The phone rang. It was crime scene specialist Abe Chilton.
'I'm at LaRue's place right now,' he explained. 'We're almost done collecting evidence.'
'Find anything that could be TTX?' Elise asked.
'Nothing obvious.'
'Any sign of LaRue?'
'Nope. But how are you? Would you like me to come by? Do you need company?'
'My partner's here,' she said.
'Gould?' Chilton sounded puzzled. 'Keep an eye on him. I've heard things.'
She couldn't believe he was joining the conspiracy. 'What kind of things?'
'That he's unstable as hell, for one.'
She glanced over at Gould. He was gathering up the empty carryout containers, stuffing them in a bag. At the moment, he looked as stable and domestic as a fifties sitcom dad.
Chapter 26
The edges of Elise's dream were dark and blurry, like looking through a camera lens with no depth of field. She was walking down an alley with a brick, graffiti-covered wall. Water ran across the ground. She stepped in a hole and was submerged to her knees.
The streetlights were off, and the scene had a dark, apocalyptic feel.
She felt something brush against her leg and looked to see a floating body gently bump against her.
The corpse attached itself, wrapping its arms around her ankle. Elise shook herself loose and began moving through the dark street.
Now she noticed that the silhouettes she thought were unlit streetlights were really people.
Like something choreographed, they fell into step beside her as she drew even with them-until the street was full of dark forms, moving toward the river.
What did it mean? She felt the answer was there somewhere in the dream. If only she could reach the river…
She woke up, suddenly aware of her bedroom, her bed, the open doorway. The pillow beneath her head.
David lay in the dark of Elise's house, listening.
Had he been asleep? He didn't think so, but wasn't sure.
Somewhere a clock ticked and a small motor ran.
Her place was dusty halls and broken plaster exposing a wooden skeleton. Very little furniture. A few rugs here and there, but not enough to keep the echo down.
A work in progress.
He strained his ears for sounds of her breathing.
Silence.
'Elise?' he whispered.
No answer.
He tossed back the light blanket and rolled off the inflatable mattress they'd set up in the corner of her room. In the murky darkness, he reached across her bed.
Nobody.
In the haze of a blue night-light, he made his way down the hall, then the stairway, with its curving banister, to the first floor.
He stood there a moment. Light from the street fell through tall, curtainless windows.
He smelled cigarette smoke.
He followed the smell to a small sitting room at the front of the house.
'Come on in,' Elise said from the depths.
He heard a rumble from beneath his feet; then a cool breeze hit him in the face as the central air kicked on.
The room was dark, with light filtering through lace curtains, falling on a patterned throw rug. The tip of a cigarette glowed red. As she inhaled, her face appeared, then fell back into shadow.
'I didn't know you smoked,' he said.
'I don't.'
She flicked an ash in a nearby tray. 'Not very well, anyway. It's something I do occasionally.'
'For enjoyment?'
'Not enjoyment exactly. More as a way of thumbing my nose at the grim reaper.'
'I'd say it's more like inviting him in. Mind if I turn on a light?'
'I'd rather you didn't.'
There was enough illumination to see that she was sitting in an overstuffed chair, bare legs dangling over the arm, and she wore some kind of bulky robe. The furniture was dark and shapeless, littering the room like large, indistinct rock formations.
He felt around until he came in contact with the couch across from her. She seemed a mile away, sitting there quietly smoking.
'I've owned this house five years,' she said. 'This sitting room and my daughter's bedroom are the only things I've managed to finish.'
'Restoration is a helluva job.'
'I guess I lost my initiative once I realized Audrey didn't want to come here whether her room was done or not.'
The air conditioner shut off, and the house grew quiet.
She picked up the ashtray, bringing it close, flicking the cigarette, taking a drag, flicking it again. 'Life is full of surprises,' she said. Her voice sounded a little on the husky side. 'Wouldn't you agree?'
'Things happen we can't be prepared for.'
'Some people would say that's what makes it worth living.'
'I've had some surprises I'd rather not have had,' he admitted reluctantly.
'Such as?'
'Nothing I want to talk about.'
'Oh, really? I've found that darkness allows me to say things I can't admit in the light.'
'I'm the same person, day or night.'
'That's not very mysterious.'
She stubbed out the cigarette. He could see the tip break into several smaller chunks of red, then go out.
He shrugged, even though it was too dark for her to see his response. 'I'm a boring guy.'
She laughed. 'That's what you want people to think.'
She was acting strange. And why not, after what she'd just been through? And with what she still had in her system.
'You feel okay?' he asked.
'Couldn't sleep. Here's a tip: Never take a four-hour nap. It really screws you up.'
Tell me about it. Sleep didn't come knocking on his door very often.
'I belong to a dream analysis group,' she said. 'We meet a couple of times a month, and we analyze our dreams.'
'That sounds a little too New Age for me.'
'Some people think you can see the future through dreams. I don't believe that, but I think you might be able to unlock your subconscious mind. I'd like to be able to use dreams to help solve problems. Maybe even crimes.'
'How would you do that?'
'Before you go to sleep, you ask yourself a question, or focus on a puzzle, and sometimes the answer will come to you while you're sleeping. But the answer comes from within.'
