Free Omens by Kelley Armstrong Page B

there and tried not to think about how much I missed home and how upset I was with my mother and how badly I wanted to hear Dad tell me everything would be okay.
    I thought of calling James. Just to let him know I was all right.
    Instead I called my mother. I blocked my number as I did, telling myself that I had to because otherwise she’d use it to call me later. In truth, I blocked it because it gave me an excuse if she
didn’t
use it later.
    No one answered the new cell number she’d given me. It didn’t even ring to voice mail, suggesting the number had been disconnected. So I phoned Howard. When I announced myself, there was a pause, as if he was wondering whether he could
accidentally
hang up. First thing I was doing when I got things under control again? Firing his ass.
    “I’m trying to get in touch with Mum,” I said. “I want to let her know I’m okay.”
    “You told her that this morning, Olivia.”
    I gritted my teeth. “And I’d like to tell her again. More important, I want to make sure she’s okay.”
    “She is. Her friends have come to her rescue.” There was a note of accusation in his voice, as if I’d abandoned her, and I was about to snap back and remind him who advised me to stay away, but he continued, “They’ve taken her to Europe for a few weeks.”
    “What?”
    “Your mother is taking this very hard, Olivia. She needs a break, and she deserves one. I will pass on messages, though I ask you to keep them to a minimum so as not to disturb her.”
    Disturb
her
? She hadn’t just found out
she
was the daughter of serial killers.
    “Olivia, your mother asked me to make sure you have everything you need.”
    I need my mother.
    “Like what?” I asked.
    “Money, of course. I’ve been authorized to wire you ten thousand now and another ten thousand next…”
    He kept talking. I didn’t hear him. I just sat there, staring into space, clutching the phone, feeling tears prickle the back of my eyes.
    I don’t want money. I don’t need money. I need help. Support. A mother. My mother.
    No, I needed my dad. I really, really needed my dad.
    I told Howard the money could wait until I was settled. A lie. I would no more take it than I’d accept charity from a stranger on the street. That’s what it felt like.
    “One more thing,” I said. “I hate to make you play messenger, but with every person I contact, there’s more chance of the media finding me…”
    “Yes, there is. Who would you like me to call?”
    “James. Tell him I’m fine.” I paused. “Tell him I’m fine and … tell him I’m sorry.”
    I hung up before I said more. I sat there for a few minutes, fighting the overwhelming loneliness. Then I ate the sandwich I’d grabbed earlier and crawled into bed, still dressed.

Chapter Thirteen
    I didn’t want to take sleeping pills, but without the knockout dose, a dream came. Except it wasn’t a nightmare. It was a dream I’d had for as long as I could remember. My favorite one, so warm and familiar that if I woke up from it, I’d burrow back under my covers and try to find it again.
    I was sitting in a garden, arranging polished white stones on a flat black rock. I’d make one design, then sweep it away and craft another. There was no feeling that I wasn’t pleased with the design and needed to try again. Each one was perfect. Each one had meaning.
    Somewhere to my left, a woman laughed. A man responded, his voice low, teasing, and she laughed again. I didn’t look over. Just smiled and kept laying down rocks, each making a soft, satisfying click.
    Tiny tropical birds flitted around me. Living jewels, sometimes landing on the rock, heads tilting as they chirped encouragement.
    The heady scent of flowers filled the air. They were everywhere, in as many colors as the birds, rich reds and yellows and purples. Even the greenery was bright emerald, as lush as a rain forest.
    Water burbled in front of me, a natural waterfall, tumbling into the rock pool below. As