Kay Hooper - Sleeping With Fear

Too many hours.

Riley carried her coffee to the table where her laptop was set up. Once again, it was obvious that she had been here, working, during at least some of the most recent missing time. But there was one difference from the previous day.

She had to enter a password to access her report.

She didn't remember setting that up but had no difficulty in deciding what the password had to be. Because it was always the same, a nonsense word from her childhood, the secret name of a mythical kingdom she had created as a little girl's escape from the rough-and-tumble world of older brothers and military bases and living all over the globe.

She typed in the word, unsurprised when it proved to be the correct one.

There were, it seemed, at least a few truths in her life she could hold on to.

What she couldn't figure out was why she had decided to password-protect her report. She hadn't when she first began the report.

Or maybe I did. Maybe I just don't remember that either.

She hoped the report itself would answer at least a few of her questions, but she found herself reading only details she actually remembered. Going to the sheriff's department, meeting with Jake, Leah, and Ash. Noting that she herself had asked Ash to join the investigation, primarily because she was afraid she might lose more time and needed someone she trusted to keep an eye on her.

Well, I called that one. Dammit.

Riley winced when she reached the end of that very brief "report." Because it ended quite abruptly with:

Returned to the murder scene with Ash. Experienced a highly unusual variation of clairvoyance I can only describe as some kind of vision. Extreme black rites, possibly genuine but darker and more twisted than any I've ever heard about. I was unable to positively identify any of the individuals participating in it, though the purpose of the ritual was, clearly, to gain power.

But for what? I don't know. I hate to admit that my mind is still affected by the Taser attack, but it must be, because thinking clearly is still difficult, sometimes impossible. One moment I'm certain of something, someone, and in the next I find myself doubting, questioning, worrying.

I don't understand. Something is happening to me, has happened, something more than the Taser attack. The only possibility I can think of, incredible as it sounds, is-

"Shit," Riley muttered.

The entry broke off, presumably because she'd been interrupted. And for whatever reason, she had never finished that sentence, never noted whatever possibility it was that had occurred to her.

Now she couldn't remember what it had been.

If it had been.

"Oh, Christ, I'm losing my mind." She put her hands up and rubbed her face slowly. Trying to think. Trying to understand.

"I was going to ask if you were feeling better, but I guess not."

Riley put her hands down, automatically touching the laptop's keyboard in a macro command that would instantly bring up an innocuous screen saver. The motion was so smooth and practiced that she doubted Ash had even noticed.

I'm doubting him now? Why?

"'Morning," she said, vaguely surprised that her voice sounded so normal. Even a chameleon had her limits, and Riley suspected she had reached hers days ago. At least.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised that you're up early," Ash said as he joined her at the table. He bent down and kissed her lightly. "But last night I had the impression you were going to sleep for a week. Or three."

"I…just needed a little rest."

"You needed a lot of rest. And still do." He frowned slightly as he studied her.

"I know I look like hell," she managed, suddenly realizing she hadn't even bothered to run her fingers through her hair in her bolt from the bedroom.

"You never look like hell. But you do look worried."

"I am worried." She drew a breath. "Ash, I've had another blackout."

"What?"

She nodded. "I don't remember anything after having that vision yesterday morning in the clearing. That's more than eighteen hours this time."

Ash pulled out the chair beside hers and sat down. He was still frowning. "Riley-"

"I thought I might have written more down in the report, but it's just what I remember anyway. Meeting with Jake and Leah in the conference room at the sheriff's department, talking. Then the two of us going to the crime scene so I could try to pick up something. And having that weird vision. Ash, I don't have visions, not like that one, and I don't understand it. I don't understand what's happening to me. Jesus, I don't even know if I've checked in with Bishop-"

"Riley." He reached over and covered one of her restless hands with his. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm trying to tell you-" She broke off abruptly, really looking at his expression, and felt a chilly wave sweep over her. "Yesterday," she managed. "Yesterday morning. I told you about the attack on Sunday night."

He nodded. "Yeah, you told me about that."

"And-the blackouts? The missing time?"

Ash's fingers tightened around hers. "Honey, you never said anything about blackouts or missing time. This is the first I've heard of any of that."

It was still early, just before eight, and Riley sat curled in one of the comfortable big wicker chairs on the deck of her rental, hoping the bright sunshine of the warming day would do something about the coldness inside her.

A hot shower hadn't helped, nor had one of Ash's excellent breakfasts. Not that she had noticed what she was eating; it was merely fuel to provide the energy she so desperately needed.

And she wasn't even sure that was still working.

She stared at the ocean, her gaze occasionally roaming as she absently watched more than a dozen of the island's dog owners taking their pets for a last run before the "dog curfew" that kept them off the beach during most of the day.

Such a nice, pleasant summer morning, filled with nice, pleasant activities. Normal activities. Normal people. She doubted any of them was watching the world as they knew it spinning out of control.

"Here." Ash sat down in the chair beside hers, handing her a large mug of coffee. "Even in the sun, you're still shivering."

"Thanks." Riley sipped the coffee for a few minutes, aware that he was watching her, waiting. Finally, she sighed and turned a bit in the chair to face him. "So. Where had we gotten to?"

"We had gone over the meeting at the sheriff's department yesterday morning. You seem to remember all that clearly."

She nodded.

"Okay. And I gather you remember most of the conversation between us afterward, about why you'd asked me to get involved officially in the investigation. That was when you finally told me about the attack on Sunday night. That it had affected your memory a little and your senses a lot. You said you wanted someone you could trust to keep an eye on you in case the attack had caused more damage than you already knew about."

Riley sorted through what "memories" she had, wondering again which knowledge or seeming knowledge she could trust. "I didn't tell you I had forgotten most of the last three weeks?"

Ash frowned. "No, that's not what you said. You didn't remember the attack or the hours before it happened. You didn't remember why you had gone out or where you had gone that night. That's what you told me. That's all you told me."

"Oh."

"Riley, are you saying now that you didn't remember anything about the last few weeks?"

"Bits and pieces, but-" She sighed. "Dammit, in my head we've had this conversation before. I didn't remember us, but once you touched me I knew we were lovers, I felt what was between us, and that was the one thing in this whole damn screwy situation I was sure of. So don't get pissed that I was faking my way through our relationship, because I wasn't, not in any way that counted. Fumbling a little, I'll grant you. But not faking."