Free Shifting Shadows by Sally Berneathy Page A

Five
     
    For a long moment she stared at the piece of crystal, searching its transparent depths, searching the opaque depths of her own mind. At least one part of her fantasies had a base in reality. A crystal lamp had broken on the stairs.
    The need to find answers—t o discover what was happening, who she was—possessed her with renewed urgency. She lifted a hand to her forehead and pressed as if she could push away the darkness. But both the crystal and her mind guarded their secrets.
    A knock on the front door startled her, recalling her to the present, to the fact that Dylan was waiting to take her to her shop. What would he do if he knew what she ’d discovered? She didn’t dare find out, didn’t dare let him know. With shaking fingers she stashed the shard in her handbag and continued downstairs on rubbery legs.
    Standing on her front por ch in his dark business suit, Dylan almost looked like an ordinary businessman on his way to the office, an innocent, helpful neighbor. But his bottomless eyes weren’t innocent. The muscles beneath that jacket weren’t innocent. She’d been lifted and carried in those arms as if she were weightless.
    She shuddered as she remembered the feel of hands on her shoulders in her dream, the dream about a broken lamp. How easy it would have been for someone of his strength to push her.
    “Got your keys?”
    She realized he was speaking to her. “Keys?”
    “ To the car.”
    He reached around her. She held her breath in fear of the murderous touch from the dream, in anticipation of the thrilling touch only a few minutes before when he’d been making coffee.
    But his hand remained a careful hair sbreadth away as he pulled the ring of keys from the hook just inside the still open door. Heart racing, she stepped aside, permitting him to close and lock the door.
    Without a word he turned and strode away through the mist to the white automobile sitting in the street in front of the house. She hurried to catch up.
    He slid a key into the door then motioned her inside.
    Tentatively she settle d onto the soft seat in front of the steering wheel, searching in the chaos of her mind for the memory of driving. She knew it was there somewhere, but the piece of crystal in her handbag loomed so large it obscured all else.
    Dylan went around to the other side, got in and handed her the ring of keys.
    “Put the key in the ignition.”
    “ Uh...” She knew where the ignition was, if she could just remember, if she could just stop thinking about the lamp shattering against the stair rail, leaving a broken piece for her to find....
    “ Here.” She gasped as his hand suddenly covered hers.
    With a firm but surprisingly gentle grip, he guided her hand, showed her how to put the key into a slot beneath the steering wheel. “Turn it and give the car some gas. Put your foot on the pedal on the right.”
    She did as he said, twisted the key, shrieked and jumped when it made a grinding noise.
    He reached over and turned the engine off, then handed her the keys. “You’re in no condition to drive. I’ll take you.” He slid out of the car and slammed the door behind him.
    She had to agree with his assessment. She wanted to remember how, knew she could if only she could focus, but right now the thought of that piece of broken crystal in her handbag, of someone trying to kill her, filled her mind, pushed everything else aside.
    “ Come on,” he said brusquely, holding her door open.
    She slid out.
    His car, parked in the street a few yards ahead of hers, loomed black and big and ominous ...rather like Dylan, she thought. Though it was now familiar, she approached it with as much trepidation as the day before. When she was closed inside with him, she’d be entirely at his mercy. If he’d tried to kill her once, would he try again? Her heart pounded painfully against her ribs.
    Yet when he opened the door and stepped back, she slid in unresistingly, the way a prisoner might step up to the guillotine