Wake to Darkness. Maggie Shayne

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      Like that.

      He didn’t know what her reasons were, but he kind of hoped they were similar.

      So he’d fallen asleep. And it looked as if they all had, except for Rachel, because she wasn’t on the couch anymore. Sitting up and frowning, Mason scanned the room for her.

      She was on the floor, facedown, with her head turned toward him. Her eyes were open—wide open—and there were tears streaming from them. Something was wrong with her. Her entire body kept going rigid, then relaxing, then rigid again. Her dog was beside her, whining and pawing at her shoulder.

      Mason swore and dropped to his knees, rolling her over onto her back, moving on sheer instinct. “Rachel, what’s happening? What’s going on? Can you talk to me? Rachel?”

      He heard the kids stirring as he shook her, trying to rouse her. “Rachel?”

      She blinked, then her eyes flashed even wider as she sucked in a sudden desperate breath that must have filled her lungs to bursting. A nanosecond later she opened her mouth to scream, but he clapped a hand over it to keep her from scaring the hell out of everyone and put his face right in front of hers. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m right here. It’s okay.”

      She pulled away, scuttling out from under him. Then she sat up and reached around to her lower back, pushing up her shirt and running her palms over her skin. She was breathing fast and hard, her face damp with tears and sweat. And it was hitting him that she’d been having another dream.

      “You’re at my house, Rache. You’re safe. You’re okay.”

      “My back is bleeding.”

      “No, no it’s not.” On his knees, he moved closer to her, ran his own hands all over her back, up and down her skin, then brought them around and showed her. “See? There’s not a scratch on you.”

      She closed her eyes in obvious relief. “It wasn’t me.”

      Josh was still asleep, thank God, but Jeremy was up now. Misty, too, standing beside him. “Was it another nightmare, Aunt Rache?” she asked. She looked scared to death for her aunt.

      Rachel nodded. “Yeah.”

      “Can I get you something? What do you want me to do?”

      “I’m fine. I’m okay.”

      “You don’t look okay,” Misty said.

      Jeremy crossed the room, opened a built-in floor-to-ceiling cabinet that was original to the house, reached to the top shelf and took down a bottle of Black Velvet and a tumbler. He poured and brought the glass to her.

      “Thanks, kid.” She slugged it back in a single gulp and set the glass down. Mason made a mental note to ask his nephew how the hell he knew where the liquor was kept. Tomorrow. It was one-something in the morning, and he needed some privacy with Rachel.

      “Why don’t you two take Josh up to bed? Misty, there’s an empty bedroom up there you and Rachel can use for tonight. Jeremy will show you where the sheets and things are.”

      Misty nodded, but instead of leaving, she crouched down and put her hands on her aunt’s shoulders. “Is that what you want me to do, Aunt Rache? It’s probably too late to go home, anyway.”

      Rachel nodded. “I’m sorry about all this. I’m not the greatest company for you on this visit, am I?”

      “Not really. But I’ll make you take me shopping to make up for it, okay?”

      Jeremy was standing nearby, and Mason had fully expected him to argue about taking his brother up to bed, because he argued about just about everything these days. But when Rachel’s gorgeous blonde niece turned to him and said, “Well, what are you waiting for? You don’t think I’m gonna carry him upstairs, do you?” he scooped his sleeping brother out of the beanbag chair, and the three of them trooped up the stairs.

      Mason helped Rachel up off the floor. She kept putting her hands to her back, as if it hurt.

      “There’s another one, Mason,” she said.

      He searched her eyes. “Another...murder?”

      She nodded. “What did you find out about the last one? You never said.”

      “Kids were around. And frankly, I didn’t want to think about it.”

      “Think about it now,” she told him, eyeing the empty glass, then the cabinet across the room.

      He sighed. “Full autopsy results won’t be in for a day or two, but on initial exam, the coroner said the pancreas was missing.”

      “The pancreas? So...what organ did that woman get from your brother?”

      He lowered his head. “His pancreas.”

      She rubbed her back again, left of center. “I think maybe someone should check on whoever got his kidneys, Mason.”

      “I will.” He pulled out his phone.

      She put her hand over his. “Wait, I want to get this all down while it’s fresh. Everything I saw.”

      “Shit, Rachel, you were memorizing details while someone was cutting out your kidney?”

      “Just before. Get a pen and a notepad or something, will you?”

      He nodded and let go of her for the first time. Hell, he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding on to her until then. Her hair was tousled, plastered to her face on one side by her tears. Her eyes were red, like she’d popped a blood vessel or two. Her cheeks were tear-stained, and he could see the pulse beating in her neck.

      “Stop looking at me like you think I’m going to keel over, and go get a pen and paper, Mason.”

      “I’m going.”

      He looked around the room, moving to the same cabinet Jeremy had left standing open. It had cupboards above and below, a row of three drawers in between. He pulled open one of the drawers, rummaged around for a pen, yanked out a notepad, closed the drawer and reached up to close the cabinet door, too.

      He paused when she said, “Bring that BV over here with you.”

      He nodded. “I could use a shot myself.” He grabbed another glass and the bottle. Then he set the bottle, pad and pen on the coffee table, went to the kitchen for some ice and ginger ale. A minute later he was back.

      She took the makings from him, and put the pen and pad into his hands instead. Then she poured the drinks and started talking.

      “I was in a house, facedown on the floor. I think it was the victim’s house. There was a hardwood floor, light-colored, maybe maple. A brown sofa with claw feet. Mint-green walls. A god-awful afghan with a dozen garish colors. Looked like someone made it out of all the leftover yarn they could find. An orange throw pillow. I saw a couple of pictures on the wall, little kids, but they were old. You could tell by the haircuts and the fading. Looked like school pictures. Two kids, a girl and a boy. The boy’s a little older. Carrot curls and freckles, both of them. He had a plaid shirt СКАЧАТЬ