Deadly Dreams Read online

  Climbing down the Sliding Rock Trail had been difficult, but that’s what she wanted. After what she’d been through, she felt like she had something to prove, and the near forty-five-degree incline straight down the gorge had provided that. She’d been uneasy on the walk since she’d always been overweight and never particularly graceful, but she’d made it.

  Proud of herself, she walked a little more, heading toward the sound of rushing water, and smiled. She’d never seen it before, but people in her classes had said it was a beautiful sight. It was the gorgeous Bridal Veil Falls. It looked like a long, elegant bridal veil, she supposed, not that she’d ever get a chance to wear one.

  No, she’d never seen herself as the marrying type, but when Ted had asked her out for coffee to discuss a poem she was working on, that changed. He had charm. She was a virgin and had believed she’d stay that way forever, but he quickly finessed her out of that idea. She was in his bed in a week, and by midterms, she was already imagining what it would be like to be called Mrs. Merced.

  She had a fantasy of how he’d propose to her, on one knee, in a romantic locale such as this one. Of course, after reciting some obscure but irresistibly romantic British sonnet about how her eyes were like stars.

  The beginning of the end was when she went down to his basement office during office hours. He spent most of his time in his cluttered, cramped office, he’d said, simply reading the classics and wishing his students needed him more. At least, that’s what he’d joked about.

  But when Amy went there, wearing a new lace thong that she knew would cheer him up, she found him already occupied. As she listened at the door, she heard a definite moan.

  Heartbroken, she’d waited in the shadows to see a lithe, willowy blonde from her class leaving the room, tucking her blouse into her skirt as she left.

  After that, there were more. Many more. She counted five, at least. Sometimes subtle things; holding a woman’s gaze too long, touching a classmate on the arm, fingers lingering, stroking. But some were egregious. She’d found a woman’s red thong panties in the cushions of his sofa, and she never wore red panties.

  She looked up at the beautiful falls and realized what she’d done again. Thinking of him. Wasting her time moping over a serial cheater. Or was he even a cheater? He’d never called her a girlfriend. Maybe she was just a notch in his bedpost, like all the others.

  Whatever it was, she’d vowed time and time again to forget him. To move on with her life.

  Her willpower to do such a thing only lasted a few minutes, at the most. He’d wormed his way so tightly into her brain, she thought she’d never get him out.

  Thus, this hike. Something to get away from the campus. To clear her mind. Think. To accomplish something meaningful, for once, that didn’t involve Ted Merced. He was an indoor guy, a thinker. He’d never deign to muddy himself on the hike down into this gorge.

  Which was why coming here was perfect.

  She scraped her hiking boots along a sharp-edged boulder, freeing the mud caked on the soles. Then she moved to the edge of the rock and leaned in, feeling the water with one hand. It was icy cold, for sure, but exhilarating.

  She finished her granola bar and walked on a little farther, until she came to a calm pool. Looking around, she realized how beautiful it all was and how lucky she was to be a part of it. A walk in the woods could be so rejuvenating; life changing. She’d studied English writers most of her life, but wasn’t that what Thoreau had said? He’d gone to the woods to live deliberately, to suck the marrow out of life.

  Ted Merced and his indoor life? He was living aimlessly. She was so much better than him, standing here, sucking on that bone and taking out every last drop that life would offer her.

  And staring at the calm water, Amy Cooper decided that was exactly what she wanted to do. Right here, right now.

  Peering into the woods behind her, she slipped her backpack off her shoulders and set it down on a rock. Then she crouched, unlaced her boots, and kicked out of them. She knew this was crazy, but it was also just what she’d come out here to do. To be a little crazy. To empower herself. So what if the water was freezing. She needed to stop sitting on the sidelines and just reading about things. She needed to do.

  She grabbed the hem of her t-shirt, preparing to lift it over her head as the whole of Thoreau’s quote came to her: I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.

  Yes, she thought, imagining the feel of the cold water on her skin. No more hiding. I need to live this life of mine.

  Ripping off her shirt, she unhooked her bra, letting her breasts swing free. She smiled as the first rays of sun broke through the gorge, warming her face and chest. It was like a sign.

  She pushed down her pants and slipped them down to her ankles. This would be it. Her chance to wash him away from her skin for good, to cleanse and baptize herself, and most importantly…move on.

  She was so excited. As she raised her arms over her head, worshiping the sun as it shined down on her, she smiled, ready for her future.

  The scrape of a shoe on rock caused her to jump as adrenaline and shame swept through her system. But before she could even cover her breasts, bone-jarring pain, deep and exquisite, vibrated from the top of her skull.

  No! she mentally screamed as darkness descended on her vision. I need to live.

  Wrong place. Wrong time.

  As I looked down at the naked woman at my feet, I raised my arms to the heavens, just as the girl had done only moments before, thanking God for putting her exactly where I needed her to be.

  My right place. My right time.

  This was becoming easier and easier.

  Practice made perfect, right?

  I could almost hear you tell me just that.

  I was also learning to take advantage of an opportunity when it presented itself. And present itself, Amy Cooper did.

  I wished I knew what she’d been thinking, stripping down to the buff like that. She didn’t strike me as a person to do something so daring. But of course, neither did I.

  But I dared, didn’t I, my little love?

  I dared because the time had finally come.

  I’d been patient. So very, very patient. I’d bided my time, waiting for the perfect time to strike.

  This girl was perfect. She’d come here alone from the local college. Knew that from the sticker in the corner of her car’s back mirror. With Thanksgiving break, it could be days before someone missed her. Weeks even. Months. It didn’t matter.

  All that mattered was that she’d gotten a permit to come to this part of the gorge, and the station would be the last place she was seen. The park rangers would have to account for her. They’d wonder why her car was still in the lot, and they’d grow concerned.

  Then the “professionals” would be coming. Professionals like Beez, the old goat.

  And I was ready.

  Finally, ready.

  I’m so sorry that it’s taken me this long to act, sweet darling.

  Poor Beez. She hadn’t known what hit her, had she? Damn, that little woman could scream. I was afraid someone would hear, especially that close to the Pulpit. That was where all the hikers stopped. Partly because it was a nice view, but mostly, I thought, because of the name. People liked evil things, didn’t they?

  I did. Hadn’t always, but in the past few months, I’d been thinking things I’d never thought before. Which was good. Sometimes, you had to do what’s wrong in order to do what’s right, didn’t you think?

  With the way those assholes went out searching for Beez, you’d have thought she was a fucking celebrity. The teams that scoured the mountain were unreal. All that chaos and craziness for a little old biddy who didn’t mean shit to anyone.

  The rescuer, beyond rescue. How funny was that?

  Rolling Amy’s naked body over, I examined her face, her
tits. She wasn’t awful looking, but she was soft. Doughy. She hadn’t been taking very good care of herself.

  I waited for my dick to stir. It didn’t.

  Disappointment was bitter on my tongue.

  But it was better this way. Because I needed to focus.

  Amy…she was different. Much, much different than Beez. This time, I sincerely doubted anyone would care too much about her. Poor, sad nobody. What a waste of a life.

  But she would do. The rescuers didn’t assign a point value to lives based on their viability—they just went out blindly, like vultures, tearing at bones in the desert. She’d make a nice little fat worm, dangling off that hook.

  I dragged Amy Cooper’s lifeless body to the edge of the river, then lifted her backpack. I opened it, picked through it. Granola bars, granola bars, granola bars. Obviously, she’d been afraid of going hungry on the trip. Her phone. I tossed that in the river. Extra clothing, goodbye. Car keys, driver’s license, and school ID. A photo of her with a guy that was way out of her league.

  I tossed all of that in the raging river too.

  Found a twenty-dollar bill in one of the pockets of her clothes as I tossed those and her boots in. Kept that. A killer’s gotta eat, right? Turns out, murder takes a lot out of you.

  I wondered how tiring it would be to die.

  You knew the answer to that question, didn’t you, my poor sweet darling?

  Sadness and anger swept over me as I gathered up rocks, filling the backpack. As I did, Amy Cooper stared at me. Shuffling forward, I kicked her head and made her face the other way. There was blood all over the rocks from where I’d hit her. Head injuries bled the worst, even when they weren’t so bad.

  “Unfortunately,” I said to my dear friend Amy. “Yours is a little bad.”

  I smiled at my humor, glad to know that I could still joke. I thought the humor had been ripped out of me so long ago.

  Clearing my throat, I finished stuffing her backpack with rocks. Without giving myself more time to think, I lifted her limp form and pushed her arms through the loops, then tied the straps around her body, making sure she wouldn’t be separated from her bag any time soon. Amy needed to take a nice long swim.

  Then I dragged her toward the river’s bank. Holding her up to my chest, I sang one of your favorite songs. “Just sit right back, and you’ll hear a tale. A tale of a fateful trip. That started at the bottom of his gorge, where Amy Cooper flipped…”

  And flip she did, falling from the rock with a splash. I watched her white body rush along with the current a little bit before the weight of the bag pulled her down, and she disappeared from view.

  Gilligan’s Island. You and I, we loved that show. So funny how they built everything out of palms and communicated with coconut shells and shit like that. You’d gotten a kick of that Gilligan, and how they always wore the same clothes day in and day out. I’d have to go home and binge-watch a little of that. Yeah. In Amy Cooper’s honor. That would be nice. A tribute to the big, juicy worm. Maybe tonight, after work.

  I turned and took a few deep breaths, preparing for the exertion of climbing up to the top of the gorge. My adrenaline was draining, making me weak.

  But there was no time for weakness.

  I’d tossed in the bait, and now I just needed to wait patiently for a bite.

  9

  Kylie walked the dogs out back and shivered in the cool morning air. The temperature had nose-dived in the past couple of days, and here it was, almost Thanksgiving. She sighed as the dogs went around, sniffing and cavorting in the frosty grass, then took a sip of her extra-strong coffee. She smiled. Maybe being out in nature wasn’t so bad, after all.

  The flowers Linc had planted all summer had shriveled up, looking kind of sad. He would probably want to plant something else, knowing him, although she had no idea what would live through the harsh North Carolina mountain winters.

  Maybe she could talk him into waiting until the spring, when they could make the house bright and beautiful for their wedding. That would give his shoulder even more time to fully heal. It was doing much better, and he’d increased his physical therapy visits since he’d reinjured it in Georgia a month ago. Still, she didn’t want to take any chances with him exerting himself now. If he insisted on planting something now, she’d just have to help him.

  Because they were a team.

  The thought made her smile grow wider.

  But she couldn’t think about that right now.

  It was time to start another workday.

  She went inside the farmhouse and powered up her work computer, hoping that an exciting case would be sitting in her inbox. After she’d gotten back from Georgia last month, Greg had told her to fill out a report and then head on home. He’d finally come to realize that with computers and all that new-fangled technology he’d resisted for so long, working away from the office was not only a possibility…it actually made sense.

  Now, she had started working from home in the morning, then went into the office in the afternoon to deal with the paperwork that seemed to never end. Greg covered the office in the morning and would leave a few minutes after she walked into Starr Investigations, filling her in on any new cases he was working on. Usually cases involving Impact Insurance, their biggest client. He also took on most of the surveillance cases, since Kylie had trouble sitting in one spot for very long.

  So far, the new schedule was working well for them both.

  Except that she missed Greg.

  Missed his crotchety old ways. Missed the moments when he imparted bits of his wisdom that always surprised her coming from his surly mouth.

  He was trusting her more and more, giving almost all other cases—besides Impact and surveillance—to her. This would have been fabulous if the cases had been juicy ones. But they were usually boring.

  Cheating spouses.

  Background checks.

  Family law matters that usually involved asset discovery to make sure cheating spouses weren’t hiding their money in divorce or child support court.

  People sucked.

  When she flipped open the laptop and stared at her email, she sighed. One new case; a background check for a new employee at one of their client companies. Boring. The most fun she ever got from those was finding out the potential employee had a shoplifting charge in the past. Big deal.

  Fifteen minutes later, she’d sent out all the “feeler” emails, and an hour after that, she’d finished her report. She emailed it off to the client, went to the fridge, and found last night’s leftover pasta.

  Throwing it in the microwave to heat it up for lunch, she realized it wasn’t even ten o’clock yet.

  This was starting to get really old. Her lunches had gradually gotten earlier and earlier, and after a couple of weeks, she was eating second lunches in the midafternoon. It wasn’t hunger. It was boredom. Any more of this, and she’d need a forklift to get her down the aisle.

  Speaking of which…

  The wedding.

  They agreed a couple weeks ago that Christmas wasn’t a possibility, and she’d been so relieved that she’d pulled out a calendar and flipped to May, tapping her finger on the first Saturday of that month.

  And just like that, they had a wedding date.

  And just like that, she’d felt frozen with a new wave of fear.

  Whenever she and Linc spoke about the plans, he’d told her he was fine with whatever she wanted. He’d given her full reign to make it her wedding. So, this should’ve been easy.

  But it wasn’t.

  Maybe she just needed to man up and admit to Linc that she was genuinely terrified to plan such an event. That even though she had his okay to make it as small or casual as she wanted, it still needed to be perfect. After all, it was supposed to be the biggest day in both their lives. She just didn’t want to mess it up. Mostly for him. Or his perfect family. Or her mom.

  She went online and Googled “destination weddings,” but after paging through a million search results
for Hawaii and Punta Cana and Costa Rica, she nixed them all. One of the things Linc had mentioned—over and over again—was getting married at the farmhouse. He seemed pretty excited about that, and she knew that would make it special for him.

  So, they knew two things. The wedding date was the first Saturday in May, and the location would be at the farmhouse.

  Kylie should have been cheering at that bit of success, but whenever she did something like search for tent rentals, she wound up going down a giant rabbit hole, wondering how big the tent would have to be. She started to fill out an information request form and realized she had no idea how to answer any of the questions.

  Date? She knew that one.

  Time? Linc wanted a sunset wedding, but was an eight-p.m. wedding too late? She had no idea.

  Size of party? No idea.

  Colors? Nope.

  When she saw some really cool bouncy houses, Kylie wondered if it would be weird to have a bouncy-house wedding.

  Probably.

  She scratched at the back of her hand and realized that yep, she had a hive there.

  Grimacing, she kicked away from her seat, went to the bathroom mirror, and saw three more sprouting up at her hairline. “Oh, god,” she moaned. If she hived up like this just thinking about the wedding, she’d be a walking welt as she walked down the aisle.

  Just then, the door opened and Linc walked in. He’d been outside, tending to the animals. The moment he saw her, he froze. “What now?”

  “Um. Nothing,” she said, arranging her hair to cover the bumps. “You okay?”

  She brushed past him, pausing long enough to kiss his cheek before heading back to her makeshift workstation at the kitchen island. It was ten now, prime work hours. If she was going to get emailed new cases, it would happen now.