"I will not let you do it, Jonathan."
The voice made Alexandra cringe. Her mommy sounded so angry. Something must be terribly wrong.
Throwing her short legs over the bed, she slid to the floor and tiptoed across the room and into the hall. Reaching up, she let her right hand trail along the top of the banister. Mary Jane was in her left hand, her soft floppy legs dragging along the shiny wooden floors.
Alexandra stopped at the landing and peered between the railings. Mommy's red curls bounced as she shook her head hard.
Daddy was mad, too. Really mad. His face was all twisted and he was holding a piece of paper over a candle.
Mommy yelled again just as the grandfather clock started to bong. Alexandra closed her eyes and clapped her palms over her ears to block out the noise, but it didn't help much. One ... two ... three ... four.
The last gong was so loud it sounded as if it were inside her head. Mary Jane slipped from her hand and fell to the floor. When Alexandra opened her eyes again, the living room had turned red. Bright red. Flames were licking at the sofa and climbing the walls.
All she could see was fire and black smoke that hurt her chest and made her cry. She was afraid, so very afraid.
"Daddy, please help me! Daaaadddy!"
"It's okay, Kitten. I have you."
Safe. In Daddy's arms. But someone was screaming. And screaming. And screaming.
ALEXANDRA JERKED AWAKE as her screams reverberated in the bedroom of her apartment. In frenzied panic, she kicked off the sheet. If she didn't hurry, she would be trapped in the fire.
But when her feet hit the floor, it was the shock of reality that sent her reeling. She cowered against the bedpost, a thin, shivering mass in her nightgown, which was wringing wet with the cold sweat of fear. She dropped back to the side of the bed, bewildered and shaking.
There was no fire. No smoke.
There was only the nightmare. And there was no place to run where it wouldn't follow. She knew. She'd spent the last few years trying. Reality was a thin film over her life, but the nightmare was its very essence. It overrode every decision she made, every emotion she felt - every breath she took.
And it was getting worse every day, the details more defined, the fear more consuming. This time the nightmare had come while she'd slept, but often the fragmented memories attacked even in the bright light of day.
On some level she must have known this would happen if she returned to Seattle, the place where it all began for her - began and ended in a thick, choking blast of fire and smoke. That's why she'd waited twenty years to come back. And why she couldn't stay.
But she couldn't just pick up and run the way she always had before when things got tough - at least not until a few things were settled. The day-care center that she operated with her lifelong friends Hannah and Katherine was yet to be sold. And there was Gary Devlin.
Her heart wrenched at the thought of the dirty, tattered homeless man, who suffered from Alzheimer's and roamed the dark and musty tunnels that formed Seattle's Underground. A lost soul who had come into her life by sheer coincidence? Or her father? She believed the latter with every fiber of her being, and nothing anyone said would convince her differently. Not without proof.
And no matter how bad the nightmares became, she could never leave Seattle until she was certain beyond a shadow of a doubt exactly who Gary Devlin really was.
Shivering, she tugged the wet nightgown away from her clammy body and considered taking a warm bath and then trying to get a little more sleep. After all, it was only six o'clock on a Saturday morning. But if she closed her eyes and tried to sleep, the dream might return. Better to get in a quick jog while the smart, more fortunate people of the city slept, grab a coffee at Caffeine Hy's, then be ready to shower and take on the day's errands.
Some exciting life.
Letting her nightgown fall to the floor, she crossed the room in her altogether and dug a pair of running shorts and a sports top from her closet. Exercise was good for the soul. Her soul could use the help.
HANNAH RICHARDS MCKAY hesitated, the phone feeling heavy in her hand. She'd been hoping for a call from a suitable buyer for the day-care center, but she'd never expected that person to be Dr. Ben Jessup.
"Forrester Square Day Care is for sale, isn't it?" he asked. "Or am I too late?"
"You're not too late."
"Then I'm definitely interested. Would it be possible to meet with you this morning? I know I've seen the place before, but only as a father. I'd like to have another look at it from a prospective buyer's standpoint."
He did sound interested, and prospective buyers were not exactly knocking their door down. Actually, Ben Jessup was the first person who'd shown any serious interest. The problem was that Alexandra would not consider him suitable. He'd gotten upset several months ago, hurled a few accusations of irresponsibility when it came to the children's safety, and yanked his son from their program.
It had all stemmed from the police using the day care for surveillance work. Katherine had really had no choice but to say yes to the police, and as far as she and Hannah were concerned, Ben had groveled sufficiently when he'd subsequently asked them to readmit Doug. But Alexandra had about as much use for the good doctor as she did for a juicy slice of prime rib - which to her vegetarian's mind was practically suicide. Still, she was as eager for the sale to go through as Hannah and Katherine were, so surely she'd cooperate.
"What time would you like to inspect the center?"
"I could easily be there by ten, if that's not too early."
"Ten should be fine, but I'll need to check with my partner Alexandra Webber to make certain she can meet you then."
"I'd rather meet with you."
Yeah. Hannah would like that a whole lot better herself. Unfortunately it wouldn't fly this morning. "I can't possibly make it this weekend, but Alexandra is quite capable of showing you through the day care and answering any questions you have."
"I'm sure she is capable. She can also be as amiable as a pit bull who's missed its last three meals. And that's on her good days."
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Escape The Night by Joanna Wayne Copyright © 2004 by Harlequin Enterprises, Ltd.. Excerpted by permission.
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