Page 203 of Somebody's Watching Me
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You two have a newborn coming, and it’s important to get your sleep,” she went on. “We all remember Theo’s colic. You have to be prepared.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Smacking the top piece of bread on the sandwich, she handed him the plate. “I thought I told you not to be a jackass.”
“No jackassing over here.” He lifted the tray, balancing a sandwich, ice cream and the giant glass of water Evie would want, but never thought to add to her order. “Promise.”
“I love you, boy.”
“Love you, Jos.”
As he passed the living room, he said goodnight to Holden, who was readying to do a perimeter walk around while the documentary was paused. “Shouldn’t take long. I just want to check the beach access gate.”
“Call me if you need help.”
Holden snorted. “I might be injured, but I can still do my job.”
Heading up the stairs, Samuel shook his head. “Let me punch that hole in your shoulder and see if you’re still up to doing your job.”
He didn’t have to turn around to know Holden was smiling. Holden the Hero as the girls called him. The only negative thing on the man’s tally was that Evie found him attractive.
At the top of the stairs, he turned into their bedroom and stopped short. The shades were open again, moonlight illuminating the space. Evie stood in front of the wall, two palms flat on the glass. She grunted, and shifted to stand on her toes, like she was trying to see something in the distance.
On the bed, the girls slept soundly, and he set the tray down. “Is something out there?”
She didn’t answer, soft whimpers heaving in and out of her. Realizing what was happening, he approached slowly.
“It’s a dream, Evangeline.” He spoke gently so as not to startle her. “Let’s go back to bed.”
“There are so many.”
Turning her around, the situation was exactly as he expected. His beautiful wife with her eyes wide and vacant. She couldn’t see him, nor did she have any idea that they were standing in their bedroom. These vivid dreams where she sleepwalked were yet another side effect of pregnancy. The first time it happened had been during her second trimester with Harper, and it had scared the shit out of him. Waking alone in the middle of the night, he’d found Evie sitting in what would become the nursery and showing off where she wanted to put the crib to her invisible dream people.
“Come on.” He guided her to bed. “Let’s get some sleep.”
Whenever she had these episodes, it usually meant she was overtired or stressed. At this point, he would wager it was all the above.
Evie allowed him to lead her for a few steps, but suddenly shoved him away as if angry. “No, there are so many,” she moaned. “Too many. Mama needs help.”
He shushed her, whispering soothing words to let her know they were okay. “We’ll help,” he promised. “Anything Laura Jean needs.”
Hunched as if in pain, Evie continued to grunt, and returned to the window. Her hair hung loosely over her shoulders, swaying as she prowled. “Go away. Go away. Go away,” she hissed at the moon. “You can’t have them. You can’t have me.”
On the bed, the girls whimpered in their sleep. “Go away,” they whispered, holding on to one another. “Mama said go away.”
The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. “It’s time for bed.”
Evie suddenly halted in her pacing, every muscle straining as she stood ramrod straight. An alarm went off inside him. A high-pitched warningso devastatingly loud, it obliterated the hum of white noise to where there was no other sound except his Evangeline’s voice.
“Lock the door.” Clear and present, Evie exhaled a shuddering breath, no longer lost in the dream. “Miranda said lock the door.”
Maybe it was the urgency he heard in her tone, or how their girls repeated the order. Or maybe it came down to the echo of his mother, her voice resonating from somewhere deep inside him to merge with Evie’s.
Whatever it was had him rushing from the room, and by the time his feet hit the stairs, the security system was already coming alive.
“What’s happening?” he shouted as the heavy security shutters began their descent to cover the home’s rear glass wall.
