Some instinct pierced her, and terror shook her out of her confusion. She didn’t know what was going on, but she ceased to think. Something deep within her reacted, and she ran out the front door onto the street and started screaming...screaming...screaming.
Screaming.
Dory Lake awoke with her own screams ringing in her ears. The minute her eyes popped open, blessed lamplight greeted her, and for a moment, just a moment, she felt safe.
She remembered what she had seen, but over twenty-five years the nightmares had grown less frequent. Now they were coming back again, every night or several times a night.
Because her brother was about to be released from prison.
She sat up quickly, and was relieved when she didn’t grow light-headed. She had low blood pressure, and sometimes it took her by surprise, causing her to faint briefly. A minor thing, a mere nuisance most of the time.
Drenched with sweat, she climbed from bed and walked into the small bathroom to shower. He wasn’t out yet. Not yet. She was okay.
But the dream had brought that terrifying night back. All the intervening years hadn’t expunged the memory, although it had been troubling her less and less. But ever since she had learned George was about to complete his sentence, the nightmares had returned. Every single night. No escape.
There was no reason to think George would have any interest in her when she’d never spoken about any of it, and he couldn’t be convicted of the murder again anyway, she told herself repeatedly as the cold water pounded her. As she’d been telling herself ever since she got the news. He couldn’t even be interested in her inheritance which was locked up in an unbreakable trust, a trust his lawyer had told him about.
Hell, he probably wouldn’t even be able to find her. The last name Lake was an extremely common one.
At last she toweled off, climbed into a fresh nightgown and robe, and started downstairs. No more sleep tonight. Too bad, she was moving into her own place tomorrow...or was it today?
Downstairs the kitchen light was on. Her friend Betty made sure the house stayed reasonably well lit at night. For Dory, who couldn’t stand waking in the dark.
But when she stepped into the gaily colored kitchen, she found Betty was already there with a fresh pot of coffee. Betty sat at the table, mugs, spoons and sugar at the ready, along with a plate of cookies. Her short graying hair looked tousled and, true to her taste, she wore a zip-up robe that was nearly psychedelic with cat faces. Betty was determined to become the cat lady. So far she’d acquired only three, all of whom were now swirling, wondering if it was time for breakfast.
“I heard the shower,” Betty said. “Again?”
“Again. I’m sorry I woke you.”
“What kind of friend would I be if I got annoyed by that? I don’t have nightmares like yours, but I’ve had them. Nice to have someone near when they wake you.” Betty bit her lower lip. “Are you sure you should move out? I can’t stand thinking of you all alone.”
Dory slid into one of the chairs. “I’ve been living on my own since college. I can’t let George’s release take my independence from me. Anyway, there’s absolutely no reason he should want to find me. He served his time and I’m no threat. After all this time, we’re strangers. And, as you know, I need to get back to my job.”
Of course, those brave words ignored the fact that she’d run all the way to Conard County, Wyoming, from Kansas at Betty’s invitation, when she’d learned her brother would soon be released and the nightmares had returned. Packed up and fled, if she was honest about it. Saying George wouldn’t want to find her felt like whistling past the graveyard.
Betty, even back in the days when she taught Dory’s high school English class, had been blunt, not one to pull her punches. So it bothered Dory that Betty had felt she should come here.
Apparently Betty didn’t quite believe George wouldn’t come looking for Dory. Or maybe she had just believed the move would ease Dory’s nightmares. So much for that.
The coffee went down well, as did a cookie, and soon her fears eased enough that one of the cats, a ginger tabby called simply Ginger, was willing to leap on her lap and beg for pets.
Such a soothing scene, Dory thought as she rubbed the ginger cat’s cheeks and elicited a surprisingly loud purr. Her relaxation deepened, and she thought that maybe she’d better get a cat herself.
“So therapy’s out?” Betty asked quietly.
“I’ve been through years of it. I doubt they can do any more.”
“Maybe not, but you’re older now.” Then Betty hesitated. “I have a friend I want you to meet this morning.”
Dory stiffened a bit. She’d been here a week, and so far she’d avoided getting drawn into a social circle. She didn’t know if she was ready for that, and anyway, she’d never been good at it.
“Oh, relax,” Betty said, reading her reaction correctly. “Someday you’ll want out of that shell, but I doubt it’s going to be right away. You’ve been in it for too many years. No, this is a special kind of friend. He’s the K-9 officer for the sheriff. He trains the dogs and other officers. Anyway, I want you to meet him.”
“Why?”
“Well, apart from the fact that he’s got two nasty ostriches he never wanted and can’t get rid of, which I find hysterically funny and interesting, he has lots of dogs. I think you need a dog to keep you company.”
Dory stared at her. “Why? I was thinking about a cat.”
Betty smiled. “Think about it, Dory. What’s going to make you feel safer? A guard dog or a guard cat?”
Almost in spite of herself, Dory laughed. “You make a point.”
“I always have,” Betty said.
Back in those long-ago days when Betty had been her sophomore English teacher, Betty alone had showed the infinite patience Dory needed to let someone become close to her. Betty’s campaign had lasted well beyond high school until, finally, surprise of surprises, Dory realized she had a true friend.
No one else had come so close to her.
“Oh, and you’re not moving today,” Betty said, reaching for a cookie.
Dory preferred deciding things for herself. “Why?” she asked, a bit sharply.
Betty ignored her tone. “Because there was a voice mail message this morning. It’ll be two more days before your high-speed internet is wired in. You need that to work, don’t you?”
“They promised to do it today,” she answered, but realized getting upset about it wouldn’t help anything. Since she got here, Betty had offered to take her out to the community college to use the internet there. At home, Betty had little need for a high-speed connection. But her connection was good enough to pick up email, so Dory hadn’t taken Betty up on her offer to go to the college. Anyway, the college didn’t have what she needed.
But she couldn’t stop working indefinitely and it had been too long already. Email sufficed for a short time only. “I need my connection,” she said presently. “Two more days, huh?”
“What exactly do you do that keeps you online most of the day?” Betty asked. “I get the souped-up computer with all the whiz-bang gizmos, multiple monitors, a graphics card that would break anyone’s bank account...but you can get your email here, right?”
Dory smiled faintly and poured herself a little more coffee. “I don’t do graphic art all by myself. I work with a team most of the time. Being able to chat back and forth and