Blood Red. Heather Graham
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in the pool and drown.”
“You don’t remember coming out here at all? Really?”
Deanna shook her head and groaned. “No more of those drinks with all the shots in them, bachelorette party or not.”
“Good thought,” Lauren agreed. She felt a chill, remembering how she had seen the man standing by the pole earlier. What if he had still been hanging around? “Let’s go in.”
“I’ll put a chair in front of the door,” Lauren said as soon as they were inside, the door safely locked behind them.
Deanna gave her a quick hug. “Thanks,” she said huskily.
Deanna went back into the bedroom, and Lauren lay down again, troubled. She was so tired. Her lids became heavy. She drifted.
And dreamed.
Mark returned to the bed and breakfast with his car and belongings. He glanced at his watch. It was four in the morning.
Once he had parked and grabbed his overnight bag, he stood in the courtyard. Unease trickled through him.
He could smell it. Sense it.
Someone had been here.
He dropped his bag and hurried to the cottage where the girls were staying. He tried the door. Locked. He prayed God it had remained so since he had left.
But he didn’t like it. Didn’t like it at all.
What if Stephan had discovered the woman, the one who looked like Katie?
He was tempted to pound on the door, to make sure the girls were all right. But all signs were that they were locked in, sound asleep, safe. If they began to think of him as a danger, an insane man, he wouldn’t be able to help them.
It occurred to him that he was in a perfect position to use the women in his own quest. He was here; they were here.
The perfect bait.
No, he told himself, gritting his teeth painfully. Never bait. Never.
He stared at the door for a moment longer, then looked around the courtyard. Whoever had been here was gone. Long gone, probably. Regretfully, he walked softly away from the door, seeking his own cottage.
Luckily, it was right next door.
Lauren awoke to a hint of sunlight making its way through the draperies and the sound of chirping birds.
She frowned as she woke, despite the miraculous wonder of daylight. At least she hadn’t had any wretched dreams about fortune tellers or scary creatures in crystal balls. She hadn’t even dreamed about Deanna walking out into the courtyard, sound asleep. Now that was scary—and real.
Instead she had continued with the dream she had started before going out after Deanna, and that was very scary, as well.
And far too real.
She’d dreamed about him.
She flushed at the thought. It had been so bizarre. She’d been back in the bar, back at the point where she’d crashed into him. And it had been…
Incredibly erotic.
And insanely real. She had seen the walls, with their old posters of jazz greats. She had even smelled the slightly stale scent of alcohol that lingered around any bar, the hint of old smoke. She had seen the shadows and the dim light. And the man. They had looked at one another, and the next thing she had known, she’d been in his arms, no introduction, no small talk. Thankfully she couldn’t remember how they had shed their clothing. But she had certainly been naked, just as he had been, in the shadowy hallway, flush against him, feeling his flesh and heat, his very life, as he pressed her against the wall. She could almost remember the feel of his lips against hers, and on her flesh. The hardness of his erection as he made love to her against the wall in a bar.
Even though it had only been a dream, it was humiliating. In a thousand years, she would never do such a thing, especially with a stranger. With a man who might be actively dangerous.
She groaned softly. She really, desperately, needed a life.
She sat up and stretched, straightened and smiled.
Daylight. Once she rose, drank some coffee and showered, surely the reality of the dream would fade. She decided that she couldn’t even share it with Heidi or Deanna. It was simply too embarrassing. Too…personal.
She shook her head, rose and headed straight for the coffee machine.
Heidi and Deanna were still completely out—she could see the dark head in one bed and the blond one in the other. She opted for a shower while the other two slept on.
As the water streamed over her, she groaned aloud softly. She wasn’t afraid, exactly, but she felt uneasy in her own skin, unable to forget the pure sensuality of the dream. She could imagine his hands, the way they had felt on her bare flesh.
She finished her shower as fast as she could.
She definitely needed a life, she thought again. It was just so difficult. She was past the age of looking for fun and enjoyment while she set her career in motion. She wanted something real, commitment, respect…and, of course, passion. Something like what she’d had with Ken. Deanna was always telling her that she didn’t need to make a commitment before the first date, and that she would never know if she really liked a man enough to love him if she didn’t take a few chances. But it was hard to go back to dating after she’d been engaged, in love and ready for the future. She loathed the idea of dating again. It was just too…uncomfortable. And potentially painful.
As Lauren poured coffee, Deanna emerged from the bedroom. She looked rumpled and still tired.
“Bless you, my child,” she proclaimed. “Coffee.”
“And more in the courtyard when we’re ready for breakfast,” Lauren said. She hesitated, then asked, “Are you okay?”
“Just tired,” Deanna said.
“Well, you were rather active in the middle of the night,” Lauren reminded her.
Deanna took a cup of coffee and sipped it. “I have never, ever, done anything like that before in my life.”
“Alcohol,” Lauren suggested.
“Sadly, I have been a bit wasted before,” Deanna admitted.
“You don’t remember anything at all?”
Deanna shook her head, but her eyes were lowered. Lauren thought there was more, but she couldn’t force Deanna to tell her what it was. She could only hope that Deanna would explain more when she was ready.
Lauren walked to the door and moved the chair she had set against it. “Well, let’s see what unlight streaming on the pool does for the day, huh?” She opened the door.
A newspaper was lying on the mat.
She stooped down to pick it up and couldn’t help but read the huge headline immediately.
Headless Female Corpse Found in Mississippi.
3
Mark sat in the courtyard, dark sunglasses in place, drinking his coffee and reading the newspaper. He felt a sense of bitter fatality at the headline blazing at him, and nothing in the story that followed surprised him.
The headless woman was being called Jane Doe. The coroner estimated that she’d been dead a week to ten days, and she might have been disposed of at almost any point up to a hundred miles upriver. White, approximately five-feet-seven inches, one-hundred-and-thirty pounds, her remains had been badly assailed by the river and the creatures that lived in it. The coroner had nothing else to say for the moment, other than that additional tests were being performed on the victim.
The head had yet to be discovered.
Mark put down the paper and sipped his coffee, staring at