Tell Me Your Dreams (7 page)

Ashley left police headquarters, giddy with relief.
Thank God it’s over.
She had been terrified that they might ask questions that would involve her father, but that had not happened.
No one can connect father with any of this now.

She parked her car in the garage and took the elevator up to her apartment floor. She unlocked the door, went inside and carefully locked the door behind her. She felt drained, and at the same time, elated.
A nice hot bath,
Ashley thought. She walked into the bathroom and turned dead white. On her bathroom mirror, someone had scrawled in bright red lipstick YOU WILL DIE.

S
HE
was fighting hysteria. Her fingers were trembling so hard that she dialed three times trying to reach the number. She took a deep breath and tried again. Two…nine…nine…two…one…zero…one…The phone began to ring.

“Sheriff’s Office.”

“Deputy Blake, please. Hurry!”

“Deputy Blake has gone home. Can someone else—?”

“No! I—Would you ask him to call me? This is Ashley Patterson. I need to talk to him right away.”

“Let me put you on hold, miss, and I’ll see if I can reach him.”

Deputy Sam Blake was patiently listening to his wife, Serena, screaming at him. “My brother works you like a horse, day and night, and he doesn’t give you enough money to support me decently. Why don’t you demand a raise?
Why?”

They were at the dinner table. “Would you pass the potatoes, dear?”

Serena reached over and slammed the dish of potatoes in front of her husband. “The trouble is that they don’t appreciate you.

“You’re right, dear. May I have some gravy?”

“Aren’t you listening to what I’m saying?” she yelled.

“Every word, my love. This dinner is delicious. You’re a great cook.”

“How can I fight you, you bastard, if you won’t fight back?”

He took a mouthful of veal. “It’s because I love you, darling.”

The telephone rang. “Excuse me.” He got up and picked up the receiver. “Hello .. . Yes…Put her through… Miss Patterson?” He could hear her sobbing.

“Something—something terrible has happened. You’ve got to come over here right away.”

“I’m on my way.”

Serena got to her feet.
“What?
You’re going out? We’re in the middle of dinner!”

“It’s an emergency, darling. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” She watched him strap on his gun. He leaned over and kissed her. “Wonderful dinner.”

Ashley opened the door for him the instant he arrived. Her cheeks were tear stained. She was shivering.

Sam Blake stepped into the apartment, looking around warily.

“Is anyone else here?”

“S-someone
was
here.” She was fighting for self-control. “L-look…” She led him to the bathroom.

Deputy Blake read the words on the mirror out loud: “You will die.”

He turned to Ashley. “Do you have any idea who could have written that?”

“No,” Ashley said. “This is my apartment. No one else has a key… And someone has been coming in here… Someone’s been following me. Someone’s planning to kill me.” She burst into tears. “I can’t s-stand this any longer.”

She was sobbing uncontrollably. Deputy Blake put his arm around her and patted her shoulder. “Come on. It’s going to be all right. We’ll give you protection, and we’ll find out who’s behind this.”

Ashley took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I—I don’t usually carry on like this. It’s—it’s just been horrible.”

“Let’s talk,” Sam Blake said.

She managed to force a smile. “All right.”

“How about a nice cup of tea?”

They sat talking over cups of hot tea. “When did all this start, Miss Patterson?”

“About—about six months ago. I felt I was being followed. At first it was just a vague feeling, but then it began to grow. I
knew
I was being followed, but I couldn’t see anyone. Then at work, someone got into my computer and drew a picture of a hand with a knife in it trying to—to stab me.”

“And do you have any idea who it could have been?”

“No.”

“You said someone has gotten into this apartment before today?”

“Yes. Once, someone turned on all the lights when I was gone. Another time I found a cigarette butt on my dressing table. I don’t smoke. And someone opened a drawer and went through my .. . my underwear.” She took a deep breath. “And now…this.”

“Do you have any boyfriends who might feel rejected?”

Ashley shook her head. “No.”

“Have you had any business dealings where somebody’s lost money because of you?”

“No.”

“No threats from anyone?”

“No.” She thought of telling him about the lost weekend in Chicago, but that might involve mentioning her father. She decided to say nothing.

“I don’t want to be alone here tonight,” Ashley said.

“All right. I’ll call the station and have them send someone here to—”

“No! Please! I’m afraid to trust anyone else. Could you stay here with me, just until morning?”

“I don’t think I—”

“Oh, please.” She was trembling.

He looked into her eyes and thought he had never seen anyone so terrified.

“Isn’t there someplace you could stay tonight? Don’t you have any friends who—?”

“What if it’s one of my friends who’s doing this?”

He nodded. “Right. I’ll stay. In the morning, I’ll arrange for twenty-four-hour protection for you.”

“Thank you.” Her voice was filled with relief.

He patted Ashley’s hand. “And don’t worry. I promise you that we’ll get to the bottom of this. Let me call Sheriff Dowling and tell him what’s going on.”

He spoke on the phone for five minutes, and when he hung up, he said, “I’d better call my wife.”

“Of course.”

Deputy Blake picked up the telephone again and dialed. “Hello, darling. I won’t be home tonight, so why don’t you watch some tel—?”

“You won’t
what?
Where are you, with one of your cheap whores?”

Ashley could hear her screaming over the phone.

“Serena—”

“You’re not fooling me.”

“Serena—”

“That’s all you men think about—getting laid.”

“Serena—

“Well, I won’t put up with it any longer.”

“Serena—”

“That’s the thanks I get for being such a good wife.…”

The one-sided conversation went on for another ten minutes. Finally, Deputy Blake replaced the receiver and turned to Ashley, embarrassed.

“I’m sorry about that. She’s not like that.”

Ashley looked at him and said, “I understand.”

“No—I mean it. Serena acts that way because she’s scared.”

Ashley looked at him curiously. “Scared?”

He was silent for a moment. “Serena is dying. She has cancer. It was in remission for a while. It first started about seven years ago. We’ve been married for five years.”

“So you knew…?”

“Yes. It didn’t matter. I love her.” He stopped. “It’s gotten worse lately. She’s scared because she’s afraid to die and she’s afraid I’ll leave her. All the yelling is a cover-up to hide that fear.”

“I’m—I’m so sorry.”

“She’s a wonderful person. Inside, she’s gentle and caring and loving. That’s the Serena I know.”

Ashley said, “I’m sorry if I caused any—”

“Not at all.” He looked around.

Ashley said, “There’s just the one bedroom. You can take it, and I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Deputy Blake shook his head. “The couch will be fine for me.”

Ashley said, “I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”

“No problem, Miss Patterson.” He watched her go into a linen closet and take out sheets and blankets.

She walked over to the couch and spread the linen out. “I hope that you’ll—”

“Perfect. I don’t plan on doing much sleeping, anyway.” He checked the windows to make sure they were locked and then walked over to the door and double-bolted it. “All right.” He placed his gun on the table next to the couch. “You get a good night’s sleep. In the morning, we’ll get everything organized.”

Ashley nodded. She walked over to him and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you.”

Deputy Blake watched her walk into the bedroom and close the door. He walked back to the windows and checked them again. It was going to be a long night.

At FBI headquarters in Washington, Special Agent Ramirez was talking to Roland Kingsley, the chief of his section.

“We have the fingerprints and DNA reports found at the murder scenes in Bedford, Cupertino, Quebec, and San Francisco. We just got in the final DNA report. The fingerprints from the scenes all match, and the DNA traces match.”

Kingsley nodded. “So it’s definitely a serial killer.”

“No question.”

“Let’s find the bastard.”

At six o’clock in the morning, Deputy Sam Blake’s naked body was found by the wife of the building superintendent in the alley that ran behind Ashley Patterson’s apartment building.

He had been stabbed to death and castrated.

T
HERE
were five of them: Sheriff Dowling, two plainclothes detectives and two uniformed policemen. They stood in the living room watching Ashley, sitting in a chair, weeping hysterically.

Sheriff Dowling said, “You’re the only one who can help us, Miss Patterson.”

Ashley looked up at the men and nodded. She took several deep breaths. “I’ll—I’ll try.”

“Let’s start at the beginning. Deputy Blake spent the night here?”

“Y-yes. I asked him to. I—I was desperately afraid.”

“This apartment has one bedroom.”

“That’s right.”

“Where did Deputy Blake sleep?”

Ashley pointed to the couch, which had a blanket and a pillow on it. “He—he spent the night there.”

“What time did you go to bed?”

Ashley thought for a moment. “It—it must have been around midnight. I was nervous. We had some tea and talked for a while, and I felt calmer. I brought out blankets and a pillow for him, then I went into my bedroom.” She was fighting for selfcontrol.

“Was that the last time you saw him?”

“Yes.”

“And you went to sleep?”

“Not immediately. I finally took a sleeping pill. The next thing I remember, I was awakened by a woman’s screams coming from the alley.” She began to tremble.

“Do you think someone came into this apartment and killed Deputy Blake?”

“I—I don’t know,” Ashley said desperately. “Someone has been getting in here. They even wrote a threatening message on my mirror.”

“He told me about that on the telephone.”

“He might have heard something and—and gone outside to investigate,” Ashley said.

Sheriff Dowling shook his head. “I don’t think he would have gone out naked.”

Ashley cried.
“I don’t know! I don’t know!
It’s a nightmare.” She covered her eyes with her hands.

Sheriff Dowling said, “I’d like to look around the apartment. Do I need a search warrant?”

“Of course not. G-go ahead.”

Sheriff Dowling nodded to the detectives. One of them went into the bedroom. The other one went into the kitchen.

“What did you and Deputy Blake talk about?”

Ashley took a deep breath. “I—I told him about—about the things that have been happening to me. He was very—” She looked up at the sheriff. “Why would anyone kill him?
Why?”

“I don’t know, Miss Patterson. We’re going to find out.”

Lieutenant Elton, the detective who had gone into the kitchen, stood in the doorway. “Could I see you for a moment, Sheriff?”

“Excuse me.”

Sheriff Dowling walked into the kitchen.

“What?”

Lieutenant Elton said, “I found this in the sink.” He was holding up a bloodstained butcher knife by the edge of the blade. “It hasn’t been washed. I think we’re going to get some prints.”

Kostoff, the second detective, came in from the bedroom and hurried into the kitchen. He was holding an emerald ring, mounted with diamonds. “I found this in the jewelry box in the bedroom. It fits the description we got from Quebec of the ring that Jean Claude Parent gave to Toni Prescott.”

The three men were looking at one another.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” the sheriff said. Gingerly, he took the butcher knife and the ring and walked back into the living room. He held out the knife and said, “Miss Patterson, is this your knife?”

Ashley looked at it. “I—Yes. It could be. Why?”

Sheriff Dowling held out the ring. “Have you ever seen this ring before?”

Ashley looked at it and shook her head. “No.”

“We found it in your jewelry box.”

They watched her expression. She was completely bewildered.

She whispered, “I—Someone must have put it there…”

“Who would do a thing like that?”

Her face was pale. “I don’t know.”

A detective walked in the front door. “Sheriff?”

“Yes, Baker?” He motioned the detective over to a corner. “What have you got?”

“We found bloodstains on the corridor rug and in the elevator. It looks like the body was laid on a sheet, dragged into the elevator and dumped in the alley.”

“Holy shit!” Sheriff Dowling turned to Ashley. “Miss Patterson, you’re under arrest. I’m going to read you your rights. You have the right to remain silent. If you give up the right to remain silent, anything you say may be used against you in a court of law. You are entitled to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you by the courts.”

When they reached the sheriff’s office, Sheriff Dowling said, “Fingerprint her and book her.”

Ashley went through the procedure like an automaton. When it was finished, Sheriff Dowling said, “You have the right to make one phone call.”

Ashley looked up at him and said dully, “I have no one to call.”
I can’t call my father.

Sheriff Dowling watched Ashley being led into a cell.

“I’ll be goddamned if I understand it. Did you see her polygraph test? I would swear she’s innocent.”

Detective Kostoff walked in. “Sam had sex before he died. We ran an ultraviolet light over his body and the sheet he was wrapped in. We got a positive result for semen and vaginal stains. We—”

Sheriff Dowling groaned. “Hold it!” He had been putting off the moment when he would have to give his sister the news. It had to be done now. He sighed and said, “I’ll be back.”

Twenty minutes later, he was at Sam’s house.

“Well, this is an unexpected pleasure,” Serena said. “Is Sam with you?”

“No, Serena. I have to ask you a question.” This was going to be difficult.

She was looking at him curiously. “Yes?”

“Did—did you and Sam have sex within the last twenty-four hours?”

The expression on her face changed. “What? We…No. Why do you want to—? Sam’s not coming back, is he?”

“I hate to tell you this, but he—”

“He left me for her, didn’t he? I knew it would happen. I don’t blame him. I was a terrible wife to him. I—”

“Serena, Sam’s dead.”

“I was always yelling at him. I really didn’t mean it. I remember—”

He took her by the arms. “Serena, Sam’s dead.”

“One time we were going out to the beach and—”

He was shaking her. “Listen to me. Sam is dead.”

“—and we were going to have a picnic.”

As he looked at her, he realized that she had heard him.

“So we’re at the beach and this man comes up and says, ’Give me your money.’ And Sam says, ’Let me see your gun.’”

Sheriff Dowling stood there and let her talk. She was in a state of shock, in complete denial.

“…that was Sam. Tell me about this woman he went away with. Is she pretty? Sam tells me I’m pretty all the time, but I know I’m not. He says it to make me feel good because he loves me. He’ll never leave me. He’ll be back. You’ll see. He loves me.” She went on talking.

Sheriff Dowling went to the phone and dialed a number. “Get a nurse over here.” He went over and put his arms around his sister. “Everything’s going to be all right.”

“Did I tell you about the time that Sam and I—?”

Fifteen minutes later, a nurse arrived.

“Take good care of her,” Sheriff Dowling said.

There was a conference in Sheriff Dowling’s office. “There’s a call for you on line one.”

Sheriff Dowling picked up the phone. “Yeah?”

“Sheriff, this is Special Agent Ramirez at FBI headquarters in Washington. We have some information for you on the serial killer case. We didn’t have any prints on file for Ashley Patterson because she had no criminal record, and before 1988, the DMV didn’t require thumbprints in the state of California to get a driver’s license.”

“Go ahead.”

“In the beginning, we thought it had to be a computer glitch, but we checked it out and…”

For the next five minutes, Sheriff Dowling sat there listening, an incredulous expression on his face. When he finally spoke, he said, “Are you sure there’s no mistake? It doesn’t seem…All of them…? I see… Thank you very much.”

He replaced the receiver and sat there for a long moment. Then he looked up. “That was the FBI lab in Washington. They’ve finished cross-checking the fingerprints on the bodies of the victims. Jean Claude Parent in Quebec was seeing an English woman named Toni Prescott when he was murdered.”

“Yes.”

“Richard Melton in San Francisco was seeing an Italian lady named Alette Peters when he was killed.”

They nodded.

“And last night Sam Blake was with Ashley Patterson.”

“Right.”

Sheriff Dowling took a deep breath. “Ashley Patterson…”

“Yes?”

“Toni Prescott…”

“Yes?”

“Alette Peters…”

“Yes?”

“They’re all the same fucking person.”