out of bed. Daddy and Mommy were very strict about that. Once in bed, stay in bed until morning. George laughed about it, but he said Mommy and Daddy needed grown-up time. But George was mostly grown-up and he got to go out at night. That was probably why they were yelling. Dory hesitated. The yelling was gone.
But then she heard a strange sound and came downstairs the rest of the way. Bunny tucked under her arm, thumb in her mouth, she turned toward the light spilling from the kitchen.
Everything was red. Like paint. It was everywhere and Mommy and Daddy were on the floor covered in the paint. George stood there, his face all tight and funny as he looked at her.
“It’s okay, Dory. I made the bad man run away.” He squatted and held out his arms to her.
Usually Dory ran straight toward him, but George was covered with the red paint, too, and she didn’t like that.
“Dory? Come here, pumpkin.”
She saw what was in his hand. A knife. It was all red, too. Why was everything so red?
Some instinct pierced her, and terror shook her out of her confusion. She didn’t know what was going on, but she ceased to think. Something deep within her reacted, and she ran out the front door onto the street and started screaming...screaming...screaming.
Screaming.
Dory Lake awoke with her own screams ringing in her ears. The minute her eyes popped open, blessed lamplight greeted her, and for a moment, just a moment, she felt safe.
She remembered what she had seen, but over twenty-five years the nightmares had grown less frequent. Now they were coming back again, every night or several times a night.
Because her brother was about to be released from prison.
She sat up quickly, and was relieved when she didn’t grow light-headed. She had low blood pressure, and sometimes it took her by surprise, causing her to faint briefly. A minor thing, a mere nuisance most of the time.
Drenched with sweat, she climbed from bed and walked into the small bathroom to shower. He wasn’t out yet. Not yet. She was okay.
But the dream had brought that terrifying night back. All the intervening years hadn’t expunged the memory, although it had been troubling her less and less. But ever since she had learned George was about to complete his sentence, the nightmares had returned. Every single night. No escape.
There was no reason to think George would have any interest in her when she’d never spoken about any of it, and he couldn’t be convicted of the murder again anyway, she told herself repeatedly as the cold water pounded her. As she’d been telling herself ever since she got the news. He couldn’t even be interested in her inheritance which was locked up in an unbreakable trust, a trust his lawyer had told him about.
Hell, he probably wouldn’t even be able to find her. The last name Lake was an extremely common one.
At last she toweled off, climbed into a fresh nightgown and robe, and started downstairs. No more sleep tonight. Too bad, she was moving into her own place tomorrow...or was it today?
Downstairs the kitchen light was on. Her friend Betty made sure the house stayed reasonably well lit at night. For Dory, who couldn’t stand waking in the dark.
But when she stepped into the gaily colored kitchen, she found Betty was already there with a fresh pot of coffee. Betty sat at the table, mugs, spoons and sugar at the ready, along with a plate of cookies. Her short graying hair looked tousled and, true to her taste, she wore a zip-up robe that was nearly psychedelic with cat faces. Betty was determined to become the cat lady. So far she’d acquired only three, all of whom were now swirling, wondering if it was time for breakfast.
“I heard the shower,” Betty said. “Again?”
“Again. I’m sorry I woke you.”
“What kind of friend would I be if I got annoyed by that? I don’t have nightmares like yours, but I’ve had them. Nice to have someone near when they wake you.” Betty bit her lower lip. “Are you sure you should move out? I can’t stand thinking of you all alone.”
Dory slid into one of the chairs. “I’ve been living on my own since college. I can’t let George’s release take my independence from me. Anyway, there’s absolutely no reason he should want to find me. He served his time and I’m no threat. After all this time, we’re strangers. And, as you know, I need to get back to my job.”
Of course, those brave words ignored the fact that she’d run all the way to Conard County, Wyoming, from Kansas at Betty’s invitation, when she’d learned her brother would soon be released and the nightmares had returned. Packed up and fled, if she was honest about it. Saying George wouldn’t want to find her felt like whistling past the graveyard.
Betty, even back in the days when she taught Dory’s high school English class, had been blunt, not one to pull her punches. So it bothered Dory that Betty had felt she should come here.
Apparently Betty didn’t quite believe George wouldn’t come looking for Dory. Or maybe she had just believed the move would ease Dory’s nightmares. So much for that.
The coffee went down well, as did a cookie, and soon her fears eased enough that one of the cats, a ginger tabby called simply Ginger, was willing to leap on her lap and beg for pets.
Such a soothing scene, Dory thought as she rubbed the ginger cat’s cheeks and elicited a surprisingly loud purr. Her relaxation deepened, and she thought that maybe she’d better get a cat herself.
“So therapy’s out?” Betty asked quietly.
“I’ve been through years of it. I doubt they can do any more.”
“Maybe not, but you’re older now.” Then Betty hesitated. “I have a friend I want you to meet this morning.”
Dory stiffened a bit. She’d been here a week, and so far she’d avoided getting drawn into a social circle. She didn’t know if she was ready for that, and anyway, she’d never been good at it.
“Oh, relax,” Betty said, reading her reaction correctly. “Someday you’ll want out of that shell, but I doubt it’s going to be right away. You’ve been in it for too many years. No, this is a special kind of friend. He’s the K-9 officer for the sheriff. He trains the dogs and other officers. Anyway, I want you to meet him.”
“Why?”
“Well, apart from the fact that he’s got two nasty ostriches he never wanted and can’t get rid of, which I find hysterically funny and interesting, he has lots of dogs. I think you need a dog to keep you company.”
Dory stared at her. “Why? I was thinking about a cat.”
Betty smiled. “Think about it, Dory. What’s going to make you feel safer? A guard dog or a guard cat?”
Almost in spite of herself, Dory laughed. “You make a point.”
“I always have,” Betty said.
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