. She smacked the trunk, and the driver stopped abruptly.
She could almost feel Nick’s weight against her— no, against Bryant, pulling him tight. The knife handle in her grip.
Alex raced on. Why did this seem like such a small lot when you needed a spot, but when you needed to get across, it was huge?
Her thighs screamed and the cold air shred her lungs. She tried to shove away the images from the dream, Nick, the stabbing, the bloody knife. It was happening now. She was too late.
Every breath showed up in a cloud as she plowed right through. She didn’t need air, didn’t heed her muscles’ protests, didn’t stop. She had to save Nick. Nothing else mattered.
She felt the knife handle shudder as the blade jabbed into his back. She almost had to check to see if her hands were wet with his blood.
Even if she wasn’t the one doing the stabbing, his blood would be on her hands.
Finally, she reached the other end of the parking lot and the path to the sidewalk. The path Nick must’ve just taken. The path that was supposed to lead to his death.
She banked the turn, arms and legs still pumping. There, in the shadows under the building: Nick. The killer— Bryant. Bryant didn’t have him yet.
She wasn’t too late.
He grabbed Nick around the throat.
“Stop!” Alex screamed, breathless. “Police!”
Bryant startled and checked over his shoulder. She barely had time to slow and draw her gun before she reached them. “Hands up!”
“I wasn’t— I wasn’t—” Bryant tried.
“Hands up! Police!” She was almost shaking from running and terror, and she wouldn’t feel safe until she had him disarmed and cuffed. He could still strike.
It didn’t matter how hard she was breathing, she couldn’t seem to get enough oxygen. Because Bryant still had Nick. “Hands! Up!”
Slowly, Bryant raised his hands, letting Nick go. Something glinted in Bryant’s right hand, and he cast the briefest glance at Nick.
Her cop-instinct muscles clenched. “Drop your weapon!” Alex barked between gasps. “Drop it now!”
The knife clattered to the sidewalk, and Nick kicked it out of Bryant’s easy reach.
“On the ground!” Alex ordered. With her breath and pulse gradually coming under control, she could use the scary-authoritative policewoman voice she’d cultivated much more effectively. “Get on the ground!”
Bryant dropped to his knees, coming to accept that it was over. Alex grabbed his shoulder with her free hand and shoved him forward, tacitly reiterating her command. “Face down on the ground!”
Still stunned that his plans had gone wrong, and possibly too drunk to wonder why, Bryant finally complied. Alex planted a knee on his spine and wrenched his wrists behind his back to slap on the cuffs. “You’re under arrest,” she huffed.
Nick helped Alex to her feet, and she called in the report. Within minutes, backup rushed over with lights and sirens blaring. Alex stood back, still gulping down air, as the officers loaded Bryant into a squad car, collected his weapon and bustled him off to jail.
There were still statements to be taken— leaving out the pesky detail of her prophetic dream, of course— clean-up to be done, paperwork, evidence, more, but it was over. The hard part was over.
She’d done it. She’d stopped a murder.
Not just anyone’s murder. Nick’s. In the middle of the bustle, his arms wrapped around her shoulders, and she turned to him.
The dreams were right: there was no such thing as a coincidence. They’d drawn her back to Nick, brought them together again, saved his life. Alex still didn’t understand all their purposes, but she knew this: the dreams wanted her to be with Nick.
And so did she.
“You really hustled to get here,” he observed.
“Oh, no.” She laughed between the last residual gasps. “Took me seven years.”
A smile dawned on his face. “Thank you for pushing.”
Alex looked into his eyes and pulled in a deep breath, the first she’d been able to take without the cold air cutting her lungs like glass shards. Because Nick was here. Nick was okay. And they might be, too.
She took another breath. This time, the cool air seemed to fill her with calm. Nick’s presence was once again bringing her the peace she desperately needed— from the dreams, from her job, from risking his life.
“Thank you for being there for me,” she managed. “For centering me.”
“I’m sorry I was an idiot— I should’ve known you didn’t mean what you said back then. You were just being you— passionately you— and that’s something I’ve always loved.”
Alex waited for the shock to hit. A week ago, reconciling with Nick would have been inconceivable. But instead, the quiet peace still filled her like gentle sunshine
.
“I’m sorry I ever said those things,” she said. “I wasn’t thinking— but I am now.”
“Can...” Nick hesitated, searching her eyes. She didn’t dare press him. “Can we try again?”
“I’d like that. We can go as slow as you need.”
“Or as fast as you want.” Nick leaned down and kissed her, and Alex had a whole new reason to be breathless.
Click on the covers to visit Jordan’s Amazon Author page:
PHOTO BY JAREN WILKEY
An award-winning author, Jordan McCollum can’t resist a story where good defeats evil and true love conquers all. In her day job, she coerces people to do things they don’t want to, elicits information and generally manipulates the people she loves most— she’s a mom.
Jordan holds a degree in American Studies and Linguistics from Brigham Young University. When she catches a spare minute, her hobbies include reading, knitting and music. She lives with her husband and four children in Utah.
You can catch up with Jordan on her blog at http://JordanMcCollum.com and join her newsletter to find out when her next book will be out!
Chapter One
Naomi unlocked her office and stepped back into the central heat, sighing, though she loved using her lunch hour to bike the trail along the river. The October air held the crispness of late fall, and after twenty miles with the wind in her face her nose surely shone like Rudolph’s. Because of its high elevation, winter would settle in Silver Hills soon, though there were still two weeks until Halloween.
She kicked off her riding shoes and cranked the radio. She shimmied back into her pencil skirt and settled at her desk. With her calendar already open, it only took one glance to confirm what she already knew: Her next client wouldn’t arrive for another hour.
A simple renovation job on a childhood toy. Marion was supposed to be bringing it with her. Naomi made enough in the town of Silver Hills to get by restoring toys, clocks, and other antiques. She managed to get a job doing a kitchen renovation, or redecorating a master suite, or redesigning someone’s basement every month. She loved the projects the townspeople brought her, loved restoring old homes as new families moved in, loved working with people, textiles, art, space.
All Hallows' Eve Collection Page 23
