the covers to the floor in her haste.
The noise came a gain, closer, as if someone was moving up the stairs.
She yanked the lamp cord from the wall socket, tossed aside the shade and clutched the lamp around the midd le, wielding its cut-crystal base as a makeshift club. Taking a deep breath, she tiptoed through her open bedroom door, down the hallway toward the stairs.
Lightning flashed, and in that instant a shadow move d on the landing, but darkness immediately reclaimed the house.
Cautiously she made her way down the hall to the landing then hesitated at the top of the stairs.
A board groaned behind her. Danger loomed suddenly, real and close.
She swung the lamp up and tried to turn, to defend herself.
Cold, hard hands gripped her bare shoulders. She could feel the pressure on her skin, the steel in the hands that shoved her downward. The lamp slipped from her fingers. She screamed, reached vainly for the rail.
Down and down she tumbled, over and over as her worst nightmare came true, her fear of falling becoming a reality. But the cold, suffocating blackness she somehow expected didn’t come, and she almost cried with relief when she hit the floor with a painful thud.
Before she could get up, he was there, a dark silhouette bending over her, shoving a pillow over her face. Panic stricken, she fought him, flailing against him, but he held her down, pressed the softness of the pillow tightly around her nose, her mouth—and the blackness stole her breath.
Then it was over and she floated upward toward the bright light that waited, beckoning. She turned back for one last look and saw him leaning over her body, feeling for a pulse.
And she remembered everything.
Sudden anger stirred her soul. No! She would not let him get away with this again.
She looked regretfully at the beckoning brilliance of the light, but made her decision. She had to stay.
A hand grasped her shoulder, shook her. She struggled to rise through the darkness, through the mists that weighted down her body, glued her eyelids closed. She tried to scream, but it came out a low moan.
Straining against the hands that held her, she dragged her eyes open, saw the figure looming over her in the darkness and was finally able to scream.
“ Easy, sweetheart,” Phillip soothed. “It’s me. Everything’s all right. You were having a bad dream, moaning and thrashing around in here.”
She collapsed back against the pillows, let out her breath, will ed her racing heart to slow.
Her gaze was drawn to the clock. Four o’clock, just like in the dream.
Phillip sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand. “What were you dreaming that upset you so badly?”
“ I don’t remember,” she lied. The dream was still too close, too terrifying to discuss. She wanted him to leave, give her time to think. “I’m awfully sleepy.” She lay back on the pillow and closed her eyes, remaining in that position until she felt his weight lift from the bed and heard her door close.
She stared into the darkness, replaying the dream in her mind. Every detail remained distinct and vivid. Someone had come into her house, pushed her down the stairs, smothered her —tried to kill her—did kill her. But she’d come back, angry and determined to stop her killer.
In your dream , she reminded herself as panic sent her heart racing, turned her skin clammy and damp. Only in your dream .
She sat up, turned on the bedside lamp and looked at it.
Relief flooded through her. It was similar to the one in her dream, but a little different. Both had crystal bases, but the one she’d wielded and dropped on the stairs in her nightmare had been solid crystal. This one had a marble pedestal.
Only a dream.
She flicked off the light and lay back down, turning her head to the side...and even in the dark of the cloudy night she could see that the lamp on the other side of the bed was missing.
She felt again the hands on her shoulders pushing her downward, the pillow over her
The noise came a gain, closer, as if someone was moving up the stairs.
She yanked the lamp cord from the wall socket, tossed aside the shade and clutched the lamp around the midd le, wielding its cut-crystal base as a makeshift club. Taking a deep breath, she tiptoed through her open bedroom door, down the hallway toward the stairs.
Lightning flashed, and in that instant a shadow move d on the landing, but darkness immediately reclaimed the house.
Cautiously she made her way down the hall to the landing then hesitated at the top of the stairs.
A board groaned behind her. Danger loomed suddenly, real and close.
She swung the lamp up and tried to turn, to defend herself.
Cold, hard hands gripped her bare shoulders. She could feel the pressure on her skin, the steel in the hands that shoved her downward. The lamp slipped from her fingers. She screamed, reached vainly for the rail.
Down and down she tumbled, over and over as her worst nightmare came true, her fear of falling becoming a reality. But the cold, suffocating blackness she somehow expected didn’t come, and she almost cried with relief when she hit the floor with a painful thud.
Before she could get up, he was there, a dark silhouette bending over her, shoving a pillow over her face. Panic stricken, she fought him, flailing against him, but he held her down, pressed the softness of the pillow tightly around her nose, her mouth—and the blackness stole her breath.
Then it was over and she floated upward toward the bright light that waited, beckoning. She turned back for one last look and saw him leaning over her body, feeling for a pulse.
And she remembered everything.
Sudden anger stirred her soul. No! She would not let him get away with this again.
She looked regretfully at the beckoning brilliance of the light, but made her decision. She had to stay.
A hand grasped her shoulder, shook her. She struggled to rise through the darkness, through the mists that weighted down her body, glued her eyelids closed. She tried to scream, but it came out a low moan.
Straining against the hands that held her, she dragged her eyes open, saw the figure looming over her in the darkness and was finally able to scream.
“ Easy, sweetheart,” Phillip soothed. “It’s me. Everything’s all right. You were having a bad dream, moaning and thrashing around in here.”
She collapsed back against the pillows, let out her breath, will ed her racing heart to slow.
Her gaze was drawn to the clock. Four o’clock, just like in the dream.
Phillip sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand. “What were you dreaming that upset you so badly?”
“ I don’t remember,” she lied. The dream was still too close, too terrifying to discuss. She wanted him to leave, give her time to think. “I’m awfully sleepy.” She lay back on the pillow and closed her eyes, remaining in that position until she felt his weight lift from the bed and heard her door close.
She stared into the darkness, replaying the dream in her mind. Every detail remained distinct and vivid. Someone had come into her house, pushed her down the stairs, smothered her —tried to kill her—did kill her. But she’d come back, angry and determined to stop her killer.
In your dream , she reminded herself as panic sent her heart racing, turned her skin clammy and damp. Only in your dream .
She sat up, turned on the bedside lamp and looked at it.
Relief flooded through her. It was similar to the one in her dream, but a little different. Both had crystal bases, but the one she’d wielded and dropped on the stairs in her nightmare had been solid crystal. This one had a marble pedestal.
Only a dream.
She flicked off the light and lay back down, turning her head to the side...and even in the dark of the cloudy night she could see that the lamp on the other side of the bed was missing.
She felt again the hands on her shoulders pushing her downward, the pillow over her
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