by Angel Smits
“No!” she cried. “David, get out!” But he couldn’t hear her. She wasn’t there.
She opened her eyes to stare at her office walls. Everything looked so blessedly familiar and safe. She had to warn him. She picked up the phone, then realized it was after hours for the bank as it rang. No one picked up. He’d said he’d be working late, but she hadn’t thought about him being alone.
She dug through all the papers stacked on the desk. David’s business card was here somewhere. She had to find it. There had been a direct number for his office. Had there been a cell phone number on it? She shoved papers aside, scattering them over the desk and onto the floor.
Finally she found it. There was no answer in his office and no cell phone number. Damn. She had to get in touch with him, warn him.
The bank wasn’t far. Linda was out front waiting to be trained. Good Lord, she was actually thinking of leaving the woman, untrained, in her shop. It was the worst thing she could do to someone new.
Yet when she stepped out front, Linda had made a fresh pot of coffee and was in the middle of making a cappuccino for a customer.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Clarissa mumbled to herself, then explained to Linda that she needed to leave. After showing her where everything was, giving her the cell phone number and a key, Clarissa left the shop. She might be putting her business at risk, but David’s life was far more important.
Moments later, she parked along the curb near the closed bank. She hurried to the front door and peered in. No one was inside. She leaned against the thick glass, staring in. She banged on it, hoping maybe someone would hear her.
Someone did. A night watchman came to the door. “I’m sorry. The bank’s closed. What do you need?”
“Is David Lorde still here? We—uh have a date.” She’d pay for these lies later, she was sure of it.
“Oh, yeah. He mentioned somethin’ about that. Sorry I forgot. I didn’t know he ever dated.” Then as if regretting his words, he gave her a sheepish grin. “Mr. Lorde’s down in the basement, looking through files. Come on in.” He stepped aside and let her in.
“Thank you. Can I go down?”
“Sure. Elevator’s that way.” He pointed the beam of light toward the shiny doors. She pushed the button and impatiently waited for the elevator to open.
She heard the clank and whir of the machinery in the shaft echoing down the chamber. The sudden swish of the doors startled her.
Anxious to see David, to make sure he was okay, she stepped quickly into the elevator. Stabbing the down button on the panel, she watched it light up. A gentle ding filled the air as the doors slid shut.
The sudden, gentle lurch of the car as it moved had always unnerved her and was no different this time. Her stomach hovered around her knees for an instant then righted itself. The soft hum of the machinery was comforting and familiar.
The hum slowed. Seconds later the entire car stopped with a sudden jolt. The light overhead blinked, and she reached out to steady herself against the steel walls. The metal felt cold and hard beneath her touch. Its solidity offered little reassurance when the elevator stopped between floors and the door didn’t open.
Silence pushed against her ears, painfully and nearly deafening as she leaned into the corner of the car. She wasn’t normally prone to claustrophobia or hysteria but the events of today combined with being stuck in the elevator were different stories.
Then she saw the phone. Reaching out she shoved against the panel as the written instructions told her to do. It didn’t budge. Banging on it, the glass gave, breaking into pieces that fell to the floor. Lifting out the handset, she put the cold black receiver to her ear. The comforting sound of the dial tone soothed some of her fear. Pushing the buttons, she heard the musical tones of the numbers. Another familiarity that eased her discomfort, and she breathed a little easier.
The line connected and rang. One ring. Two. Three. By the fourth, her palms were damp against the plastic receiver. On the fifth ring, a click echoed in her ear and an artificial voice answered. It took several seconds before she realized she wasn’t talking to a person but to a machine.
“We’re sorry. The number you have reached is temporarily out of service. Please hang up and try again.”
“No.” Clarissa cried as much from frustration as fear, the sound bouncing off the metal walls in a tinny tone that grated on her nerves. Her fingers trembled and she dropped the phone, letting it hang from its cord, loose and useless as it banged against the steel wall.
She dug for her cell phone and barely resisted the urge to throw it when the tiny screen read, “No Service.” She screamed again, her frustration growing.
A loud pop exploded over her head. As if in slow motion, she looked up. Before she could brace herself, the elevator car fell.
She tumbled back against the wall, the metal handrail catching her in the back. She cried out in pain as it bit into her ribs and she sank to her knees.
Anticipating the coming impact, tensing, she closed her eyes, hoping it would be quick and painless. Hoping she’d die instead of becoming a useless body with no mind, or vice versa.
She lost sense of time, of falling, almost as if she tumbled head over heels, as if the car spun through the air instead of falling straight down to earth, like she knew it was.
Seconds became hours as she huddled in the corner of the car. Her mind filled with images she hadn’t thought of in a long time. Her childhood in Boston. Her father’s warm laughter. His hot anger. Granny Cleary’s warm hugs and encouragement. She missed them. Missed them desperately. And now she’d never see them again.
But what she’d miss most was David’s warm touch. She wanted his love to be real. The images they’d shared last night and today’s kiss had only been a prelude to something that could be wonderful. Once they beat Rachel.
Even the thought of Rachel shot green jealousy through Clarissa. An emotion she hadn’t had time for in the past, but which she had time for now? Her mind refused to function, but she forced it to.
Was this fall for real? David had said not to believe everything she saw. Would she die any second now, or would she only be hurt? Or would the thought that she might die cause her to? What was going on?
Closing her eyes, she shut out the sensation of falling, forcing her mind to focus on David. On the image of his strong features. On his smile.
Loud crunching and the grinding sounds of metal hitting pavement shattered the quiet in her mind and searing pain shot through her back, to every inch of her body. Warm blood flowed from the cuts on her legs and pooled around her. She felt it curl around her legs and arms, slowly cooling as it crept across the metal floor of the elevator car.
Was this real? She couldn’t tell, and right now she hurt too much to care.
Ten
THE SOUND OF the doors swishing open managed to break through the dense fog filling Clarissa’s brain. Pain radiated from her back and through every inch of her body. She felt cold, so very cold. She shivered.
“Clarissa?” David’s voice sounded tinny and distant, as if he were a long way off, through one of those telephones she remembered making as a child with a can and string.
Slowly, she pried her eyes open. She slammed them shut again as bright overhead light stabbed at her. Her entire head felt like it could explode. She almost wished she had died.
Feather light touches skimmed her cheek and chin, and she turned her head toward it. David’s hand felt so good, so right, so gentle.
“Clarissa, open your eyes.”
Slowly, carefully, she did as he instructed, blinking rapidly as tears of pain formed in her eyes. Where was she anyway? Looking around, shock shot through her.
The smooth, steel sides of the elevator car rose up above her, seeming taller than they had when she’d been standing. She could see the metal handrai
l just above her head. The cool tile of the floor pushed hard against her pained muscles and something soft was beneath her head.
“Hey, you scared me.” David’s smile was forced, and she realized he held her loosely in his arms, as if afraid he’d hurt her if he held too tight.
“What happened?” she whispered through her painful throat.
“I’m not sure. When the elevator opened, you were lying there, looking as pale as death.” His voice shook as he uttered that last word.
“No. I mean . . . ” She struggled for words. “The elevator. It fell.” Turning her head slowly, she looked around. The elevator looked normal, not crushed. There was no blood anywhere around her. Hesitantly, she moved one leg, then the other. No pain, just the soft whisper of her nylons against the floor.
Closing her eyes, she felt every tight, painful muscle in her body relax. It hadn’t been real.
Her breathing was shallow, and she struggled to slow her pounding heart. Frightened was a mild version of what she felt.
“She did it again,” Clarissa whispered. She sensed rather than saw David lean closer to catch her words.
He hesitated before he asked. “She?”
She looked at him in disbelief. He knew who, but she repeated it anyway. “Rachel.” Carefully, Clarissa slipped her hand from David’s and planted a palm on each side of her body. She pushed against the cold tile. Her head spun as she sat up. Taking several deep breaths, her strength slowly returned. She leaned against the cold metal wall. David sat where she’d left him, looking at her with apology in his eyes.
“Don’t feel guilty,” she admonished. “You warned me, and I guess I didn’t really believe you.” She tried to smile, to comfort him, to ease the pain she sensed in him.
“Now we’re going to Dove’s Hollow.” He didn’t ask her, but he didn’t immediately usher her away either. She couldn’t speak, but she nodded. She had to get away. Already she felt the weakness fading, but she knew it wouldn’t go away completely. It was just as he’d said. The dreams were the frontal attack, but the lack of sleep was the secret weapon. If they didn’t shore up their defenses, and soon, the battle would be lost.
They would be lost.
“Let’s get you out of here.” He stood, extending a hand and gently pulling her to her feet. For a long moment she leaned against him, regaining her equilibrium.
“Can we, uh, take the stairs?” She gripped his arm as they stepped from the elevator. He pulled a key ring from the main panel, and the doors swished closed behind them. She’d never be able to get on an elevator again, and the sound of the doors would always set her teeth on edge.
“I only have a couple more things to tie up. Then we’ll head to your place and get your stuff.”
She nodded in agreement. After she’d settled into a worn vinyl desk chair, her mind registered why she’d been headed here in the first place.
“Those papers.” She leaned forward, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten. “That’s why I came early. I saw them. Burning.”
He looked up at her, a self-satisfied smile on his lips. “And here I thought you were just anxious to see me.” He winked, surprising her with his upbeat mood. She’d never seen that side of him before and she wanted more. Much more. She shook her head to dispel her fascination.
“That must mean there’s some information in here,” he said.
“Take them with us.” Urgency tinged her voice as the scent of the smoke from her vision seemed almost too real.
“We can’t. This is bank property. It has to be kept secure.”
“It isn’t safe here. Tell whoever you need to that you’re taking them to study. Maybe without Rachel’s interference, we can see what’s really there.”
He hesitated and she felt her panic return. The visions were too strong. She knew they needed to get out of here. She wanted to help him, but she knew they would be ineffectual if they remained where Rachel could influence their thoughts. A sense of urgency told her time was running out. They had to find the answers.
She felt as if there was so much more she could—she should—do for him.
A heavy sigh rumbled from his chest. “All right.” He gathered the heavy book that bound the computer sheets.
Something nagged at her memory. “Is there a red three ring binder?”
David’s face registered surprise. “Yes, but why would that be involved?” he said almost to himself.
“I don’t know. I just see stuff. It’s like puzzle pieces. The picture isn’t complete until they’re all together. I know there’s another book, too.”
“There is. But it’s in my uncle’s special files.”
“Your uncle? What does he have to do with this?”
“He’s the other partner in the bank. He and Dad started it and now he and I are working together.”
“Could he be the embezzler?”
“No!” David was defensive, but she didn’t get the impression he was hiding anything. “He’s the one who alerted me to it. If he was the guilty party, he wouldn’t do that.”
“Still . . . there’s something important in it.”
“All right. We’ll go get it. Anything else?”
She sat quietly for a minute, trying to remember anything else in the image. Nothing seemed important. “Not right now. But I’ll try to remember.” She smiled up at him and was rewarded with one of his rare and devastating smiles. Her heart flip-flopped, and she felt a tug in the same general region.
“Just before I experienced the—fall—I was thinking about you.” She tore her gaze from his, focusing on the top button of his shirt instead. It was safer than his mesmerizing gaze.
“What did you think about?” he whispered.
“About the images last night. I want to know how much was real.”
His long, callused index finger reached out and slid beneath her chin. Gently he pushed until her face tipped up toward his.
“Not enough.”
There was no time to resist, and no wish to. His lips were hard and warm against hers. Initially, the kiss was gentle and probing, but as she responded, he pulled her against him with urgent, longing arms.
She felt small against him, fitting perfectly, her curves soft against his hard planes. She wound her arms around his neck and knew she was lost. She was drowning in a sweet pool of longing and had no desire to come up for air.
Clarissa felt herself falling again, only this time she anxiously anticipated the landing impact. It would be in the center of a wonderful and sweet love.
Slowly, subtly, the texture of his skin changed beneath her fingers. Disappointed, she pulled away carefully so he wouldn’t think she didn’t want to stay in his arms. Then she stepped back and turned away from him. She immediately missed the warmth and nearly turned back into his arms.
“We’ve got lots to do.” Her voice was soft and still shaky from the impact of his lips and her experience in the elevator. Turning back to face him, she silently pleaded with him to understand. After . . . yes, after . . . they’d have time for this.
He ran his fingers through his hair in that familiar and endearing gesture. After several deep breaths, he said, “Yes, you’re right. I’ll get the book and we can go.”
He rummaged through a couple of drawers and then walked down the hallway. For a long minute, she watched him, wishing she could read his mind. Her emotions were somehow attuned to his, but while she felt some comfort in that thought, she knew he shut them off quickly and easily. In contrast, desire, fear and frustration ran rampant through her, each vying for the forefront, and she had no control over them. She wasn’t sure which would win.
He returned and together they headed to the stairwell. Pushing the door open, they climbed the stone steps. The sound of their heels echoed up the shaft, loud and hollow. It was a lonely sound, and she shiv
ered as she hurried ahead of him.
Shadows leapt out around each corner as they reached each landing. With each turn, she half expected something to jump out at her. She hesitated, afraid of what would be ahead. Even more afraid of what was reality—and what wasn’t.
When they reached the ground level, she stopped, listening for David’s footsteps behind her. The silence startled her. Where was he? “David?”
There was no answering call. She shivered and hurried into the lobby where a few lights still burned.
Normal. It looked so normal. So why did a cool chill seem to have enveloped her? As she turned her head, she felt the stiffness of abused muscles. How real had that fall been?
After the “dream” of David making love to her, she’d found the scratch across her neck. After “falling” over the banister at the mansion, every muscle in her body had ached. What telltale sign would she find this time? Her back tingled and she knew there would be a bruise there.
The stairwell door opened and David strode out. There was an urgency in his step, and she met his gaze with a questioning stare. He shook his head and tilted it toward the side door.
Silently, they walked through the lobby, her stride shorter than his, but she managed to keep up—barely. Under his arm he carried the files and the red notebook. She shivered, suddenly afraid of what they might find in them.
His car was parked in the reserved lot, and she followed close at his heels. When he unlocked the door and held it open for her, she hesitated.
“I need to take my car home.” She was reluctant to leave him, even if it was only for the few minutes that it would take to drive through town. She wanted him to reassure her. Wanted him to lie, if he must, and tell her that everything would be fine.
“I’m in control,” he pronounced, almost too loudly, as if he were telling her as well as someone else.
Reaching out, she touched his arm. “What happened? Was there a problem when we came upstairs?”
