Sleep No More (19 page)

That was the only time Jason moved throughout her telling. He leaned forward in his seat. Abby noticed his hands were locked together and his knuckles blanched white, but he didn't move closer or interrupt.

A little part of her wanted him to stop respecting her wishes and haul her off to bed, erase her reality entirely before she revealed the truth. She waited.

He stayed where he was.

She pressed on, knowing it would change the way he looked at her forever. "I think the reason I don't remember anything before I came to in the swamp is because I was sleepwalking... sleep-driving, that is."

"Abby, it's not uncommon to not recall an accident after it happens. Especially if you've lost consciousness."

"But it's not only that I can't recall the accident," she said. "I don't remember anything after I left you at Jeter's. When I got home from the hospital, it was obvious I'd gone to bed... to sleep."

"Again, not uncommon. It happens." His tone was not in the least argumentative or mocking. "Have you had problems with sleepwalking recently?"

"I think it started after Mom died. The only time I know for certain was the night before the accident. I only know that because I left the hose running and a trail of muddy footprints when I came back inside."

She closed her eyes. She'd thought the image of those muddy footprints had been haunting. Now there was something so much worse emblazoned on her memory. "You have no idea what it's like to do things you're unaware of, things that are entirely out of your control, things that can hurt someone else."

"I can only imagine how terrible it must be." He was quiet for a bit. "But Abby, sleep-driving? That's a complex activity. And you made it pretty far from home before you... encountered trouble."

"Don't you think it's possible?"

"Of course it's possible. Just not very likely. Since you think you don't remember the accident because you were sleep-driving, it would follow that you
should
be able to recall going to bed if your amnesia is because of the sleep-driving. Your memory loss is most likely associated with the accident itself."

Made sense--if she was a normal person.

"Jason, I had absolutely no reason to be out on that road in the middle of the night. I hadn't been on it since I moved back out there."

"Why
did
you move back there?" His gaze was sharp enough she swore she could feel razor cuts on her skin. He almost seemed angry.

"It's the perfect place for my business... and Dad let me have it rent free until the flower shop got going--"

"Abby." He sighed and rubbed his hands on the thighs of his jeans. "Constance told me about how the fire was set. Why would you choose to go back there and face that ruin every day?"

"I told you why," she said, unable to keep the defensive tone from her voice. "My business--"

"I don't believe that's the reason at all. I think it was because your sister moved away and you no longer had a daily reminder of what happened. You think you deserve to feel guilty. You're punishing yourself."

"Stop shrinking me! Where I choose to live is not the issue here."

"You can't have it both ways, Abby," he said, his tone a calm contrast to hers. "You asked me to 'shrink' you."

"And you said no!"

"I said I can't treat you. And I certainly can't hypnotize you. But I can speak to you as someone who cares about you. The fact is, I'm a psychiatrist; I can't change the way I think."

She scrubbed her hands over her face. "Okay." After a deep breath, she raised her gaze to meet his once again. "Okay. But leave where I live out of this. I need to figure out a way to stop this sleepwalking. If hypnosis can't fix me, maybe it can help me remember the accident." Her voice slid down to an exhausted whisper. "I have to know what happened."

"Abby, if you were sleep-driving, you won't ever remember. Hypnosis won't bring memories of that night forward because you never made those memories. Your conscious mind wasn't engaged. If you want to know what happened, I think you're going to have to rely on the police investigation. They're looking for a witness; maybe he'll come forward."

"You know? You know that a third person made the 911 call?"

"I don't know anything about the 911 call. Deputy Trowbridge was here, asking where I was that night. He said some evidence at the scene indicated someone who'd attended Vera's funeral had been there, so they were questioning everyone. I wondered why that was a clue they were following, since you'd attended the service. But clearly there's more to it." He rubbed his chin. "If a third person made the 911 call, why don't they just trace that phone?"

"Because it was made from Kyle's phone," she said, "which was found near him... his body. But they determined he'd been killed instantly."

"Then that caller took precautions not to be identified," Jason said thoughtfully.

"Maybe he didn't have a cell," she offered.

"Possibly. But that doesn't answer why he didn't stay until the police arrived."

"Maybe it was a kid afraid to be caught--out when he was supposed to be home, underage drinking, something like that."

"Could be. That person is your lead. That's where you'll find your answers, Abby. When they find the caller--"

"What makes you think they will?"

"Because nobody can keep something like this bottled up. And this is a small town. It's going to come out."

"Deputy Trowbridge thinks I made the call and don't remember. If they're looking for a third person, does this mean they didn't find my fingerprints on the phone?"

"Maybe. It may also mean the lab hasn't confirmed the results yet. I'm sure the police are under pressure. They have to do something visible and proactive. Kyle was a senator's son. Unfortunately, big wheels produce deafening squeaks. I see it time and again when I work with GBI--"

"With what?"

"Georgia Bureau of Investigation. I started doing consulting work for them when I lived in Savannah. I still do occasionally."

"You helped solve cases--like those guys on
Criminal Minds
?"

"Nothing nearly that thrilling. Just offered professional input to investigations and did some court testimony. It was interesting work."

His professional life in Savannah must have been more fulfilling than what he found here in Preston.

"Do you ever consider going back?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Bryce and Brenna are here." He sat in silence for a moment, then stood. "Did you tell the police you think you may have been sleep-driving at the time of the accident?"

"Not yet," she said. "I still want to try hypnosis. If I wasn't sleep-driving, couldn't that uncover what I was doing prior to the accident?"

"Possibly. I have someone I can call who uses hypnosis frequently. We'll have to drive down to Savannah."

"We?"

"Yeah, we. I'm not letting you do this alone."

He left the room and returned a few minutes later. "She'll see us tomorrow afternoon, but she won't be available until five."

"Tomorrow's Sunday."

"She's doing it as a personal favor."

A little voice asked how close this "she" was to Jason that she was willing to do personal favors. Not that Abby had any right to have such a thought.

She said, "Thank you."

"You look exhausted. How much sleep have you had since the accident?"

"A couple hours here and there. I've been afraid to."

"Denying yourself sleep isn't helping your cause. The more tired you are the more likely you are to sleepwalk."

"I know. I know. Yesterday I installed some of those magnetic alarms on my doors to wake me if I try to go outside."

"So why didn't you sleep last night?"

"I had a wedding today, so I worked until about four this morning. And then at five, the front door alarm went off." She'd effectively pushed the incident to the back of her mind, but now a chill crept across her skin as she thought of waking to that screaming alarm and her door wide open.

"Sleepwalking?" he asked.

"No. There's no delay on the alarm; I was asleep on the sofa."
And totally defenseless.
Her stomach went sour and her mouth dry. "The door was open and the key wasn't in the deadbolt."

"Jesus, Abby! Someone broke in?" He jumped to his feet, as if to protect her after the fact.

"Thank God, the alarm scared him off."

"You called the police?"

"Yes. They didn't find anyone. Apparently whoever it was either picked the lock or used something called a bump key. The lock is good as new."

"And freaking useless!" He was pacing in front of her.

She hadn't thought of that.

"Abby, I don't like this at all. Not on the heels of the accident and the publicity."

"It had nothing to do with the accident. How could it?"

"We were just discussing that the third person didn't want to be found."

"But I don't remember anything. I didn't see anyone."

"They don't know that."

She shook her head. "This isn't one of your convoluted GBI cases. This is Preston. I had an accident. I know the sleepwalking idea is off the wall, but there's no big web of deceit or hidden conspiracies at work."

"Until we know differently, we're going to act like there is."

Y
ou're staying here tonight," Jason said for the third time, standing nose to nose with Abby.

And for the third time Abby said, "No. I. Am. Not."

At least her anger had put some color back in her face. She was probably the most stubborn woman he'd ever met; but there was nothing selfish about her obstinacy.

She'd already tried to make him believe she'd stay at her dad's. But that was a lie easy to see through. She was terrified of harming someone while she was sleepwalking. No way would she put her father in that position. The same for hotels; not that there were any in the vicinity of Preston.

He went on, "You might as well give up this argument, because I'm not backing down. You can't stay at your house, not until the police have a better handle on this break-in. And I'll make certain you're safe from your sleepwalking. You'll be able to let go and sleep. You need it."

Jason understood her fear. Although taken to the extreme, it was justified. Even before her suspicion of sleep-driving and having an accident resulting in a fatality, there had been Courtney. Childhood burn scars were the very worst--and apparently Courtney's involved her arms, neck, and the side of her face. Not places easily concealed.

Survivor guilt was a powerful and destructive thing. Seeing those scars every day would have been like Abby peeling a scab off a deep self-inflicted wound. Courtney's burns might heal, but the damage to Abby never would.

And once Courtney had left Preston, Abby had felt the need to punish herself with another constant reminder.

"You can't protect me from me," she said. "I'm not backing down." She poked him in the chest with her index finger hard enough that he took a step backward. "I
never
sleep with anyone else under the same roof."

He didn't call her on just negating the lie about staying with her father. That wasn't the battle he had to win at the moment.

He said, "I'm a light sleeper. We'll set things up so I have plenty of warning if you're up and moving. You can stay in Bren's room. It's right next to mine so I'll be able to hear."

She pressed her lips together and shook her head. She was so fatigued that she swayed on her feet.

For a long moment they simply stood there and glared at one another.

He settled his hands on his hips. "You'll stay here if I have to tie you up."

Suddenly her mask of stubborn anger cracked and a near hysterical cackle burst forth. "Isn't that against the law?"

"You can have me arrested after you've had a good night's sleep."

Her out-of-control laughter bubbled on, giddiness born of exhaustion. He knew it was only a matter of time before her mood swung the other way.

"I'll take your lack of response as capitulation." He picked up her purse and shoved it into her midsection. "Let's go get your things."

He walked out of the house with confident strides, hoping she was following. He didn't dare look back to see; that might open the door for more argument.

Once out the back door, he held it open. She walked past him without looking at him, her purse still clutched against her body where he'd thrust it.

She was silent when he opened the passenger door of the Explorer. And still when he climbed in behind the steering wheel.

As he started the car and pulled out onto the street, he cast sideways glances at her. She had something cooking; her capitulation was much too sudden and her silence as eerie as the green calm before a tornado.

Well, she could scheme all she wanted. He wasn't losing this battle.

When he made the turn that led out to her house instead of going toward Lucy's, she showed her hand.