Dark Dreamer: A Dark Vista Romance - By Jennifer Fulton

CHAPTER ONE

“Last night I dreamed of Iris,” Phoebe said. “I promised her I would come.”

Cara looked up from the morning paper. “Shall I call our friend?”

Phoebe’s face fell into shadow. “Perhaps it was my imagination.”

Cara took her twin’s hand. “You say that every time.”

Where two paths crossed beneath the low silvery boughs of a huge birch tree, a woman lay on a quilt of brown and yellow leaves. Her hands were roped behind her back. Twigs and earth matted her honey-colored hair.

She lifted her head as Phoebe knelt. “You found me. I knew you would.”

Phoebe unfastened the rope and cradled her. Hot tears spilled down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I tried to come sooner.”

“It’s okay. You’re here now.” The woman tried to smile, but her face was contorted with bruises.

“Who did this to you?” Phoebe asked urgently.

“I don’t know his name.” Her head grew heavy on Phoebe’s shoulder. “I’m so tired.”

“No. Wait!” Phoebe shook her.

“Tell my folks I love them.” She closed her eyes.

“Iris!” Phoebe begged.

The body in her arms felt like lead. She sank down on the leaves next to it and sobbed uncontrollably. The smell of earth and decay invaded her nostrils. A hand touched her shoulder.

“Phoebe?” Cara’s voice. “Sweetheart?”

Phoebe rolled over, blinking into the light.

Her twin cupped a cool hand to her cheek. “Is this the place?”

Phoebe nodded. Exhaustion drained the strength from her limbs. Her legs wobbled as Cara helped her up.

Standing a few yards from them, in suit and tie as always, Special Agent Vernell Jefferson put his cell phone away. He looked awkward. Men like him folded their arms when their instinct was to reach out.

“Is she okay?” he asked Cara, as if Phoebe couldn’t speak for herself. That was nothing unusual. Most of the world preferred talking to Cara.

The FBI agent drew a few steps closer, his keen brown eyes assessing the leafy site. A long, rectangular mound of earth corrupted the contours of the forest floor. Phoebe shivered. It was not the first time she had lain on someone’s shallow grave.

Cara removed some tissues from her coat pocket and placed them in Phoebe’s hand. “We should get going,” she said.

They walked back to the car in silence. Overhead, the sun was trying to come out. Until it did, the day would remain damp, the wind weak but biting. Within a couple of months this area would be knee deep in snow. It was lucky they had found Iris before winter set in.

“We really appreciate this,” Vernell said, opening the passenger door for Phoebe.

She met his eyes and watched his pupils betray him. Vernell was much more excited than his demeanor suggested. In his line of work, the dead spoke through their physical remains. Clearly he was impatient to decipher those of Iris.

“I have a message from her,” Phoebe said.

His face quickened. “About him?”

“I’m sorry.” She dispelled his hopes. “She just wants someone to tell her folks she loves them.”

Vernell did a good job of masking his disappointment. “I’ll take care of it.” His eyes moved to Cara. “If you want to wait a while, I can have someone drive you to the airport.”

“No. You folks have work to do.” Cara glanced up the forest road north. “And what do you know? Here come the troops.”

Phoebe followed the direction of her sister’s gaze. A convoy of police vehicles was closing in on them, lights flashing. Hastily she retreated into the car. Law enforcement didn’t know she existed. That was part of her deal with the FBI.

Vernell walked Cara to the driver’s side and waited for her to get situated. “Don’t forget what we talked about,” he said.

“I’ll be in touch.” Cara started the motor.

Vernell thanked them again, then stepped back and slapped the car roof as if it were a horse’s rump. Phoebe watched him in the side mirror as they accelerated away. He waved briefly before turning to face the approaching patrol cars. She wondered how he was going to explain chancing upon Iris Meicklejohn’s body miles from civilization, ten minutes’ hike into a dense forest near Maidstone Lake in Vermont. Or did FBI men capitalize on their mystique at times like this? Vernell said local police tended to be in awe of the Bureau.

“What did he mean?” she asked Cara. “What shouldn’t you forget?”

“Routine stuff. Nothing you need to worry about.”

Phoebe knew she should protest. It wasn’t fair that Cara always took responsibility for the practicalities. But they had been through this a hundred times. Cara said they were identical twins,