If I Should Die

“The question is why?” Sean asked.

“Jon Callahan?” Adam shook his head. “Henry was my dad’s closest friend. They’ve been neighbors their entire life.”

“Henry isn’t his nephew,” Sean stated plainly. “Henry said something that has me thinking this is a bigger situation than a couple good old boys not wanting tourists in their town. Who would be hurt if the resort opens? It’s a different way of looking at the same problem, but it was how Henry said it. Someone will lose big if you open. And Henry Callahan knows-or suspects-who that is. The fact that his nephew was pushing you to postpone the opening is a big, fat red flag.”

“At this point,” Lucy said, “I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole town was in on it.”

ELEVEN

Lucy was dreaming one of those dreams where initially you have the illusion of control. In the dream, it was dusk, the sun sinking into the foothills. Each day began in birth and ended in death. Why was she so melancholy? This was a dream! She could make it a happy one.

She smiled as Sean walked up the leaf-strewn, gravel road toward her, the sun no longer setting but high overhead. She was so warm. He kissed her. She sighed and closed her eyes, her body leaning against his. Sean was always hot, her personal electric blanket.

“Lucy.”

She opened her eyes and it was sunset again, this time the sun gone along with Sean, the sky rapidly darkening. Dead leaves skittered across the dirt and an icy wind stung her bare arms. She looked down at the raised bumps and wondered why she would have gone out in this thin blouse without a sweater.

But this was a dream, she reminded herself; she could give herself a sweater. Something warm, thick, and soft. She had to find Sean.

She squeezed her eyes shut and huddled in the sweater, the wind nearly blowing her over. She had to find Sean before it was too late. What did that mean? Too late for what?

Fear clawed at her, just beyond reach. Foreboding gripped her chest, her heart racing, and she knew deep down where she rarely looked that all good things must end.

“Lucy!” a distant voice called.

She opened her eyes and for a moment she thought she was awake and wondered why she was outside. It was dark, the air cold and still, a full moon casting odd, blue-gray shadows over the mountainside. The trees. The ground. The dark, bottomless hole …

“Lucy, help!” It was Sean!

“Where are you?” He was deep in the pit. But the pit wasn’t a hole, it was a tunnel. She ran in, chasing his voice, as the tunnel spiraled down, steeper and steeper. She was Alice chasing the white rabbit, only there was no light, no hope, and time had already run out. The blackness surrounding her had taste and texture, like the crypt at the morgue, thick and tangible, suffocating her. She ran, her hands skimming wet rock walls, the coppery taste of blood filling her mouth. She began to tumble down, faster and faster, a scream trapped in her throat until …

She was kneeling next to Sean as he lay at the bottom of the mine shaft. “You’re okay,” she said.

Light surrounded Sean as he smiled at her. “Hey, Princess, I know you love me.”

“How?”

But he just smiled and reached up, his brilliant blue eyes sparkling, bluer than blue, bluer than was natural. This was the dream she wanted. Sweet and warm and full of love. She wanted to lose herself with Sean, forget everything but this moment in time. His hand rubbed her neck, her hair looping in his fingers, and he brought her lips to his. Sean’s patience, his greedy but steady kisses, his powerful fingers, replaced her fear with desire. And maybe it wasn’t the words of love, but the actions that mattered. Sean had shown her something she never thought she’d have. Never thought she was capable of receiving … or giving.

The sound of water, like a winter stream, began softly, steady drips, as they kissed. As Lucy relaxed, the running water intensified, pounding around her like a waterfall. Lucy broke the kiss. The light was gone and the fear returned tenfold. Sean screamed from far away, and when she searched with her hands where he had been, all she saw was blood.

Water flooded the mine and she swam toward Sean’s cries of pain, her body thrown against rocks, cuts stinging. She couldn’t breathe. Water poured into her mouth and she was drowning …

… until she was spit out into the pit of the mine, where she’d found the dead woman. So cold. So silent.

“Sean,” she whispered. “Where are you?”

On the ledge, the dead woman was back. Lucy crawled over to the body and kneeled in front of it. A flower bloomed in the corpse’s hands.

A scream came from deep in the mine, echoing through the rock chamber. Lucy shook her head, eyes squeezed shut, trying to get rid of the sound.

“Lucy,” Sean whispered.

She smiled, and turned to him.

Sean lay where the dead woman had been. His eyes stared at her, but they saw nothing, drained of color. He grabbed her left hand and put it on his chest. It was wet, slick and messy and bright red.

“No no no no!”

In her other hand was a gun.

Sean had been trying to gently wake Lucy as soon as he realized she was caught in a nightmare. Night terror was more appropriate, as sweat covered her body and she thrashed in her sleep.

“Lucy, wake up, please.” He tried to control his own panic because he didn’t want her to hear him so worried. Her hands were ice cold and she was shaking, a faint whimper coming from her chest that had Sean on edge. He’d never witnessed one of her nightmares lasting this long or deep.

He pulled her from the bed, hoping the motion would jerk her awake.

“Lucy, it’s Sean. Look at me!” He shook her limp body. She stiffened and threw her head back, her dark eyes open, glazed and filled with pain.

A sob caught in his chest, and he held Lucy tightly against him. Her heart raced as fast as his, as if they’d both just run a marathon. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her face pressed against his chest, her body still shaking violently.

“I’ve got you,” he said. “I’ve got you.”

Sean had never been so scared as when he couldn’t wake up Lucy, knowing she was suffering. Knowing he couldn’t stop her pain. He wanted to hit something. The people who hurt Lucy all those years ago were dead. If they weren’t, he’d kill them himself. The urge toward violence was unlike him. But he couldn’t think, not where Lucy’s pain was concerned, and he ached keeping his feelings bottled up. She’d told him that her nightmares had all but disappeared in the seven years since her attack, until a few months ago when her rapist had been found dead only miles from her house.

“I–I-I-” Lucy’s teeth were chattering and she couldn’t form her sentence. Sean sat on the bed with her, grabbed the down comforter from the floor, and wrapped it around her.

“Shh,” he whispered. He’d let her talk if she wanted, though hearing her speak of her attack would shred him inside. He braced himself.

“You were dead.” Tears streamed down her face.

“What?” It wasn’t the same recurrent nightmare she’d been having? He was relieved, but uncertain. He cleared his throat. “I’m right here, sweetness.”

She pressed her clammy forehead against his chest, his T-shirt fisted in her hands. “I need you.” Raw emotion clouded her voice.

Sean rocked her. He hated that he felt better knowing her bad dream wasn’t about the attack. He pushed aside his anger and focused on Lucy’s heart. Because that’s exactly what this was about-her, him, them. Though she’d handled his fall down the mine shaft professionally, he’d known she