She managed a grin. “No, I want to go back to sleep. Why aren’t you in bed?”
“I’m too hyped up, I guess. I’ll go sack out soon now.”
“You’re afraid he’ll come here, aren’t you?”
“My address wouldn’t be all that hard to find out. Thanks to Captain Paulette, there’s a squad car down the block keeping an eye on the place. It wouldn’t be Xavier’s best move to try it. Actually, it’d be nuts.”
“He is nuts.” She shivered. Without thought, he pulled her close again, felt her hair against his face.
She said against his neck, “Can you believe Kathryn wondered if we were lovers? I haven’t even known you a week.”
He was silent, thinking she didn’t sound at all angry or alarmed, perhaps only surprised, maybe even curious. She was wearing one of his white undershirts, and it was falling off her shoulder.
Julia said, “You didn’t believe anything she said, did you?” He was aware that she smelled of something soft and flowery. “Fact is, she could have heard or deduced most of it and guessed the rest. Pretty commonsense stuff, all dressed up with purple prose—that’s what I thought when she said it. ‘His core was black, his pride was purple’—and the bit about his aching feet, come on, give me a break.”
“When you say it, away from her drama and atmosphere, it does sound like some ridiculous tale a good storyteller could spin.” Cheney said, “She’s some showman. I suppose that’s her greatest skill.”
“But she did say she thought he had an author’s name.” He frowned. “Yes, she did say that.” She yawned. “You’re still dressed.”
“Yes.”
He leaned down and pulled her blanket over her. “Go back to sleep, Julia.”
Sean Savich’s eyes popped open. Something didn’t smell right. That was it, he wasn’t in his own bed or in his own room. He was someplace else, someplace scary. He knew a monster was hiding in the closet. The monster could see his bed, could see him. He was sure the door was slowly pushing open and he nearly stopped breathing. Even though Graciella had showed him there were only clothes and shoes in the closet, he knew she didn’t understand, didn’t know what he knew. This wasn’t his closet, so he knew Graciella couldn’t see the monster; it hid itself until she closed the door. And then it waited a long time before it slowly oozed out from its hiding place in the closet wall and tasted his clothes, getting his scent. The monster was coming out of the closet now, and it was bad.
Even though Graciella was sleeping in a twin bed not ten feet away from him, it wasn’t enough. No way could she save him in this strange place. Sean’s heart pounded. He watched the closet door as he slithered out of the narrow twin bed, slipped through the bedroom door, and ran as fast as he could down the hallway. It was strange, he didn’t know where to run since he didn’t know where he was. A huge black shadow barred his way. He sobbed and closed his eyes as he ran through the shadow. He was heaving when he eased inside the first closed door. He saw two people sleeping in a big bed. He raced to the bed and climbed up to burrow between them. Something wasn’t quite right, but he didn’t care because they were big and he was too afraid of what was lurking in the hall. He was safe now. Sean pressed closer. They wouldn’t let anything hurt him. Everything was all right.
At seven o’clock in the morning, Dix was jerked awake by the sudden jab of an elbow in his neck.
“He’s still asleep,” Ruth whispered.
Dix slowly lowered the little boy’s arm and turned slowly to his side to face Ruth. Sean was between them.
Dix whispered, “Nightmare, I guess. Did he wake you up when he came in?”
At that moment, they heard Sean’s name shouted from outside the door. It was Sherlock, and she sounded scared to her toes.
Ruth slipped out of bed, pulled on the robe she’d tossed over the end of the bed, and opened the door. “Sherlock, it’s okay. Sean came to sleep with us in the middle of the night. He’s okay.”
Sherlock rushed into the bedroom, as if she couldn’t believe what Ruth had told her was the truth, and skidded to a stop. She shook her head, relief pouring off her. “Oh, Sean.” Graciella came running into the room on her heels, her face pale as the moon.
Sherlock saw her little boy in Dix’s arms, dead to the world, and sucked in a deep breath. “All right, then. It’s okay.” She turned to give her husband a blazing smile.”Dillon, we’re in here.”
Dix said, “Nightmare, strange house, and we’re the first bedroom next to Sean’s. He landed here. There was no problem.”
Sean yawned, raised his head, looked at Dix and smiled. “Hi, Uncle Dix,” he said. “Where’s my mom?” And he turned to look at the other side of the bed, stretched out his small hand, and frowned. “Where’s Mama?”
“Well, that’s a fine thing for him to think, isn’t it?” Sherlock said.
Savich laughed. “Hey, Champ, you ready for some Cheerios?”
Dix got another elbow in the neck when Sean dashed out of bed to get scooped up by his father. He saw Savich whisper against Sean’s cheek, “Hey, you’re at your grandparents’ house, in San Francisco. Do you remember that?”
Sean reared back in his father’s arms, studied his face a moment, and said, “Cool. I can play with Grandpa and Grandma.” Dix said, “I remember when Rob would wake up with a nightmare and come running. Rafe usually came running in right behind him, didn’t want to be left out. That kid could make up scarier tales than Rob, who’d actually had the nightmare.”
Ruth said as she punched him lightly on his bare shoulder, “The boys are in good hands, Dix, stop worrying about them. Mrs. Goss and Chappy will spoil them rotten. Tony and Cynthia will take them to NASCAR, and all of them will be in Rob’s cheering section at the ball game tomorrow. And by the time we get back to Maestro, Brewster will rule at Tara.”
Dix realized he still hadn’t told Ruth he loved her.
CHAPTER 37
SAN FRANCISCO
Tuesday morning
The reason Cheney kept checking his rearview mirror was because of Kathryn Golden’s phone call at six-thirty that morning. “I had another vision, Agent Stone. It was him, the man who wants to kill Julia. He’s been to Pacific Heights, he managed to break into Julia’s house, I saw him, and then he came out again because she wasn’t there, and he was angry. He knows about you, Agent Stone, I think he’s found out where you live. He doesn’t know if Julia’s there, but he’s coming. He’s in a car, driving. He looks calm, but he isn’t, not really—it’s like a layer of snow covering up a fire. He’s coming. Please be careful.”
And he’d thanked her, hung up, and sneered. Another safe guess on her part. The only thing that had surprised him about her “vision” yesterday was her guess about the assassin’s name. Maybe she knew someone in the SFPD and that person had leaked it to her. Yeah, that was possible, even Julia had mentioned that. And now she’d called him to tell him something else equally obvious. It wasn’t such a stretch to realize he was keeping Julia safe at his place. Of course Makepeace was out there. But on the road? Could be. He sneered again.
But as he negotiated the heavy morning city traffic, he kept chewing on it, and checked his rearview mirror more often than he would have if Kathryn Golden hadn’t called with her damned vision.
Julia sat quietly beside him, a lot calmer than he was, even though he’d told her about Kathryn Golden’s call. She’d said only, “It can’t hurt to listen.”
Now he worried that Makepeace had come around and seen the cops guarding his condo and decided to wait for them to leave. Maybe he was now following them. He thought about calling Frank Paulette, asking for backup. But what would he tell him? A whacked-out psychic had a vision?
He looked back again. The San Francisco morning rush-hour traffic was thick, but he didn’t see anyone acting suspicious, no one moving up through the tangle of cars to get closer. Maybe he was hanging back, biding his time.