Page 16 of Preying Game

He could bring up the scene, but he couldn’t get any farther. He was still lying in his own bed.

He swung his head toward the clock on the bedside table. 6:00 am. It was tempting to call Grant and ask for advice. But he was pretty sure his friend couldn’t tell him how to do this. He’d have to figure it out for himself.

Suddenly he had an inspiration. He’d taken some courses in self-hypnosis. When he was in the hypnotic state, he’d travel to a private place where he could veg out.

Could he extend that trip to Alice’s location?

Recalling the techniques he’d learned, he opened his eyes and looked up to the line where the ceiling and the wall met.

“Relax now . . . relax now . . . relax now,” he told himself, feeling the phrase trigger the familiar weightless sensation of going into a trance. It came with a kind of buzzing in his brain that extended to his body.

It was as if his physical self was no longer as important as his mind. Which meant he could leave that part of himself lying in bed. Usually he went to a quiet beach where he could lie in the sun and listen to the sound of the waves breaking on the shore. He landed on the beach now and stayed there for a few minutes, lounging on a comfortable chaise, enjoying the breeze, the waves, and the feel of the warmth on his skin. It was so peaceful here that he felt sluggish. But he got up and slowly walked into a small beachcomber’s shack that was several yards back from the water, surrounded by leafy vegetation.

Inside was a staircase. Of course it would have been impossible to really descend into the earth so close to the ocean. Water would have been lapping a few feet below the floor. But he was in a hypnotic trance, and the rules of the natural world had no power in this place.

Trying to keep hold of the peaceful feeling, he slowly descended the stairs, using the image of walking down to pull himself deeper into the trance—and to get him to Alice, since she’d said she was in an underground facility.

The bottom of the stairs was dark, but he saw a light shining from somewhere close. When he reached the lower level, he found he was in a corridor underground, like the corridor Alice had told him led to her cell. The light was muted, with bulbs in cages overhead. Was this really where he would find her? Or was he making all this up because he wanted to be here?

It hardly seemed possible that he had actually gotten to her location—after completely losing the connection with her a few hours earlier.

Still, he followed the corridor to the end, where he found a heavy metal door with a lock and a horizontal slit, like a pass-through for dangerous prisoners.

There was a small window in the door. When he looked through, he saw a woman lying on a bed, her eyes closed.

He had no substance in this place, and there was no way to open the door. But if he could do the same thing Grant had, he didn’t need to open it. Putting up his hand, he pressed against the metal surface, watching with awe as his flesh went through the barrier. He closed his eyes and stepped forward. There was no feeling of resistance. But after several steps, when he opened his eyes, he was on the other side of the door.

Elation surged through him. Still he didn’t trust the experience? Was he really where Alice was being held? Or was he making all this up because he wanted it so much?

As he stared at the woman on the bed, he saw her body jerk and her eyes fly open. They focused on him, and he heard her make an exclamation.

“Oh my God.”

He knew from the look of shock that bloomed on her face that she could see him standing in the room. Or, more accurately, she was seeing the image he had created in his trance. Yes.

For a few electrified seconds, they stared at each other, as though neither of them could believe what had happened.

Was there a way to find out if it was real?

When he took a step forward, the scene wavered.

Madly he shouted, “No.”

But it was already too late. He was back in his own bed, lying on his back with his heart pounding and his breath coming in uneven gasps.

His curse rang through the room. All that effort—and it had come to nothing.

Once again, he calmed himself.

No, he corrected. It hadn’t come to nothing. He’d been in her room—her cell. And Alice had known he was there.

She had looked as shocked as he had felt. But that proved nothing, he cautioned himself, not if he was making the whole thing up—like a beach where there was no water below the surface of the ground.

The only way to prove it was real was to go back there. He had done it once. He could do it again.

He closed his eyes, willing himself to be calm. But now his pulse was pounding in his temple, and he knew he had lost the slender connection again.

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