In Your Dreams (12 page)

While she
pondered
her
options, on Earth, Nicole did the same. Nicole needed a
foolproof suicide method this time. Pills hadn’t worked—had, in fact, made
things worse for her when everyone found out. She was too afraid to do anything
that might hurt, so that eliminated hanging, slicing her wrists, or setting her
bed on fire. As much as she dreaded accessing the Internet and possibly seeing
her name on the trending lists, she couldn’t come up with another option. With
her laptop powered up, she typed “Ways to commit suicide” into the search
engine tab, and reviewed the list that appeared below her typed words.

Her interest
landed on “carbon monoxide poisoning.” Scanning the details, she realized how
easy it would be. Wait ‘til Mom went to bed tonight, swipe her car keys from
her purse, and sneak downstairs to the garage. With the engine running, she
could curl up in the backseat and go to sleep. This time, forever.

After jotting
down notes, she set her plan in motion. First, she’d slice up the garden
hose—before Mom got home from work. Nothing would stop her from killing herself
tonight.

“Wanna bet?”
Xavia growled at the screen.

So Nicole wanted
to play hardball? Fine. Bring it.

She glanced
again at her newest probation officer. Nicole Zuniga didn’t realize Xavia had a
secret weapon. And she’d use him.

He must have sensed
her scrutiny because his head popped up, and he quirked a questioning brow.

Nodding, she
gestured for him to come to her office, but placed an index finger over her
lips to indicate secrecy. As he rose from his desk, she returned her attention
to Nicole, who sat on the garage floor, a length of green hose and a tape
measure arranged in front of her.

“What’s up?”
Sean asked as he leaned in from the office door.

“Come in and
close the door,” she whispered.

Even after he
complied, she waited, silent, counting off beats in her head. He said nothing,
remained near the closed door, an expectant look on his face. She supposed she
should credit the NYPD for instilling patience and respect in him, but she
didn’t have a lot of good to say about that Blue Wall. Still, she’d grant this
one concession.

“I need your
help,” she murmured at last. She held up the clipboard, face out, toward Sean.
“Meet Nicole Zuniga.”

Sean stepped
closer, took the clipboard, and studied the girl’s image. “Pretty.”

“Pretty screwed
up,” she retorted and proceeded to reveal the teen’s story.

Sean glanced
down at the clipboard and flipped the face back to Xavia’s focus. “She’s also
determined, isn’t she?” 
                                    

At this point,
Nicole had measured, double-checked, and re-measured the garden hose. She was
now prepared to take a small hacksaw to the length of green rubber.

Xavia sighed. “I
know. I’m running out of time with her. I have a feeling if I don’t get through
to her tonight...” Her throat closed around her fear.

“Yeah, I get it.
If you wait ‘til she’s asleep this time, even if you convince her to hang in
there, the car’s exhaust fumes could steal her away.” He sank into the chair
across from her and propped his feet on her desk. “What are you going to do?”

Displeasure
rippled through her, but she stifled the impulse to shove his legs to the
floor. She needed him on her side right now. “I can’t lose another kid. I just
can’t. So I plan to fight like hell for this one.”

“And if you
fail?”

“That’s where
you come in.” She held up a hand. “Don’t say anything yet. Just listen. As far
as you’re concerned, I want to test those experiences you told me about: how
you manage to physically manifest yourself in Isabelle Fichetti’s dreams. I’ll
be looking into the strength of your presence, any limitations, and how you
transport without initiating the action.”

His feet slid
off the desk, and he sat upright in the chair. “You’re not suggesting I go
ORAL, are you?”

“Of course not.”

ORAL, Outside
the Realm of the AfterLife, occurred when someone transported to another realm
without the permission or knowledge of the Elder Council, a punishable crime.
ORAL offenders could face a sentence as minor as suspension of duties to the
most severe: immediate transport to the Chasm, the prison locale for the dead.

“Then, what?”
Sean pressed.

She wasn’t a
hundred percent sure what she planned to do yet. “Just stick around your desk
for a bit, okay? I’m winging this.”

His arched brow
and upturned smirk suggested he didn’t believe her, but she pushed back. “You
said your offender’s doing fine with her friends, right?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” She
pressed her hands together as if in prayer. “Help me save Nicole. Please.”

He shook his
head, but she sensed it was more an action of defeat than denial. “The Board
will have our butts over this.”

“I’ll take all
the heat. You’re just following orders.”

“Yeah, that
argument worked peachy at Nuremberg.”

She ignored his
dire warning. The outcome meant more to her than any scary repercussions.
“Look, if you don’t want to do it, if you’re too intimidated by the threat of
the Elders...”

“Oh, I’m in,” he
replied, tilting the chair onto its back legs while he tucked his arms behind
his head. “You should know by now that I don’t give a damn about the Elders or
the Board. But if this goes sour, and it probably will, I did this on my own.
You knew nothing about it. There’s no sense in both of us going down.”

His offer nearly
left her speechless. Nearly. But she couldn’t accept those terms. “Nuh-uh. I
can’t let you take that heat.”

“I’ve already
got plenty of heat of my own, Xavia. I can stand a bit more. You shouldn’t have
to take the fall for doing everything you can to save that kid.”

They could go on
this way for eternity, but that wouldn’t help Nicole. Xavia decided to
compromise. “We’ll be a packaged pair of perpetrators. Now, get out of here.
I’ll call you when I think I need you.”

After resettling
his chair, he stood and brushed a hand down his trousers. “Call me
before
you think you need me. I might be able to help through legitimate means rather
than the felonious.”

She snorted a
laugh. “Still a cop, huh, Martino?”

“
Fidelis Ad
Mortem.”

“Whatzat mean?”

“Once a cop,
always a cop.”

Sean
returned to his desk and his own offender. At the moment, Isabelle sat inside a
Beverly Hills boutique, trying on an assortment of skyscraper high-heeled
shoes. He never understood the link between women and shoes.

“It’s
an endorphin thing, Sean,” she replied in a husky voice, staring up at the
ceiling. “Science has shown a direct link to new shoes boosting a woman’s
self-confidence. When we feel good about ourselves, we’re happy and feel more
in control. Where’d you go anyway? One minute you were here with me, the next
you’d disappeared.”

“You
know when I’m with you?”
          She nodded and,
extending her left leg, turned her ankle to and fro to display the red sole on
the strappy sandal. “What do you think of this one?”

“It’s
not really my color. Tell me how you know I’m with you.”

“I
can’t explain it, really,” she replied, her gaze fixed on her flexing foot.
“You know how you get this sensation on the back of your neck when you feel
like someone’s staring at you? It’s kinda like that. There’s this...electrical
charge...in the air.”

A
woman strolled by, rain slicker yellow shopping bag at her side, and stared
hard at Isabelle. Apparently, the chic clientele weren’t accustomed to a woman
talking to herself in the designer shoe department.

“It’s
okay,” she told the stranger with a bright smile. “I have a brain tumor.”

Sean
chuckled. “Wow. Talk about a turnaround. What happened to not being able to
face the diagnosis?”

“I
can tell total strangers, Sean. Telling people I know? Who care about me? As
few as they are? That’s tougher.”

“Have
you decided what you’re going to do next?”

“No.
That’s why I’ve opted for retail therapy.” She removed the shoes and tossed
them back into the box with a heavy sigh. “The problem is, everything I try on,
I find myself looking in a mirror and asking, ‘Is this what I want to be buried
in?’ It kinda puts a buzzkill on the whole experience.”

“I’m
guessing a buzzkill is a bad thing?”

“God,
I keep forgetting how old you are.” She gave him an exaggerated head shake. “Buzz,
as in high? Good. Kill? Bad. Got it?”

“Got
it. Listen, since you seem to know when I’m around, I don’t want you to panic
because I’m probably gonna disappear on you again in a little while.”

“Got
a hot date with a girl angel?”

“No.
I’m helping my boss with another case.”

Her
lips twisted in a moue. “Case? That’s what I am to you, Sean? A ‘case?’ Jeez,
here I thought we were actually friends.”

“We
are
friends. My boss has cases. I’ve got a friend.”

“Uh-huh.
Smooth, dead boy. Real smooth.”

By
now, she’d given up on finding shoes to be buried in, picked up her purse, and
left the store. Outside, the sun beat against Sean’s face as she took his hand
in hers. What the hell? He’d done it again. This time, he’d gone from an
uncomfortable chair in an airless, cloistered room to the sunny sidewalks of
Beverly Hills. He didn’t recall transforming to vapor—which he’d always done to
travel from the Afterlife to Earth when he was a bounty hunter. He didn’t touch
anything on his clipboard; no magic “Transport Now” button had appeared. Maybe
he wasn’t the one who called the shots. Maybe Isabelle controlled his comings
and goings. Or...was this another test the Elders cooked up for him to fail so
they could banish him to the Chasm? What if he was still stuck here when Xavia
needed him to save her teenage offender?

Unease
rippled through him.

“I
can’t stay here,” he insisted, although the warmth and the crowds of people
rushing by lured him to forget about Xavia and Nicole.

She
dropped his hand. “So then, go,” she said with an amused lilt in her tone. “I
didn’t ask you to come here, you know.”

“I
know. And I didn’t mean to show up. I don’t seem to have much control over this
appear/disappear stuff yet.”

“Once
again, I’m reminded your boss gave me the department rookie.” She heaved an
exaggerated sigh of pity, then clucked her tongue.

He
stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and turned to face her, took her hand
again, squeezing gently. “Are you going to be okay on your own?”
          “I’m fine, Sean.” She
squeezed back. “Really.”

“Okay,
I’ll take your word for it. What do you plan to do now?”

“Right
now, I’m going to go home, make a nice salad for dinner, and soak in a tub for
an hour or two. I need to get my head on straight before I make the call to Dr.
Regalbuto tomorrow.”
          A tingle of pride ran
through him. Good for her! She’d found her courage to fight back against the
disease. “You’re really going to go through with the radiation treatment?”

She
shrugged. “I agreed to
consider
the treatment. Justin threatened to drag
me there by my hair if I didn’t say yes. If I start this heavy-dose radiation,
I imagine I’ll be losing plenty of my golden locks once the poison kicks in.
I’d rather keep as much as I can until then. What are
you
going to do
tonight?”

“I
told you. I have to help my boss.”

“If
he’s your boss, he should already know how to handle his own case.”

“She,”
he corrected.

“She?
Your boss is a she?”

He
nodded. “Is that surprising?”

Shielding
her eyes from the sun’s brightness, she studied him from head to toe before
answering. “Kinda. I mean, you come off as such a he-man, I can’t imagine you
taking orders from a woman.”

“Trust
me,” he replied. “My he-man ego isn’t that easily bruised. I’d answer to a
cocker spaniel if I believed the dog had earned my respect.”

“How
come, if she’s got your respect, your boss can’t handle her own cases?”

“She
does usually, but this is a tough one.”

“Yeah?
Why? What’s so special about it?” Interest sparkled in her eyes.

He
frowned. “I can’t tell you that.”

“Why
not?”

“Because
it’s confidential.”

“Maybe
I could help.”

“No,
I don’t think you can.”

She
planted her hands on her hips. “How do you know?”

“Because
she’s a teenager in some little town in a Midwestern state. You two have
absolutely nothing in common.”

“Uh-huh.
Right. Because, if she’s got a caseworker like you, she either attempted
suicide or is about to. But, yeah. She and I have
nothing
in common.”

“She’s
totally screwed up, Belle. She’s gone through a nasty incident and she’s not
dealing well with it.”

“Lemme
guess. A nasty sexual incident?”

“Yes.”

“Like
a sexual assault?”

“Yes.”

She
cocked a brow. “I repeat. She and I have nothing in common.”

She
had a point, and he sighed in surrender. “Look, I appreciate you offering to
help, and you’re right. You might have more in common than I’m giving you
credit for, but there’s really nothing you can do for her.”

“So,
what do
you
plan to do for her?”

“I
have no idea. I’m just there to assist if I’m needed.”
          “You’re coming down here
to be with her tonight, aren’t you? To try to physically stop her. That’s why
you want to make sure I’ll be all right on my own.”

“Maybe,”
he admitted, though neither he nor Xavia had actually uttered such a plan
aloud. “I’m not sure yet. I hope not.”
          “Why do you hope not?”

“Because
it’s not supposed to work this way.”

“What’s
not? What? Are you...like...cheating on me or something if you help someone
else? Or are you afraid if I know you’re not watching, I’ll off myself
tonight?”

“No,
neither of those things.”

“You’re
not planning on taking her to ‘our spot’ in the Maldives, are you?”

“No.
I’m not planning on taking her anywhere. I’m more concerned about something I
didn’t know. Something that’s been bothering me. This...connection... you and I
have. How I show up and I’m with you? Even now, when you’re awake? No one else
in my department can do it.”

“No
one? Really?”

“Nope.
They’re all limited to communication through dreams. No other time.”

She
grinned. “Wow. I guess that makes up for me getting the rookie. At least, I got
the magic rookie.” Arching up on tiptoe, she placed her lips on his.

Sean’s
world exploded in a riot of colors. Stronger than any meld with a bounty
hunter, Isabelle’s kiss sparked
life
inside him. For the first time
since his suicide, Sean felt his heart pound in his chest. Blood, hot and
rapid, pulsed in his veins. The crisp scent of her skin filled his nostrils,
and he swam in the perfumed pool she enveloped around them. He pulled her
closer, nearly devouring her in his need to be one with her, to live within her,
and feel human again, if only for a whisker of time.

“Get
a room, you two,” someone growled, and Sean snapped back into his own ghostly
form.

As
she stepped away, Isabelle’s eyes glowed with pleasure, and she flashed him a
nuclear smile. “See you later, Sean.” With a flip of her hair, she strode off
to her candy-apple-red convertible, leaving him breathless and scattered.

~~~~

         
When Nicole headed for the garage sometime after midnight, Xavia decided it was
time to fetch Sean. She glanced out her office window, ready to catch his
attention and signal him inside. While he still sat at his desk, with his gaze
focused on his clipboard, something seemed…off. His aura, normally a vivid dark
blue, had faded to an almost transparent aqua. Instead of his usual slouch, his
erect posture could shame steel beams.

         
He’d done it again; she’d bet money he was with Isabelle Fichetti—if money
existed here. As she continued to watch, the hue around him darkened in gradual
increments, until he became himself again.

         
They would definitely have to test his ability to transport to Earth and figure
out how he accomplished it.
After
Nicole was safe.

         
At last, he turned in her direction, and she gave him a subtle wave. He seemed
to shake himself out of his stupor and, running a hand through his hair, he
nodded.

         
Satisfied he was on his way, she returned her undivided attention to Nicole.
The teen had fed the cut-up garden hose from her mom’s Toyota’s tailpipe to the
passenger window. Xavia watched as she climbed into the driver’s seat and
started the engine, wincing when Nicole settled into the back seat, her hands
clasped over her chest in the traditional coffin pose.

         
Her office door opened, and though her ears pricked at Sean’s entrance, she
never let her gaze stray from the image on her clipboard. “Sit,” she ordered
and turned the board on her desk so they could watch together. “See if you can
talk to her, Sean. She’s still too alert to hear me.”

         
Taking the seat across from her, Sean leaned closer to view the screen.
“Nicole? Can you hear me?”

         
Nothing.

         
“Nicole?” he repeated.

         
No reaction.

         
“Nicole, talk to me. Can you hear me?”

         
The teen sighed, her smile unwavering, and hunkered deeper into the gray cloth
bench seat.

         
Looking up, Sean shook his head. “I’ve got nothing. She’s not responding, and
it’s not because she’s ignoring me. She genuinely can’t hear me, and I don’t
seem to have any kind of link to her. I’m guessing whatever sensory
communication I have with Earth is limited to my relationship with Isabelle.”

         
Great. Just terrific. Tears of frustration filled Xavia’s eyes. She was about
to lose another kid. Sean had been her last hope. “Nicole!” she shouted at the
image on the screen. “Please! Open a window, for God’s sake! Turn off the
engine. Please!”

         
The girl rolled onto her side and, when she did, her cell phone slipped from
her pocket and hit the car floor with a soft thud.

         
Bending his head to the image, Sean pointed. “What is that?”

         
“Her cell,” Xavia replied and resumed pleading. “Come on, Nicole. You don’t
want to do this.”

         
“Is that a phone?” Sean persisted.

         
Xavia rolled her eyes. “Yes!” she hissed. “Now can we forget about the girl’s
toys and try to help her?”

         
“Like…that’s her personal phone?”

         
“Yes.” Jeez, were all bounty hunters so clueless and so detached?

         
“Does everybody have a personal phone these days?”

         
“Pretty much. All the kids have them.” On screen, Nicole’s flesh had taken on a
grayish tinge. “Shit. She’s going under. What the hell am I gonna do now?”