Free Have You Seen Her? by Karen Rose Page A

a cloud of the sawdust that littered the floor. He crouched in front of his toolbox and surveyed the interior with the air of a sommelier choosing the night’s fine wine. He chose a syringe, a needle—fully sterilized of course—and a vial. He frowned. He was running low on supplies. He’d need to get more soon.
    He stood up and crossed back to where she lay. He drew the precious liquid from the vial and withdrew the needle. He knelt down at her side. “Ready for some more dreams, Sammie?”
    She struggled, but there really wasn’t much she could do under the situation. She went stiff when the needle penetrated her upper arm, then moaned. “No,” she whispered, her voice pathetically weak. “Please.”
    He tilted his head to one side. “But I do please.” And he leaned forward to whisper in her ear, the suggestions as horrific as he could conjure. Her reemergence dreams would be... interesting.
    “Welcome to the k-zone,” he intoned in a deep voice. But she was already too far gone to hear him. He swept the sawdust aside, sat back, and waited for the show to begin.

S IX
    Friday, September 30, 6:45 P.M.
    B RAD ’ S D R . M ARSHALL HAD BEEN QUIET FOR MOST of the ride to her apartment, speaking only to give him the most basic directions. Steven pulled into an empty slot in front of her apartment and turned to study her face. After Raleigh PD took her statement she’d become subdued, as if the import of the threat was finally real. He saw it often. After an incident people tended to behave with excessive bravery or optimism—until the adrenaline wore off and reality sank in. He suspected that’s where Dr. Marshall’s mind was at this point. Mulling over the possibilities. Who could have written that note? And would they carry through on their threat?
    She sat very still, looking down at her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her hair hanging down so that all but the tip of her nose was obscured. Her left hand was bare, as he’d noticed before, but now he noted the thick silver ring she wore on her right thumb. A Celtic design. A man’s ring.
    He didn’t like that. He didn’t like that she wore a man’s ring or that she worried it. But, of course, it didn’t matter what he didn’t like as he’d only see her this once.
    Only this once.
    He didn’t like that, either. To his great irritation, he realized he didn’t want to leave. Didn’t want their time together to come to an end. Hah. As if “they” had “time together.” They’d met, talked, and would likely never meet nor talk again. Still, he hesitated. She sat so quietly, staring down at her hands. Miles away. He was almost afraid to break into her thoughts. He leaned toward her and caught the coconut scent of her hair. Breathed deeply. Then cleared his throat.
    “Dr. Marshall?” he said quietly.
    Her head jerked up, sending her hair sliding back against her cheeks. Her eyes, wide and startled, met his, blinked, then focused. And her cheeks turned the most becoming shade of rose.
    “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t realize we were here already.” Her eyes dropped to her fingers, busily fidgeting with the silver ring. “I guess I just realized that someone hates me enough to slash my tires and threaten me with hate mail.” Her lips quirked up. “Without a spell-checker of course.”
    He smiled back. “Are you ready to go in?”
    She reached to the floorboard for her purse. “Sure. Just give me a second to find my keys.” She rummaged for a minute, then stopped and looked back at him, her eyes almost black in the shadow of the Volvo’s overhead light, her dark brows bunched. “I think you still have them.”
    “Oh.” Without taking his eyes from her face, Steven reached in his coat pocket and pulled out her keys. “Here you go.”
    She took her keys gingerly, not even brushing his hand in the process. And he felt disappointed. Then felt annoyed at feeling disappointed. He sat back firmly in his seat. “You put the card for