Chapter Thirty-four

“It was a simple dream—simpler than the one of Arlene,” Isabelle insisted as Kate continued to interrogate her. She sat on the edge of one of two sofas in Kate’s office, a brooding Andy next to her. “Detective Jane Wright was shot by a woman. She was in a diner and I think it was night. I don’t know the date or any more particulars. The same woman shot Andy. I couldn’t see who she was or what she looked like.”

“Are you sure there was no window, newspaper, or clock around? Even a computer or phone screen will do.”

“Nothing.” Isabelle rubbed her hands together, looking at Andy surreptitiously.

Andy’s face held the same unreadable expression as Claire’s. Claire sat on the back of Kate’s couch, watching Isabelle’s every move. Kate was angry, her eyes red from a lack of sleep, her body language uneven and off-kilter; choppy and harsh, so different from the elegant blue and white dress she was wearing.

Did all keepers employ this stoicism as a survival method? Did they hide their feelings until they finally died due to personal neglect? How did anyone survive this job?

Isabelle sucked in a breath. She had to do better. “Maybe if I went back to bed I’d be able to dream again.”

“Maybe Arlene Hampton would still be alive if you hadn’t messed around at the She Bar last night.” Kate’s fury, carefully controlled since they’d walked into the door, finally exploded. She pointed to Andy. “I should have put a better team on this.”

Claire put her hand on Kate’s shoulder. “Honey, you can’t say that.”

Andy shook her head, her anger matching her mother’s. “You wouldn’t have had the dream in the first place if it hadn’t been for Isabelle.”

“Isabelle would have stayed home and had another dream if you made the effort to fuck her,” Kate hissed. “Jam handed in her report this morning.” She sat back in the plush black sofa, turning her gaze to Isabelle. “Going to clubs to look for sex because Andy here didn’t want to look after you. What bullshit is that?”

Isabelle could feel the heat rising on her cheeks as she shot up. “My sex life has nothing to do with you or anyone else.”

Kate jumped up as well. “It does if it gets people killed.”

“Kate!” Claire attempted to intervene again, moving around the set of couches and reaching for Kate’s arm.

Andy got to her feet and positioned herself between Kate and Isabelle. “You will not talk to Isabelle this way. It was…is her twenty-first birthday. She had every right to go out and celebrate. So, sit down.”

Andy’s voice was even and controlled, but Isabelle could hear the effort she made to restrain her white-hot anger. She watched as Kate and Andy stared at each other, then she slipped her hands around Andy’s waist. “It’s okay.”

No response. The body under her hands was tense, coiled, ready to strike. “Andy. It’s okay,” she said again. She nuzzled her head into Andy’s back. “Please. It’s okay. Let it go.” She slipped her hands under Andy’s T-shirt, soothing the tight back muscles, the taut stomach. “Please sit down. You’re scaring me.”

Andy blew out a puff of breath. She shot her fingers from her balled fists a couple of times, then turned to Isabelle. “Are you okay? Don’t listen to her. You know you didn’t have anything to do with Arlene Hampton’s death.”

Isabelle shrugged, attempted to smile. “That I don’t know, but I know that it’s done and that we have to look after you now. And Detective Wright.” She looked from Andy to Kate. “Isn’t that right? Can we just take a deep breath here and focus on the new problem at hand?”

She sat down, crossing her legs in her new, tight jeans. Who would have thought she’d end up being the grown-up in the room?

 

* * *

 

Isabelle shook her head in disbelief. “That’s it? That’s the plan? We put a team on Andy and wait to see what happens?” She paced Kate’s office irritably, wringing her hands through her hair.

“Did your dream show you who killed Andy and Detective Wright?”

“No.”

“What more do you want to do then? Stop everything and cower in the corner?” Kate said. She stood behind her desk, arms crossed. “René knows what she’s doing, and Andy will have you, Iona, David, and Jam to help her. More people than that will only attract attention. And remember, you also dreamed about Detective Jane Wright’s death, which means she’s involved in this mess somehow and we certainly can’t put a team on her. At least not until things get desperate. It’s clear we’ve piqued her interest and we can’t afford the police showing up and digging around in our business. That’s happened before and it got pretty nasty really quickly. So, we’ll work with Andy and we’ll try and stop it all from happening.”

Isabelle marched up to her desk. “And if you fail? If she gets killed? If your daughter gets shot?”

Kate’s mouth became a thin, angry line. Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t play that bullshit card with me. You don’t understand what’s at stake.”

“I know that you dragged me here against my will, made me share a connection with someone, all but forcing me into her bed, and now you expect me not to care?”

Kate leaned forward, her index finger digging into her desk’s leather-covered surface. “You want to help? Sleep with Andy. Have sex with her. Dream a proper, intense dream. One we can use to save her and Detective Wright’s lives and to—” She stopped, blinking back the unexpected emotion. “To find Arlene Hampton’s murderer. If Wright was in last night’s dream, then these cases must be linked somehow. As it stands, we have nothing solid. None of the death threats leveled against Arlene Hampton have delivered a possible suspect.”

Claire rose from the sofa and walked to Kate. She put her arm around her. “We’ll make sure Andy is okay,” she told her. “Don’t worry.” She turned, locking eyes with Isabelle. “It would help you know. Sex.”

Isabelle backed away, the anger inside her cooling. She avoided Andy’s eyes. Andy didn’t want her. Not yet. Maybe never.

All she needed was for Andy to survive this and then she had to disappear. She wanted to get back to her studies and the certainty of mathematics. She’d find a way to deal with the dreams. Screw the future she’d seen with Andy. Her dreams were futile. Useless. They didn’t help anyone.

Andy rose from her seat. “I’ll go along with Kate’s plan.” She nodded in the direction of her mother. “René and I will work something out. We’ll hunt down Hampton’s murderer. Kate’s right. Doing that has the potential to stop any potential knock-on event.”

“I don’t know if we can just assume that the two events are related,” Isabelle argued.

“If Detective Wright catches Hampton’s killer it severs the link between me and her,” Andy said.

“Not necessarily. There is no certainty in that theory. You don’t know what other problems solving the murder will create. It’s simple chaos theory. If a butterfly flaps its wings here…”

“I know, I know.” Andy smiled. “Who knows what other actions it sets in motion? But we have to start somewhere. ”

Kate nodded. “Glad you agree. I’ll put Marc on Sharapov. If it was indeed his black-suited friend in Arlene Hampton’s building it means he’s been holding out on us.”

“Just don’t kill him,” Andy said.

Isabelle looked at Kate as if she would deny being capable of such a thing, but she said nothing as she waved them out the door.

 

* * *

 

Back in their apartment, Andy jumped in the shower. It was as if she wanted to wash Kate and her accusations from her body. She couldn’t believe Kate had all but demanded that she sleep with Isabelle.

Isabelle hadn’t seemed too perturbed by the idea, though. But then again, she’d said that she needed sex, and judging by last night she wasn’t too discerning about who she invited into her bed. She didn’t know the extent of Isabelle’s sexual appetite. Maybe she was willing to do quick rolls in the hay, even though she’d never have imagined that to be the case.

The thought of another woman having sex with Isabelle made her angry, just like last night, and she didn’t want to think about why it bothered her so much.

When she walked out of the bathroom, dressed in jeans and a sports bra, Isabelle sat cross-legged on the couch, working on her computer. A rip in her jeans gave a tantalizing peek of smooth, white skin.

Let it go, Andy scolded herself. Arlene Hampton was dead, and apparently, she was about to die too. If that wasn’t sufficient motivation to focus on the task at hand, nothing was.

“What are you doing?” she asked as she dug around in the dresser for socks. She was growing tired of dressing in the bathroom. She kept forgetting stuff in the bedroom.

“I’m working on an algorithm that predicts human behavior. I have been for about a year. Jam gave me some detail about Detective Wright, so I’m trying to input the parameters.” She looked up. “Seems Jane Wright is as gay as they come.”

“Okay. Wouldn’t have guessed that necessarily. I’ve seen lots of straight policewomen do the no-nonsense, tough guy routine.”

Andy sat on the bed, putting on her boots. She realized the room had gone quiet.

“What?”

“Your back. Was that the alley or the gunshot?”

Andy touched the bruise on her chest the bullets had punched through her vest. Luckily, it didn’t crack a rib or any other bones. Bats were okay. Guns scared her. “Some kind of baton or club in the alley,” she said as she turned to look at it in the mirror. “Sharapov’s buddy. The one I saw in Hampton’s building.”

“Ah. Does that happen a lot? The injuries?”

“Now and then.” Andy didn’t want to lie.

The silence lingered. Andy pulled on a T-shirt and sat back down on the bed to tie her laces.

Isabelle cleared her throat. “Where are you off to?” She closed her laptop.

“I’m going to meet with Wright for another interview and then I’m off to Hampton’s building.”

Isabelle pushed the computer aside. “Cool. I’ll get my stuff.”

“No.” Andy shook her head. “You have to stay here. You have to rest.”

“I’m not tired enough to sleep.”

“Go sit with Jam then. Or go to the gym. Get tired.” Andy got up, looking at her watch. It was three in the afternoon already. The day was running away from her.

“Why are you going back to Arlene’s apartment?”

“I have to go check on something that bothered me last night, but it means I have to sneak back into the crime scene. You’re not trained for that yet. You shouldn’t even have been at Hampton’s apartment last night. I should have dropped you off first.”

Andy could see Isabelle stiffen at the words. “You had no time to take me home last night, so don’t go there. And exactly how long is this ‘not trained’ going to be your excuse for everything?”

“Until you pass René’s three-month course. Make no mistake about that.”

“And your excuses for not sleeping with me?”

Andy didn’t know how to respond. Did Isabelle really want her, or was it just their weird set of circumstances talking?

Isabelle blew out an angry breath, stood up, and walked to Andy. She tugged at the hem of her black T-shirt. “Will you at least promise to be careful?”

“Absolutely. And René, Iona, and David will be there. Marc as well, in between interrogating Sharapov. A whole team looking after little ol’ me. So don’t worry.”

Isabelle chewed on her bottom lip. “I don’t like sitting here doing nothing.”

“Continue the work on your algorithm. Maybe it can help us.”

“Okay.”

“You’ve had a hell of a time the last few weeks. Why don’t you just take it easy for a bit?”

Isabelle let go of the T-shirt. “I’ll see. But you be careful, please.”

Andy kissed her on the cheek without thinking. “Promise. I’ll try and be back before midnight.”

“No diners?”

“No diners. I’ll send in René. She’d love the opportunity to kick some butt again.”

 

* * *

 

As soon as Andy closed the door behind her, Isabelle picked up the phone and called Jam. Andy was right. Her algorithm could be of more assistance than she’d initially considered. And if it was the only thing she could contribute, apart from dreaming, then she would give it a try.

“I have a proposal for you,” she said when Jam answered. “It’s about my algorithm. The one with Detective Wright’s detail.”

“Uh-huh.” Jam forced out a laugh. “Am I going to regret giving you that data?”

“Nope. All I need from you is a few more bits of information. That’s all.”

“Okay.” Jam perked up. “I can help you in ten. After that I have to sleep. Seems like this is going to be another very long night.”