Free Hidden Mortality by Maggie Mundy Page B

forewarned.” Cara said. “He is also meticulous about presentation. The piercings and the fringe would have to go.”
    “I reckon if you’re going to take a chance on me, I’ll take one on you. I’ll phone.” Matcher leaned forward and hugged her, and then quickly jumped back. “Shit, that was awesome. Your aura’s so powerful.”
    “I never felt a thing. I’ll just have to take your word on that.” Cara watched him walk off, then finished her coffee and started to make her way back to her car. There was a newsagent on the next corner. Their new advertisement for the business should be in The Bristol Evening Post . Her stomach clenched. Bile rose in her throat as she looked at the news board out the front of the shop.
    “The Slice and Dice Killer Strikes in Bath.”
    Beneath the words, was a drawing of the symbol she had seen too many times in her dreams, and on a photograph belonging to a disgruntled journalist.

Chapter 8
    Another meal had gone well. The clients were pleased, and for the first time since she started the business, it meant nothing. It was midnight as she unpacked the dishes with Shona.
    “There’s a message on your answer machine. You want to hear it?” Shona asked, as her finger hovered over the button.
    Cara nodded.
    “Cara dearest, I was phoning because a friend of your father’s suggested your business to one of his clients. This is the date he would like for a Sunday evening for an intimate meal for two. I gave him your number. I also want to talk to you about a dinner party for us. Take care my dear, and do call if you need me.” Click. “You have no more new messages.”
    Cara had tried to talk with mum after Nanna’s death but she had clammed up. She thought they could have shared their grief together but it wasn’t to be.
    Shona gave the phone the finger. “My dearest Auntie Anne has a way with words. Her message is sparse and littered with, “don’t you dare call me.” Shona opened the fridge and found a bottle of white wine. “Looks good. Think we’ll try this one.”
    Cara bit her lower lip and contemplated a life far away in Australia where the wine originated.
    “Will you come talk to me? Must I drag you over?” Shona sat down, a glass of wine in her hand. She relaxed back on the sofa, pulling her long hair from its tight bun. “That feels so good.”
    Cara went to sit next to her cousin and picked up the second glass. There had been times in the past when getting drunk and forgetting what was happening was a solution. It didn’t seem so now.
    “The other night when we talked, I didn’t exactly tell you everything.” Cara gulped her wine.
    “I guessed that much.”
    “I told you I was having dreams about dead bodies. I’ve also been having dreams where I kill someone with a knife, or I watch someone else kill them. I carve a symbol into their abdomens and stab them through the heart. So if you want to leave and go home now and not be around a mad woman, I understand.” Cara gave a feeble smile, hoping against all odds Shona would understand.
    “That’s some intense dreaming, girl.”
    “I told Jessica about the dreams. She believes it’s related to the stress of the surgery and the loss of the baby. She says I’m torturing my own body. The day I went to The Evening Post , I saw a reporter drop a picture with a body that had the same marks I dream about. I read his article. He described a copycat killer, a murderer who killed like that in the past. The reporter wrote the police are holding back. I’m starting to think he was right. The other day, the paper said they have another body with the same symbol on it.” Cara emptied her glass and refilled it.
    “I saw that in the paper too. It’s just some sicko doing creepy stuff. Anyway, what are you saying? Do you think you’re slipping out at night in some strange dream state and killing people?” Shona raised her eyes to the ceiling.
    Cara told Shona about Matcher and her strange afternoon with