Page 63 of In Her Dreams
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Jenna lunged forward but her fingers closed on empty air.Dr.Olivia Summers tumbled over the balcony railing.No scream came.
Jenna struggled to process what had just happened.She holstered her weapon in a single fluid motion, then moved to the railing, forcing herself to look down.Six stories below, on the concrete sidewalk, lay the crumpled form.Even from this height, Jenna could see there was no question of survival.The professor’s body lay at an impossible angle, a dark stain spreading beneath her.
People were already gathering—residents emerging from the building, pedestrians stopping in shock.Someone was pointing up toward the balcony where Jenna stood.
Jenna cast one final glance at the gathering crowd below, then stepped back into the bedroom.She paused, her gaze falling on the mirrored closet door that had seemed to terrify Summers so completely.Just an ordinary mirror, reflecting the rumpled bed, the open balcony doors, the dreamcatcher on the wall, and Jenna’s own troubled expression.
She turned away, moving quickly back to the living room where Jake knelt beside Dr.Walsh.The psychiatrist was lying on the sofa, eyes closed but breathing more evenly now.Jake had loosened his collar and was checking his pulse, his movements precise and professional.
“Summers is dead,” Jenna said, keeping her voice low.“Went over the balcony.I couldn’t stop her.”
Jake looked up sharply, searching her face.“Jumped?”
“Not exactly,” Jenna replied, the scene replaying in her mind.“She was terrified of something.When I found her, she was staring at the mirror in the bedroom like it was going to attack her.Then she just...ran, right over the railing.”
She pulled out her phone and dialed dispatch to report the death and request medical assistance for Walsh.After completing the call, Jenna crouched down beside Jake, studying Walsh’s face.Color had returned to his cheeks, and his breathing had steadied, though his eyes remained closed.
“How is he?”she asked.
“Better,” Jake replied.“Whatever was happening seemed like a severe panic attack.But his pulse is steadier now, breathing’s normalizing.”
Walsh’s eyelids fluttered, then opened.His gaze, still unfocused, moved between Jenna and Jake before settling on Jenna’s face.Recognition dawned slowly.
“Sheriff,” he murmured, voice raspy.“You came.”
“We’re here, Dr.Walsh,” Jenna confirmed.“You’re safe now.Paramedics are on their way.”
Walsh struggled to sit up straighter, wincing with the effort.“Dr.Summers—”
“She’s gone,” Jenna said simply, watching his reaction carefully.“She went over the balcony.She didn’t survive.”
A complex series of emotions crossed Walsh’s face—relief, guilt, grief, and something that looked almost like vindication.“It was the mirror, wasn’t it?”he asked.“She never managed to cure her own …” A strange half-smile played at the corners of his mouth before he passed out.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
Jenna watched Rusty’s face, recognizing the same disbelief she’d felt when first unraveling this case.Here in the living room of the Winters family home, the truth about death by fear, about dreamcatchers and ancient rituals, seemed especially improbable.Richard Winter’s daughter was clearly struggling to absorb the unimaginable truth about her father’s death.
“So this woman—this professor—she deliberately planted these fears in Dad’s mind?”Rusty asked, her voice barely above a whisper.“And he died because of...his problem with claustrophobia?”
Jenna leaned forward.“The ka’lutma made him susceptible to hypnotic suggestion.Combined with the dreamcatcher and his pre-existing condition...his heart couldn’t take the strain.”
“And she did this to other people too?For some experiment about conquering fear?”Rusty’s voice cracked.
“Yes.We believe three people died as a result.Anita Palmer, Sam Rodriguez, and your father,” Jenna said softly.
Rusty shook her head slowly, disbelief etched in every line of her face.“And now she’s dead too.Killed by ...”
“By her own fears.She had a lifetime phobia regarding mirrors.In the end, she was as susceptible as those she victimized.”
“I still don’t understand,” Rusty said.“Dad seemed better after that treatment.He even took the elevator at the bank.He told me he’d finally gotten past his claustrophobia.”
“That was part of Dr.Summers’ technique.The powerful hypnotic suggestion made him believe he was cured, but it was temporary.When it wore off, the fear came back stronger than before.”
Rusty stood suddenly.Her movements were mechanical, as if she was operating on autopilot.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice steadier now.“For finding out what happened.For not giving up until you knew the truth.”
