44: Book Six (13 page)

“Maybe you should sit back down,” I said.
“I don’t want to sit down.”
“Okay, in the dream you, uh, die. Someone kills you. He slashes your throat.”

“I think you better leave,” she said, a cold anger building in her voice.

I had blown it. I had lied to her. And now I was telling her I saw dead people in my dreams. I had really blown it.

I grabbed my bag from the sofa.

“April. This isn’t easy for me,” I said, trying to grasp at something that was beyond my reach. “I don’t mean to scare you. I know how crazy it must sound. But you have to listen to what I’m saying. There’s still time. It’s not too late.”

“You’re wrong,” she said. “It’s very late. You need to leave. Now!”

Adrenaline surged through my body and I felt my face flush as I walked outside. I stepped into the thick fog and heard the door slam behind me.

It never got any easier. I remembered when I first told Mo I saw the ghost of her dead brother. That hadn’t gone over well either. Why didn’t anything ever get easier?

I sat in the Jeep, cold and clueless, bouncing my head onto the top of the steering wheel.

CHAPTER 38

I stood in the snowy alley, standing up against the wall by the theater chairs.

Alone.

There was no body sprawled on the ground, no church bells ringing.

I took in the icy air, feeling the burn in my lungs, staring straight ahead, waiting for April. Waiting for April to die.

I waited for the killer to argue with her, and then draw his knife across her throat. Her body falling to the ground, blood shooting up from the terrible wound.

It was quiet again.

Then suddenly a dark figure appeared at the end of the alley. It faced in my direction and began moving toward me. Alone. I knew she wouldn’t be alone for long. I tried to steady my heartbeat and brace myself for what was to come.

Her hands were red. Or rather she held something red in them. Dark, brilliant red glowing in the night.

She was close now. I looked over her shoulder, waiting for the killer to appear. But then I saw her face, through the snow, in the light. It wasn’t April.

It was the ghost. Just a few feet away, staring at me with those hollow eyes, holding something red.

She stopped right in front of me. Her hair seemed wet, but not from the snow that started falling in ever larger flakes. The cold surrounding her was almost unbearable. She wouldn’t take her eyes off mine. And then she brought her hands to her face and blew the contents into me, scattering them in the air.

Rose petals.

Thousands of them, replacing the snow, falling around us, on us.

Thousands and thousands of red rose petals, as I stood eye to eye with the ghost, inhaling the sweet fragrant smell.

“Save her.”

The rose petals kept falling.

“Save her.”

CHAPTER 39

David called to say he was heading back to Portland. Again.

“Bad news and good news, Abby Craig. I don’t think I got the part. But the producers of the show want to meet with me. They’re being kind of vague, but I get the feeling they’re thinking of another role for me!”

“That’s amazing!” I said.

I heard him moan.

“Hello. It is amazing, right?”

“Of course,” he said. “It’s just that I’m still sore from my ski lesson. My butt feels broken, Abby Craig. I mean it’s black and blue all over. And now with this, I’ll have to break my date with Sven. But this too shall pass. Eyes on the prize.”

“That’s right, eyes on the prize,” I said. “Break a leg. And let me know what happens.”

“Will do, Abby Craig.Will do.”

I had wanted to talk to David about April. But that would have to wait. His plate was full.

Back at Back Street, Mike asked if I could cover one of David’s shifts.

“You got it,” I said, remembering my promise to atone for my earlier lie. “Whatever you need.”

I walked over to the counter and said hello to Lyle. Mo was on the machines.

“Heard you tried to kill your old man,” she said without looking up.

“Huh?” I said, foolishly wondering how she had heard about Ty. “Oh, yeah, something like that.”

Of course, David. If
The Bugler
went under, David could start his own newspaper, call it “The Town Tattler” or “The Bend Blabbermouth.”

It was busy and the time went by quickly. I didn’t mind helping out by covering David’s shift after I finished my own. In fact, I was glad to do it. I owed Mike a lot, especially after I had disappeared during the Clyde fiasco. And before that during my kidnapping. But the timing couldn’t have been worse. It was only a few days before Christmas and I still had an entire menu to shop for. I was still debating a few recipes in my mind. And I was even thinking about inviting one or two additional people.

I still wasn’t quite finished with my Christmas shopping either.

And, of course, there was that little matter of saving April. I had to figure out a way to reach her before it was too late.

I had replayed our conversation pretty much nonstop since I had gone to see her. Trying to think of what I could have said differently to change the outcome. Trying to think of what I could say or do now to make her listen. To get her to believe me.

But I came up with nothing. I could talk to her again, and I would if it came down to it, but I had no reason to hope that she would listen. It was much more likely that she would call the police or sic Logan on me.

I thought about the alley. Even if I couldn’t get her to believe me, maybe I could still do something to save her. Maybe I could be there and change her fate.

But the clues in the vision were vague regarding the timing. Judging from the sign in the wine shop, it was probably before Christmas. It was night, sometime between seven and midnight. It was just starting to snow.

If I had to I could stake out the alley on every snowy evening between now and the 25
^th
between the hours in question. But that seemed time consuming and dangerous. I had to work some of those nights at Back Street or the Community Center. What if it didn’t start snowing until nine and I got there at 9:15? I might be too late. And even if I wasn’t, I didn’t want to confront the killer.

There had to be a better way.

CHAPTER 40

The house was quiet and I walked into the kitchen and sat at the granite counter, thinking.

I knew it was stupid to be nervous. It was a simple phone call. Quick, not a big deal.

But for some reason, it wasn’t as easy as it should have been. I had been procrastinating for a while now. But after talking to Lyle the other day about his jazz biscuit bar, I knew it was time for me to take some action. It was time to go after a dream, even if it both excited and terrified me at the same time.

I liked working at Back Street and knew that I was lucky to have a job there. Especially with the economy the way it was. After helping out at the Community Center, I realized that there were many people desperate to find any kind of job. And I had one. A good one, with a great boss and coworkers.

But Mike had been hinting lately about possibly training me for a managerial position in the future. He now had two cafes open in Bend, with plans for a new store next fall in Sisters. I appreciated his confidence in me, but I knew it wasn’t what I wanted to do. Back Street wasn’t my dream.

I took a deep breath and punched in the number.

“Hello, Culinary School of Central Oregon,” a friendly voice on the other end said. “How can I help you today?”

“Hi,” I said, trying to sound serious. “I was interested in finding out more about your school.”

We talked for a few minutes and the woman told me about the different programs the school offered. There were so many of them, some full time, some part time. There were individual classes specializing in baking and pastry, others focusing on the culinary arts, whatever that was.

“So what do you think you’re looking for?” she asked.

“Well, I want to be a chef,” I said.

“Great,” the woman said. “I have a packet that I can send out to you. If you give me your name and address, I’ll get it out to you today. The pamphlets are pretty detailed and you can take a look at the different programs we offer to help you decide.”

 I gave her my information, thanked her, and said goodbye.

“Wait,” she said. “Did you want to come by sometime and see the new facility? We have group tours available.”

My heart raced.

“Yeah,” I said. “That would be great.”

I signed up for the first Monday in January and hung up the phone, smiling.

CHAPTER 41

“Abby,” he said, opening the door. “Good to see you. Please come in.”

“Hi,” I said, walking in.

I leaned back in the leather chair, not the way I had done when I first came to see Dr. Krowe following my accident, tight-lipped as a nervous clam. I remembered those feelings now, being so lost and sad after I drowned. And that was even before I knew that Jesse was dead.

He still had the same pictures up of his kids, but now there were new ones too. The kids not kids anymore. One shot at a wedding, Dr. Krowe smiling with a young bride.

I was much more at ease with him these days, almost relaxed.

And then I saw it.

“Oh, no,” I said, staring at his cast.

“It’s nothing,” he said. “Really.”

“What happened?”

“One guess,” he said, swinging an imaginary racquet. “And just when I felt I had turned a corner. I felt myself getting faster and stronger. I was even ahead in the game. And then I felt something snap.”

“I’m so sorry, Dr. Krowe.”

“Thanks,” he said, running his fingers on the cast. “It just snapped, right above the ankle. I guess it was the universe telling me that I’m too old.”

I shrugged.

“A lot of athletes get injured, Dr. Krowe,” I said. “David Villa on Barcelona broke his leg and was out almost a whole year. But he’s back and doing fine. He’s only 31.”

Honestly, 31 sounded a little old to me but I thought it would make Dr. Krowe feel better.

He nodded.

“Thanks, Abby. That actually helps. Anyway, have you had a chance to think about our phone conversation? I think there’s a chance that your color blindness may be receding. I’ve found two more cases since we spoke where that’s happened and I even tracked down a doctor who studied one of the subjects. I told him about you, anonymously of course. He was very interested and wanted me to ask you if you would go see him. He’s back East, but I think it may be worth it.

“Really?” I said.

“Well, at this point it would only be to study you. He’s strictly in research.”

“So he would just observe me?”

It left a sickening feeling inside as memories of Nathaniel and his team of doctors studying me came back.

“I’ll think about it,” I said, having already made up my mind.

“In the meantime I’ll see what else I can dig up,” he said.

“Thanks, but that’s not why I came to see you, actually.”

I told him about my latest visions, April, and her reaction when I tried to warn her.

“You’ve known for a while that there are people out there who don’t believe in your gift,” he said. “Put yourself in her shoes. It’s a lot to digest, someone telling you you’re going to die. Even if someone were open to the paranormal… I think you need to give her some time.”

“But that’s just it, she doesn’t have time. The nearest I can figure, this thing is going down sometime between now and Christmas. Christmas is just a few days away. I wish I could give her some time. But I can’t. Not if I can’t save her.”

He winced and put down his pad. He tried to cross his legs, but then thought better of it. I stared at his one argyle sock and pushed over the ottoman that was just out of his reach.

“Thank you,” he said. “And you’re sure that her boyfriend is the killer?”

“No,” I said. “I can’t be sure. I didn’t get a look at his face in the vision. But there’s something wrong about him. I mean I didn’t see any bruises on her, but he doesn’t talk to her right, doesn’t respect her. And she seems scared of him.”

“It’s not always just about physical abuse,” he said. “There’s mental and emotional abuse as well.”

I nodded.

“These cases are tough to deal with, Abby. I’ve come across a lot of them in my 20 years of practice. Women who are abused, but don’t seek the help they need and deserve. It sounds like April is sadly typical. And it always comes down to the same thing. You can try to help someone as much as you want, but if they’re not ready, it’s not going to happen.”

“So there’s nothing I can do then except wait for her to die?”

“I wish I could tell you something more encouraging. You can try giving her my card. I can offer her a free consultation. But that only has a chance of working if she’s ready to help herself.”

I know he meant well, but it wasn’t helping. It failed to take into account the deadline I was facing.

“I’ll give it a shot,” I said, reaching over and grabbing a business card from the coffee table. “But I need another plan too. Something with more urgency. There isn’t much time. Can you think of anything I can say to her?”

“Well, I think I would emphasize the good you’ve done. Tell her about the kids you saved at the school. Tell her about Paloma. Maybe that will ease her doubts. Sadly, you probably have a better chance of convincing her that you see ghosts than I do of getting her to see she might be in an abusive relationship that she needs to get out of.”

There was nothing more to say.

I started to get up.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” I said. “I wanted to invite you over for Christmas dinner. I’m sorry it’s kind of last minute and I thought you’d probably be spending it with your kids, but if not, Kate and I would love to have you. But no pressure.”

“Are you cooking the dinner?” he said.

“Yeah.”

“Thanks, Abby. It’s my ex’s turn to have the kids this Christmas. I’ll see them for New Year’s. I’d love to come for dinner.”