be interested, isn’t it?”
“It’s not your job to play personal watchdog. You could have fobbed me off to any number of relatives, including Yolanda and her extremely strange brother, Larry.”
“The sleepwalking streaker who spends his winters working at a Colorado ski resort?”
“He’s part of an avalanche control team. Helps bring the snow down before it gets too deep and dangerous. Nana said he wound up in the hospital with frostbite after one of his naked nighttime walks. I guess he knows his way around plastic explosives. Have you met him?”
“Several times. Four of them at night.”
“That’s unfortunate. But it doesn’t answer my earlier question.”
“Yeah, it does. I don’t fob people off. And I’m definitely not a sadist.”
“You’re something, though, aren’t you?” Tucking a leg up, Amara turned to study him. “Something not what or who people think you are.”
His smile widened and caused a shiver of excitement to dance along her spine. “You’re fishing, Red. I’m not biting.”
“You don’t have to. You gave it away when you told me there was only a fifty-fifty chance the shots we heard at Nana’s were fired by someone in Jimmy Sparks’s family. What’s the flip side, McVey? What or who represents the other fifty percent?”
“Could be I have an angry ex.”
“Could also be Yolanda and I will develop a sisterly affection for each other. But back in the real world, what aren’t you telling me about those shots? We heard nine of them, in three groups of three. Is the number significant? Is it connected to the fact that you think my face has been in your head for fifteen years—which, by the way, is exactly how long it’s been since the last time I was in the Hollow.”
“Yeah?” He glanced at her again.
“Fifteen years this June.”
“Huh.”
She sighed. “Please don’t go all dark and mysterious on me.”
He regarded the towering trees through the upper portion of the windshield. “I asked a simple question, Red. Right now I’m just trying to keep my truck on the road.”
“And I’m trying to figure out if I’m riding with a man or someone who was hatched from an alien pod. Call me anal, but informing me I have the same face as some woman in your head isn’t your usual ‘first time we’ve met’ remark. Assuming, of course, this is the first time we’ve met.”
“I did meet a beautiful redhead at the tail end of a wedding reception a few years back. Her features are a bit of a blur at this point, but I remember thinking she was gorgeous. The reception was in Albany. I was the guy playing the air guitar—with a little help from Keith Richards.”
She fought back a laugh. “Don’t do this, McVey. It’s been a very long, very weird night, to say nothing of sad.” A picture of Yolanda popped in. “And irritating.”
He looked at her for a thoughtful moment. “You’re part of a dream, Amara. A nightmare, actually. One I’ve had off and on since I was nineteen.”
“Ah, well, that clears things right up, doesn’t it—seeing as we’re total strangers.” Her expression grew wary. “You’re not a Bellam somewhere in that dark and mysterious past of yours, are you?”
“If I am, it’ll be a hard thing to prove. I’m what’s called a foundling. Or close enough that the term applies.”
Sympathy softened everything inside her. “I’m so sorry, McVey. Were you adopted?”
“In a sense.”
“You know that answer’s a form of avoidance, don’t you?”
“I know it’s the best you’re going to get right now. As for me seeing your face, I dream what I dream, and believe me when I tell you, I don’t enjoy the experience.”
“Well, that’s me flattered.”
“You’re a hag in the opening act.”
“Better and better.”
“You come into my head chanting over a fire in a room filled with smoke. Next thing I know, you’ve sent a man God knows where and you’re telling me you intend to take my memories away. And,
“It’s not your job to play personal watchdog. You could have fobbed me off to any number of relatives, including Yolanda and her extremely strange brother, Larry.”
“The sleepwalking streaker who spends his winters working at a Colorado ski resort?”
“He’s part of an avalanche control team. Helps bring the snow down before it gets too deep and dangerous. Nana said he wound up in the hospital with frostbite after one of his naked nighttime walks. I guess he knows his way around plastic explosives. Have you met him?”
“Several times. Four of them at night.”
“That’s unfortunate. But it doesn’t answer my earlier question.”
“Yeah, it does. I don’t fob people off. And I’m definitely not a sadist.”
“You’re something, though, aren’t you?” Tucking a leg up, Amara turned to study him. “Something not what or who people think you are.”
His smile widened and caused a shiver of excitement to dance along her spine. “You’re fishing, Red. I’m not biting.”
“You don’t have to. You gave it away when you told me there was only a fifty-fifty chance the shots we heard at Nana’s were fired by someone in Jimmy Sparks’s family. What’s the flip side, McVey? What or who represents the other fifty percent?”
“Could be I have an angry ex.”
“Could also be Yolanda and I will develop a sisterly affection for each other. But back in the real world, what aren’t you telling me about those shots? We heard nine of them, in three groups of three. Is the number significant? Is it connected to the fact that you think my face has been in your head for fifteen years—which, by the way, is exactly how long it’s been since the last time I was in the Hollow.”
“Yeah?” He glanced at her again.
“Fifteen years this June.”
“Huh.”
She sighed. “Please don’t go all dark and mysterious on me.”
He regarded the towering trees through the upper portion of the windshield. “I asked a simple question, Red. Right now I’m just trying to keep my truck on the road.”
“And I’m trying to figure out if I’m riding with a man or someone who was hatched from an alien pod. Call me anal, but informing me I have the same face as some woman in your head isn’t your usual ‘first time we’ve met’ remark. Assuming, of course, this is the first time we’ve met.”
“I did meet a beautiful redhead at the tail end of a wedding reception a few years back. Her features are a bit of a blur at this point, but I remember thinking she was gorgeous. The reception was in Albany. I was the guy playing the air guitar—with a little help from Keith Richards.”
She fought back a laugh. “Don’t do this, McVey. It’s been a very long, very weird night, to say nothing of sad.” A picture of Yolanda popped in. “And irritating.”
He looked at her for a thoughtful moment. “You’re part of a dream, Amara. A nightmare, actually. One I’ve had off and on since I was nineteen.”
“Ah, well, that clears things right up, doesn’t it—seeing as we’re total strangers.” Her expression grew wary. “You’re not a Bellam somewhere in that dark and mysterious past of yours, are you?”
“If I am, it’ll be a hard thing to prove. I’m what’s called a foundling. Or close enough that the term applies.”
Sympathy softened everything inside her. “I’m so sorry, McVey. Were you adopted?”
“In a sense.”
“You know that answer’s a form of avoidance, don’t you?”
“I know it’s the best you’re going to get right now. As for me seeing your face, I dream what I dream, and believe me when I tell you, I don’t enjoy the experience.”
“Well, that’s me flattered.”
“You’re a hag in the opening act.”
“Better and better.”
“You come into my head chanting over a fire in a room filled with smoke. Next thing I know, you’ve sent a man God knows where and you’re telling me you intend to take my memories away. And,
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