Murder In Her Dreams (21 page)

Unable to think of any motive, he clutched at
the man’s words. Finish some job? What job? All he could think of
was that pile of bricks falling.

“The bricks ... You tried to kill me
before?”

The man snorted. “Thanks to that Blake bitch
that setup failed.” He raised his pistol a little higher. “But this
one won’t.”

Blake bitch? Ian grabbed the edge of his
desk. “Have you done something to Miss Blake?” The thought of
little Cassie Blake facing this mysterious gunman twisted his
gut.

“Just made sure she’ll be out of the way for
a bit. Nothing for you to worry about. Besides, you won’t have any
worries at all soon.”

Ian stared at the gun. “Why me?”

The gunman kept his pistol with the blue
steel barrel trained on Ian as he rounded the desk. “Because, you
bastard, you deserve it. I’ve waited a long time for this, and I’m
going to enjoy every moment.”

Did the voice sound familiar? Ian grappled,
trying to sort out whose voice had just that sort of inflection. He
had to keep the man talking.

“We’ve got the death penalty now,” Ian said.
“You can’t use the insanity plea anymore either.”

“So what? They have to find me first. I won’t
stick around after I finish with you.”

Ian studied the tall figure, trying to
identify the man. The black clothes looked like a sweat suit. They
had no marks or slogans.

“Tell me who you are. If you’re going to kill
me, I can’t tell anyone. Surely you want me to know.”

* * * *

In ten minutes, Cassie reached the parking
lot where McLeod had his offices. Sure enough, his gray Accord sat
close to the building. She didn’t see any other cars.

Cassie screeched to a stop in front of the
building. Jumping out of her car, she ran to the door. She yanked
it open and slipped inside.

No one in the lobby area. With trembling
fingers she eased open the unlocked door to McLeod Enterprises.
Hearing voices in Ian’s office, she crept closer.

“That’s right. You’ll be dead.” The hoarse
whisper sounded like the voice on the phone.

Dead? He planned to kill Ian. Cassie started
to rush forward and then stopped. The man must have a weapon of
some type. She needed help. The parking lot had been empty except
for Ian’s car.

She scanned the reception area quickly. A
computer workstation, In/Out trays, phone books, a dictionary. She
needed something heavy, but what?

* * * *

As Ian listened to the hoarse whisper he
realized the man must be disguising his voice. Why? Because Ian
would recognize it, but why bother?

“You can talk in a normal voice. You must
want me to know who you are or you wouldn’t be talking to me?”

The gunman said nothing, but took a step
closer.

“Hey, normal people only kill for a good
reason. I don’t even know you.”

The gunman threw back his head and laughed,
but the gun never wavered. “Don’t be too sure of that.”

“Of what?” Ian raised an eyebrow.

He had to hold this nut’s attention until he
could think of something to do. If the guy came just a little
closer, maybe he could reach him before the gun went off.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Zip it, McLeod.” The man moved closer, but
not close enough for Ian to reach him. “You missed the point.”

“Oh? Tell me what you mean then.”

“I’ve got reason to kill you, two of them.
I’m your judge, jury, and executioner. You caused the deaths of an
innocent woman, and, like the Bible says, the sentence is ‘an eye
for an eye.’ Your death for hers.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Ian
stared at the man. “I’ve never killed anyone. You’ve got the wrong
man.”

The gunman shook his head slowly. “I’ve got
the right man. It’s taken me more than a year, but now I’ve got
you. And this time, I’ll make sure you die.”

Ian saw the extension light on the phone
glow. Somebody must be using MaryLou’s phone. He prayed they knew
about the man. If he could just keep this guy talking.

“Someone will hear the shots.”

“Who? No one’s here. Even if they did, they’d
be too late to save you. Cut the crap, McLeod.” He pointed the gun
at Ian’s head. “I’m going to have a little fun. A little target
practice first.”

The door to Ian’s office burst open as a
small whirlwind blew in. At the sound of the opening door, the
gunman whirled and aimed at the desk chair propelled by Cassie
Blake. She shoved the chair at the gunman. He jumped to the
side.

“You again." He aimed the gun at Cassie.

Ian leaped for the gunman as the gun swung
toward Cassie. “Cassie, watch out."

She dropped to the floor, and Ian grappled
with the gunman. A shot rang out.

Ian’s head rang. He hung on to the gunman’s
arm and struggled to reach the gun. The man kicked out, knocking
him down. The gunman jabbed his right elbow into Ian’s windpipe. He
then brought the gun down with a vicious swing.

Ian blacked out.

* * * *

As the man raised the gun to shoot, Cassie
shoved the chair toward him. She ducked behind the side chair in
front of Ian’s desk.

“I called 9-1-1. Can’t you hear the sirens?
They’ll be here any minute.”

“You fucking bitch!" He raised the gun.

Cassie wondered how much protection the chair
back would provide against a gun. She clutched Tula’s pendant and
prayed.

The muted whine of sirens screeched
outside.

“It’s the police,” she shouted.

The gunman looked from her to Ian. He
straightened his arm and pointed the gun at Ian. The sirens grew
louder.

“They’ll catch you," Cassie screamed,
half-rising from behind the chair.

Lights flashed outside the office windows.
The high-pitched whine of the sirens deafened her. As the gunman
hesitated, she shoved the chair toward him. He bolted for the
door.

Cassie crawled over to Ian. She felt a pulse,
but his eyes remained closed. She lifted his head and pillowed it
on her lap.

“Ian, are you okay? Speak to me. Please."

Suddenly, the door to the outer office burst
open and the room filled with blue uniforms as two cops trailed by
a paramedic crew entered.

“What’s happened?” The taller of the cops
spoke.

Cassie looked up. She held Ian’s head cradled
in her lap. “A man hit him on the head with a gun. The guy ran out
when he heard the sirens.” She pointed toward the outer office.

“What did he look like ma’am?”

“I don’t know. He wore black and had a ski
mask on. He hit Ian, Mr. McLeod, with the gun.”

The paramedic gently lifted Ian’s head from
Cassie’s lap and put the medical monitors on him. Cassie watched
him check Ian’s pulse, heart, and blood pressure.

The cop nodded and turned to his partner.
“Joe, let’s check out the rest of this place.” He thumbed on his
handset. “Suspect at large, armed and dangerous.”

The two cops left and Cassie hovered over the
paramedics. As they checked Ian’s scalp, he groaned and opened his
eyes. He tried to sit up.

“God, my head hurts. What hit me? My head
feels like Michael’s basketball after a slam dunk.”

The paramedic grinned as he pushed Ian back
down. “I’ll bet. You’ve got a scrape here and a knot is forming.”
The paramedic probed the side of Ian’s head. “Other than a possible
concussion, you should be okay. We’ll take you into Emergency. They
can take some X-rays.”

Ian started to shake his head and then held
up a hand instead. “No, I’m fine, just a headache.”

The paramedic motioned to his partner with
the gurney. “It’s standard procedure to take victims with head
wounds to the hospital.”

“Why waste city resources? I’m conscious,
okay?” Ian pushed himself up to sitting position.

The paramedic shook his head. “We can’t force
you, but it’s advisable. If you notice dizziness, drowsiness, or
blackouts, you should call us or go to the hospital at once. Stay
awake for the next ten hours.” The paramedic began to remove the
monitors and to pack his equipment away.

Ian pushed himself up from the floor and
eased onto the chair Cassie had used as a battering ram. “I prefer
to go to my own doctor.”

“It’s up to you.” The paramedic shrugged.
“You never know with blows to the head.” He followed his partner
out.

* * * *

The policeman came back. “I’ve got a couple
of men out looking for the assailant.” He pulled out a notebook and
began making notes. “A woman called 9-1-1. Was it you, ma’am?”

Cassie nodded.

“Your name and address, please?”

Between anxious looks at Ian, Cassie gave him
the information.

“The reason you called 9-1-1?”

“I had a funny feeling and stopped by to
check on Mr. McLeod. When I arrived, I heard voices in his office.
The man said he was going to kill Mr. McLeod, so I called 9-1-1.
When he heard the sirens, he hit Mr. McLeod. Then he ran.”

The policeman nodded. “Lucky for this McLeod
you did.” He turned to Ian. “You McLeod?”

Ian nodded. “Ian McLeod.”

“Did you recognize the gunman?”

Ian shook his head and then wished he hadn’t.
“He wore a ski mask and spoke in a sort of hoarse whisper. He said
he wanted to kill me.”

The policeman nodded. “Did he say why?”

“He said I deserved it.”

Ian said nothing about the gunman’s
insistence Ian had caused the death of a woman. The police might
think he had. He still didn’t understand that. Another puzzle to
solve.

“Do you?”

“What?” Startled, Ian stared at the
policemen.

“Deserve it?” He held his pencil poised to
record.

Ian snorted. “Of course not.”

“Have you received any threats?”

Ian refrained from shaking his head this
time. “No, not exactly.”

The policeman watched Ian, his head cocked to
one side. “What does that mean?”

“Umm, well, a few days ago some bricks fell
off the roof and just missed me. I didn’t see anyone up there when
I checked. We had had some repairs being done on the roof. It could
have been an accident.”

“But now you’re not sure?”

“The gunman said he had arranged the
‘accident,’ but thanks to Miss Blake, it failed.” Ian glanced at
Cassie, and she smiled back.

“Can you describe your assailant?”

“He wore black. His face was covered by a ski
mask. And he wore gloves.”

“No fingerprints then. Hair, eye color,
height?”

“I couldn’t see his hair. He had dark eyes I
think.” Ian looked to Cassie and she nodded. “It all happened so
fast.”

The policeman sighed. “How tall was this
guy?”

Ian looked up at the policeman and squinted
his eyes as he tried to compare the size of the gunman to the
officer. “About two inches shorter than you.”

“His weight? My size or bigger?”

Ian eyed the officer again. His belly hung
over his belt. The gunman had been trim and strong.

“I’m not sure. In black sweats it’s hard to
tell. Maybe a little lighter. Sort of medium.”

“Is there anything else you can tell us?”

“Not really. He spoke in a hoarse whisper. I
wondered if he was trying to disguise his voice.”

“Someone you know?”

“I don’t know, but I’d swear I’ve never seen
the man before.”

The officer turned to Cassie. “Do you have
anything to add, ma’am?”

“Not really. I just remember this big man in
black. I thought he was going to kill Mr. McLeod.” She
shivered.

The policeman sighed and turned back to Ian.
“Well, if you think of anything else, call us. I’m Officer
Jackson.” He handed Ian a business card. “Since you didn’t see his
face, I guess there’s no point in asking you to look at the mug
shots. If we find anything, we’ll let you know.”

“Thanks.” Ian shoved the card in his pocket
and watched as the policeman left.

Cassie Blake rubbed her right hand over the
left. “You should see a doctor. Concussions can be serious.”

Ian smiled down at her, glad she had stayed
and even more glad that she had come, although the danger she had
put herself in troubled him. “You seem to be making a habit of
saving my life. How did you get here?”

“Someone called and pretended to be you. He
asked me to meet him at the Bermuda Onion. It sounded like the man
with the gun.” She looked up at him, her blue eyes dark.

Ian’s eyes widened. “I didn’t call. Look, I’m
sorry you’ve gotten mixed up in this. I know I didn’t believe your
dreams, but this guy said he wanted to kill me. I guess you were
right after all.”

Cassie nodded. “I tried to tell you.”

“And I refused to listen. Don’t remind
me.”

“I’m glad I got here in time.” Cassie studied
him for a moment. “Can I take you to your doctor?”

Ian shook his head. “I’m fine. Really. I want
to get out of here for a bit. All I need is a cup of coffee. You
could probably use one too.”

Cassie gave him a bright smile. It made his
heart lighter.

“How about Bob Evans?”

She nodded. Ian took her by the arm and
steered her out of the office.

A few minutes later, they sat in a booth at
Bob Evans. The waitress greeted them and soon returned with coffee
for Ian and tea for Cassie.

Ian loaded his with cream and sugar for some
quick energy. “Now tell me why you came to my office.”

She stared down at the dark surface of her
tea. “I ... I had the oddest feeling. When I started for the
Bermuda Onion, I wondered why you would want to meet me there and
not someplace closer to your office. Then that voice, and all that
static. It bothered me.”

“Why didn’t you just call me?”

Cassie blushed and looked down at her hands.
“I didn’t think of that. I had this ... compulsion to see you. I
sensed something was wrong so I came.”

“I’m glad you did, but that man could have
killed both of us.” Ian pinned her with a steely stare. “Did you
think of that?”