John Saul - Perfect Nightmare

She walked back into the living room but could no longer concentrate on anything anyone was saying to her; there were too many questions tumbling inside her head.

What was it he’d been trying to say? Where was he? Why was he driving?

None of it made any sense. There was something about the whole situation that wasn’t right…

“Kara?” Phyllis D'Angelo’s voice penetrated her thoughts. She and Dawn were putting on their coats. “I’m sorry, but we’ve got to head home.”

Kara managed a smile. “Of course. Thank you so much for coming.” She turned to Dawn. “And for everything else, too.”

“We’re praying for Lindsay,” Dawn said.

“We’re praying for all of you,” Phyllis echoed.

“I know you are.” Kara walked them to the door, and as if their departure was a signal, everyone else began to drift out. Within five minutes everyone was gone except for Patrick Shields and Claire Sollinger, who remained seated on the living room sofa, apparently deep in conversation, which meant that despite her desire to sink down at the kitchen table with a hot cup of tea and wait for Steve to come home, she couldn’t.

Not as long as Claire and Patrick remained.

As soon as the door closed, though, Claire looked up and gave her an apologetic smile. “I think we’re overstaying our welcome,” she said, rising to her feet. “Come on, Patrick. Kara needs some peace and quiet.”

A moment later Kara found herself accepting yet one more hug and one more kiss on the cheek, this time from Claire Sollinger.

Then Patrick took her hand, and as she looked into his eyes, suddenly she knew. “It was you,” she whispered.

He frowned in apparent puzzlement, but his sister smiled knowingly. “I’ll meet you outside,” Claire said, and let herself out.

“You’re the one who put up the reward,” Kara said.

“What makes you think that?” Patrick asked, but his expression told her that she was right. The pain of his own loss was still clear in his face.

“Because you’re the only other person in town who understands. You’re the only one in town who could. You’re the only one who would.”

“I just want to see Lindsay come home to you,” he said.

“I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Seeing Lindsay home safe will be plenty of thanks.” Patrick impulsively leaned forward and put his arms around her. “Helping you helps me,” he went on. Then he released her, held her at arm’s length and forced a smile. “I’m really quite a selfish bastard.”

“I’ll never believe that,” Kara replied, but now she was smiling, too, though her tears were still flowing.

“Claire awaits,” Patrick said, and opened the door.

Claire stood on the front porch. “I just realized that you don’t have your car,” she said. “We’ll take you to it.”

Kara started to protest, then thought better of it. Better to get it now than wait for Steve or try to deal with it in the morning.

Five minutes later Claire dropped both of them at the high school, where Patrick insisted on following Kara home in his own car, just to make sure. She got into her cold Toyota, turned the heater on full blast, and waited until she saw the headlights of Patrick’s Mercedes go on. Then she put her car in gear and headed home.

A strange car waited in front of the house.

Had someone left something behind? Or maybe it was Steve, being dropped off?

As she pulled into the driveway, she saw the shield painted on the door of the parked car.

Not Steve, and not someone from the vigil.

The police.

They’ve found Lindsay.

With barely enough patience to put the car in park and turn off the lights and ignition, Kara opened the door and met the policeman on the walk. “What is it?” she demanded. “Have you found her?” By now Patrick was at her side, taking her elbow as the policeman walked them up to the door.

“Let’s go inside,” the officer said in a tone that instantly told Kara that whatever he had to say, it wasn’t going to be what she wanted to hear.

“Tell me,” she said. “Tell me what’s happened.”

Once inside, the policeman nodded them to the sofa, then pulled over a dining room chair and sat facing them. “This isn’t about your daughter, Mrs. Marshall,” he said. “This is about your husband.”

Kara’s heart skipped a beat. “Steve? What about him?” She felt Patrick’s hand on her forearm, and unconsciously covered it with her own. “What’s going on?”

“There was an accident,” the policeman said. “On the Sunken Meadow Parkway.” Kara felt a terrible chill fall over her as she realized what the officer was going to say next, and when he spoke the words, it sounded like an echo of her own thought. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Marshall. A one-car accident. Your husband was killed instantly. He didn’t suffer.”

She sat numbly for a minute — or ten? — or an hour, or only an instant? — then turned to Patrick. “I can actually feel the blood draining from my face,” she said, her voice sounding as surreal to her as the words themselves. “Did that happen to you, too?” But before Patrick could reply — even before the terrible reality of what had happened could close completely in on her — Kara sank into the blessed oblivion of unconsciousness.

Kara rose slowly through the levels of consciousness, feeling first dizzy, then nauseated, then reluctant. When she finally let herself wake up, she knew she had some terrible, unfinished business — something too terrible even to remember yet — that she would have to take care of.

Go back to sleep, she told herself. Just don’t wake up.

But something was holding her back, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

Then she knew.

The scent of Sleepytime tea.

Her favorite.

Slowly, awareness came to her.

She was on the sofa, covered with the quilt her mother had made. Had she and Steve fallen asleep watching television?

No.

Then it all began coming back.

Lindsay — the vigil — Patrick Shields — and Steve…

Steve, and the policeman.

Steve.

An ache came alive in her belly, an ache that threatened to devour her.

Steve.

Steve and Lindsay both.

Oh, God. No! There was no way — no way at all — that she could survive this! Sleep! Just go back to sleep, and when you wake up again, everything will be different. Steve will be alive, and Lindsay will be home, and it will all turn out to be nothing but a nightmare!

Kara took a long, deep, slow breath and tried to clear away the emotions that felt as if they were on the verge of destroying her mind entirely.

And then she heard it.

Lindsay’s voice, as clear as if her daughter was in the same room.

“Come and find me, Mama. Come and rescue me. Please.”

Kara’s eyes jerked open. She expected to see Lindsay standing in front of her, but there were just the remains of the reception.

Lamps were still on in the dawning light and Patrick Shields was kneeling in front of her, a steaming cup of tea in his hand.

“She’s alive, Patrick,” Kara whispered. He held the cup to her lips, steadying it as she managed a sip. She set the cup on the coffee table. “Lindsay’s alive.” “I’m sure she is,” Patrick said softly, reaching out to gently brush a stray wisp of hair from her brow. “I’m sure she is, and I’m sure we’ll find her.” In the silence that followed, both of them were acutely aware of what neither of them had said since Kara had awakened. Still, despite their silence, Steve’s death hung over both of them like a shroud.