Murder In Her Dreams (11 page)

Cassie struggled to open her eyes. Someone
had glued them shut. She opened her mouth to shout, but only a
squeak came out.

“Blast it, let go of me. I want to wake
up.”

“Cassie, Cassie, until you save me, I’ll
haunt you.”

“Then I’ll ignore you.”

“You can’t.” He smiled at her with a warm,
inviting smile. “Besides, if you do, think about what might happen
to me.”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care.” She pulled
the pillow back and snuggled under the covers.

“That’s not true, Cassie. You do care.” He
gave her a knowing, seductive smile.

“Humph, I don’t even know you, so how can I
care?”

“You didn’t know Ellie Latham either.”

As if he had punched her in the stomach, the
breath went out of Cassie along with all the fight. She couldn’t
survive another Ellie Latham. She lay still a moment, thinking and
struggled to find a solution. A straw, any straw would do.

“Look, if I can talk to you like this, then
you know as much as I do. I don’t have to do anything.”

“Uh, uh, Cassie, it doesn’t work that way.
The conscious me doesn’t know, and shall we say, doesn’t want to
know. That’s why it’s up to you.”

Angry and frustrated, she pulled up the
covers, jammed the pillow over her head, and covered her ears with
her hands.

A low rumbling growl filled the air. Her
heart revved like a hyped up motorcycle. The rumbling, more ominous
now, grew louder, a locomotive barreling down the track. No, make
that two locomotives.

Neither the pillow nor the comforter deadened
the sound. It enveloped her. She’d heard it before.

The black rabbit.

She peered out from under the covers to see
it poised and ready to spring.

“NO.” Cassie sat up and batted at the
creature.

It turned its head and opened its mouth wide.
The large, sharp incisors gleamed. She froze, mesmerized by the
shiny white teeth stark against the black fur. The rabbit’s
narrowed eyes glowed with angry hatred.

She opened her mouth to scream, but only a
hoarse croak emerged from her tight throat.

The muscles of the rabbit’s haunches
tightened. Its claws dug into the bed. It sprang toward her. The
fur on its muzzle stood on end. Its lips pulled back in a tight
rictus. She smelled the metallic tang of blood on it breath.

“NO,” she shouted. “NOO.”

* * * *

Cassie woke up, shaking. The dreadful image
had gone, but the terror remained. Her hands and feet ached with
cold. She pulled the comforter close, trying to warm herself.

As warmth returned, her muscles relaxed. She
hated that nightmare creature, and now she hated Ian McLeod, too.
She had tried to help him, but now the rabbit had turned on her.
McLeod could save himself. It wasn’t fair to lay the burden on
her.

For a long while, she sat huddled in the
comforter staring at her feet and then got up at last to brew a cup
of chamomile tea. The hot beverage eased her nerves. In the bright
light of the kitchen, the images of Ian McLeod and the rabbit
faded. She scolded herself for letting a dream terrorize her. It
had nothing to do with her. Ian McLeod could save himself.

“He can’t,” a small voice echoed in her head,
“that’s why he’s asking you to help. You have to act.”

“Not tonight. I’m going to bed, and I’m going
to sleep.” Cassie went upstairs and took a Nytol. At least it would
keep her from dreaming.

* * * *

The next day, Cassie went to the Tea Room for
an early lunch. Tula smiled when she saw her enter and hurried over
with a pot of Tula’s Special. Cassie waited until Tula poured them
each a cup and handed one to her. The familiar mixed scent of
cloves and mint soothed her.

She savored the aroma for a moment before
taking a quick sip. She set her cup down. “So, what’s the latest
with you?”

Grinning, Tula eyed Cassie. “Me? What do you
mean?”

“You and the newest man.”

“Oh, him, he teaches anthropology at OSU.
He’s fine, better than the last one.”

Cassie laughed. “That’s what you always say.
I’d like to meet him.”

“At my next party — that way you’ll have to
come.” Tula searched her face with a frown. “Okay, Cassie, That’s
not what you want today.” She paused a moment and waited.

Cassie said nothing and rubbed one hand over
the other.

“Another dream?”

She looked down at her hands and then back to
her friend. “Tula, despite the note I sent Ian McLeod, the dreams
haven’t stopped.”

Her friend pursed her lips and nodded . “The
same dream?”

She shook her head and stared down at her
cup. “No, last night he talked to me.”

“What did he say?”

“He told me I had to convince him. He called
my note childish.”

“Childish? Knowing you, maybe it was" Tula’s
expressive eyes turned somber. “So, what are you going to do about
it?”

“What can I do?” Cassie began picking at her
cuticles. “If I approach him, he’ll just dismiss me as a kook or a
crank. What would you do?”

“Act. You’ll have to confront him,
Cassie.”

“I ... I can’t. He more or less said that.
I’m no good at doing that. I’d make a mess of it.”

Fingering her sun pendant, Tula stared off
into space for a moment, her eyes unfocused. “Go see McLeod and
just tell him about the dream.”

After a pause, she looked back to Cassie and
skewered her with intense eyes. “You have to work out what that
rabbit means. Things aren’t always what they seem. Look beyond the
image to its meaning. The rabbit isn’t a real rabbit. It’s just
what you mind shows you. It stands for something or someone. You
have to figure out who or what.”

“Sure, that’s easy to say.” Cassie snorted.
“Do you have any suggestions?”

“Me?” Tula laughed and patted her hand.
“You’re the reference librarian. Read up on rabbit lore. Who knows
what you might learn.”

“At least it’s something to do.” Cassie
considered the advice. She had hoped for more from Tula, but
sharing her dreams helped a little, even if Tula couldn’t or
wouldn’t tell her what they meant.

“Thanks.” She flashed her friend a smile, and
Tula returned it.

The bell at the front rang, and Tula hurried
off. Cassie finished lunch and decided to learn all she could about
rabbits. Somewhere, somehow, she would find the answer to the
creature. She left the Tea Room with renewed energy and
determination.

Back at her desk in the library, she found
the list she had prepared the day before and remembered the Book
Selection Committee that afternoon. She sighed. The rabbit would
have to wait. She checked Kidlit for messages. Answers had come
back from the Barrington Public Library in Maine and Chilton
Library in Lexington.

I read and loved The Barnyard Seer and can
heartily recommend it. I’m looking forward to Mannus’ next book and
further adventures of Henriette. Do buy it. The kids will love it.
Nancy

I’m not into fortune-telling, and small
children may be disturbed by the death of Jean Le Coq, the rooster.
The illustrations are the best part of this silly book.
Jennifer

Well so much for Kidlit. More uncertainty.
Why couldn’t things ever be simple? She reread the messages and
erased the question mark next to Mannus. Nancy’s response struck
the right note. She didn’t like the tone of Jennifer’s answer at
all.

Cassie stored Nancy’s email address in case
she wanted to contact her later. As she looked at her watch, she
realized she still had time before the book selection meeting to
look up rabbits.

After checking the catalog for books on
rabbits, she went to the shelves. She glanced through several books
and kept the most promising ones. These she carried back to the
Reference Desk to read while she worked.

Until three, only homemakers and retirees
occupied the library. Usually after lunch, a lull fell on the
readers, a few even nodded off to sleep. After three, the schools
let out and the kids flocked in to work on homework or just
socialize. Once they arrived, Cassie had to spend as much time on
discipline as she did answering questions. Until then, she intended
to learn as much as she could about rabbits.

Cassie read and made notes from
encyclopedias, dictionaries, and other books. She checked entries
under rabbit, hare, Leporidae, and Lagomorpha. With Easter coming
up, someone would be looking into rabbits so she might as well save
them the work. The department could always use an annotated,
mini-bibliography on rabbits and the lore associated with them.

The mythological importance of rabbits
surprised her, but none of the myths made much sense nor could she
see how they applied to the black rabbit. Maybe Tula would see
something she had missed. Besides, since she hadn’t known this much
about rabbits before, she failed to see how her subconscious could
use this information to communicate anything meaningful. She shoved
the notes into her purse to discuss with Tula later.

Jimmy’s word puzzles made a lot more sense
than all this jumble from natural history, scientific facts, and
mythology. The data only confused her more.

She picked up the books and reshelved them.
None of the information provided any insight on how to deal with
Ian McLeod. Her stomach knotted again as she remembered her promise
to Tula to visit him.

She didn’t want to face him and tell him
about the dreams. He would react just as Rod had. He wouldn’t
believe her.

Then what? Would he haunt her dreams if she
didn’t go or worse might he be killed? She didn’t want that either.
She couldn’t stand another death.

At least her dream implied he had read her
note, but ignored it. Why? Surely if what she sensed about him had
any basis in reality, he should be aware of the menace surrounding
him. He shouldn’t need her warning.

She sighed. Tula’s reminder of the
responsibility she carried as a dreamer pricked her.
Responsibility. No matter how she twisted and turned, she couldn’t
run away from that. It stuck to her like a sandburr. She couldn’t
escape her dreams.

Blast. She would confront Ian McLeod tomorrow
and end it. After that, he was on his own.

Chapter
Nine

Cassie spent the morning trying to convince
herself talking to Ian McLeod wouldn’t be so bad. So what if he
reacted the same way Rod had? He meant nothing to her.

The memory of his gaze when she thought he
meant to kiss her in her first dream returned. He could mean
something to her. Even Tula thought so. However, first she had to
convince him to take her dreams seriously. If he didn’t, he would
die just as Ellie Latham had.

Cassie shook herself. Stop this morbid
musing. If she expected to convince Ian McLeod, she had to be calm,
cool, and collected.

With the phone book address and Google, she
had no trouble locating the Worthington complex where McLeod had
his offices. The complex contained four buildings. She drove
through the almost park-like setting with trees and shrubs
separating parking areas and lining the edge of the property. Pale
green haloed the trees. The owners had ensured each building
sported a large sign with the street number. At this time of day,
all the parking places were filled.

She parked across the street and crossed with
the traffic light at the entrance to the complex. As she hurried
along the walkway, she passed colorful beds of bright daffodils and
crocus. The cheerful spring flowers made her more hopeful that Ian
McLeod would listen to her with an open mind.

Cassie entered McLeod’s offices at ten-thirty
carrying a brown envelope. The dark haired secretary-receptionist,
MaryLou Sanders
according to the nameplate on her desk,
smiled at Cassie as she entered.

“Can I help you?”

As always when confronted by a polished,
competent professional, Cassie blushed. Such people made her feel
like a little girl.

MaryLou Sanders wore her white silk blouse
and brown suit like a fashion model. She had neat hands with short
nails polished in a pale pink. Cassie envied the freedom of Miss
Sanders’ stylish feathered hair. She could never muster the courage
to cut her own long locks. If she didn’t like it, it would take
months to grow out again.

She reminded herself she had come on
legitimate business. More important, she had come to save Ian
McLeod’s life. She could not let the polished Miss Sanders
intimidate her. Cassie straightened her shoulders.

“Uh, yes, my name’s Cassie Blake. A friend
recommended I see Mr. McLeod.” Cassie clutched the envelope
tighter. Tula had insisted she come.

“Do you have an appointment, Miss Blake?”

“No, I don’t. I ... uh, I need someone to do
my taxes.” Cassie looked down at the envelope clutched in her
hands. She reminded herself Ian McLeod’s Yellow Pages ad had listed
tax services.

“Please take a seat,” Miss Sanders motioned
to the row of chairs along the wall to Cassie’s right. “I’ll see if
Mr. McLeod can see you.”

She pushed a button on the desk. “Mr. McLeod,
a Miss Blake is here to consult you about taxes.” She eyed Cassie
who nodded. After listening a moment, she rose and motioned Cassie
to follow her through a door next to the desk.

Cassie gazed wide-eyed at her surroundings.
McLeod’s office, larger than the reception area, had a conference
table to one side that would seat eight. A tapestry in blues,
whites, and browns behind the table reminded her of the restless
sea rushing over brown rocks.

When the auburn haired man at the desk in
front of the windows rose to greet her, her heart stopped. He
looked so like the man in her dream, even more so than the
black-and-white picture from the newspaper. She fumbled the brown
envelope and almost dropped it.