The Dreamstalker (3 page)

“You knew Gordon Anderson, Miss Newton?” He toyed with a pencil and stared at her.

“Yes, since third grade.” She wasn't going to volunteer any information.

“Did you like him?”

“No, not really. I felt sorry for him, but I didn't like him. I don't think anyone liked him.” There, she'd told him more than he asked for, already breaking her resolve.

“Why not?”

“He was a bully. He picked on everyone, especially girls, embarrassing them. If you showed him any weakness, any fear you had, he'd use it against you. For instance, he found out that Amy Linker was terrified of spiders. He'd leave them in her locker, press them in her books, bring specimens to school in jars and make sure she got to see them. He could make your life miserable if he wanted to.”

Martin thought about that. “So no one is sorry he's dead?”

“I didn't say that, but we probably aren't going into deep mourning. Or run the flag at half mast, anything like that.”

Why had she said that? She was acting like Kerr. It was something he'd say. A smart aleck remark. She was scared, she admitted to herself. She was afraid she'd tell Captain Martin too much. What did it matter—except that the rest of the story might slip out.

The policeman stared at her. Kept staring at her. She looked away—at her hands, at the professor, at the floor.

“I'm sorry I said that. He didn't deserve to die, and especially not like that.”

“Like what?”

“Everyone knows the details of what happened.”

“Tell me what you've heard, please, Miss Newton.”

“Do I have to?” She looked at him and then at her teacher. He was still scribbling on his notebook page.

“It would be helpful.”

She took a deep breath. “He was naked. Flowers, yellow flowers had been stuffed in his mouth. He had a yellow stripe down his back, painted on.” She paused, trying to rid herself of the sudden, vivid picture. It was so real, as if she'd been there. The dream—she
had
been there, in a way.

Captain Martin was taking notes. She continued. “I—I guess he choked. He had asthma, you know. Sometimes he had trouble breathing. When he got in trouble from a teacher or the principal, he'd have to use his inhaler. He left his window open at night, no matter how cold it was. I guess someone got into his room that way.”

“Someone?”

“Well, whoever—whoever was there. Whoever did that to him.” Suddenly she got angry. “He wouldn't do that to himself. That's why you're questioning all of us, isn't it? The seniors, those of us who had classes with him. You're trying to find out who did that to him.” She felt as if she was doing all the talking. Why didn't he say more? Why didn't she shut up?

“How did you know he left his window open at night?”

How did she know? “Everyone knew that. I'm sure everyone knew that. He probably told us.” Had she seen that part of the dream? Had someone mentioned it? She couldn't remember.

“That wasn't common knowledge, Karen. There's something you're not telling us, isn't there?”

“What makes you think that? I've told you everything I know.”

“I don't think you have. Why are you so frightened?”

“I'm not used to being grilled by the police.” Grilled—where had she gotten that word? Television, probably. The police grilled criminals. But she wasn't a criminal. The police grilled witnesses. In a way, she
was
a witness.

There was another period of silence. The longer it lasted, the more she shifted in her chair. She wanted to get up and run out the door. The classroom was so hot. It smelled of sweaty bodies and chalk dust and floor wax. She felt as if
she
were choking.

“Tell us what else you know about this, Karen.” Martin stared at her. He had huge, gray eyes. Really gray eyes are unusual, she thought.

She looked at Dr. McArthur again. This time he was looking at her. “Tell him about the dream, Karen. It will be better to get it off your mind.”

She let her eyes dart all around, trying to find someplace safe to focus, trying not to look at the policeman. She wished she hadn't told the professor anything.

“I dreamed about Gordon getting killed. A lot of boys were teasing him, just like he had teased people all his life. They were bigger than he was. They took off all his clothes. They called him Lardo and Tubby and Fatso, and they laughed and laughed at him. The more they laughed, the smaller he got. Then they picked all the flowers they were standing in. They stuffed them in his mouth until he couldn't breathe. They laughed and laughed and laughed until he died.”

She started to cry. She couldn't help it. It was awful to have to remember again. Searching in her purse, she pulled out a wad of tissues, held them to her nose, then wiped her eyes. When she was in control again, the captain said, “Thank you, Karen. You may go now.”

Thank you. “Thank you?” Was that all? “Thank you, you can go.” Not “Why did you dream that?” No explanation? No comment?

“Why did I dream that?” she cried. She looked at Professor McArthur and asked the question again. “Why?”

“I don't know, Karen. It's very interesting. If you want to talk about it some more, we can. Another time. I can see that it has upset you.”

“Upset me? Of course, it has upset me! Wouldn't it upset you?” She looked at both men again. Didn't either of them have any feelings? They sat there like statues, staring at her.

A wave of heat started in her stomach and rose, engulfing her face. She knew her cheeks were bright red. She didn't care. Grabbing her books and purse, she fled the classroom.

Chapter 4

It didn't take long for the school to go back to normal. Not nearly long enough, Karen thought. There was a service for Gordon. She didn't go. She didn't know anyone who did. The police were still investigating the case, she was sure, but they'd stopped talking to students.

Friday night's football game was cancelled. Not because of a student's death, but because of too much snow. Psychology class met, though. Professor McArthur's college classes finished at noon on Friday, so he'd come up the canyon early in the afternoon, which was fortunate for him, since the road was closed by two o'clock.

“Flatlanders,” Kerr said and laughed as they left school at three-thirty. “Chicken drivers.”

“Well, remember that Professor McArthur said they closed the highway behind him. He was having trouble even with his four-wheel-drive.” Karen hooked her arm through Jesse's. This meant they had a free evening. She wanted to forget school, forget their psychology class, forget her dream, forget McArthur, who hadn't said a word to her since he sat in when she was being questioned. If he wanted to know more or say more about her dream, he wasn't in a hurry.

“Good thing he lives in Evergreen. He might not have wanted to come up here otherwise.” Alysia held to Jesse's other arm as she waded the heaps of snow the plow had pushed to the sides of the school parking lot.

“Then we'd have gotten out of school at two-thirty. What a shame.” Lucy Bosch pretended to complain. She pulled a red stocking hat over her cap of yellow curls. The curls covered a brain with an IQ so high it was off the scale, disproving the stereotype of “dumb blond.”

“We should have a party,” Karen suggested. “With no ball game, we don't have anything to do tonight.” She looked at Jesse and raised her eyebrows.

“You do love to keep a crowd around us, don't you?” Jesse whispered.

“It's safer.” She laughed out loud, teasing him further.

“Let's go ice skating on the lake. Then we can rent a movie.” Kaziah danced back and forth, not to get warm, but because she had so much energy she could never stand still. “Mom won't mind if you all come to my house.”

“Have ‘you all' asked her?” Kerr asked. He was thinking the same thing Karen had in mind. She wished they could invite the gang to her house, but their mother would probably have a heart attack, saying the house was dirty and she hadn't had time to plan and a million other excuses. She wasn't very spontaneous.

“You all
is plural, Kerr. How many times do I have to tell you that? And I don't need to ask. I know it's okay. I've done it before, haven't I?”

She had, and her parents never seemed to mind. Karen envied Kaziah her big family, and parents who welcomed more kids, no matter how many. Of course, their house was huge and Mr. and Mrs. Cole always hid, trusting Kaziah to keep things under control.

“The lake may be closed, too,” Danah Thompson reminded them.

“On Friday night? No way. I'll plow it off myself if it's too snowy. It's been open for two weeks, so the ice is thick enough.” Kerr's four-wheeler had a plow on the front. He'd love to show off by using it.

“Okay, gang, get your skates. Meet at the lake as soon as possible. Then we'll order pizzas for dinner.” Karen took charge. “I'll meet you at the lake, Jesse.” She gave him a hug. “You can take me home after the party, though.”

“You'd better believe it.” Jesse brushed her lips with his. “That's a preview.”

Smiling, Karen slipped into the car beside Kerr.

“The hunk won't come get your skates?” Kerr swung onto the plowed road. The roads around the small town were better maintained than Denver streets. It took more than the twenty inches of snow they'd gotten to close down the mountain town.

“That seemed inefficient. He'll be gone long enough getting himself home and back.”

“So I get the privilege of your company.”

Karen studied her brother. He didn't appear to be teasing. Was he jealous of Jesse? She had suspected it to some extent, but had written it off as silly.

“Skate with Alysia tonight, Kerr.”

“Why should I? She doesn't like me.”

“She likes you, Kerr. I think—well, you can be a bit intimidating, even to someone who's known you as long as she has. I think she'd like to go out with you. I'd love that. My best friend and my favorite brother getting together. Stop showing off around her. Be the real you.”

“Will the real Kerr Newton please stand up?” Kerr laughed and braked for three deer who leaped across the road in front of them. “Who is the real me?”

Karen watched the deer turn and stare at them as if to say, where did
you
come from? “Oh, Kerr, you know what I mean. You do put on a mask a lot of the time. You don't always have to prove that you're wonderful. You don't have to say to the world, here I am, aren't I great? You
are
wonderful. You can be sweet and loving and—”

“You're dropping that psychology class first thing Monday, big sister.”

Karen wished he would stop calling her that. She had been born fifteen minutes before Kerr. Sometimes, when he was really being down on himself, he'd call himself “the afterthought.” He had never said so, but Karen suspected he didn't really like being a twin. There wasn't a whole lot either of them could do about it, though.

She stared at his hands, white-knuckled on the steering wheel. He'd dragged off his gloves the minute the car warmed.

“Okay, Kerr, what's eating you? Just tell me.” She didn't want to accuse him of being jealous. It was too silly.

Kerr took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then he shrugged. “Oh, life in general, and girls, and the price of gasoline and—”

“Stocks and bonds going down, the world economy. You sound like Dad.”

“I don't want to do that, do I? Poor guy. Whatta you want to bet he gets stranded in Denver tonight? Just can't make it home—again.”

Their father did stay over in Denver quite often. More and more, it seemed. Did he hate coming home to a wife who did nothing but watch television and read romance novels? Or was there someone more interesting to be with in Denver? Or was he just a workaholic? Karen didn't figure it was their problem or even any of their business. He hadn't been a very active part of their life for a long time, unless you counted paying the rent and buying groceries.

She didn't think Kerr cared, and she found she didn't, really. She had never gotten to know her father very well. All he ever talked about was business. When he was in Evergreen he spent most of his time in his home office with his home computer. She'd heard of a home away from home. Their dad had an office away from office. She had never once heard him say, “Sorry I had to bring this all home to do,” or “Sorry I can't make it home for dinner or the night or the weekend.”

The phone was ringing as they came in the back door. Kerr answered it, listened for a minute. “Yeah, I'll tell her. But I don't know why you keep pretending you have a home here. Why you ever bother coming back. And, Dad, tell her I said hi.” He hung up without listening for a reply on the other end.

“Kerr! That was an awful thing to say to Dad.”

“You told me to get real.”

“I didn't mean for you to be rude to Dad.”

“What's the difference in being rude and being honest?”

“A little bit of discretion, or sympathy for him. Maybe he really can't get up here tonight. Have you forgotten the road is closed?”

Kerr laughed and went to find his ice skates. Karen looked for her mother. She was already watching television. The man on the newscast was saying how bad the storm was, and that Denver was almost shut down.

“That was Dad on the phone, Mom. He can't make it home.” Karen sat on the couch beside her mother for a minute, snuggling the way a child would.

“I figured that.” Her mother circled Karen's shoulders and hugged her. “You two going to the football game?”

“It was cancelled. The other team can't get here. We're going ice skating and then to Kaziah Cole's for pizza and maybe a video instead.”

“You could have come here. Especially now that your father isn't coming home.” There was a note of loneliness in her mother's voice, but even at that, Karen was surprised by the invitation. She had brought Alysia home with her a lot, but never a whole group of people. She should have called and asked. A party might be good for her mother.