turned just then and looked straight at her. Autumn knew that face. She recognized the pretty oval shape, the soft blue eyes and long silky lashes, the pale blond hair drifting like corn silk around her narrow shoulders.
Those eyes were staring into hers and the pain in them jolted Autumn from a deep, hypnotic sleep.
Heart pounding, palms sweating, she bolted upright in bed. It was her! The girl named Molly! It was the little girl she had dreamed about before, only she was no longer a child but a girl approaching her teens. Autumn knew it deep in her bones.
Trembling, she swung her legs to the side of the bed.
It was nearly two-thirty but she was wide awake, her mouth dry and her heart beating too fast. Images of the dream rolled around in her head. Straightening her pink silk nightie, she padded into the bathroom and turned on the tap, shakily filled the glass next to the sink with water and took a long, calming drink.
Her mind spun, replaying the images she had seen. If this was the same girlâand Autumn was convinced it wasâshe was somewhere around eleven or twelve. How could that be?
She tried to recall the first series of dreams, when the child was much younger. Was there something in the dream that hinted at the time frame? Nothing she could recall. Still, if the child was five or six then and eleven or twelve now, the abductionâif thatâs what it had beenâwould have had to have happened at least six years ago.
The whole thing was crazy. Certainly tonightâs dream was nothing at all like the nightmare sheâd had in her teens and yetâ¦
There was no use trying to sleep. Instead, she walked into the kitchen, poured herself a glass of milk and carried it over to the sofa. Pulling the soft wool afghan her grandmother had crocheted off the back of the couch, Autumn covered her legs, leaned back and let her mind sift through the dream.
Maybe the dream tonight was actually that. A real dream where everythingâs just a fantasy.
Or maybe neither of them were real.
Autumn finished her milk and stretched out on the sofa. If she continued to dream, maybe she would see the girl as a full-grown woman, happy wherever she had finally ended up, and Autumn could stop worrying about her.
Maybe she was wrong andâunlike beforeânothing bad had happened or was going to. Warm beneath the comforter, she finally fell asleep. When she did, she began to dream.
Three women worked in the kitchen, the little girl no longer a child, but taller, beginning to develop breasts, showing the first signs of becoming a woman. And when she looked at Autumn there was always so much pain in her eyes, Autumn awakened from the dream.
She lay there on the sofa, heart thumping madly, exhausted and even more worried. This was no simple dream. This was a messageâjust like it had been when she was fifteen.
She couldnât ignore it the way she had before. She refused to sit around and let something terrible happen again. Dear God, if only she knew what to do.
Four
I t was early morning, almost time to get up. As Autumn lay awake on the sofa staring up at the ceiling, memories of the dream played over and over in her head. If this was the same blond child, the little girl named Molly from the first dream, maybe she was among the millions of children who went missing and were never found. Maybe she was reaching out, asking Autumn for help.
But if thatâs true, why now? Why didnât the dreams begin years earlier? So far it appeared she didnât even know the girl. It was all so utterly confusing.
Tired to the bone and still thinking of the dream, she tossed back the afghan and headed for the bathroom to shower and dress for the gym. She needed some physical exertion, something to clear her head. Hopefully, her climbing class would take her mind off the girl. After lunch she had a couple of private lessons and around five-thirty she was supposed to meet Terri for drinks at
Those eyes were staring into hers and the pain in them jolted Autumn from a deep, hypnotic sleep.
Heart pounding, palms sweating, she bolted upright in bed. It was her! The girl named Molly! It was the little girl she had dreamed about before, only she was no longer a child but a girl approaching her teens. Autumn knew it deep in her bones.
Trembling, she swung her legs to the side of the bed.
It was nearly two-thirty but she was wide awake, her mouth dry and her heart beating too fast. Images of the dream rolled around in her head. Straightening her pink silk nightie, she padded into the bathroom and turned on the tap, shakily filled the glass next to the sink with water and took a long, calming drink.
Her mind spun, replaying the images she had seen. If this was the same girlâand Autumn was convinced it wasâshe was somewhere around eleven or twelve. How could that be?
She tried to recall the first series of dreams, when the child was much younger. Was there something in the dream that hinted at the time frame? Nothing she could recall. Still, if the child was five or six then and eleven or twelve now, the abductionâif thatâs what it had beenâwould have had to have happened at least six years ago.
The whole thing was crazy. Certainly tonightâs dream was nothing at all like the nightmare sheâd had in her teens and yetâ¦
There was no use trying to sleep. Instead, she walked into the kitchen, poured herself a glass of milk and carried it over to the sofa. Pulling the soft wool afghan her grandmother had crocheted off the back of the couch, Autumn covered her legs, leaned back and let her mind sift through the dream.
Maybe the dream tonight was actually that. A real dream where everythingâs just a fantasy.
Or maybe neither of them were real.
Autumn finished her milk and stretched out on the sofa. If she continued to dream, maybe she would see the girl as a full-grown woman, happy wherever she had finally ended up, and Autumn could stop worrying about her.
Maybe she was wrong andâunlike beforeânothing bad had happened or was going to. Warm beneath the comforter, she finally fell asleep. When she did, she began to dream.
Three women worked in the kitchen, the little girl no longer a child, but taller, beginning to develop breasts, showing the first signs of becoming a woman. And when she looked at Autumn there was always so much pain in her eyes, Autumn awakened from the dream.
She lay there on the sofa, heart thumping madly, exhausted and even more worried. This was no simple dream. This was a messageâjust like it had been when she was fifteen.
She couldnât ignore it the way she had before. She refused to sit around and let something terrible happen again. Dear God, if only she knew what to do.
Four
I t was early morning, almost time to get up. As Autumn lay awake on the sofa staring up at the ceiling, memories of the dream played over and over in her head. If this was the same blond child, the little girl named Molly from the first dream, maybe she was among the millions of children who went missing and were never found. Maybe she was reaching out, asking Autumn for help.
But if thatâs true, why now? Why didnât the dreams begin years earlier? So far it appeared she didnât even know the girl. It was all so utterly confusing.
Tired to the bone and still thinking of the dream, she tossed back the afghan and headed for the bathroom to shower and dress for the gym. She needed some physical exertion, something to clear her head. Hopefully, her climbing class would take her mind off the girl. After lunch she had a couple of private lessons and around five-thirty she was supposed to meet Terri for drinks at
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