She dropped her hands from her temples and took her first good look at Lily. The cute black dress she was wearing fit her petite figure perfectly, and the red stiletto heels paired with it made the ensemble scream both I’m professional and take me home and do me. It was a look that Emily was failing to achieve lately, on both counts. She had to admit, the girl had style. Perhaps she had been isolating herself too much since the big move, or maybe misery really did just love company. Whatever the reason, Emily found herself warming to her co-worker as Lily leaned against her cubicle wall, still chattering away.
“So hey,” Lily said, shifting to sit on the end of Emily’s desk like she had no intention of ever leaving. “A group of us are going to the new bar down the road tonight. Do you want to come?”
Was she ready to meet a whole bunch of people? Emily had been in town for four months, and so far she’d made friends with Cathy, and that was it. She loved her alone time, but maybe it was time to stretch her horizons a bit?
“I’ll think about it,” Emily replied, hoping Lily would move on so she could take some quiet time to psych herself up. Trying to decide whether to go out with a large group of people was almost more agonizing than just doing it. Lily clearly didn’t take the hint, as she pulled up a chair from an empty cubicle near Emily’s and plopped down in it, leaning her elbows forward to lean on Emily’s desk.
“You don’t need to think about it, just come.” Lily smiled at her, and Emily almost felt guilty for thinking about saying no. “This is where we all hang out. If you want to actually end up on the writing staff one day, you need to get to know everyone. Who knows, you might even catch a good story. You never know who’s going to walk into that place.”
Now that peaked Emily’s interest. She hadn’t gone to college, but she had always loved to write. Getting a degree was something Emily planned to do, once she’d been able to save a little cash, but maybe there was a quicker way. When she’d joined the staff at the magazine, her boss had made it very clear that Emily needed to prove herself and gain some credibility before she could consider a transfer. Making friends with some of the writing staff certainly couldn’t hurt.
“OK,” she smiled at Lily, hoping that her agreement would finally get Lily to leave. Lily’s elbow was currently threatening to bump over the leaning tower of paperwork still in Emily’s inbox. Hmm, perhaps she should just be glad for the distraction.
At Emily’s acceptance Lily let out a gleeful shriek, making Emily grab at her temples again. “Oh, you’re going to have so much fun! There’ll be plenty of hot guys”—Emily shot her a look which Lily misinterpreted entirely— “or girls, for you to choose from. I met Jake there two nights ago, and trust me, I’m not disappointed.”
Emily gaped at Lily when she winked suggestively. She hadn’t been out on a date since the complete idiot, let alone done anything else. Apparently Jake was a sexy blond with green eyes, the softest lips in the world, and delivered earth shattering orgasms. Impressively, multiple at a time. He couldn’t truly be that perfect, but at this rate, Emily was well on her way to becoming revirginized. Her experiences with romance were in the same category as her mother—seems nice at first, but then develops into a nonstop headache not worth the hassle. But both Cathy, and now Lily, had a sparkle in their eye when talking about their latest conquests. Hell, maybe they were onto something.
“So we meet in the lobby at five,” Lily carried on, oblivious to Emily’s mental ponderings. “Oh, can I get your number?” Emily jotted it down and Lily stood. As she walked away, Emily swore she could almost hear the hallelujah chorus. She was going to have to steel herself for a whole bar full of Lily’s later tonight.
6
Emily tried to find the same level of productivity that she’d discovered the day before, but nerves surrounding her impending social experiment along with already being jumpy from last night’s dream were keeping her from concentrating. Finally, she gave up and opened her web browser again. If she wasn’t going to be able to clear any of the paperwork stack, maybe she could, at least, find something that would help her sleep better that night. A methodical search had gotten her nowhere, so maybe brainstorming would help. Opening the search engine, she typed in the first thoughts she had into the window. Searches on everything from runic blades to murders committed in your sleep scrolled across her screen fast enough to give her mental whiplash. She went with the flow, scanning every result, but after a while the websites were all starting to look the same. By the time five p.m. rolled around, she was actually happy to be getting out and escaping the office on time for once.
A group of five women were already waiting in the lobby when Emily approached, and after Lily introduced her Emily was surprised at how welcoming the others were. Her inner introvert relaxed. Maybe this was going to be fun after all. The bar turned out to be a cozy, chic establishment. It was on the small side, or exclusive, as Lily referred to it when she linked arms with Emily and walked inside with her. Emily could see her point about the man candy. Most of the men there that evening looked like they’d taken out shares in a gym. Emily gazed around the room. Come to think of it, so did most of the women. A tray of complimentary appetizers was doing the rounds largely untouched, and Emily wondered how many of the snacks she could get away with stuffing in her bag. Her refrigerator at home contained little more than half a block of cheese, a few beers, a half-eaten Chinese takeout and a few rapidly decomposing apples.
Just as Emily was preparing to grab an appetizer or three, movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention. Unfortunately, her visual exploration of the room seemed to have gained her attention of her own.
“Lily, sweetheart, who's your new friend?” The man was handsome, his dark eyes meeting Emily’s and holding eye contact. Emily felt her own eyes widen before she broke his gaze.
“Hey Scott,” Lily answered and hugged the man. He took his time going around the group, kissing cheeks and squeezing waists and shoulders. He clearly knew everyone else extremely well. When he stopped before her again, he turned the charm on strong.
“Scott,” he said smiling at her. His smile was wide enough to show the dimples in his cheeks, signaling his interest, but the way his eyes dipped to the line of her dress where her cleavage peeked out told her a good conversation wasn’t all he was after. His eyes moved lower again, obviously straight up mentally stripping her naked.
“Emily,” she croaked in reply, catching Lily’s encouraging smile and thumbs up over Scott’s shoulder. Hey, he was cute. Emily would have indulged him a little longer had he not then pulled her in for a hug and slipped his hand down over her ass while he was at it. She rolled her eyes and tried hard to stop her knee from punching up into his crotch. Just as she was about to make her excuses and wiggle from his embrace, the flat screen TV on the wall over his shoulder caught her attention. The 24-hour news was on, and a floating banner scrolling across the screen reported the discovery of the body of another woman. The anchor was beginning to question if police were burying the existence of a serial killer.
Scott must have sensed her reluctance, his hand moving from her ass to her hip, brushing her cheek with his lips and murmuring hello. Her attentions were almost shifted back to the hot guy when the anchor passed to a reporter live on the scene, and Emily felt her blood freeze in her veins. The alleyway that was burned into her brain was now reflected back on the screen in front of her in full high-definition sixty-five-inch glory.
Emily brought her hands up and roughly shoved Scott out of the way, moving closer to the screen. There was no denying it was the same place. She had run from that alley both in reality and twice in her dreams, and would never forget it. What made the drink she was nursing slip from her hand and smash to the floor was when a picture of a woman flashed across the screen. Gray eyes. Long hair.
Scott and her drink forgotten, terror began edging in as Emily stared at the screen, unable to tear her eyes away.
“What the fu-”
“Hey!” Lily
interrupted her. “Emily, are you okay?”
Emily couldn’t answer her, all words fleeing from her mind. Lily followed her line of sight to the screen. The music playing in the bar muted any sound coming from the TV, but Emily didn’t near to hear it. She knew what had happened. Her heart wept. She had to get out of there! She quickly told Lily she wasn’t feeling well and ran out of the bar before the other woman could stop her. Flagging down a passing cab, both guilt and fear grew to panic levels in the fifteen-minute drive home. Making a grab for her TV remote as she hopped across the room kicking off her shoes, Emily frantically thumbed the buttons to change to the news channel. They were running the story again. A woman had been found lying dead in that alley. She had bruising on her body and her throat had been cut, but her wallet and other personal effects had been found lying near the body. Police were saying that the ferocity of the attack and the suspected lack of any robbery likely meant it was a crime of passion, dismissing the rumors of a serial killer loose in Chicago. Emily didn’t believe them. She rubbed at her neck as the phantom pain from the blade made itself known again.
As the reported ended and the anchor moved on to a more mundane story, Emily paced up and down her living room. Her hands shaking with emotion, she felt like a mad woman on crack. She had seen that woman’s murder! She had seen it and hadn’t done anything to stop it. Guilt washed over her like a tidal wave. Sinking to the couch, she dropped her head into her hands.
Maribella Sanchez—a college student. For a moment, Emily wondered why the police hadn’t made the connection until she remembered that there was no connection for anyone else to make. She had survived.
Oh god. What was she going to see when she closed her eyes tonight?
7
Thank god the next day was Saturday. Emily spent the rest of that night and a good portion of the next day buried under her blankets in bed. She just couldn’t face the real world right now. Eventually, despite the turmoil still roiling through her brain, sheer exhaustion had pulled her into a restless sleep. The dreams stayed away that night, but Emily still felt agitated when she awoke late the next morning. Her foot wouldn’t stop bouncing as she poured herself a cup of coffee. She waited almost the entire day to see if her nerves would settle down. They didn’t. Her head was still reeling from the night before. In the cold light of day, she almost couldn’t believe any of it had really happened. If it weren't for a recap of last night’s breaking stories currently rolling across her TV screen, Emily would have thought she was losing her mind. Even awake now, visions of the alley in her thoughts wouldn’t leave her alone. She’d always found happiness in solitude, but home alone she no longer felt at peace. No, now her beige walls were closing in on her, even as she sat in her sunny kitchen on a Saturday morning.
Maybe she should get a therapist? Nope, scratch that. If she told them what was going on, she’d probably find herself in a padded room void of any windows at all.
Emily took a deep breath and forced herself to relax. At the thought of being locked away in a tiny room her hands had joined in with her foot and now she was spilling coffee all over the table. Guess therapy is out of the question then. She raised her eyes to the ceiling, counting the little cracks running along one edge. The mindless task distracted her, and her breathing slowly evened out. Frustration had now joined guilt, pushing at the tired corners of her mind.
Maybe she should call Cathy? Nope, she couldn’t dump this at the feet of her bubbly friend. She liked the girl, but they’d only seen each other in person around twelve times tops. Not the time in a friendship when you could tell someone you think you were a witness to a murder. One that had occurred when you were asleep. Besides, she wasn’t sure the chatty redhead would ever be up for hearing about the kind of demons Emily was battling in her thoughts right now.
Hannah...
The thought just popped into her head, as if on cue. Hannah? She questioned herself, frowning into her coffee cup. Maybe it was her subconscious trying to tell her something useful for a change. Walking to her bedroom, Emily plucked the book from its precarious perch on her nightstand. She remembered trying to start the book the night of the second dream, but she hadn’t been able to pay attention. She wasn't even sure where she had left off, and so she flipped back to the beginning.
An hour later she was on page twenty-five without a single clue what any of the previous pages were about. She remembering seeing the words, but her mind hadn’t registered a single one of them.
OK, enough. Emily stood and stretched. If she couldn’t sleep anymore, and she couldn’t read, then she damn well was going to force her mind to take a break. Taking a beer out of the fridge, she twisted the top off and walked out to her fire escape, looking down at the alley that ran alongside her own building. It looked different enough from the one in her dreams, thank god for that. Still, it had her thinking. Hannah…maybe she should call her? After all, Hannah had gone through something similar. That was if you could call running through New York and then across the country to escape a psychotic mob boss similar. In Emily’s current mental state, it was close enough.
A small smile rose on Emily’s face as she thought of Hannah’s fairytale ending. Could she dare hope for one for her too? Lord knows she could use some happy endings in her life. But, more importantly, for now, she needed to figure out what the hell was going on. Emily pictured her friend, with her long, free-flowing blond curls and bohemian dress. If anyone she knew was going to believe her right now, it was going to be Hannah. Putting her book aside, she turned on her archaic computer. She was surprised that the old beast had even lasted this long. Waiting for it to boot up, Emily walked out to the tiny balcony attached to her apartment, sipping her beer. She rested the cold bottle against her temple while she waited the nearly seven minutes her computer took to make itself usable. Maybe she should be saving her pennies for a laptop instead of a car.
Walking back into her apartment, her first search for Hannah’s contact info came up empty, and Emily wished that she’d kept in better touch with some of her friends from New York. She’d been in such a hurry to escape her life that she hadn’t stopped to realize that not everything in New York was shot to hell. No matter how much you turned over a new leaf, there was always sometimes when you needed to reach out to an old friend. If she could just find her. Emily knew from interviews she’d read that Hannah was no longer in witness protection, but it looked like her U.S. Marshal boyfriend wasn’t exactly broadcasting their location to the world. When search number five turned up zilch and a pull from her beer yielded nothing but air, Emily gave up. Turning the computer off in frustration without shutting it down, she grabbed another beer and headed to the bedroom. If she wasn’t going to sleep, then at least she could get drunk and already be in bed when she fell over.
The cold air blowing made her wrap herself in a hug as she opened her eyes and found herself standing on the street, her feet frozen in place.
Not again!
She groaned inwardly, too afraid to speak out loud in the night that surrounded her. The cold concrete beneath her feet told that yes, it was happening again, and, this time, she was not outside the alleyway looking in...she was in the midst of its darkness.
A shiver passed through her as a ghost of a touch brushed past her on the left, the fine hairs on the nape of her neck rising. Her feet suddenly unglued, she spun around but was met with nothing but cold, empty air.
There was nothing there.
Just an overflowing dumpster. Emily wrinkled her nose instinctively, but it was not the stench of garbage that wafted up to her nose, or the rankness of the urine stains still visible in the darkness. No, what she smelled was apples and coconut. It was unmistakable. Unmistakable and intimately familiar because she had smelled it every day for the last four months. Ever since she moved to Chicago and couldn’t find her favorite cucumber shampoo and body wash and chose the best smelling alternative at random from the grocery store shelf—wild apples and coconut.
But
why was she focused—no, it felt more like fixated—on her own scent? Even standing there in a dark alley beneath a starless sky, the only smell permeating her senses was her own.
As the mist slow crept across the ground, she saw a familiar shape deep in the alley. Cloaked all in black was the man she had run from the day before. He stood deathly still, his right hand tapping restlessly against his leg, like a tic he couldn’t control. No, that wasn’t it. He was tapping in a regular rhythm. My god, he was keeping time, counting down to something. She could feel his anticipation as easily as if it was her own, seeping through her pores.
She bent forward, gasping as her stomach heaved. As quickly as the feeling had come on, it left, leaving her with a strange sense of strong anticipation and ecstasy. The combination almost overloaded her senses, and the sick feeling in her stomach returned.
The man turned away, ignoring Emily completely, and walked briskly out of the alley and turned into the street. “Hey!” she hollered at him, cringing almost immediately after the sound left her mouth. What the hell would she say to him if he answered? The man kept walking, saving her the trouble of finding out. She continued to trail him, shadowing him as discreetly as she could manage. As they moved through the streets, the feeling of anticipation wrapped itself around her so tightly it was almost suffocating. Was it her own emotion, or his? She could barely tell.
Stopping suddenly, the man turned up another alley. Emily stopped dead, their destination chillingly familiar even in the darkness. Her hands wrapped around her middle even as she sunk to her knees on the ground, and she felt the blood rush from her face.
Emily (Dreamcatchers Romantic Suspense Series Book 1) Page 4
