Lind sat up in his bed, breathing hard. He looked around the bedroom. It was morning, he saw, or daytime, at least. He’d been sleeping.
He’d dreamed. He remembered dreaming. He hadn’t slept well. His bed was damp with sweat and his heart was pounding, but he’d slept, regardless. The visions hadn’t kept him awake.
Lind pulled himself out of bed. He was wearing yesterday’s clothes; they were wrinkled and tangled and sweaty. He changed out of them, pulled on fresh jeans and a T-shirt, trying to ignore the buzzing in his head, the dim panic behind his eyes. He didn’t know what it meant. There was no reason for it. He changed and walked out to the living room.
She was there.
The girl. Caity Sherman. She lay curled up on the couch, sleeping. Lind remembered he’d called her. She’d come over. He’d talked to her, and she’d put him to bed. Then she’d fallen asleep on his couch.
The panic intensified. What had he told her?
Caity shifted a little. Rolled over and blinked open her eyes. She rubbed her face and sat up. “Oh my God.”
“You’re still here,” he said.
“I’m sorry.” She stood, fixing her clothing. “I must have just— I was waiting for you to fall asleep. I didn’t mean to—”
Lind shook his head. “I don’t sleep much,” he said.
Caity stopped and looked at him. “I heard you,” she said. “You were having nightmares, it sounded like.”
“They’re not nightmares. They’re visions.”
“Visions?” Caity frowned. “Visions of what?”
Lind walked to the couch and sat down. Rubbed his eyes, trying to chase off the panic. The man wouldn’t like this. The man had told him to stay in the apartment and wait for instructions. He wouldn’t be happy that Caity Sherman had come over. He would be angry that she’d stayed the night.
Caity sat down beside him. “Richard,” she said. “Visions of what?”
“My name isn’t Richard,” he said.
“Sure it is,” she said, frowning. “I’ve seen your ID. I checked you in at the airport, remember?”
The panic was growing. A blackness behind his eyes. A buzzing in his ears. Lind shook his head, tried to chase it. “My name isn’t Richard.”
She sighed. “So what is it, then? Rick?”
“Andrew.” He took his ID card from his wallet. “My name is Andrew Kessler.”
Caity took the ID from him. She studied it. Looked at his face and then back to the picture. “Your name’s Richard,” she said, shaking her head. “I remember.”
“No,” he said. His vision tunneled. “My name is Andrew Kessler.”
“That’s a fake ID. It doesn’t even have the right address.” She stared at him. “You’re creeping me out, man.”
Lind rubbed his face again. Held his hands over his ears. The buzzing wouldn’t disappear. The black panic. She couldn’t be here. She shouldn’t. “My name is Andrew Kessler,” he said again.
The girl grabbed his face. Turned him to look at her. “Your name’s Richard,” she said, peering into his eyes. “What the heck is wrong with you, man?”