Why did I get to be so lucky? Who knows? All I can say is that "why me" had become a personal mantra over the past few years.

I gave Helen a shallow nod after considering her response to my explanation. "Yeah, but I'm obviously not doing a lot of speaking to anybody in this one."

"This is true."

I waited a moment then added. "Well, there is one thing I know for sure, and that's what I'm praying for."

"And, that would be?"

"I'm ashamed to admit it, but what I'm praying for is that this time it won't be me. As selfish as that sounds, I want her to hurt someone else and not me."

"Her?" Helen asked, c.o.c.king her head to the side once again and raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know," I replied with a shrug then dug into my pocket for a lighter. "It's like the arousal and callousness with the footsteps. I just have this overwhelming sense of a female presence in connection with the terror and pain. There's definitely a woman at the root of it, but I couldn't begin to tell you who she is."

She clucked her tongue then gave her head a shake, looking at me with an expression that said she had reached a conclusion she was not yet ready to share. Not in direct terms, anyway.

"I do not believe that is entirely true," she said.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean perhaps you do not know for certain who she is, but you have a definite suspicion. That suspicion is exactly why you are here talking to me now."

I huffed out a heavy breath as my response. I was feeling only a small amount of relief at unloading the painful information to begin with, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to take things the direction Helen was now heading. Of course, her high-powered perception was the very reason I sought her out; it just wasn't always comfortable being under the polished surface of her lens.

Pressing on, I tried to bypa.s.s the inference. "Yeah, well...anyway, to answer your earlier question, that's when I wake up...and, my heart is pounding in my chest; thudding against my ribcage so hard I can literally hear it. Just exactly like in the nightmare."

"And, is that always how it ends?"

"Pretty much. Most of the time, anyway." I nodded. "There've been a few times when it went a bit further. I'll hear a creak of an opening door, and then the footsteps will actually make it into the room with me. Then, the wailing and crying of the others gets louder, but that's pretty much it. It's never progressed beyond that point. Not yet, anyway."

"And, you never see her? The woman?"

"See? No. Feel, yes."

"Does she feel familiar?"

"Can't say for sure. Maybe."

"Are you certain of that?"

I lifted my shoulders then allowed them to drop. "Yeah. Okay. She feels familiar."

"Mmmhmmm," Helen pursed her lips and nodded as she made the noise. "And, how often did you say this is recurring?"

"Never less than twice a night since it started, and that was right at a week ago today. Last night was the worst yet. I can remember waking up five times in a total panic, but there may have been more. I'm not sure. That's pretty much why I called you this morning. It just keeps getting worse...Oh, and I'm not sure if I said thanks for fitting me in by the way."

"Of course, Rowan," Helen replied. "That is never a problem."

"Well, I took a chance. I wasn't sure if you would be taking some time off after your father's funeral or not."

Her father's recent pa.s.sing had been another of the reasons I had endured the nightmare as long as I had.

"We all grieve in different ways, Rowan," she said, leaving the sentence to stand on its own as an explanation. "Speaking of grat.i.tude, I appreciate that Felicity and you came to the service. I am certain that my brother did as well."

"It's the least we could do...and, I'll take your word for it about Ben. We haven't really spoken lately."

"Because of the investigation? I know he has been very busy."

"That's my guess. He hasn't returned any of my calls."

"I would not be too concerned. As I said, we all grieve in different ways. Delving into his work is simply Benjamin's way."

"I hope you're right," I returned. "Either way, thanks again for fitting me in."

"Well, keep this between the two of us, but even had I taken time off, I would have managed something for you. I have learned that when you feel the need to call me, it is not to be taken lightly."

"I'll take that as a compliment, I think."

"It was, in a manner of speaking."

She didn't embellish her reply and that wasn't unusual, so I didn't press the point. Since I seemed to have been moderately successful in diverting the topic from her earlier succinct insinuation, I finally relaxed a bit. Seizing the opportunity, I relit my cigar and puffed on it thoughtfully then gave the business end a quick inspection to make sure the glow was relatively even. Satisfied, I stuffed the lighter into my pocket and leaned back against the rail.

"So," I spoke after an extended pause. "What do you think about the nightmare, Doc? Anxiety? Chemical imbalance? Or, have I finally just lost it?"

She let out a thin "hmph" but kept her attention focused on the cigarette in her hand. I wasn't bothered at all by the wordless reply because I knew it simply meant she was still digesting everything I had been saying over the past quarter hour. Of course, knowing her as I did, I should have realized that it also meant I hadn't really changed her course at all.

After a moment, she spoke. "It is most certainly anxiety, but you already knew that. However, the truly important question here is 'what do you think', Rowan?"

"Well, that sounds like a typical response right out of the therapist handbook," I commented with a chuckle.

She let out a small laugh as well. "Yes, I suppose it does, but since you attempted to circ.u.mvent my earlier observation, I am now electing to pose it to you as a direct question."

"Caught that, did you?" I grunted the question.

"Was there any doubt that I would?" she countered.

"Well, I was hoping..."

"Rowan, we both know that in your case there is more to this nightmare than a bad horror movie or too much anchovy pizza for a midnight snack."

"Now, see, I was hoping you would tell me that's exactly what this is."

"But, you know better than that, do you not?"

I let out a resigned sigh before I gave her the answer. "Yes, unfortunately, I do. For one thing, I don't watch horror movies. I see enough of it without them."

"Exactly my point."

"Yeah, well, even so I was still hoping we couldn't rule out the anchovy pizza."

"You are evading again, Rowan."

"Uh-huh, I know. Can you blame me?"

"No, I do not suppose that I can. However, you also know that with me you cannot get away with it."

"Yeah, you're right."

"Good of you to notice," she replied, a hint of faux-conceit in her voice that was almost instantly replaced by measured seriousness. "Now, tell me...who do you believe the woman in your nightmare to be?"

"Honestly, I think she's probably the woman who killed Hammond Wentworth and Officer Hobbes."

"Really?"

"You sound surprised."

"No, not surprised," she returned with a shake of her head. "Disappointed."

"About what?"

"About the fact that you are still trying to evade my question."

"I'm not sure I follow, because I'm fairly certain I just answered it."

"You gave me an answer, but you did not tell me the truth."

"Come again?"

"Rowan, be honest. We both know that you did not seek me out to tell me you believe you are having nightmares about an unidentified killer in an ongoing murder investigation. As insane as it may sound to the general populous, for you, that is the norm. No, there is a vastly deeper issue here that you cannot begin to overcome until you admit to it."

"Okay," I returned with a shrug. "Since we seem to be on completely different pages here, would you like to share your insight?"

"Borrowing your a.n.a.logy, we are both on the same page and you know it. You, however, are choosing not to read what is upon it." Helen shook her head and peered back at me with obvious sadness in her expression. "You know, Rowan, for someone with the depth of intuition you possess, it amazes me how difficult you can elect to be at times, especially when it comes to your own sanity."

I raised my eyebrows and harrumphed softly. "Yeah. You aren't the first person to make that observation."

"I am certain of that."

"So...you're going to make me say it, aren't you?"

"We cannot discuss this fully until you do."

"I don't want to."

"All right, start there. Why not?"

"Because if I do...well, if I do then that might make it real. I can't let it be real. h.e.l.l, I came here so you could tell me that it's not."

"I understand that."

"Okay then. So you obviously know what it is. Just tell me I'm being paranoid, and we'll be done with all this."

"Me telling you what you want to hear will not fix the issue. You know that, Rowan."

"Okay, so what will?"

"You facing your fear."

"Facing my fear? Are you kidding? Haven't I faced enough of those for one lifetime?"

"Actually, my friend, you have come nose to nose with more fears than anyone I know, and I commend you for that. But, by the same token, you have turned and run from just as many, if not more."

"Some of them just don't need facing, Helen."

"Perhaps you are correct. It is true that some fears are transient. However, this one is not, and it will haunt you if you run from it. You know this. That is why you are here now."

I slowly twisted around and looked out at the scattered clouds in the sky. It was now a given that we were going to veer down this road whether I wanted to or not.

"All right," I finally agreed as I hung my head. "I'm afraid the woman in the nightmare might be Felicity."

CHAPTER 2:.

Felicity.

Felicity Caitlin O'Brien, to be exact-my wife, and unequivocally the greatest love of my life.

It sickened me that this vile thought could even cross my mind. And, that exact thought was also the very reason why I had gone to great lengths to hide this recurring nightmare from her.

Normally, I could tell Felicity anything. Close simply wasn't strong enough a word to describe our relationship. We were without a doubt, soul mates, and not in the new-agey, soft-focus sense of the overused catchphrase. There was a depth of connection between the two of us that transcended normal bonds of love and friendship.

"Good," Helen announced calmly after a brief pause. "Now we are progressing."

"I'm glad someone thinks so," I mumbled.

"Tell me, why do you think the woman in your nightmare is Felicity?"

"I said might be."

"Yes, you did. However, that does not answer my question."

"I don't know."