Page 66 of Accidental Murder
“Hanrahan, you’re going home?” he asked.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Anything new in the Macintyre case?”
“No, Sir.”
“Let me know if there is.” He strode toward the building.
Breathing high in her chest, Megan slid into her Camry. Edgier than all get out, she switched on the ignition and listened to the engine roar to life. What had provoked her to lie to him? Did she honestly believe he could be guilty of murder? If he discovered she’d known about the data-mining program that Ashley—a.k.a. Kayla, Megan was convinced now—was running and hadn’t informed him, he might, as Rodrigo would say, fire her sweet rear end.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
SATURDAY
Kayla awoke dry-mouthed and disoriented.During the night she’d slipped into a spooning position with Peter. She rolled onto her back and focused on the ceiling. The in-and-out rhythm of his breathing disconcerted her.
Peter repositioned without waking.
Kayla trembled. Lying by his side felt even more unsettling, if that was possible. She sat up, swung her legs over the edge of the bed, and surveyed the room. Sometime after she’d drifted to sleep, Peter must have switched off the lamp, turned on the television with the sound on low, and wedged the desk chair under the handle of the door. She glanced over her shoulder at him. Reflections from the CNN news crawl scrolled on his chin. By his hand lay sheets of motel notepaper. On one he had sketched a face filled with misery. The image resembled Ashley, but Kayla couldn’t be sure and was too tired to figure it out.
She laid back down and drifted into a chaotic dream.
William Norton slammed his vehicle into her car. His face morphed into the face of Nolan Trask, who morphed intoDennis Wald. Dennis cupped his hands and bellowed, “Die!” But he wasn’t directing his fury at Kayla. He was yelling at Mary Dorman, who dove into a swimming pool and plummeted to the bottom. The wraith of Sara Simmons burst from the water, soared to the top of the Golden Gate Bridge, and leaped to another death. Sara’s husband reached for her, his arms stretching like rubber. His anguished face turned into her uncle’s. David cried, “Troy is guilty!”
Kayla awoke gasping but quickly drifted into a second terrifying sequence. With herself in the starring role.
She was standing in her uncle’s bedroom beside his desk. An eddy of dust swirled around theYELLOW PAGESlying on top of his files. She batted the dust and screamed, “I don’t want to be Ashley!” She saw a file tab with the wordsBRAIN JUICEpeeking from below the yellow book. She withdrew the file. It turned into a magazine cover featuring a maniacal Jacob and his partners holding bottles of their creation.
Kayla sat up, her heart tattooing her ribcage.
Peter jerked to a sitting position and threw an arm around her shoulder. “Shh. It’s okay. I’m here. Lie down. Go back to sleep.”
Against her will, Kayla slipped into a third nightmare.
She was once again in her uncle’s bedroom. She saw a file folder tab with the words:IONIZING RADIATION& BRAIN FREEZE. She shook her head. Something was wrong. She screamed, “Brain Juice! It’s supposed to read Brain Juice!” She sensed danger and pivoted. David was closing in on her, a bottle of whiskey raised overhead. She hit him. Hard. Harder. His face became Jacob’ s . . . Dennis’s . . . Peter’s. He wielded a scarf. She screamed, “You killed them all!”
Panting for air, Kayla’s eyes popped open and reality took hold. Peter was protecting himself with a pillow to defend himself from her blows.
“Peter, oh, no. Your cheek. It’s bleeding.” Mortified, she leaped off the bed, rushed to the bathroom, and dampened a towel. She returned and blotted his face. “I’m sorry.”
“Stop.” He clasped her wrists.
She recoiled from his touch. “I’m not tired anymore. I’ll stay awake. You sleep. I won’t hurt you again.”
“I’m not tired, either.” He picked up the remote and switched TV channels, landing on AMC. Jimmy Stewart was sitting in a wheelchair looking out of a darkened apartment.
“Rear Window,” Kayla said. “One of my favorites.”
Peter set the controller down, leaned back, and patted the bed. She hesitated before joining him. They watched the movie until, sometime around four a.m., Peter couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer.
Kayla was still wired, her mind reeling with images from her nightmares. Why David? Why Peter? She trusted them, loved them. And why had she dreamed of something called Brain Freeze?
Around dawn, an urgent need to move consumed her. She studied Peter, who was snoring. He didn’t need to be on the run. He deserved better. She fetched her shoes, tiptoed into the bathroom, and cleaned up. When she was ready to leave, she tore Peter’s last sketch from the notepad and on a blank sheet wrote the names of her dead clients. She placed it by his hand.
Whispering goodbye, she tucked the laptop computer along with his sketches in her backpack. Car keys in hand, she unwedged the chair from the door and stole out of the room.
She drove to Happy Times 24-hour Diner down the street. It boasted free Wi-Fi. The restaurant’s orange décor was loud enough to wake a drowsy trucker. She opted for a cup of black coffee and dry bagel and, using the burner phone, dialed Eve. No answer. She tapped in the number for the restaurant where Eve worked.
