Page 59 of In Her Dreams
They walked back toward the elevator, their footsteps echoing in the empty corridor.
“We could check out her house,” Jake said, pressing the down button.
Jenna nodded absently, her mind racing.Something was tugging at her thoughts, connections forming just below the surface of conscious realization.The dreamcatchers in the victims’ bedrooms.The ka’lutma plants in Thompson’s basement.Dr.Summers’ research on indigenous shamanic practices.And something else—something from earlier that day.
The elevator arrived, doors sliding open with a soft ding.They inside the elevator, and Jenna leaned against the wall, her eyes unfocused as she sorted through mental fragments.
“What is it?”Jake asked, recognizing the look.
“Dr.Walsh,” Jenna said suddenly.“This morning, when we interviewed him.He was terrified.”
“Well, yeah.Guy practically jumped out of his skin when we walked in.”
“No, it was more than that.”Jenna’s mind raced back to their meeting with the psychiatrist.“He was hiding something.And he specializes in sleep disorders—problems that our victims had.”
The elevator reached the ground floor.As they crossed the lobby, Jenna pulled out her phone.
“You’re calling Walsh?”Jake asked, pushing open the building’s heavy door.
“His office,” Jenna confirmed, scrolling through her contacts.“We need to talk to him again.”
Outside, the campus hummed with afternoon activity.Students lounged on the grass, laptops open.A frisbee arced through the air between two laughing young men.It all seemed so normal, so disconnected from the darkness Jenna was beginning to suspect lurked beneath the surface.
She found the number for Dr.Walsh’s practice and dialed.After three rings, a woman’s voice answered.
“Trentville Psychiatric Associates, how may I help you?”
“This is Sheriff Jenna Graves,” she said, making eye contact with Jake as they walked toward their vehicle.“I spoke with Dr.Walsh this morning, and I need to follow up with him on an urgent matter.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line.“Oh, Sheriff Graves.I’m afraid Dr.Walsh isn’t available.He, um, he canceled all his afternoon appointments about an hour ago.”
Jenna stopped walking, her pulse quickening.“Did he say why?”
“No, not really.He just...he seemed upset.Agitated.He said he wasn’t feeling well and needed to go home.”The secretary’s voice lowered.“Between you and me, I was worried.I’ve never seen him like that before.I’ve tried calling him, but he’s not answering his cell.”
Jenna’s eyes met Jake’s.“Thank you.Can you give me Dr.Walsh’s home address?”
After getting the address and ending the call, Jenna stood motionless, the pieces finally clicking into place.
“Walsh bolted too,” Jake said, not really a question.
“Yeah.And he was scared.”Jenna started walking again, faster now.“Walsh treats sleep disorders.Olivia Summers researches shamanic rituals, and her specialty involves consciousness-altering practices.”
“And they both disappeared within hours of each other,” Jake added, keeping pace.“After we started asking questions.”
Jenna pulled out of the parking space.As they drove away from campus, Jenna’s mind raced.The pieces were falling into place, revealing a picture darker than she had imagined.If she was right, if Summers was behind these deaths and Walsh knew enough to be afraid for his life, they might already be too late.The image of Walsh, trembling slightly during their interview, eyes darting to the door like a cornered animal, burned in her memory.
Jenna pressed harder on the accelerator, hoping they weren’t already too late.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
The dreamcatcher hung on the wall like a malevolent eye, its web tangled and chaotic.Dr.Anthony Walsh sat huddled on the floor beside his bed, knees drawn to his chest.
“Don’t look at it,” he whispered, his voice cracking.“Look anywhere else.”
He forced his eyes toward the full-length mirror on his closet door.The reflection that stared back at him was barely recognizable—a disheveled man with dark hollows beneath bloodshot eyes, hair sticking up in tufts where he’d been pulling at it.This wasn’t the respected psychiatrist who specialized in sleep disorders.This was a man unraveling at the seams.
The harsh buzz of the intercom shattered the silence, sending a jolt of fear through Anthony’s body.He knew who it must be.
