Eight

“But she can’t die! We need her.” Magnolia covered her mouth with her hand as she gasped.

“What shall we do?” Jewel moaned. Her big blue eyes were wide with fright.

“Take my hand,” Magnolia ordered.

Jewel reached out and grasped Magnolia’s hand.

“Now, take Echo’s hand. We’ve got to guide our energy into her mind and drag her out of that place she’s in now!”

Jewel and Magnolia closed their eyes, willing themselves into that other realm where Echo was fighting for her life. Jewel was the first to open her eyes on the other side. “Maggie, open your peepers and look around,” she whispered. “This is dreadful.”

Jewel watched Magnolia’s brown eyes widen in fear. Around them stood people on a small boat including a woman who laid on the wooden deck.

The woman’s eyes suddenly flew open. She coughed, gagged, sputtered up salty seawater from her lungs. Taking deep breaths, air once again filled her body. A man cried, “Thank God. You’re alive!” As the boat crew turned her over, she looked around, searching for someone. “Paul, where are you?” the woman’s voice rasped.

“Oh no! Echo, wake up,” Jewel cried. As she looked around from inside Echo’s dream, she instinctively felt she’d been appointed Echo’s guardian. “You can’t stay here, Echo. This is a bad place. Come back to your room with me. Come on. Now!”

Now...

Echo’s eyes flew open. The word rang through her mind. It had to have been a dream. The pain of her lungs screaming for air must have awakened her. She lay there, frozen. She wanted to run, but her body would not respond. Fear raced through her.

Suddenly she saw two strangely dressed women standing over her, calling her name.

Oh, please. Stop! Her mind screamed. She didn’t want to see these peculiar beings.

The will to live surged through her and the vision blurred as quickly as it had swept over her. The agony released its grip as she gasped for another breath. She had reached the surface of her dream—or had it been a dream at all?

The familiar, welcoming sound of her heart beating eradicated the fear, the terror.

Echo sat straight up in bed, the covers falling into a pile in her lap.

What had just happened? Had it been another vision? She didn’t want to believe it. She’d experienced nothing remotely like it. Her childhood dream of running across a mountain of bones while an unknown demon chased her paled compared to the awful dream she’d just had. Those childhood nightmares hadn’t been nearly as terrifying.

The digital clock read nine thirty-two. She’d been asleep for over five hours! She bailed out of bed, threw on her black running shorts and a loose T-shirt. She felt shaky and ravenously hungry.

What was happening to her? She needed to talk to someone about this vision, but who? She’d be afraid to talk to anyone from town. She didn’t want to be the hot topic of the day at the local coffee shop, where nearly all the merchants on Main Street gathered to discuss the happenings around town.

Lex? No. She couldn’t confide in her friend. Not after the bombshell she had dropped about seeing Paul. Lex would not maliciously hurt her, but her contact with Paul McGuire could complicate this whole mess. Wrapping her arms around herself to hold in the warmth, she paced back and forth around the small bedroom, trying to think of someone she could talk to. The suite felt cold, but she knew it was the sensation of almost dying during the vision that was causing the bone-deep chill.

Echo turned down the thermostat when she went by it.

The summer nights in Wyoming were delightful. They cooled off when the sun went down. Eastern Nebraska’s temperatures had been as cool, but the humidity made the nights heavy and oppressive. Blessed with great night vision, Echo entered the efficiency kitchen without turning on a light. Her stomach growled as she opened the refrigerator.

She hadn’t been able to leave the hotel all week early enough to do any shopping, and all that was in the refrigerator was a milk carton containing an inch of soured skim milk, a hunk of green cheese, and a carton of eggs.

Sighing, Echo poured the milk down the drain, dumped the other items in the garbage disposal, and flipped the switch near the window. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks as she leaned back against the cabinet listening to the disposal gobble down the spoiled food.

Forcing on a pair of loafers, Echo grabbed her wallet, dashed out of her apartment and down the staircase. She needed air to clear her head. She couldn’t think rationally with the memories of visions trying to pull her back into an abyss of terror!

Breathing in the sweet fragrance of the night, she walked down Main Street. The delicate aroma of lilacs and Russian olive blossoms perfumed the damp night air. The mournful sound of a distant hoot owl floated through the air. She ambled along the uneven sidewalk, keeping her eyes cast downward, trying to see obstacles in her path.

Looking up, she focused her thoughts on the beauty of the area. The small town was beautiful in the summer. As a child, this street had always terrified her because of the towering old trees that formed a tunnel of greenery over it. She had felt that some bogie man would drop out of the trees and get her.

Echo glanced overhead as she came to a smoother section of the sidewalk. The leaves and branches looked like black lace against the dusky sky as moonlight filtered through the growth. Slowing her steps, she savored the crisp green fragrance of fresh-cut grass. Children’s laughter tugged at her heart as they played hide ‘n seek in the darkness of Sage City Park. Where had all those happy years gone?

The brilliant headlights of a passing car illuminated her body, casting a long, distorted shadow on the uneven sidewalk in front of her. The car slowed as it neared her, and Echo’s stomach knotted with nervousness. Her mind flashed to a picture of her living room—the mace spray, always a part of her city life, lay buried under the telephone book in the junk drawer. Her years in the city had made her cautious, but she had gotten careless here. Sage seemed so relatively safe, and now, with what she suspected about Ann McGuire’s death, that might have been a mistake. What in the world had possessed her to walk around town alone and in the dark?

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the passenger’s window slowly, silently descend into the door.

“Hey, you need a ride?”

She recognized the voice. Relieved, Echo slowed, leaning over to look into the interior of the car. Rand Halstead smiled easily and waved.

“Rand! You nearly frightened me into my next life.” Echo put her hand over her racing heart.

“I’m sorry,” he called sincerely, his face breaking into a broad smile. “I only wanted to give you a lift—that is, if you need one.”

Echo crouched down on the curb, so her eyes were on the same level as Randall. “Thanks anyway, but I’ve only got a couple of blocks to go. I’m headed to the truck stop for something to eat. I’m starved!” The muscles in her thighs contracted as she changed positions slightly.

“That sounds like a great idea. Hop in. I’ll give you a ride. I don’t want you fainting in the middle of the street.” He leaned across the seat, swinging open the passenger’s door.

Echo stared at him for a moment. “Okay.” Reluctantly sliding into the car, she pulled the door shut. “Trucker food, here we come.” She laughed easily, latching the seat belt around her hips.

She wasn’t afraid of Rand; she just feared getting too close emotionally to him. The temptation of his smile, those eyes—the unquestionable tone of friendship in his voice, pulled at her, tempting her beyond reason. But the visions of Ann haunted her every time she came near Randall. How could she not say anything to him about what was happening?

Her body was forced back against the seat as he sped up away from the curb.

“I’d hate to tell you how many meals I’ve eaten at the truck stop.” The muscles in his arms bunched as he navigated the car back onto the road. “I wasn’t sure it was you walking down the street. It’s dark around here, isn’t it?”

A streetlight on the corner glowed through the trees, casting undulating shadows. “The light is strong, but the trees are so thick they block out most of it.” Echo pointed.

“Maybe we should talk to someone at the city office about it. The trees really need trimming.”

She twisted her head toward Rand, causing her hair to fall over her face. “Oh, no! This is the most beautiful main street in Wyoming. I love it just the way it is. This is a safe town.” Pushing the hair out of her face, she realized her words lacked conviction as she remembered her fear before she knew who was following her.

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “I’m not sure it’s safe anywhere—city or small town!” He turned the car into the gravel parking lot and drove to the most remote spot in the lot before finding a vacant space. “Looks like a lot going on around here tonight.”

“The city council met tonight. Everyone must have come out here for coffee after the meeting.” Echo got out of the car and started for the cafe. Her steps slowed. Would Alexis be here? Would Paul have met her here? All kinds of scenarios played through her mind. And with Rand standing beside her, none of them was good.

Rand extended his long arm around Echo’s head and pushed open the smudged glass door. As they entered, the thick aromas of greasy food made her stomach flip. Maybe she really had the flu.

A sign near the cash register ordered, “Please Wait to Be Seated,” and in only moments, the server, whose nametag read ‘Emily,’ showed them to a secluded booth in a dim corner.

“Oh, no,” Rand groaned.

“What’s the matter?” Echo asked, settling into the vinyl booth. Had Rand spotted Paul?

“See that man sitting by himself near the telephone?”

Echo arched an eyebrow at him. Their gazes met. “Yes.”

Rand cleared his throat and nodded with a jerky movement. “That’s Wiley Grant, the foreman on the ranch.”

“Oh. Is that a problem?”

Rand shrugged. “I’ve known him for years and I don’t like him. He hangs out with Paul, and I must wonder what they’re up to. It can’t be anything constructive.”

“Really?”

“Since Ann died, he seems to be everywhere I go. I think Paul is having him follow me.”

Echo shook her head, her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. Paranoia? she wondered. “But that can’t be possible this time, Rand,” she whispered. “He was here first.”

“Like I said, he follows me.”

“Why would Paul have him do that?”

“It is Ann’s death, if you ask me,” Rand uttered. “This is all madness. I’m going to find out what’s going on.”

Goose bumps ran up and down Echo’s arms. Taking a deep breath, she willed herself to relax. Even here, there were reminders of Ann. At least she didn’t see Alexis or Paul, which was one consolation.

Opening the menu, she scanned down its length. Nothing appealed to her. The entrees sounded too large—or to grease-laden. What she wouldn’t give for a grilled chicken sandwich from her own lunch menu at The County Seat.

Oddly, she felt Rand’s pull on her. Echo peered over the top of her menu. Sure enough, he was staring at her. He had whipped his entrancing gaze down to the menu to avoid detection. But it was too late! Suddenly, she realized—she was enjoying this newfound awareness.

Echo’s life had transformed in the past two weeks. It was as if she had reached out and plunged her hand into an electrical stream from another dimension. Visions, ghosts, and this strange newly found perception alarmed her, but enthralled her just the same.

Rand dropped the menu in front of him. “I don’t know what I want. It all sounds the same. I’ve been eating here off and on for the last six months, and nothing changes.

Ann looked up from her menu. “You’ve been in town that long? I thought you came to see my mural.”

He shrugged. “I came back to stay with Ann and my mother. Mom had terminal cancer and died only a few months ago. I left Sage only a couple of days before my business partner contacted me about your job.”

“Rand! How horrible for you!” She felt her eyes tear. “First your mother dies, now your sister. I’m so sorry.”

He looked out the window into the darkness, his face a mask of stone. “Ann’s death is excruciatingly painful, but Mother’s—” A light bitterness could be heard in his words.

The server returned to take their orders of omelets and strawberry French toast without saying a word.

Reaching for his coffee cup, Rand chuckled. “Breakfast for supper. I love it.”

“What are you going to do now that your sister is gone?” Appalled at the insensitivity of her own question, Echo slapped her hand over her mouth. “Rand! I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, don’t apologize. It was a legitimate question.” He fiddled with the tiny cream container on the table. Taking another sip of coffee, he looked at her. The raw grief he felt at the loss of his twin shone brightly in his eyes.

“I’m going back to work as soon as a job comes through.”

Echo pulled her thick hair over one shoulder and twisted a strand into a spiral around her finger. She looked up at him from under the fringe of her black lashes.

“I hate to sound simple-minded here, but I don’t understand exactly what you do. And what about my job? Are you going to leave me dangling?”

“No problem with your painting, Echo. I got a letter about the paint base today. It’s not milk paint. I could have it restored in...I’d say two weeks max. As to my occupation, we’re an exclusive bunch. Art conservators restore paintings and other pieces of art. I’m an artist who attempts to repair ancient murals back to their original appearance.”

“Oh! I get it. That sounds quite interesting. I’d love to see your projects.”

“I’ll arrange that if...”

“If what?”

“If I get a job.”

“Didn’t I just hear you say you were going back to work?” She felt as if she’d known him for years—something pushed her on. She smiled, wondering if she were being too direct with him.

“As much as I want to go back to my love of art,” Rand frowned, “I have other responsibilities right now.”

Echo stared into her cup, rubbing her slim index finger over the rim. She didn’t want to think of those other things he was talking about. Slowly she brought the cup toward her face and breathed in the deep, nutty essence. The coffee steamed her nose. Setting the cup back on the table, she asked, “What are you going to do, Rand?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m going to find some way to prove that Paul killed Ann.”

His matter-of-fact statement shocked her. “Just h-how are you going to do that?” she asked, the breath catching in her throat. The subject of Ann rose from its hiding place inside her, breaking the surface like a dolphin leaping from his watery existence into the thin air at a Sea World show. Digging her fingernails into the palms of her hands, Echo wondered if there were any way to be with this man and not talk about Ann.

“Rand...there’s something I need to tell you...”

At that moment, Wiley Grant walked past the table. Echo’s body numbed. Her fingers turned as cold as ice around her coffee cup. She fought to keep her feelings from showing. Wiley’s presence reminded her that telling Rand about her visions was out of the question. No matter how tangible it seemed—she hadn’t really been there at all. Try as she might, she couldn’t find a logical explanation for why she was susceptible to these psychic feelings.

“Echo?”

His words brought her back to reality. What was happening to her? She couldn’t stay focused. She felt unnerved. “Oh! I’m sorry. I just wanted to tell you I understand how you feel. I’m not completely recovered from my ex-husband’s death. It takes a long time.” She colored fiercely, and then continued. “This conversation must be difficult for you.”

He shrugged. “Right now, everything is difficult.” Rand watched Wiley as he stood at the cash register, waiting for the server to take his money.

Echo looked at the hired hand that was holding his sweat-stained cowboy hat in his hands. He certainly didn’t look threatening. The short, thin man shifted his weight from one faded, denim-clad leg to the other. If anything, he looked the typical western cowboy: face lined from years of sunburns, body twisted at his waist showing physical deterioration, and a head of thick white hair. A roll-your-own cigarette protruded from his mouth as he stood under the “no smoking” sign.

Trying to change the direction of their conversation, Echo asked, “Did you live out at the ranch while your mother...well, before?”

Returning his attention to her, his features softened as he answered, “Some, but I have my motor home at the campground on the north edge of town, near to your establishment.”

Echo’s eyes rounded. “Then why do you want to stay in the carriage house?”

An irresistible grin broke out over his face. “I like the feeling of bricks and mortar around me.” He gave a snort of laughter.

“You won’t find it at my establishment. Its wood framed.” Trying to suppress a grin, her lips twitched involuntarily. The mood between them had lightened.

“I could never manage roughing it. I don’t like camping,” he said.

“So that’s why you live in a camper?” She grinned at him.

“No. You have it all wrong. This motor home is thirty feet long.” He showed with his hands, nearly smacking the people at the next table. “Sorry,” Rand apologized, then continued, “The motor home is for my convenience. Heaven knows, I could never live out at the ranch for long. I love it out there, but the memories are much too powerful.”

Trying to steer him to a topic less emotional, Echo said, “I wish Emily would get our meal. It’s sitting on the ledge.”

Rand looked around the room, finally located their waitress leaning against the wall, laughing with a group seated near the other side of the room.

“Looks like she’s settled in for a while, doesn’t it?” Rand turned back to look at Echo.

“I don’t understand, Rand. I thought you needed a place to live while you worked on the mural. Now you tell me you have a place. I don’t understand.”

“You’ll have to see my unit to understand. It’s okay for a while, but then I have to get out of that cramped space.” He shrugged, then polished off his cold coffee in one gulp. “So...what do you enjoy doing around here for entertainment besides remodeling your hotel?”

Echo grinned easily and raised her gaze to his. “Are you changing the subject, Rand?”

He sat there silently for a moment, finally took a deep breath, blew out the air and said, “I really don’t feel safe staying in the motor home. Not with everything that’s gone on lately. Ann’s death, you know?”

Echo understood. Extending her hand, she placed her fingers over Rand’s. “Okay, you don’t have to say more. I understand. Now, you asked me a question about my interests before we got off on this. I work, I guess. Last week I logged over seventy hours. But I try to find time every morning to take a run alongside the river.” She took a sip of coffee, but the cup was empty. She set it down with a thud. “I like to go swimming a few nights a week. You know, I get quite bored because there is little a single person can do around a small town.”

“Excuse me? I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I know how you can interact with people your own age through my organization.”

The couple turned their attention to the soft, feminine voice. An attractive young woman, her blonde hair cut in a short wispy style, looked expectantly toward them. “I’m sorry to interrupt your conversation, but...” The woman’s face glowed red with embarrassment. “I’m not used to approaching people. This is not my style. I-I’m the director of the local crisis center.” She stretched her hand across the space between the tables.

Echo felt uncomfortable. Would she ever allow herself to forget the abuse she had suffered? Echo skeptically took the woman’s hand.

“I’m Nyla Murphy.”

“Nice to meet you,” Echo said, releasing Nyla’s hand. “What’s this about your crisis center?”

“I’m starting advocate training and I’m looking for volunteers.”

“Whoa...wait just a minute now. I’m lost,” Rand interjected. “Advocate training for what?” He eagerly slid toward the window, making room at the end of the booth. “Come on over and tell us more about this organization.”

Nyla slid in beside Rand. Her excitement bubbled over as she explained the program to them. “We deal with cases of family violence and sexual assault. When I heard you talking, I just had to speak with you.”

Her words caused a chilling wind to whip over Echo’s soul. Echo had spent time in a shelter before returning to Sage—before Jimmy died. She hadn’t realized that small towns like Sage were involved, too. Somehow, the rural setting didn’t seem as volatile as the city.

“What do you do?” Echo asked.

The director launched into a description of her work. “We have advocates on call for one week a month. The dispatcher at the sheriff’s office answers our crisis line, and then they call our advocates on duty.”

“To do what?” Echo asked.

“Give emotional support and information to the client. Help them get a protection order, offer shelter to keep them safe from the abuser.”

Rand sat quietly listening as Nyla talked. Shaking his head when she finished, he said, “I never thought about that happening here. As a matter of fact, I really didn’t think a town this size would have that difficulty.” He shrugged, then asked, “Isn’t everyone afraid their neighbors will know and tell the rest of the community?”

A faraway look in Nyla’s eyes revealed the pain and anguish she had seen. “I only wish that were so. It’s all too common. But abuse is silent, and that’s the problem. Abuse is everywhere. We’re no exception.”

“Do you have a card?” Echo asked. Maybe the time was right for her to get involved with domestic violence from a healthy standpoint.

“Sure!” Nyla fumbled in her purse, then handed Echo the business card. “Let me know real soon. The volunteer training classes begin next week.”

“What time of the day?” Echo asked.

“A morning session from seven to nine. If there’s enough interest, we’ll have another session in the evening from six to ten. We’ll finish the forty-hour training in less than two weeks. We really need the help.” Her pale eyebrows rose in question as she looked at Rand. “Are you both interested?”

He shook his head. “Sounds like a female organization to me.”

“Not really,” Nyla said. “We need you both. There have been a few cases where it was the male in the relationship being battered. Men relate much better to other men in that situation. And besides, women need to know that there are nice men around, too.”

Rand’s eyebrow arched as he thought about her offer. “I’ll have to think about it. That’s a big project. I’m not sure it would be right for me, but I’ll let you know.”

Nyla slid out of the booth, stood, and reached for her ticket on the other table. “Call me after you think about my suggestion.”

Watching Nyla as she walked toward her car, Echo struggled to fight back the tears triggered by her own memories of abuse.

She had told no one about the emotional abuse she suffered—not even her mother. When Echo met the charming, charismatic James Brennen, abuse hadn’t entered her mind. Heck, she was so naïve she never considered herself to be in that position. Maybe that was the reason she ignored the way James treated her: telling her how to dress, requiring her to wear her hair long and straight, and most hurtful, convincing her that no one else but he would find her attractive and worthy of love. Over the years, she grew to detest that man. He enjoyed inflicting pain like an addict derived pleasure from drugs. He relished demeaning her. It made him feel powerful and in control. Always in control. If she ever tried standing up to him, he physically punished her until she was dripping with blood and had been battered into submission.

“Are you going to volunteer?” Rand asked.

“Wh-what?” Echo’s throat tightened, painfully strained and achy from unshed tears. Here she was thinking about herself when Rand was the one who needed her support. Guilt flooded through her. Guilt, guilt, guilt! She was so sick of it, but she didn’t know how to stop...it had become such a part of her. That one familiar feeling threatened to destroy all the progress she had made. Somehow, she had to snap herself out of the horrendous self-pity.

“At the crisis center...Are you going to volunteer?” He repeated his question.

Echo glanced down to hide her tortured eyes from him until she could pull herself together. Could this be the answer? Would helping others, getting involved, help her put her own issues in the past where they belonged? “I might. I-I’ve lived with abuse.” Finally, she had said it aloud.

“That’s admirab...” His head jerked up as the words she said hit him. “You were abused?”

Echo nodded slightly, avoiding his eyes. Why was she telling him this? She tried to swallow the words, but they tumbled out instead. “All my married life.” Her words skittered across her nerves like an ice skater’s blades digging into a glistening sheet of ice. She swallowed hard again. What the heck. It didn’t really matter if she felt ashamed or not. She was a nice person, and she was going to be around other people and see what it felt like to be accepted, loved, and treated like a friend.

“You want to talk about it?”

“I-I don’t know. Maybe I’m afraid of my feelings. Afraid that if I tell you, you will see me through James’ perspective.”

His eyes watered with a deep pain as his gaze merged with hers. “Echo, please don’t think I’m anything like your husband. I would never hurt or berate you, or any woman.”

The server stepped up to their table with plates stacked up in her arms. Grooves radiated from the corners of her eyes, giving her a hard, tense look.

“Thanks, I’m famished,” Echo said.

She slammed the plates onto the table and glared at Rand. “I hope this improves your disposition. I’ve seen you watching me. Sorry I didn’t get here fast enough for you.” She stomped away in a huff.

Rand’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “What the hell was that all about?”

A look of astonishment crossed Echo’s face as she watched the girl head back to the other corner of the room. She shook her head. “Who knows? We can’t do anything about her bad attitude. Let’s eat.” She looked down at the food. “Ugh! On second thought, let’s not.” The whipped topping on her strawberries had melted into a sickening trickle of transparent goo, and Rand’s omelet looked like a rubber meal in a child’s kitchen set.

“Come on, we don’t have to eat this. Leave it,” Rand said, his voice loud enough for their waitress to hear from the other table. Echo watched as the girl placed her hands on her hips and glared at the back of Rand’s head. “I can whip up an edible meal for us back at my place. You wanna give my cooking a try?” He grinned at her.

As they left the booth, Echo reached into her fanny pack, finding two pennies. “You know,” she said thoughtfully, “I should leave these on the table. We don’t want Emily to think we were pleased, do we?”

Randall snatched the coins from her hand. “Oh, you’re terrible! I’m not having any part of this! I do have to eat here occasionally! It would mean I’d have to eat at the hotel every meal.” Laughing, he dropped the coins into his pocket. His dimples deepened, and his brown eyes glittered with amusement. Echo didn’t miss the light, jovial intonation.

“Oh, no. Then you’d have to deal with Jerrica. Why do you think I’m eating here tonight?”

“Do tell!” Rand’s smile rose from his lips and twinkled in his eyes.

“You mess up her kitchen, and you will wish you hadn’t. She’s a bear about it. You miss the scheduled mealtimes, and you get nothing until the next meal.”

He enveloped her with his arm and drew her toward the door.

“Come on, muffin.”

Muffin? No one had called her by an endearing term in years. Did this beautiful man have any clue to the reaction he induced in her?