Man of her Dreams. Debra Webb
Читать онлайн книгу.
horrible. I can hardly believe it myself. I—”
“How do they know it was him?”
Mr. Yeager frowned, stared at her as if from some far away place. “They…oh…they found the flowers…the…” He threw his hands up, flustered. “Whatever kind of flowers this monster leaves.”
“Posies,” she murmured. That’s why at least one newspaper had dubbed him the Bouquet Killer. He always left a handful of crushed posies behind when he took the child. “They’re sure it happened this morning?” she asked, suddenly remembering that the other three had gone missing just before sunset.
Headmaster Yeager nodded. “She went outside to get her lunchbox from the car. She’d forgotten to bring it inside last evening. Her mother said she’d only been gone a minute, maybe two, when she went to the door to see what was keeping her.” He shook his head. “She just needed her lunchbox to prepare for school.”
Darby stood. Her legs were still shaky but she had to pull herself back together. The other children needed her. She had to be strong for them. Poor Anna. A sob ripped at her chest. Poor…poor Anna.
The morning dragged into noon with no word from the Talbot family or the police. Darby had no appetite but she forced down a few bites during her lunch break to stave off the dizziness. The teachers speculated that all the Bouquet kidnappings would end in death. Darby scarcely kept her pitiful excuse for lunch down. Finally she excused herself and went back to her room early.
When the children were down for their afternoon nap, she propped her arms on her desk and laid her head there. God, she was so tired…and she couldn’t get the image of sweet little Anna out of her mind. So smart. So pretty. Darby held back the tears, just barely. But a moment or two with her eyes closed would definitely be beneficial. Her eyes were red and tired from fighting tears all morning. She needed to rest them…just for a moment…
Ring a-round the roses.
Pocketful of posies.
Anna…Anna…I’ve got you, Anna.
He laughed long and loud, the sound pure evil. His jaw was hard, scarred…a long, thin scar down his right cheek.
One, two, I’m coming for you. Three, four, better lock your door.
Darby tried to wake herself up, but she couldn’t. She was trapped in the dream with…him. She could smell his sweat, could feel little Anna’s fear. God, help her! She didn’t want to see! No, please, she didn’t want to see!
They belong to me now.
Darby jerked upright. Her breath whooshed out in a rush. She blinked twice and fought for her bearings.
Her classroom. She blinked again. The children were still sleeping.
She swiped at her wet cheeks. Anna. She closed her eyes and suppressed a sob. Dear, sweet little Anna.
Darby stilled. She’d heard his voice distinctly this time. Had even gotten a glimpse of his profile. A scar ran down the length of his cheek on the right side of his face. His nose was overlarge and his jaw flinty, hard.
For the first time in her life, she felt with a fair measure of certainty that this time she might see more. Her heart started to pound all over again. She surveyed the room. The few children whose parents hadn’t picked them up after hearing the news slept soundly.
She could try. She dragged in a hollow breath. She had to try.
Darby closed her eyes and focused on the image of the man she’d seen in her dream. She prayed he was the one…the Bouquet Killer. If he was and she could see him more clearly, could make out details of where he was, then maybe she could help Anna and the others.
Please, God, she prayed, let them still be alive.
She had never tried to bring on a dream before, had never discussed the dreams at all with anyone—not even her parents after that one time. A part of her had been too afraid of the men in the white coats finding out. Some part of her had known with certainty that if they found out, they would come for her. So she kept her secret. But she had read about self-induced hypnosis. So she started there.
Relaxing her muscles one by one, she lulled herself toward total relaxation. She pushed away all thought and opened her mind to the sensations around her. The smell of books and drying finger paint from the children’s artwork. The soft snoring of one of the children. The hard feel of the wooden desk beneath her arms. The texture of her own skin where her cheek pressed against her forearm.
Light slashed through her brain, blinding in its intensity. Her respiration picked up, each breath harder than the last to draw into her lungs.
She could smell the water…the river. Rotting foliage. The grass was deep. No, not grass…weeds…underbrush. The woods. She was in the woods along the river. It was dark. She was alone. The ambient sounds of night echoed so loudly in her ears she wanted to scream, but she couldn’t. If she screamed, he would know she was there.
A sound came from behind her. She stopped dead in her tracks. It came again. The brush of foliage against fabric. Someone was behind her…coming closer.
Darby turned around slowly, careful not to make a sound.
She sucked in a breath…sat straight up at her desk.
It was him.
She blinked.
Shook herself from the mist of sleep still clinging to her soul.
“Ms. Shepard!”
“Ms. Shepard, what’s the matter?”
Darby blinked again and the children’s faces came into focus. All six of those who remained in her class stood in front of her desk staring at her wide-eyed, fear dancing across their little faces.
“I’m fine,” she said thickly. “Sorry. I’m fine.”
Her fingers were clenched into fists. Her heart hammered in her chest.
“You kept jerking and wiggling,” little Matt Caruthers told her. “My dog does that sometimes when he sleeps. Were you having a nightmare, Ms. Shepard?”
She nodded and forced her fingers to relax. “I guess so, Matt. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten any of you.”
Darby stood, smoothed her hands over her skirt and moved around her desk. “Let’s read a story. Jenny, you choose this time.”
For the rest of the afternoon Darby went through the motions. She read to the children and they talked about the different stories that each of them loved. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t keep those deep, dark woods out of her mind. She’d seen him there. Somewhere near the river. Of course, in New Orleans that could be a lot of places. But it was something.
For the first time in her life, she felt certain she could reach out and touch him…see what he saw. That’s what she’d been doing in the dream. That’s why he’d been behind her. She’d been seeing through his eyes part of the time.
But how much time did she have before he hurt one or all of the children? Could she spare the time it might take to focus her mind fully on his location?
Time was her enemy.
The children might not have time.
WHEN HER LAST STUDENT had gone, Darby rushed from the school without exchanging the usual pleasantries with her friends and co-workers. She had to hurry. She pedaled as fast as she dared in the afternoon traffic. She had made up her mind that she needed help for this. The kind of help only a self-professed psychic could give.
She’d heard the other teachers talk about Madam Talia. Some even admitted to having had their futures told by the woman. Madam Talia had a reputation for being the best in New Orleans. One of those magazine talk shows had even done a special program on her. Darby wasn’t exactly sure she believed in that sort of thing, but she didn’t have anything to lose. If the woman knew anything at all