Sweet Dreams Boxed Set

“Thanks, Taylor. I’ll post her first thing in the morning.”


Sam reached over and gave Taylor a hug. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, and turned back to her van.

Baldwin turned to Taylor, who looked stricken and suddenly very tired.

“Do you think it’s her?”

Taylor sighed. “Yeah.” She pulled out her cell phone and speed dialed. “Fitz? It’s Taylor. Just wanted you to know. We may have found Jill Gates.”





Forty-Three



The parking lot was full, people rushing about, yelling, panicking. The air smoldered, the scents of smoke and death lingered.

“And the angel took the censer, and filled it with the fire of the altar…”

He turned away. So much left to do.





Forty-Four



Jill woke when the needle pricked her arm. She shook her head, trying to clear her vision, focusing on the stinging in the crook of her elbow. She started to cry, then felt herself melt away into the darkness again.

She knew the drugs were making her hallucinate. She thought she was sitting in a massive green courtyard, even though she knew she was in the bed. She tried to get her bearings, looking first right, then left, but her head felt like it was tethered in place. Her arms were bound at her side. She could only look ahead, to the expanse of green grass in front of her. There was a shadow there, a woman swaying from side to side like a cobra mesmerized by an unknown song. She tried to speak, to ask where she was, but no words came out. The shadow shifted, slowly, so slowly, side to side, and Jill heard the sound of sobbing. The woman was sad. So very sad. And suddenly she was gone, and the shadows lifted, leaving only a blank wall of green in their place.

Jill heard a voice in her head. She knew it came from the woman. She was angry now, crying and yelling. Her voice faded in and out, and Jill tried so hard to hear what she was saying, but only snatches of the woman’s voice came to her. “I will tell,” said the voice. “I will tell them what you’ve done.”

Another voice joined the mix, this one somewhat familiar, deeper, comforting. Was it soothing the woman, or trying to calm her. The voice of the woman grew fainter, and Jill could hear the soothing voice, quieter this time. “You will be honored.”





The Fifth Day





Forty-Five



Taylor and Baldwin shivered in the parking lot of the church. It was barely morning and exceptionally cool, overcast and breezy. A few times through the night, hot cups of coffee appeared magically at their elbows, borne in on a tray by a young man Taylor didn’t recognize. Despite her distaste for straight coffee, Taylor had accepted the steaming Styrofoam cups gladly, holding on to the precious warmth and choking down the bitter liquid. Baldwin had been sucking down cup after cup and was jumping around like a child on Christmas morning.

Taylor took in his appearance with a smile. “Baldwin, you’re a mess.”

He gave her a hurt look and bent to examine his reflection in the side mirror of her car. He gave a halfhearted swipe at his hair, which was standing on end and pointing off in every direction like a broken compass needle. He had two days worth of stubble darkening his jaw and cheeks, and his eyes were bloodshot from the smoke and lack of sleep. He hadn’t felt so alive in months.

“Yeah, well, you look great.”

Taylor blushed and turned away. She knew he was full of it, but didn’t argue. The mark of a true southern belle: never put aside a compliment. She ran her hands through her hair, smoothed the mass into a messy ponytail. Gave him a smile.

Though it had been several hours since the fire, the reek of burnt flesh was pervasive, even without the bodies present. Taylor had been smoking all night trying to get the smell out of her nose. She’d only succeeded in giving herself a sore throat. Her voice had lowered an octave: the chill, the smoke, and the slight cold were catching up to her. She popped two Advil Cold & Sinus pills out of their blister pack and swallowed them down with the remnants of coffee sloshing around her cup. She wrinkled her nose; it had gone cold.

Baldwin rubbed his hands together and shoved them deep in the pockets of his jeans. “Do you think they’re about done in there? I’m getting hungry.”

“They should be. Let’s go check with the chief, see what’s keeping them.” They started toward the entry of the nave, but the fire chief walked out before she could reach the doors. He greeted her with a tired smile.

“Lieutenant Jackson. Long night. You’ve been freezing your tush off the whole time?”

Brenda Novak & Allison Brennan & Cynthia Eden more…'s books