“I’m just saying, Reed’s got some other reason to hold on to it.”

She frowned. “What?”

“Hell if I know.” Rachel looked down at her empty glass and giggled. “Wine’s gone. S’pose I should go now.”

“O’no you’re not.” Alex got unsteadily to her feet. At least the room wasn’t spinning-yet. “What kind of sister would I be if I let you drive now? You’re sleepin’ on th’couch.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Thursday, March 11

4:55 A.M.

They wore hooded robes. She struggled to see their faces, but couldn’t. The robes concealed their bodies as well. Even so, she recognized them as male. Sensed their violent arousal.

The circle tightened around her. A drumming beat filled her head. She looked wildly around, fighting panic. Looking for an escape. A way out.

Suddenly, she was in a forest. Crouching in underbrush. Someone was speaking. Threatening, the voice high, feminine. No, male. Angry. She struggled to make out the words. To understand. But as hard as she tried, she couldn’t make sense of it. The words were garbled, nonsense.

An acrid scent stung her nose. Sandalwood. She couldn’t breathe, let alone scream. But screaming, she knew, was the only way out.

Scream, Alex… Scream-

Alex sat bolt upright in bed, eyes snapping open as her scream echoed off the walls.

Her bedroom door flew open. Light tumbled in. “Alex? Are you all right?”

She blinked, confused, still trapped in the circle of men.

“Alex, honey, you screamed.”

Rachel. The night before. She’d stayed.

“A nightmare,” Alex managed, gathering the sheet and blanket to her chin. She realized she was trembling. “I… I’m sorry I woke you.”

“Waking me wasn’t the problem, scaring the crap out of me was.”

Alex reached for her bedside lamp and snapped it on. “Shit. Sorry.”

Rachel crossed to the bed and sat on the corner. “You want to talk about it?”

She shook her head. “I just want to forget it.”

“Okay, no problem.” Expression hurt, Rachel started to stand.

Alex caught her hand. “I have nightmares. I’ve had them all my life. They come and go. Right now, I’m in a bad patch. That’s all.”

Rachel squeezed her hand in acknowledgment of what it had cost Alex to share. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

“You weren’t. It’s just me, I-” Alex smiled ruefully. “I’m sorry I blasted you out of bed.”

Rachel returned the smile. “What a pair we are. You going back to sleep?”

Alex glanced at the clock. “What’s the point? It’s almost five anyway.”

“I’ll make coffee?”

“That sounds like heaven. Everything’s in the cabinet above the pot. I’ll be right out.”

Alex took a minute to throw on sweats and brush her teeth. She found Rachel in the kitchen, back in the clothes she had worn over the night before, staring at the coffee as it dripped into the carafe.

“Slowest coffeepot on earth,” Alex murmured.

“I see that.” She looked over at Alex. “How’s your head this morning?”

“Hurting, though it could have been worse. How about yours?”

“It’s punishing me for my excesses. But I had it coming.”

Alex smiled. “Coffee will help.”

“I’ve never suffered with nightmares, I’m happy to say.”

“One of those who sleeps like a baby? I’m seriously jealous.”

Rachel laughed. “Now, I didn’t say that. I’ve got my own demons, nightmares just don’t happen to be one of them.”

Demons, Alex thought. She would bet she had them.

“Do you really want to hear about my nightmare?”

“Only if you want to share.”

“I need food first.”

Working together, they whipped up some scrambled eggs and toast. Just as the meal came together, the coffeemaker burbled its last. They sat at the table and began to eat. Rachel didn’t hurry her or push, which Alex appreciated.

It was only after she had scraped the last bit of food from her plate and refilled her coffee cup that she began.

“Like I said, I’ve had nightmares for years. As far back as I can remember. Lots of the typical being chased and running for your life variety. But recently, they’re… different. More specific.”

“Like tonight’s?”

“Yes. Tonight I was surrounded by men. Trapped in the middle of their circle. I knew they were aroused and I felt threatened. Really afraid.”

Rachel’s eyes widened. “My God. Could you see their faces?”

Alex shook her head. “They wore hooded robes. Dreams are like that, your subconscious plays a game of peek-a-boo with you.”

“They meant to rape you.”

“That’s the obvious interpretation. But dreams are rarely about the obvious. The men, the circle, not being able to see their faces, feeling trapped and threatened were all symbols for something else.”

“What?”

“Dunno. And this morning, I’m too tired to think about it.” She felt a little guilty at the half truth. The complete truth was, if it was Tim sitting across from her, hungover and exhausted or not, she would be eagerly digging in. She wasn’t ready to share her soul with Rachel. Their relationship was just too new.

“I’ve got just the fix for that!” Rachel exclaimed, jumping to her feet. “Manipeds.”

“Manicures and pedicures?”

“I know I can get us booked. It may take a bottle of my best reserve, but I can do it. What do you say?”

“Don’t you have to work?”

“Screw work, I work all the time.”

Alex looked at her hands. Her fingernails were a mess. Her toes were worse.

“We’ll buy a new lipstick, too,” Rachel said, collecting their breakfast plates and carrying them to the sink. “And eyeshadow. Both in some hideous color we’ll never wear.”

Alex laughed. It sounded like fun. The kind of fun she hadn’t had in… well, in forever. “I’m in.”

Rachel rubbed her hands together. “Goody. I have to get cleaned up and check in at work. I’ll call you after.”

CHAPTER FORTY

Thursday, March 11

4:25 P.M.

Alex pulled up in front of the modest home. She shifted into park and shut off the car. She let out a pent-up breath and flexed her fingers on the steering wheel. Her newly painted nails caught her eyes, and she smiled, thinking of the afternoon’s antics. Rachel was crazy; she made her laugh. A lot. And she’d drawn Alex out of herself. They’d been silly, acting more like teenagers than grown women.

Case in point, the color of her fingers and toes: Shocking Pink. Rachel had chosen Darling Clementine-an orange bright enough to make Florida proud. As for their lipstick choice, in true BFF form, they’d picked the same impractical but surprisingly flattering red. The way they’d carried on, Alex was surprised the salesperson hadn’t called security.

Alex swung open her car door, stepped out, then retrieved the basket of flowers she had stowed on the back floorboard. Oddly, her time with her stepsister had given her the courage to do what she had been considering ever since finding Max Cragan dead. Pay her respects to his daughter.

And maybe unearth answers as well.

She took the walkway to the front door and rang the bell. A dark-haired, dimple-cheeked little girl opened the door. Alex recognized her from the picture Max had proudly shown her-the youngest of his three granddaughters.

“Hello,” Alex said. “Is your mommy home?”

The child nodded, stuck her thumb in her mouth and ran off, leaving Alex standing there and the front door wide open.

Uncertain what to do, she poked her head in. “Hello,” she called “Mrs. Wilson, are you home?”

A moment later a woman appeared, daughter in tow. Or rather, it appeared the child had her mother in tow.

Angie Wilson looked like a woman in pain. Grief harshly etched her features, creating a sad clone of the woman Alex had seen in Max’s photograph.