He held himself motionless beneath the sheet, staring at nothing, remembering. The dream had been real. The memories were his. He squeezed his eyes shut in dismay. He knew who the young woman was. He knew who it must be.
And for the first time since the dream had come to him, he was afraid it might really happen.
CHAPTER 19
When the phone rang, Nest was buried beneath her blankets where it was pitch-black, and she was certain it was still the middle of the night. She let the phone ring a few times, her mind and body warm and lazy with sleep. Then memories of last night’s horror at Lincoln Park flooded through her, and she crawled from under her covers into shockingly bright daylight.
Squinting uncertainly against the glare, she picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“Nest, it’s me. Are you all right?”
John Ross, She recognized his voice. But what an odd question. Unless he knew what had happened to her in the park, of course, but she didn’t know how he could. She hadn’t spoken to anyone afterward. Shed come back and fallen asleep almost immediately.
“I’m fine,” she answered, her mouth and throat dry and cottony. What time was it? She glanced at the bedside clock. It was almost noon. She had forgotten to set the alarm and slept more than ten hours.
“Did I wake you?” he asked quickly, “I’m sorry if I did, but we have to talk.”
She nodded into the phone. “It’s okay. I didn’t mean to sleep this late.”
She could feel the pain begin even as she spoke the words. Her entire body was throbbing, an ache building steadily from a low whiny to a sharp scream. “Where are you?”
“Downstairs, in the lobby.” He paused. “I called earlier and there was no answer. I was afraid something had happened to you, so I decided to come over. Can you come down?”
She took a deep breath, still working at waking up. “In about a half hour. Can you wait?”
“Yes, “He hesitated a long time. “I’ve been thinking. Maybe you were right about some of the things we talked about. Maybe I was wrong.”
She blinked in surprise. “I’ll be down as quick as I can.”
She returned the receiver to its cradle and rolled onto her back. Whatever had happened to him must have been every bit as significant as what had happened to her. She didn’t know for sure that he was ready to concede the point, but it sounded as if he might be. She stared at the sunlight pooling on the floor in a golden rectangle in front of the tall window. Not only had she forgotten to set the alarm, she hadn’t even bothered to close the drapes. She looked out at the sliver of blue sky visible through the walls of the surrounding buildings. Last night’s storm had given way to better weather, it seemed.
She rolled slowly out of the big bed, her joints and muscles groaning in protest. Every part of her body ached from last night’s encounter, and when she looked down at herself, she found bruises the size of Frisbees on her ribs and thighs, and scratches on her hands and arms that were caked with dried blood. She could hardly wait to see what her face looked like. She glanced at the bloodstreaked sheets and pillow cases and grimaced. She was grateful she wouldn’t have to explain all this to the day maids when they came around to clean up.
She went into the bathroom and showered. She was reminded by the heap of damp towels and washcloths that she had showered just last night, but she needed to perform the ritual again to prepare for her encounter with John Ross. Last night seemed far away, and the deaths of Ariel, Boot, and Audrey more distant in time than they actually were. At first, as she stood beneath the stream of hot water, they didn’t even seem real to her, as if she had dreamed them, as if they were imagined. But as the details recalled themselves, the images sharpened and solidified, and by the time she was pulling on her jeans and an NU sweatshirt, she was surprised to find she was crying.