Chapter Thirty-Two

I trudge down the hall toward my room, dazed and in need of some major z’s. I open my door, see Gillian’s bed empty, and fall into my comforter and right to sleep.

A person in dark glasses sits crouched in the corner and somewhere in the depths of my mind I wonder how I didn’t see him.

As quietly as possible he stands, and I squint my eyes to make out his features. Manny…? Bud…? Peter…? Riel?

He takes a step toward me, the floor board creaks, and he freezes.

Seconds pass, and I swear I hear his heartbeat vibrating the air between us.

An evil smile creeps into his face, and through the shadows his teeth shine bright. Too bright.

“I won’t hurt you,” he whispers, his voice a little garbled. “I just want to watch you sleep.” He tiptoes over to my bed. “I didn’t think you’d be so pretty when you slept.”

The comforter and sheet barely cover me, and groggily, I reach for them.

He beats me to it, slowly sliding them up to cover my body. He touches my hair, gently running his fingers through it. “So soft.”

My eyes flutter open, and I immediately realize something isn’t right. Our window sits open, letting in a morning breeze. Scooting up in bed, I glance over to Gillian to see her still asleep.

I look around the room as I recall the dream, and I shiver.

Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I glance at my desk chair to see my bra gone. I had put it there, hadn’t I?

My gaze goes to the open window. I closed it last night before I went to bed. I know I did. Maybe Gillian opened it to get some air. I stand up and glance down to the parking lot, but don’t see that SUV.

Gillian stirs, yawns, takes one look at me and asks, “What’s wrong?”

“Weird dream.” Shaking my head, I point to the window. “Did you open that?”

“Yes.” She sits up. “Why?”

I nod to my chair. “Do you remember seeing my blue bra there?”

“You mean that one?”

I look across the room to our closet door and my bra hanging from its handle. “Huh,” is all I say, although I’m pretty damn sure I didn’t put it there. “Do you know anybody who drives a dark SUV?”

“Director Williams does. And Coach Larry. And that guy…what’s his name?” She snaps her fingers. “Marshall. And, let’s see—”

“Never mind,” I mumble.

Gillian gives me another concerned look. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” I shrug. “Like I said, weird dream.”