She shook her head. "I need a little time to myself. You and Katie go on. I need to go home, be by myself for a while."

Ben looked at her hard. "I'm staying with you tonight-in case you dream about the murder."

"I've got your tape recorder. I'll make sure I use it. I'm hoping this was a one-time thing, that it wasn't really real."

"I'm hoping that too." He got up from his chair, walked over and settled his hands on her shoulders. "Tell you what, I'll check in with you later, okay? See how you're feeling."

She nodded. "All right."

"In the meantime, I'll drive you home on my way to pick up Katie."

She bit her lip, still feeling restless and tense. "I'd rather walk. I need the fresh air."

She could see he wasn't pleased. She stood up, made her way back to his bedroom to get her overnight bag, then grabbed her purse and headed for the door.

"I'll talk to you later," she said.

Ben walked up behind her, turned her into his arms and gave her a quick, hard kiss. "Try to get some rest. I'll call you."

She left him standing in the foyer. Tall and dark and so handsome it made her heart hurt just to look at him. In that moment, she realized she was more than half in love with him and terror filled her.

Dear G.o.d, somehow she had to stop herself from falling any deeper. Had to put an end to what was meant to be a brief affair, a fling.

She rubbed her arms as she walked along the sidewalk back to her apartment. It occurred to her that she'd only been gone twenty minutes and already she was missing Ben.

She wandered the streets for a while, went down to the Pike Street market and bought some fish for supper, a few fresh vegetables and a mixed bouquet of bright-yellow flowers. Her arms were full when she got home. She set her overnight bag and shopping bags down by the front door and began to dig into her purse for her house key when she realized the phone was ringing.

By the time she got the door open, the ringing had stopped. An instant later, her cell phone started to jingle. She pulled it out of her purse and flipped it open.

"Turn on your TV," Ben said. "Hurry."

Still holding the phone, she raced for the remote and pressed the power b.u.t.ton. "What channel?"

"CBS. They've interrupted the scheduled programming for breaking news. I saw it a few minutes ago. I'm on my way over." Ben hung up and Autumn fixed her attention on the screen.

Her insides were churning. As soon as she saw the house and the mountains in the distance behind it, she knew what the report would be about. Her legs turned to rubber and she sank down onto the sofa.

"Earlier this morning a young woman's body was found in the upstairs bedroom of this small house in Ash Grove, Washington." The camera zoomed past the young reporter to a house in the distance. "Sometime around midnight, the victim was brutally attacked and after a valiant attempt to fight off her a.s.sailant, died of multiple stab wounds. Her name has not yet been released, but authorities say her husband, an insurance agent, was away from home on business when the murder took place. At this time, no suspect has been apprehended and so far authorities have found no motive for the crime."

Autumn fought to catch her breath and bring her pounding heart under control. Her head was still spinning when Ben began to hammer on the door.

"Autumn! Let me in!"

Her eyes filled with tears as she pulled the door open and Ben swept her into his arms.

"Oh Ben."

"It's all right, baby. It's all right."

Autumn clung to him, her arms locked around his neck. She moved her head but her throat was too tight to speak. She didn't object when Ben lifted her up and carried her over to the sofa, sat down and cradled her in his lap. For long moments, he just held her.

"It's okay," he said, smoothing back her hair. "Everything's going to be all right."

But everything wasn't all right. It hadn't been for weeks, not since the dreams had begun.

Autumn trembled, then dragged in a shaky breath. "I wanted it to just be a dream."

"I know, honey." He pressed his cheek to hers and held her a moment more, then eased away. "We've got to tell Doug Watkins. The police think there's only one man. We need to tell them there were two."

"They'll figure it out. There's bound to be evidence. Maybe they already know."

"You were there. You saw what happened. You might be able to tell them something that will help them find the killers."

She swallowed past the knot in her throat, let out a shuddering breath. "I know you're right. I just..." She closed her eyes and leaned into him. "Knowing it's real makes it worse."

Ben squeezed her hand. "I know. Dammit, I wish we knew why you had that particular dream."

"None of it makes any sense. Why did I dream something like that-something so different from the others?" She lifted her head off his shoulder and looked into his face. "We've got to go up there-up to Ash Grove. Until now, all the dreams have been connected. Maybe the blond man was one of the killers. Maybe he lives right there in town. We've got to show the local police the sketch, see if they recognize him."

He eased her off his lap, down beside him on the sofa. "I'm going to call Doug, ask if he can meet us at the station. You think you're ready to handle it?"

"Do I have a choice?"

He reached out and cupped her cheek. "I'll be with you all the way. Just remember that. We're in this together."

Autumn clung to the thought as they walked to the door.

Detective Watkins was waiting at the police station when Ben and Autumn got there. Without a word, he led them down the hall to what Autumn had begun to think of as the Ansel Adams room.

Ben didn't bother to apologize for bringing Watkins down on his day off. "I imagine you've seen the news."

"The murder? I've seen it. It's been on every channel." He looked over at Autumn. "Don't tell me you've got information on the murder?"

"She dreamed about it last night," Ben explained. "She saw the woman get killed."

Watkins blew out a breath, ran a hand over his shiny bald head. "I need a cup of coffee. You two want some?"

"I'm fine," Ben said.

"I could use a gla.s.s of water," said Autumn.

Watkins disappeared and returned with a bottle of Aquafina for Autumn and a paper cup filled with thick black coffee for himself.

"All right, start from the beginning." He sat down in a chair across from them. "What time did you have this dream?"

"Sometime around two o'clock," she said. "That's about the usual time it seems to occur."

"So the murder had already been committed."

"Apparently so. I wasn't sure if what I was seeing was going to happen or already had. It seems to happen both ways. I was hoping it wasn't going to happen at all."

He sighed. "But it did."

She didn't answer.

Ben shoved the notes he'd taken across the table. "This is what Autumn told me when she woke up. I wrote it down as closely as I could. She couldn't possibly have known any of this at the time since she was with me."

Watkins sipped his coffee and grimaced at the bitter taste. "All right, let's take this one step at a time." He held on to the notes but didn't read them. "Tell me everything you saw in your dream."

Autumn took a steadying breath and began to describe the terrible events. She tried to stay unemotional, tried not to feel the woman's terror, but it was nearly impossible to do. She picked up the bottle of water, but her hands were shaking too badly to crack off the lid.

Ben pried it from her fingers and opened it for her. Autumn took a long drink of the icy water, grateful the detective had brought it.

"So that's about it," she said. "I never saw their faces. I couldn't get a good enough look at the men's eyes to tell what color they were, but I remember as they left the room, they were smiling."

Watkins frowned. "Smiling? Are you sure?"

She nodded, swallowed. "I could see their mouths through the holes in their masks. I remember the way it made me feel-sick inside, you know?"

The detective grunted. "I can imagine." Though he had been scribbling on a pad throughout, he reached for Ben's notes. "I need to make a copy of these."

"Go ahead," Ben said.

Watkins left with the notes and brought them back a few minutes later. "I don't know what to say, how to handle this. I'll just do the best I can."

"We're going up there," Ben told him.

"No way. You can't do that. You can't get in the middle of a police investigation."

"Unless you plan to throw us in jail, we're going. This is all somehow connected to Molly and that little girl in Idaho. By the way, Laura Purcell recognized the guy in the sketch. He was camping next to her Brownie troop up at the lake."

"Man, this is a wild one."

"We've got to roll with it, Doug. So far everything Autumn's given us has checked out."

"Yeah, but we've still got no idea where to look for the b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

"Yes, we do," Autumn said. "He's in those mountains near Ash Grove. Maybe he lives right there. This dream has to be related to the others in some way."

"It's possible the blond man was one of the men who murdered that woman," Ben said.

"And if he is and you're up there getting in the way of an ongoing investigation-"

"We won't do anything that might jeopardize your case. We just need to take a look around and ask a few questions."

"All right, but you had better watch your back. There's a dead woman involved in this now. You go up there asking questions, someone might not like it."

They left the office and started making plans for the trip. "This is liable to take a few days," Ben said. "Can you clear your schedule?"

"I'll call Josh and ask if he'll take my cla.s.ses. The pay is good for the private lessons so he'll probably be glad for the extra money."

"I never thought of that. If this starts costing you money, I'll be glad to-"

She sliced him a glance. "I don't want your money, Ben."

He looked like he wanted to argue, but didn't. He was beginning to understand her. She was extremely independent and she wanted to keep it that way. Surprisingly, Ben seemed not to mind. Of all the men she had dated, he was the only one she could think of who really allowed her to be herself.

Steve Elliott had wanted her to change her into his ideal woman. Luke Noland hadn't made the effort to know more about her than how good a climber she was. Ronnie Hillson just wanted to get laid.

"What about Katie? What did you tell her yesterday when you cancelled your day?"

"I told her something important had come up. I said I'd make it up to her during the week. Since I almost never miss one of our dates, she was okay with it."

Autumn and Ben both went back to their apartments to pack their bags, enough to last for several days. Ben arrived for the trip in his pickup.

"It's got four-wheel drive," he explained. "And it's a lot less conspicuous."

Autumn thought that considering they were dealing with child abduction and murder, the less conspicuous the better.

Twenty-Five.

Ash Grove wasn't easy to find. It was little more than a wide spot along a two-lane road leading north off scenic Route 20. There was a run-down gas station, a mercantile that sold groceries, a cafe with a handicraft shop that catered to what few tourists ever found their way up there, and the Ash Grove Motel.

Most of the houses in the area sat on large pieces of land, Ben noticed, which was the reason no one had heard the murdered woman's screams. Her name, Priscilla Vreeland, had finally been released to the news media and Doug Watkins had grudgingly given them the property address, a route number they found painted in black letters on a mail box tilting precariously over the narrow road. The light blue stucco house sat at the end of a long gravel driveway off the main road behind a cl.u.s.ter of pine and sycamore trees, nearly out of sight, which would have aided the murder and get away.

"How do you think we should handle this?" Autumn asked. "We can't just pull up in front of the house and start asking questions."

Ben smiled grimly. "I think maybe that's exactly what we should do."

Turning the pickup into the driveway, he drove toward the robin's-egg-blue house. It was gable-roofed, with what appeared to be a couple of bedrooms upstairs. He recognized the yellow tape strung across the front door, designating the place as a crime scene. He'd seen it in a hundred TV shows. Two cars were parked in the open s.p.a.ce in front of the house, a sheriff's patrol car and a plain brown newer model Buick. Probably the medical examiner, who, in an area like this, could be any person with forensic training, from a dentist to a mortician, under special contract with the county. Fortunately, at least for the moment, the TV camera crews were gone.

Ben parked near the perimeter, out of the way, and both of them climbed out. They headed for the deputy sheriff standing guard outside the front door, a young man with wheat-colored hair, deep-set eyes and youthful features.

"Any suspects yet?" Ben asked.

The deputy gave them an a.s.sessing glance. "Is there something I can do for you?"

Ben pulled the rolled-up sketch out of his pocket. "We're looking for the man in this drawing. We were hoping someone from around here might know who he is. There's a chance he lives in the area."

The deputy's nearly white eyebrows pulled together. "Pretty average-looking guy. Hard to tell from this. Could be a lot of different people."

"Anyone in particular you can think of?"