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still wants him to suffer."
He crouched beside her and took the envelope that lay in her lap. "Maybe
that's true, but she may have started something that will help us find
out who killed him, and why."
"I know." She closed her eyes tight. "It's buried somewhere deep inside
me, but I know. This time I'm going to dig it out."
WHEN THE music started she was standing in the dark doorway in her
favorite nightgown, clutching Charlie. Darren was crying. She wanted
to go back to bed, back to her own bed and the glow of the night-light.
But she'd promised to take care of him, and he was crying.
She stepped out, but her foot didn't touch the floor. It seemed to
float on a dark gray cloud. She could hear the hissing, the dry
skittering of the things that liked the dark. The things that ate bad
little girls, like her mam had told her.
She didn't know which way to go. It was too dark and there were sounds
everywhere, under and over the music that wouldn't stop. She walked
toward her crying brother, trying to be small, so small no one could
see. She could feel the sweat running down her back.
She had her hand on the k.n.o.b. Turned it slowly. Pushed the door. Open.
Hands gripped her arms, twisting.
"I told you not to run away from me, Emma." Drew slipped a hand around
her throat and squeezed. "I told you I'd find you."
"Emma!" Michael caught her flailing arms and pulled her close. "Wake up.
Emma, wake up. It's just a dream."
She couldn't get her breath. Even when she realized where she was and
who was holding her, it seemed that Drew still had his hands locked
around her throat.
"The light." She dragged the words out. "Please, Turn on the light."
"All right. Hang on." He s.h.i.+fted, dragging her with him as he hit the
switch. "There. Now look at me. Emma, look at me." He put a hand
firmly under her chin and held it. She was still shuddering, and in the
gleam of the lamp her face was marble-white, sheened with sweat. "It
was a dream," he said quietly. "You're with me."
"I'm all right."
He pulled the sheet up around her s.h.i.+vering shoulders. "I'm going to
get you some water." When she nodded he slipped out of bed into the
adjoining bath. Emma brought her knees close to her chest, listening to
the sound of water hitting gla.s.s. She knew where she was. In the hotel
room with Michael. She'd wanted one night alone with him before he went
back to the States. Though she knew it had only been a dream, she
lifted a hand to her throat. She could still feel the grip of Drew's
fingers.
"Drink a little."
She sipped. It didn't burn as she'd feared. "I'm sorry, Michael."
He wasn't interested in apologies. Nor did he want her to know he was
as shaken as she. She'd sounded as though she had been choking in
sleep, trying to gasp for air that was trapped in her throat.
"How often do you have these?"
"Too often."
"Is this why you wouldn't ever spend the night with me before?"
