Hidden Riches

her between the sheets. She never stirred. Jed studied her a moment before he turned off the lights, got in bed beside her. After a little while, he gathered her close to hold her while he joined her in sleep.
     
    Because his arms were around her, her first shudders awakened him. Instinctively he tightened his grip, his hand soothing at her neck.
    “Hey. Hey, Dora, come on. Pull out of it.” He heard her gasping gulp of air, and her body trembled hard as she broke through the surface of the dream. “Bad one, huh?” he murmured.
    She responded by pressing her face to his chest. “Can you reach the light? I need the light.”
    “Sure.” Keeping an arm firm around her, he shifted to grope for the switch. The light flashed, cutting through the unrelieved dark. “Better?”
    “Yeah.” But she continued to shiver.
    “Want some water?”
    “No.” The instant panic in the word had her biting down on her lip. “Just stay right here, okay?”
    “Okay.”
    “And don’t let go.”
    “I won’t.”
    And because he didn’t, her fluttering heart began to settle again. “That was the first nightmare I’ve had since I reread Stephen King’s The Shining. ”
    “Scary book.” Though his eyes were far from calm, the kiss he brushed over her hair was light and easy. “Too bad about the movie.”
    “Yeah.” Her laugh was shaky, but it was a laugh. “I didn’t know you went in for horror stuff, Skimmerhorn.”
    “It relieves tension. It’s tough to worry about life’s little problems when you’re reading about kiddie vampires or the walking dead.”
    “I’ve always been a sucker for the walking dead.” Because he didn’t ask, didn’t press, she found herself able to tell him. “I was in that house, Finley’s house all those rooms and mirrors. All those things, those beautiful things. Did you ever read Something Wicked? ”
    “Bradbury. Sure.”
    “In the carnival, that house of mirrors? Remember, if you bought a ticket, they promised you you’d find what you wanted inside. But it was a very nasty trick. That’s what it was like. I wanted to see all those beautiful things. Then I couldn’t get out. DiCarlo was in there, too, and Finley. Every time I turned, one of them was there, reflected all around me. I kept running into walls of glass.” Takingcomfort in the heat of Jed’s body, the press of muscle, she cuddled closer. “I feel like a jerk.”
    “You shouldn’t. I’ve had some beauts.”
    “You have?” Intrigued, she tilted her head to study his face. “Really?”
    “My rookie year I responded to a ‘shots fired.’ I was lucky enough to be first on the scene of a murder-suicide.” He didn’t add that what was left of a human head after a shotgun blast was not a pretty sight. “My subconscious pulled that little scene out on me in the middle of the night for weeks after. And after Elaine . . .” He hesitated, then continued. “I kept reliving that. Running across the lawn, through the roses. Watching her turn her head to look at me. The sound of the blast when she turned the key. I’ll take the kiddie vampires any day.”
    “Yeah. Me too.” They lay for a moment in silence. “Jed?”
    “Hmmm?”
    “You want to see if there’s an old horror movie on TV?”
    “Conroy, it’s nearly six in the morning.”
    “It’s too dark to be nearly six in the morning.”
    “The drapes are closed.”
    “Oh.”
    “Tell you what.” He shifted, rolling on top of her and catching her chin between his teeth. “Why don’t I show you something really scary?”
    She chuckled, and slipped her arms around his neck just as the phone shrilled beside them. Her heart shot to her throat and pushed out a shriek.
    “Hold that thought,” he murmured, then lifted the receiver. “Skimmerhorn.”
    “Jed. Sorry to wake you.” But the edge of excitement in Brent’s voice had nothing to do with apology. “I’ve got something you might want to check out.”
    “Yeah?” Automatically Jed rolled over and picked up the pen from the nightstand.
    “I just picked up a fax from the sheriff’s department outthere. A couple of hikers stumbled over a body a few days ago wedged in a shallow ravine in the hills. There was enough left for a couple of prints. We can stop looking for DiCarlo. He’s real dead.”
    “How long?”
    “They’re having a tough time pinpointing it, given the exposure and the wildlife. Sometime around the first of the year. Since you’re out there, I figured you might