Dark Whispers

“Not in this lifetime,” she muttered. David’s arrogance and distance were two things she distinctly remembered about the past.

The incessant beep of the alarm warned that someone had opened the front door. Natalie’s pulse stumbled, then started to race. She had locked the door, hadn’t she? Obviously she’d set the alarm. Had April remembered to set it when she arrived? Natalie darted toward her bedroom before she remembered the gun was no longer there. It was missing along with the man she shot. Her cell was downstairs in her purse.

Fear burned through her veins.

Laughter followed by April’s voice echoed up from the entry hall. “I’m here. Night. Night. I’ll be home in the morning.”

The sound of the front door closing and the alarm being reset had Natalie turning to stare toward her sister’s bedroom. If her sister was downstairs just coming in...

Natalie’s heart sank. Heath was right. She was hallucinating again.

Oxmoor Road

Wednesday, September 21, 9:05 a.m.

DR. SADIE MORROW considered the confession long enough without saying anything to have Natalie ready to scream in frustration. Last night was the first time since the voices began that Natalie could unequivocally confirm that she had been dreaming or hallucinating. She had heard April’s voice in her room when April couldn’t possibly have been there. Was she having some sort of breakdown? Had her decision to return to work prompted a downward spiral? She had no real cases of her own. There was no true pressure related to her work at this point. How could it be too much stress?

Was her career over? The doctors, including the one assessing her right now, had assured Natalie that she would be able to return to work. She might never be exactly the same as she was before, but she would be able to have a life and a career. Emotion burned in her eyes and she wanted to scream.

“Perhaps,” Sadie announced, breaking the tension, “you were sleep walking. What you heard may have been a dream.”

This was the assessment Sadie had stood by since the first time Natalie mentioned the voices. “It didn’t feel like a dream,” Natalie argued.

“The vivid ones rarely do. It’s very possible you were asleep and the sound of your sister’s voice when she came in woke you.”

This was the second day this week that Natalie had shown up at Sadie’s office for an emergency consultation. Her friend had other patients. Natalie felt guilty taking up her time like this, but the fear that she was losing her mind overrode all other concerns.

“I was doing fine until I went back to work.” The conclusion hung like a millstone around her neck. What was she going to do with her life if she couldn’t have her career? What client would want to be represented by an attorney struggling with the after effects of a TBI?

“Natalie, you’ve been a textbook case in success. Every aspect of your recovery has been the most optimistic of outcomes. This is a bump along the path, that’s true. However, I’m confident whatever is triggering these events will pass. I don’t think you need to be overly concerned at this point.”

Natalie laughed, the sound sad. “You do realize that’s my high school BFF talking, don’t you?” She shook her head. “I mean, you are the only person who believes there is a medical explanation for the event that happened in my kitchen. I still believe I shot an intruder with my father’s gun while the police are convinced I’m a nutcase.”

Sadie stood and came around her desk to sit next to Natalie. She took Natalie’s hands in hers. “You have to trust me when I say I do not believe you’re having a breakdown. Whatever is going on, there is another explanation. New memories may be trying to surface. Your mind may be misinterpreting the memories.”

Natalie sighed. “I didn’t tell April what happened last night. I just hurried back to my room and pretended to be asleep when she checked on me.” The embarrassing emotion she tried so hard to hold back burned like fire in her eyes. She did not want to cry. She needed to be strong. She wanted to move on from this.

“It’s not necessary to tell anyone else about this, Natalie. Let’s just see how it goes. I’m completely convinced we’re dealing with memories. The shooting in your kitchen may be a memory from a case you once worked or studied. What you heard last night could have been a memory from when you and April were teenagers.”

Natalie dabbed at her eyes with the back of her hand. “All right. That’s the theory I’ll operate under for now.”

Sadie gave her a hug. “Now, tell me about the man in the lobby. He is incredibly handsome.”

“Clint Hayes. He’s the PI I hired to figure out what happened to the guy I shot.” The memory of the sound of the bullet discharging from the barrel made her flinch. Had the intruder taken her father’s weapon? It was the only explanation. She had the weapon in her hand and she fired it. The .38 had been loaded. Her father had kept it that way. As girls she and April had been lectured many times on how that drawer in her father’s bedside table was off limits. Their father had explained over and over the reason he kept the weapon next to his bed and their responsibility for staying away from it. He’d put the fear of God in them at an early age. Neither of them had ever touched the drawer much less the weapon for fear of their father’s wrath. As it turned out, the weapon had been outfitted with a trigger guard. It wasn’t until after her parents’ deaths that Natalie had discovered and removed the guard.

“So, he’s your bodyguard, too?”

The twinkle in Sadie’s blue eyes was teasing. Natalie managed a smile. “I guess he is. He takes his work very seriously.” And he was handsome. He was also nice, though he did apparently have a few skeletons of his own.

“I’m glad you hired him.” Sadie patted her hand. “Better to be safe than sorry.”

Natalie stood. “I should go so you can get back to your scheduled patients. Your secretary is going to start locking the door when she sees me coming.”

Sadie dismissed the idea with a wave of her hand. “Nonsense. Now, I expect to hear from you if there are any more unsettling episodes.”

“Count on it.” Natalie made her way back to the lobby. As if he sensed her coming, Clint set the magazine he held aside and pushed to his feet.

How was it that she suddenly felt safer just knowing he was waiting for her?

* * *

CLINT WALKED NATALIE to her car. Like yesterday, she insisted on driving herself about. Reasonable considering she’d only been cleared to drive again four months ago. No one appreciated the everyday personal freedoms until they were lost. Though he had never suffered an injury like the one Natalie struggled to overcome, he was more than a little familiar with the battle to conquer life’s stumbling blocks.

She hit the fob to unlock the doors and he opened the driver’s side for her. “You’re headed to the office?”

“Yes.” She hesitated before settling behind the steering wheel. “Will you be coming as well?”

Clint had planned to meet Lori and Harper for coffee to discuss Natalie’s case once she was settled in at her office. Maybe he still would, but the distinct note of hope in her question gave him pause. “I have a meeting, but—”

“Really, you don’t need to watch me every moment.” She arranged her lips into a smile that failed to reach her eyes. “I’m fairly certain no one is going to attack me at my office. Besides, if the police are correct in their conclusions my concerns are wholly rooted in my imagination.”

She turned to get into the car and he touched her arm, stopping her though she didn’t face him. “My meeting can wait. Why don’t you tell me what happened to bring you here this morning? The appointment wasn’t on your calendar.”

He’d skimmed her calendar yesterday. Her next scheduled appointment with Dr. Morrow was two weeks away. From the moment she greeted him at her front door this morning he’d recognized something was off.

“Last night I... I think I started hallucinating again.” She turned to him and the fear and pain in her expression tugged hard at his protective instincts. “I haven’t done that in nearly a year.”

“The office can wait. Let’s go back to your home. I want you to walk me through exactly what you saw and heard last night.”

She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. “Dr. Morrow said it may have been a dream. But...I can’t trust my judgment.”

“Your judgment seems fine at work all day and all evening with me. Why is it that all these strange events only occur when you’re at home alone?”

Her response was slow in coming. “I don’t know. I guess I feel more relaxed at home.” She shook her head. “Or because that’s where the fall happened. Two psychiatrists as well as Sadie have analyzed me and they all seem to agree on one thing: my brain is trying to recover the pieces and the pieces don’t always fall into their proper place leading to misinterpretations. I can’t trust...myself.”

Clint resisted the urge to take her in his arms and comfort her. Not a smart move. The hair on the back of his neck suddenly stood on end. He glanced at the street, surveyed the block. The distinct feeling they were being watched nudged him. “Let’s talk about this in a more private setting.”