You've Been Warned

“You came here last night, hysterical,” explains Connie. “You were going on and on about this dream and some pictures you’d taken—oh, and you were telling me about your closet. The one in the front hallway? Is any of this ringing a bell?”

“The cockroaches...”

“Yeah, you said there were a million of them. It was horrifying just to listen to you describe it.”

That’s the last thing I remember. The entire closet was crawling with cockroaches. Maybe not a million, but a thousand, and I’m deathly afraid of cockroaches. They got in my hair, on my face. The rest is a blank.

Connie takes my hand. “You were quite the mess, sweetie,” she says. “I gave you two Xanax and put you to bed. You slept straight through the night, not a peep.”

Until now.

The hotel, the four gurneys, the hand. The same dream, only I had it in a different location. It travels.

“What can I get you, Kristin? How do you feel?” Connie asks.

Like shit.

With a sound track to boot. Will I ever figure out what this song in my head is? I wish Connie could hear it; maybe she’d know what it is.

But she can’t. So I don’t mention it, or anything else. If I don’t understand what’s happening to me, how could she? Plus, I don’t want to frighten her any more than I have already.

I’m fine, I tell her. “In fact, what time is it?” I ask—panicked. “I can’t be late for work.”

I pull back the covers, and Connie stops me.

“Hold on,” she says. “This is serious, Kris. You should’ve heard yourself last night, the things you were saying. Something’s very wrong. I think you need to see that psychiatrist of yours again.”

Been there, done that.

“I’m so sorry I scared you,” I say. “I’ve been having this recurring dream, and it seems so real. I guess I’ve been under a lot of stress lately.”

“What about these pictures you were ranting about? Ghostly images? Transparencies?”

“Part of the dream,” I lie.

Am I embarrassed about going bonkers? Ashamed? Why can’t I talk to one of my best friends about this?

Connie regards me for a moment. “At least call in sick,” she says. “You need to relax.”

“I can’t, Connie. The kids depend on me.”

“Let the Pencil take care of them today. She is their mother, after all.”

“Really, I’m fine.” I fake a smile and swing my feet to the floor. Then I give Connie a little wink. “Do you think I can borrow some clothes?”

Chapter 46

DONNING A PAIR of black slacks and a putty gray turtleneck from Connie’s closet, I’m out of her apartment in less than ten minutes. Normally it takes me a little longer to get ready for work. Then again, normally I don’t have someone—in this case Connie—eyeing me as if any moment I might climb onto a chair and begin shouting, “I’m cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs!”

So as I walk into the Turnbulls’ building and ride the elevator up to the penthouse, I experience something new and different. Being early.

Good. No chance of Penley waiting for me at the door.

Instead, it’s Sean I see immediately. He’s sitting on the floor of the foyer, engrossed in the bright-colored Legos scattered around him. He doesn’t even hear me come in.

“Good morning, sweetheart.”

Sean glances up, beaming. “Hi, Miss Kristin!”

I kneel next to him. “Whatcha building? Looks impressive. Sha-zam! What is that?”

“A supergalactic missile launcher that will save the world from the evil aliens of planet Thunder.”

“Wow, are they planning to attack us?”

“I think so,” he says with the cutest nod.

I automatically give him the once-over, checking to see that he’s properly dressed for school. He is, from his head right down to his little toes, which happen to be covered by his Jimmy—or is it Penley?—Neutron socks.

“Where’s Dakota?” I ask.

“She’s in her room.”

I straighten up, barely taking a step before Sean adds, “We’re not supposed to bother her.”

“What do you mean?”

“She isn’t going to school today,” he says, his eyes glued back on the Legos.

“Is she not feeling well?”

“I don’t know for sure. Mommy seems pretty mad, though.”

The words twist my stomach into a million knots. Maybe Dakota came down with a cold. Or maybe she couldn’t keep a secret.

I kneel next to Sean again. “What did you hear Mommy say, sweetheart?”

He snaps another Lego into place. “Hey, look at this, Miss Kristin!” Sean makes a whoosh! sound, waving his missile launcher back and forth.

“That’s neat,” I say, struggling to be patient. “But can you tell me what Mommy said? You remember, Sean?”

My mind explodes with the thought of Dakota spilling the beans to Penley: “I saw Miss Kristin at Nana and Papa’s house—she and Daddy were together!”

Is this how it ends? How this insane house of cards comes crashing down?

I peer over my shoulder at the door to the apartment. The instinct rising inside me is like a power surge to the brain.

Run!

Get out of here!

You don’t want to face her!

But before I can make a mad dash, I hear Penley’s mincing footsteps around the corner of the foyer. I turn to look, and there she is, staring right at me.

“Speak of the devil,” she says.

Chapter 47

“SEAN, DEAR, CAN YOU GO to your room, please?” asks Penley, her voice actually kind of gentle and sweet. Too sweet, I’m thinking. She’s overcompensating for what’s to come, the bloody showdown when it’s just the two of us out here.

Is it too late to make a run for it?

Sean scoops up his missile launcher and shuffles off toward his room. I’m half tempted to beg him to stay. Penley wouldn’t try to kill me in front of her stepson, would she?

Not knowing what to do, I stoop and begin gathering the remaining Legos on the floor.

“That can wait,” she says. “Come, we need to talk.”

Dressed in her workout clothes—what else?—Penley leads me into the living room, motioning for me to have a seat on the green satin couch against the wall. She takes one of the two armchairs facing it, and we both settle in.

“So, how was your weekend?” she asks.

I can’t believe it. She’s toying with me! The pleasant smile and friendly tone. She never asks about my weekend. Never.

“It was fine,” I answer.

“Do anything special?”

“No, not really.” Oh, yeah, I did see and talk to my dead father. Almost