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JENNIFER SHOT UP IN bed, her hand over her mouth, stifling the scream. She reached out knocking the lamp, but it never hit the ground. Stopping mid-fall, it teetered and righted itself on the nightstand, its light encompassing the room and Jennifer turned to Steve.
His sleep-encrusted eyes met hers. “Another nightmare?”
She nodded, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her next to him on the plush bed. “Another murder,” she said, her voice scratchy with exhaustion and fear.
His eyes closed, and a long exhale cut through the darkness. “Shit.” He squeezed her tighter and kissed the back of her head, taking a moment to extract the memory. Another gift from the Ryan’s—reaching into another’s mind and extracting information, like he was the one who had the nightmare, the thought, the secret.
The details were as vivid as if the memory was on screen in front of him, and it spared her from having to relive the vision, to describe the crime scene in her dream. Extracting memories was as handy as mind reading, along with the power to control matter and, on a limited basis, control those around him, but it was also just as disturbing and unnatural.
She shivered in his grasp. “I hate it when you do that,” she whispered.
“I know, but it’s easier than drilling you for details.”
“Yeah. Okay. If you say so.”
He chuckled at her lack of enthusiasm and then turned his focus on her nightmare. Again, she took the perspective of the killer, a viewpoint she hated with a passion. Being in their heads, their twisted minds disturbed her more than the actual killings she witnessed. This one made him release her and jump to his feet, his eyes traveled to the door and he bolted down the hall without a word, swinging Tom’s door open to make sure.
The room was empty.
“Shit,” Steve cursed under his breath as both anger and worry built in his stomach, leaving it a molten rock of acid. He turned and crossed the hall opening the door to CJ’s room.
CJ snored in response and he closed the door returning to his bedroom. He stared at Jen. “When?”
“I don’t know. You saw it, you tell me?”
He shook his head, glancing at the clock and grabbing his jeans. Four in the morning. No one runs this early, but in her dream, it was dark enough for the victim to need a light. “I have to try to stop this one.”
“Why?”
He focused on her instead of the buttons on his shirt. “Tanya. Tanya’s the girl in your vision.”
Jennifer’s eyes widened, and he could tell she hadn’t made the connection.
“And Tom’s not home. Damn it.” He stood and walked back to CJ’s room, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “CJ, wake up.” He shook him.
CJ’s eyes fluttered open. “What?”
“When was the last time you saw Tanya?”
A shadow passed over his face and he blinked, cocking his head to the side. “What?” The skin between his eyebrows creased.
“Tanya, when was the last time you saw her?”
“Tom took her home after practice.”
“Is that when he told you they broke up?”
CJ nodded.
Steve wiped his face, the unease ratcheted up a notch, squeezing his abdomen like a belt pulled too tight. “Damn it,” he whispered under his breath. He stood and took a step away. CJ’s grip on his wrist stopped him and he looked back.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing you need to worry about right now,” Steve said. “Go back to sleep.”