B.J. Daniels - Howling In The Darkness

She’d had the dream again. Only this time, she swore she could smell her mother’s perfume. And for a moment, she would have sworn she wasn’t alone in the room.

She hugged herself as she glanced around her bedroom, seeing nothing but familiar objects—and no place for anyone to hide. After a few minutes, she curled back under the covers and, although she fought sleep and the possibility of the nightmare coming back, she finally dozed off again.

She woke to the sound of the radio alarm. It jolted her out of bed, dragging remnants of the nightmare with her. She stumbled to the bathroom, disrobing to step into the shower. The hot water and the light of day helped. By the time she dried off, she’d convinced herself that there’d been nothing to fear last night—including the dream and her mystery date.

Logically, if he’d meant her harm, he wouldn’t have taken her to the Moriah’s Landing Inn on Main Street. He’d have suggested someplace where there was less chance of them being seen together. And even though she’d heard footsteps on her way home, it didn’t mean whoever it was had been following her.

By the time she’d dressed for work, she’d discounted her fears from the previous night, even coming up with a logical explanation for the nightmare’s return after all these years. The twentieth anniversary of her mother’s death was only days away. Just the mention of her mother and her death had no doubt spooked her last night on the walk home and triggered the nightmare, even making her believe she smelled her mother’s perfume. Just as she’d imagined hearing someone in the room, before her eyes adjusted to the darkness.

But as she left for work, she didn’t cut across the town green as she normally did each morning. Her lapse in judgment last night and the dream still had her feeling a little vulnerable. She knew it was crazy, since she was trained to be able to take care of herself in most situations. And what did she have to fear in Moriah’s Landing in broad daylight, anyway?

On Main Street she spotted Arabella coming toward her and braced herself for another of the woman’s dire warnings of impending doom. But to her surprise, Arabella appeared to cross the street as if to avoid her. Kat saw the poor woman make the sign of the cross and duck down one of the narrow brick alleys.

Normally, Kat found Arabella’s bizarre behavior amusing, but this morning it made her a little uneasy.

Worse, Kat found herself looking for her mystery date in the faces she passed. She couldn’t help wondering who he was and if she really might have been in danger last night.

As she neared her office, she spotted something lying on the front step. She slowed, glancing around, suddenly feeling as if someone was watching her, waiting for her to find what he’d left for her.

On her office doorstep lay a small bouquet of daisies tied loosely with a short piece of frayed red satin ribbon. No white floral box. No card. Just freshly picked daisies and a worn red ribbon.

As she stooped to lift the flowers gently, as if they were an armed bomb set to blow at even the slightest movement, she told herself they were just flowers. Nothing sinister about daisies. Of course, they had to be from Ross. A small gesture after standing her up last night. Maybe she’d give him a second chance.

And yet she held the flowers away from her as she opened her office door and, after putting them in a glass vase with water, she set them in the front window away from her desk, away from her sight, anxious to e-mail Ross a thank-you, anxious to find out for sure if he’d left them for her. Or if it had been someone else. Her mystery date?

She checked her messages, not surprised to find one from the insurance company asking her to sign off on Bud Lawson’s recent vandalism at his curio shop. Bud was anxious to have it settled so he could get reimbursed for repairs before the start of tourist season—which was only days away.

Since she’d started Ridgemont Detective Agency two years ago, insurance investigations and workmen’s comp made up the bulk of her work, with a few skip traces and domestic-problem cases thrown in. But she loved the work, the slow, methodical plodding that led to a logical conclusion.

She called Bud and set up an appointment for after lunch, then went through the rest of her messages. Her friend Elizabeth had called to remind Kat about her fitting this afternoon at Threads for her dress. She was to be Elizabeth’s maid of honor at her upcoming wedding.

Kat couldn’t be more happy about Elizabeth’s wedding. Dr. Elizabeth Douglas, a criminology professor at the local college, was about to marry a man she’d secretly had a crush on since high school: Cullen Ryan, a detective with the Moriah’s Landing Police Department. Kat glanced toward the window, thinking about Elizabeth and the fun they’d had at college. The daisies caught her eye. She felt a flicker of memory and frowned. What was it? Something about daisies. Something unpleasant.

Shaking her head, she checked her e-mail again. Nothing from Ross yet. Her gaze went to the street, as it had so often done all morning. She watched the pedestrians wander by, mostly early tourists.

She realized she was looking again for only one face in the passersby, and after a few moments of not seeing that face, she opened the Lawson case file and reviewed the list of either stolen or vandalized items Bud had sent her. She thumbed through those, making notes, wondering if there wasn’t a pattern to the recent rash of vandalisms and robberies in town.

“Hi,” a woman’s voice said, making Kat jump.

Kat hadn’t even heard anyone come in. She looked up from her desk to find her friend Claire standing over her. “Hi, sweetie.” She got up to give Claire a hug. “You look great.” A lie. Claire looked pale and thin. All those years in the hospital. Just the sight of her made Kat hurt.

But her friend was smiling and she had put on a few much needed pounds.

“I hope I’m not bothering you,” Claire said, appearing more anxious than usual and yet obviously trying to hide it. Claire, with her long straight blond hair and large blue eyes, had been so beautiful and carefree before their freshman year at Heathrow College, before one tragic night changed her life forever.

While still beautiful, there was something about Claire now that seemed too brittle, too fragile, as if anything could make her break into a million pieces.

“I thought maybe we could have an early lunch.” Claire flashed her a smile, but it seemed a little too bright, as if her friend was trying too hard. “There is something I needed to talk to you about.”

Kat glanced at the clock, surprised it was almost eleven-thirty. “That’s a great idea.” She closed the Lawson file and picked up her purse, curious and yet concerned what that something Claire wanted to discuss might be. “I’m starved.”

“Do you mind going to the diner since it’s close?” Claire asked.

“Maybe Brie’s working and she can join us for a moment if it’s not too busy,” Kat said.

Claire nodded, but didn’t seem enthused about the idea of seeing their friend. Kat wondered what was up. Something.

“Can you believe Elizabeth is getting married in less than two weeks?” Kat said as they started across the street toward the diner. It still surprised her. Of Kat’s friends, Elizabeth had always been the serious one, the smart one, the one who’d been more interested in her profession than men compared to the rest of them. She and Elizabeth had drifted apart after college. Only recently had they gotten close again. Kat hadn’t realized how much she’d missed her friend and envied Elizabeth finding a man like Cullen. “Who would have thought Elizabeth would ever marry a cop though?”

Kat stopped, realizing that Claire was no longer walking beside her. She turned to see that the woman at Madam Fleury’s fortune-telling booth had motioned Claire over.

Kat had seen the dark-haired seer a few times around town and heard through the grapevine that her name was Cassandra Quintana, a fortune-teller hired for the season. While Yvette Castor owned the fortune-telling booth along Waterfront Avenue, it appeared Cassandra had been hired for the upcoming tourist season. No one seemed to know much about the woman—not even Yvette. Protectively, Kat worked her way through the traffic and tourists, unable to imagine what the fortune-teller would want with Claire—except to take advantage of her.

“What’s going on?” Kat asked as she joined Claire in front of the brightly colored booth.

Cassandra Quintana raised her dark somber eyes, but said nothing. An attractive woman of about fifty, Cassandra’s dyed dark red hair was pulled back under a brilliant-colored bandanna. She wore a glaring geometric-design caftan covered in astrological symbols and dozens of thin multicolored cheap bracelets.

Kat glanced at her friend. Claire appeared paler, if that were possible, and was visibly shaking. “What did you say to upset my friend?”

“She didn’t say anything,” Claire said, obviously lying.

“Please, let’s go. Come on, I’m starved.” Claire started across the street toward the diner.

But Kat wasn’t through with the fortune-teller. “My friend isn’t well,” she said the moment Claire was out of earshot. “I won’t have you upsetting her with any of your crystal ball crap.”

The woman arched an eyebrow, and then with the flick of her wrist—the cluster of cheap tin bracelets jangling—she produced a tarot card as if pulling it from thin air. She dropped the card on the table in front of Kat. It was the devil card. “I charged your friend nothing. You, however, will have to pay me for information about the man you’ve been looking for all day, but I assure you it will be worth every penny.”

Cassandra smiled at her surprise and tapped the card, drawing Kat’s attention to the devil’s face. Incredibly, it looked a whole lot like her mystery date from last night.

Kat hurried after Claire, catching her as she stepped inside the diner. “I hope you don’t believe any of that mumbo-jumbo stuff. That woman just pulled the devil card out of her sleeve as if that was supposed to scare me.” Kat shook her head. “I can’t believe those people.”

“The devil card?” Claire asked, sounding worried as Kat stepped past her to slide into a booth by the window.

“A woman I met at the hospital read tarot cards,” Claire said as she took the seat opposite Kat, still looking concerned. “The devil is the fear card. It symbolizes fear of the unknown.”

Kat groaned, wishing she hadn’t said anything. “It’s just the card the woman happened to have up her sleeve, Claire. My only fear is that she said something to upset you.”

Claire didn’t seem to hear. “The devil card can also be a sign of temptation, the demonic side of you, tempting you in some way.”

Kat felt a shadow fall across the window and looked up as a man passed in front of the diner. For just an instant she thought he was her mystery date from last night. Maybe the devil was tempting her.

“Some people believe the cards reveal hidden truths and can forecast the future by opening a channel into another world,” Claire was saying as she pulled one of the plastic-covered menus from behind the condiments.

“A channel? Like HBO?” Kat asked, reaching for the other menu.

Claire laughed, the first real laugh Kat had heard out of her in years. “More like the Learning Channel.” Her friend smiled. “You shouldn’t be afraid of the cards. It isn’t as if they’re some form of sorcery.”