Finding Cade (Dream Catcher Series Book 1)

by Bernice Layton

  Valerie took a small sip of wine, hearing an edge come into Sarah’s voice.

  “I’m still waiting for a pathologist final report determining the cause of death, but I do not believe my husband died from a flu bug and,” Sarah said, “I don’t think you do, either.” Sarah paused, then continued. “So I’m left wondering what really happened to my husband. If someone wanted Glen dead, I want to know who and why, and I won’t rest until I get answers.”

  Although surprised by Sarah’s admission, Valerie was also relieved. Those same questions had been going through her mind from the moment she’d gotten the news about Glen. She thought she’d done a good job of keeping those troubling thoughts to herself, but obviously she had underestimated Sarah’s powers of observations. She owed it to Sarah to be honest about her own suspicions.

  “Okay, you’re right, Sarah. Something doesn’t feel right about this, and as long as I’ve known Glen, he’s always been healthy.” She looked at Sarah, who nodded in agreement before motioning for Valerie to continue. “You knew him better than anybody. Did he seem worried or distracted about anything?” Valerie watched Sarah nod her head slowly.

  “Yes. He seemed troubled the past couple of weeks, and then when he learned that some grants bring cut, he blew a gasket. I hadn’t seen him that upset in a long time.”

  Valerie didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she got up and walked over to the window, giving Sarah a moment to sip her wine. But thinking about those slashed grants, Valerie knew how important they were to Glen, who saw those grants as a way of giving back to the city—to help the communities that so desperately needed them. Could that possibly be connected to Glen’s death? she wondered. Returning to her seat beside Sarah, she noticed the other woman’s puzzled expression. “What is it, Sarah?”

  “I just recalled hearing Glen on the phone one evening about a month ago, and he was shouting. I heard him say, ‘Those greedy bastards on the hill got away with millions and our young people will suffer the consequences.’ He also said that his hands were tied.”

  “Who do you think he meant by ‘those greedy bastards,’ and who was he talking to?”

  “I don’t know. He never mentioned them by name to me, but I’m sure he meant those unsavory, greedy, dishonest politicians on the hill. Glen never had respect or tolerance for any politician who chose to line his own pockets instead of using the money to make the lives of the very people who voted them into office better. He was the last of a dying breed, an honest politician. Oh, but if I ever find out that any of those bastards had anything to do with Glen’s death, trust me…they will pay.” Sarah swore vehemently before taking the last gulp of wine from her glass. “I’ll tell you something that only my brother, Charles, knows about. You know he runs a security company and he has some connections. Well, I’d told him I wanted an independent autopsy performed. It could take a few weeks.”

  Valerie nodded in understanding when Sarah held a finger up to her lips.

  “A couple of weeks ago over breakfast, Glen said he was going to call you and get you to delve into that psychic connection of yours.” Sarah lifted an eyebrow, leaving little doubt that she didn’t believe Valerie had such powers. “No offense, dear, but that’s all hogwash to me, so when he’d started talking about that again, I sort of tuned it out. You know how long winded he could be.”

  Valerie smiled. “What was the gist of what he’d said?”

  “He mumbled about knowing the person responsible for the misappropriation of those grants. What he didn’t know was where all that money went. Get this, Valerie. Apparently, Glen hired someone to find the money trail and whatever evidence he could get his hands on. Sadly, that person went missing, and Glen became so worried, thinking the worst when the guy failed to make a contact of some type. He thought something tragic might have happened to the young man. Didn’t he call you, Valerie? He said he was going to.”

  “No, he never told me about any of that. When I received an email from him telling me how sorry he was about the reductions, he wanted to know how I was handling it. He never mentioned anything about misappropriations of funds or that he’d had suspicions. Honestly, Sarah, you know Glen really didn’t believe in my gift,” Valerie said balancing her wine glass in her hand to make air quotes with her fingers. “He had called it bologna and you agreed, saying it was hogwash?”

  “Oh, I remember, but he believed that you had something special.” Sarah grinned wryly. “When Glen left the house one evening, he told me he had a meeting to discuss a backup plan, but he was banking on you to prove his suspicions were true.”

  Valerie’s shoulders slumped. “Oh, I wished he had called me.”

  “He knew you were busy renovating the house and dealing with your aunt’s passing.”

  When someone tapped on the door, announcing that Sarah had another visitor, Valerie stood up and stepped into her heels. “I should get going.”

  “Of course, dear.” Sarah stood up, pushing her feet into her shoes with a grimace.

  Valerie watched as Sarah put on her public face before they embraced and left the office together, each promising the other they would stay in touch if anything came up.

  Chapter Nine

  Valerie

  Valerie worked from home for several days because her concentration in the office was shot. She knew Zoe and Glenda were more than capable of holding down the office and would keep her apprised of anything that required her personal or immediate attention. Working in her home office didn’t help, either. Her mind kept returning to Glen’s suspicious death.

  With so much on her mind, not even the handsome man had returned to her dreams. She assumed their connection was lost due to the grief clogging her mind. Still, she’d worn the crystal every night hoping he would come to her again. In a strange way, she missed him and found that odd considering she didn’t know who he was.

  Feeling out of sorts in her grief, she’d refused dinner offers from her parents, her sister Lynne, and from Zoe. She preferred to be alone to work through the things occupying her busy mind. Were she and Sarah correct in thinking that someone was directly responsible for what happened to Glen? Was there a connection between the reduction in the grant money, Glen’s sudden death, and the disappearance of Glen’s undercover hired hand? And what happened to the “mystery man” of her dreams?

  Tapping a pen against the notepad in her lap, she’d been stuck composing letters to the school administrators who would receive a denial to their grant request. She had to put her personal feelings aside to do her job, but she absolutely hated having to deny any of the schools’ requests.

  Deciding she needed a break, she climbed the stairs to her bedroom to freshen up. She planned on going to the home improvement store to pick up a few more items for her home projects. Oddly, shopping for home improvement needs somehow cheered her up more than spending hours in a shopping mall. She needed that distraction of picking out the materials for the chair railing she was installing in the dining room.

  Minutes later, while she was brushing her hair in front of the mirror in her bedroom, a sudden wave of nausea and fatigue hit her. Fearing she would collapse to the floor, she managed to make her way to the overstuffed chair in front of the large bay window. A sharp stab of pain pierced her chest, causing her to gasp and press her hand to her chest. She began massaging the area and noticed her heart was beating faster. Beads of perspiration glistened on her forehead, and she gulped in air. Thinking she could be having a heart attack came and went as the pain receded, leaving a dull ache in its wake.

  Minutes later, when her breathing gradually returned to normal, her eyes lifted to her cell phone on her nightstand in the charging dock. Although feeling better, she didn’t trust herself to stand, much less leave the house or drive anywhere. She decided to stay put as drowsiness overtook her. Curling her feet under her bottom in the chair, she welcomed the lull of sleep that she’d been missing the past week. When she realized she was going into a trance, she welcomed that, too.r />
  And there he was…the handsome man.

  He was barefoot and leaning nonchalantly against the door frame with his hands tucked into the front pockets of his jeans—tight jeans she noticed that molded to his hips and thighs. His white t-shirt etched out the imprint of his sculpted abs and biceps. As her gaze traveled up to his brown eyes sparkling mischievously, she couldn’t help thinking what a sexy package he was. He glanced down at her beneath heavy eyebrows with a sly smile as if he’d heard her thoughts before pushing away from the door frame. A few steps brought him three feet in front of her.

  “I’ve been waiting for you.” His melodic, deep voice with just a hint of a southern accent tickled her inner ear.

  “Oh,” was all she could manage while struggling to remain unaffected by his presence and the sensual aura that surrounded him. When he leaned in closer, she thought he was going to kiss her. Instead, he inhaled the area of her neck just above her shoulder, and that’s when she jumped back quickly. “Wh-what are you doing?”

  Whoa! This isn’t supposed to happen.

  She wasn’t supposed to feel him, nor was he supposed to be able to touch her. She was becoming frightened of him, and it wasn’t because of what he was—a subject of her subconscious mind. She was afraid because he was becoming too real. He seemed able to communicate and interact with her.

  This was so different than any other vision she’d had before. Never had she experienced a physical reaction to anyone she encountered during her visions and trances. When he spoke again, she watched his facial movements as they appeared in real time, not as a delayed or slow playback video as most of her visions had been.

  “I wanted to see if you smelled as good as you look. I’ve been hoping you’d come back. Hey, can you help me with something?”

  “I-I don’t know. Help you with what?” Valerie realized his voice was clearer and much stronger than it had been before.

  “Can you help me find that place again, that room? I’ve been thinking about it,” he said.

  “How would I know where that was?”

  “Because you were there with me.”

  “Wait.” Valerie’s brow wrinkled as she gaped at him. “You saw me in that room? But I found you there,” she said and tried to move away from his intense stare. Where she was going, she didn’t know, because they were in an empty space with a floor and doorframe that led nowhere.

  “What was I doing?”

  With a shake of her head, she recalled that vision. “You were typing on laptop computers, and you appeared to be rushing, or at least you typed very fast. Do you recall that?”

  He glanced down at his hands. “I don’t know. Does it matter?”

  “Well, not to sound sexist, but for a man, you moved quickly from computer to computer, typing very fast with focus and intent.”

  “That’s interesting and yes, it was a sexist thing to say.” His lips curled up into a grin.

  “What does that look mean?”

  “You must have watched me for quite some time.” He stepped closer. “Did you?”

  Valerie sensed he was flirting with her. It was another first during a vision. Wary, she sidestepped him, but he caught her hand.

  No, don’t let him touch you again.

  Although it was wrong, she didn’t sense he’d hurt her. If anything, he seemed as in awe of her as she was of him.

  He guided her a few feet away by placing a hand in the small of her back. Then holding her away from him, he ran his hands slowly up and down her arms.

  His touch was so gentle yet so erotic that it made the hair on her arms and the back of her neck stand on end. She inhaled sharply at the delicate sensuous touch. He touched the loose waves of her hair and then raised his hand and cupped her cheek.

  “Is it sexist for a man to admit to a beautiful woman that he is scared as shit? Pardon the language.”

  His eyes had become serious, all signs of flirting suddenly gone. The space they were standing in seemed to darken with the mood change. She saw the confusion in his face. Yes, he was scared, but that didn’t stop him from slowly bending to place a kiss on her lips.

  Holy shit! This guy is…real. I think. He feels real. What the hell is going on?

  She couldn’t ask him because his lips were melting against hers and his hands were touching the curvature of her back, drawing her closer to his body.

  This was no ordinary vision, dream, or trance.

  Valerie pulled herself out of his arms. He looked disappointed and moved toward her again, but she stopped him by placing her hand firmly against the solid mass of muscle that was his chest. She stepped back to put some distance between them, but there was no mistaking the thumping of his heart against her hand. She also had not mistaken him pressing his thigh against hers.

  Yeah, everything feels very real.

  “Don’t touch me like that again. Who the hell do you think you are?”

  He stepped back quickly and had the decency to look contrite.

  She watched him grab at his chest as his face contorted in pain.

  “I-I don’t know.” His voice had become hoarse and gravely again. His eyes widened, and he looked around frantically.

  “What do you mean you don’t know?” Her voice was full of alarm when he began backing away from her. The vibrant man he had been moments before began fading away like smoke evaporating into the mist.

  “I don’t know…I don’t know anything.”

  She reached for him, grasping his arm that seconds ago had been warm and solid but now was semi-translucent and disappearing before her eyes. A strange heat radiated from him as if his body was on fire. He slid down, pulling her down with him until they were both on the floor.

  “W-what’s happening to me?” he murmured weakly. “W-who am I?”

  “I-I don’t know.” In a panic, she looked around wildly for something, anything to help him, but the floor and the doorframe were all slowly dissipating into nothingness. Lowering his head to the floor, she got up and ran to the dark corners of the room for something to help him, perhaps a blanket or something.

  Finding nothing but just empty space in all four corners, she hurried back over to where she thought she’d left him lying on the floor. But he was gone…

  Chapter Ten

  Sarah

  Congressman Roy Owen and his wife, Neva, were visiting Sarah Walker at the Georgetown home she’d shared with Glen. They hadn’t been able to attend Glen’s funeral due to out of town business.

  Sarah graciously accepted their condolences and invited the couple into the living room.

  Accepting a hug from the congressman who was a giant of a man compared to her five feet, four inches, Sarah thought his cool embrace was so different from the warm embrace she’d received moments ago from his wife.

  She thanked them for the floral arrangement they’d sent. “It was beautiful,” she said, encouraging them to take a seat on the sofa, while she sat in a chair across from them.

  “How are you and the kids doing, Sarah?”

  Sarah weighed her response before answering Neva. “Well, they’re no longer kids. They keep telling me they’re adults, at eighteen and nineteen, but I do miss the kids they were. You’ll see one day, Neva.”

  When a staff member entered the room rolling in a service cart containing aromatic coffee and slices of lemon cake, Sarah graciously served them until Roy excused himself to answer his cell phone.

  “I’d like to have children one day.”

  Sarah had to strain to hear the young woman’s admission. She watched Neva’s perfectly made-up eyes soften and thought she appeared flushed in the face. Sitting back in her chair, Sarah caught a side view of the congressman’s head of security, Mr. Bishop, standing at attention in the hallway just outside the living room door. She’d seem him countless times and thought he could pass for a football player. She did think he had a sinister air of danger to him, and maybe that’s why he sometimes gave her the creeps. “Well, don’t wait too long, my dear. You’l
l find that your life changes when you have children, and that’s a good thing.”

  Sarah realized she had nothing in common with Neva Owen. She wasn’t a Washington socialite, but wherever Neva went, she was always with Roy or Mr. Bishop. She believed Neva was Roy’s trophy wife and a wannabee A-lister. She was beautiful with a toned body and was always stylish in her expensive designer clothes. She was so different from Roy’s first wife who’d died over ten years ago, she thought absently.

  Sipping her coffee, Sarah had a thought as she covertly watched Neva’s thick eyelashes glance over to the doorway—and if she’d had to guess, Sarah would bet her aching feet that Neva was giving that look to Mr. Bishop. “So, Neva,” she said, causing the young woman’s eyes to snap back over to her, “you’re looking as lovely, as ever.”

  Sarah noticed that Neva had the decency to blush as she mumbled her thanks for the compliment.

  Having finished his call, Roy returned to the sofa and picked up his plate containing a slice of cake. He ate it with appreciation and commented on it.

  “I’ll tell the ladies’ at our church that you like it, Roy. They sent over three, so I’ll have the cook box one up for you to take. I certainly don’t need to have any more sweets in this house.”

  “Oh, that’s not necessary, Sarah. Besides, Neva here has been complaining about the few pounds she’s gained lately. She has a bit of a sweet tooth, isn’t that right, honey?”

  Neva nodded in agreement. “He’s right. I ate way too much while we were away, but thanks anyway.”

  It didn’t take Sarah long to realize exactly what Roy had done. He’d put his wife on point by saying she didn’t need more cake.

  What a jerk.

  “Sarah, I wasn’t going to mention this, but I hope you know that I sided with Glen on that grant funding. I was as upset as he was about the cuts. He’d argued so passionately to get that funding, as I’m sure you know. But I have to tell you when I heard about his passing, I was just shocked that maybe he had worried himself sick about it. Fights do occur on the hill.”