Sweet Dreams Boxed Set (88 page)

“So two more are somewhere—possibly in the Keys,” Danni said.

Quinn nodded.

“We really need to trust someone,” Danni said. “We don’t know if that is or isn’t real blood on the zombie nun we took apart and stored.”

Quinn looked up at Danni. “Let’s talk tomorrow,” he told her. “If I understand it correctly, each of the five zombie nuns was slightly different—as in the decaying flesh, blood stains—yucky stuff on the flesh. I want to see what you come up with from Davy’s description. We may be able to tell if we saw the one that was in this house—or one of the missing ones.”

“Okay, but then…Quinn, it really does worry me that we might be sitting on evidence,” Danni said.

“I know,” he told her quietly.

“Hey, did you come upstairs—and almost into the shower?” she asked him.

He shook his head. “Why?”

“Thought I heard you.”

“You know me,” he said. “I checked every window in the place and then double-checked the front door and the back door. Since then, I’ve been sitting right here. No one went up the stairs. But, I’ll take another walk around the house,” he told her.

“I’ll trail you,” she told him.

And she did. They went from window to window—and there were plenty of them. They double-checked the doors. They walked up to the attic, too, at Danni’s insistence. Nothing had changed since they’d dragged the zombie-nun animatronic down. Boxes remained piled up here and there and everywhere, masks and mannequin heads were all in place.

“You okay?” Quinn asked her.

“Yeah. We’re still sleeping with Smith and Wesson,” Danni said.

She headed into the bedroom. It was nice—charming really. There were wicker chairs with flowery cushions by the window; the upholstery matched the bedspread. The décor was all light and airy—tropical and pleasant. She pulled off the covers and crawled between the sheets, then realized that Quinn was still at the computer.

Sticking her head out the door and seeing him there, she stripped off the T-shirt nightgown and wrapped a leg around the door before calling to him. “Hey!”

“Yeah?”

He didn’t look up.

Shaking her head, Danni walked out of the room naked and came and stood by the computer.

“Mr. Quinn.”

He looked up at last, brow still slightly creased with a frown. Then he saw her and looked puzzled for a minute.

He laughed, rose, and literally swept her off her feet, smiling down at her. “Wow. Sorry. And, hey…well, wow!”

In the bedroom, he laid her down on the bed, turned out the lights and quickly stripped.

Mr. Smith and Wesson was set on the wicker bedside table. Then he crawled in beside her.

The drapes were closed, but their fabric was light, allowing for just a hint of soft golden light to seep in from the moon above and the street; Danni gazed at him as he came toward her, the breadth of his shoulders, bronze in the mystic glow, his face, his form, and the touch of his eyes. He had a way of just looking at her that was arousing, as if she were the most erotic creature in the world. She reached out for him and their mouths joined in a kiss that quickly became passionate; she felt the heat of flesh against flesh, limbs entwined, and gave herself over completely to the wonder of being with him.

They kissed and touched and teased one another, hot liquid kissed here, there and everywhere that were almost ridiculously arousing. She felt transported, as if it didn’t matter where in the world they might be, what might be happening in the world beyond the heart around them, as if they were simply together in a sea of wonder. Desire soared and climbed and she felt his kisses on her belly and thighs and tasted the clean salty skin of his shoulders and beyond and then they were one, and when they climaxed, the world seemed to burst into fire-lit sky of stars.

Then she lay beside him and there was wonder in just that, in being together, holding together…one against the world. They didn’t speak. And soon enough, she drifted to sleep.

It was more than natural that she dreamed.

She knew in her dream that she was dreaming, and it was all right. She’d been known to rise in the middle of the night and walk down to her studio at the house and shop on Royal Street to sketch what was in her mind—often sketches that helped them or pointed them toward a clue, probably something they hadn’t seen or realized in their conscious minds. It was a bit awkward for her, since Billie—her father’s assistant and now hers, and Bo Ray—a new addition to the shop and team—lived in their own apartments up in the Royal Street attic. But Quinn had the ability to awaken every time she moved and he always followed her immediately, so, as of so far…it had been okay.

This time there was no one but them in the house. But she didn’t rise to draw. She just dreamed, seeing an army of zombie-nun creatures walking down Duval Street. People screaming; the zombie-nuns killing with their sharp skeletal fingers, and then ripping and biting at their victims as they dragged them out of the bars on Duval.

She was running in her dream, hand in hand with Quinn, running down the street. He would stop and turn to shoot at a creature that was almost upon them.

They were nearing Front Street where they turned off and went rushing toward Mallory Square, along with a thousand others. She shouted at the street performers there—a man who worked with an army of trained cats, another who swallowed fire while riding a unicycle….

With horror she saw that the fire-eater was totally unaware.

She screamed, trying to warn him….

And she woke herself up abruptly.

It was morning; sun was streaming softly through the thin materials of the drapes. She reached instinctively across the sheets for Quinn, but he wasn’t there. She sat up, and a real scream ripped from her throat.

There was a zombie-nun at the foot of the bed, its sharp, skeletal fingers reaching out for her.

Chapter 5

Quinn was in the back yard, checking that the boxes that contained the zombie-nun pieces were still sealed, when he heard Danni’s scream.

He moved like lightning, racing back into the house, tearing to the room where he’d left her sleeping.

“Danni?”

She was alone in the room. She had leapt up and grabbed the lamp off the little wicker table next to the bed and was holding it—ready to crash it down on someone’s head.

“Danni!”

She looked like an Amazon warrior, hair tousled around her face, eyes both fierce and afraid, body stiff and muscles tense, form beautifully held as if she were posing for a Greek statue.

“Danni!” he repeated, walking to her to take the lamp from her.

She didn’t blink until he was right in front of her. “Hey!” he said softly, reaching to take the lamp from her. She released it to him. He returned it to its spot.

“Where is it?” she demanded, shaking as she stared at him.

“Where is—what?”

“The zombie-nun. It was right here; it was right at the foot of the bed.”

Quinn enveloped her in his arms. “Danni, I came in through the back. I saw the whole downstairs. Nothing came at me, nothing was in here.”

“It was here,” she said, and pointed to the foot of the bed. “Here—right here!”

“The front door is locked; I came in through the back. Nothing, no one, passed me.”

She looked at him, shaking—and suddenly unsure. She seemed to collapse in his arms. “Oh, Quinn, I was having the most awful dream. There were hundreds of them. They were chasing everyone down Duval Street. We made it to Mallory Square and they were about to attack a fire-eater on a unicycle.”

“Danni, Danni, it’s all right. I’m here now. With Smith and Wesson.” He was quiet for a minute. “Maybe we should take a room at a hotel. This house itself might cause…well, nightmares that seem so real that they wake you up.”

She straightened then, pulling away from him. “No, no, we need to stay here. I don’t know why—I feel it. We just need to be here. I’m going to shower quickly. We’re going to go see Davy, and I’m going to sketch whatever it is that he tells me.”

“You better go quickly,” he said huskily, half teasing and half serious. The image of the naked Amazon warrior was still strong in his mind.

“We have to get there!” she said firmly. She grabbed up clean clothing from her overnight bag and headed toward the door. “I’ll be in the downstairs shower—don’t leave the house!”

“I won’t, I promise,” he assured her.

He didn’t.

Had it been a nightmare? Had to have been.
He returned to the house the second he heard her scream. No one was in and no one was out. He checked the back door; yes, he had locked it, even as he run in like an idiot. Old training and lessons stayed with him, even by rote.

By nature, he went through the house, checking the upstairs—including the closets. He headed up to the attic, glancing in. Nothing had changed. Nothing.

Except….

The cat. Where the hell was the cat?

He hurried around the house, searching for Waldorf.

At last, he found him.

Waldorf was under the bed they had been sleeping in.

He was shaking and shivering and terrified. Quinn picked him up; the cat clung to him as if he were a life preserver.

“Come on, boy, treats,” Quinn said.

It took him several minutes to even convince the cat that he wanted treats; when he finally had the cat calmed down, he left him lapping up some milk in the kitchen.

Nightmares, he knew, could seem real, Quinn knew. And Danni might well have had a nightmare that stayed with her as she awoke.

But there was the cat…

He’d gone through the house from top to bottom. There had been nothing there. Nothing but the usual assortment of posters and masks and props and….

Hearing the bathroom door open, he raced back down the stairs. Danni was ready. They headed off to the police station.

***

“Mason held a press conference this morning, of course,” Officer Sandy Burnett told Quinn and Danni, as she poured bad coffee into Styrofoam cups for them.  She’d been excited to tell Quinn what she’ discovered about the zombie-nun animatronics from the movie and Quinn had thanked her—as if he didn’t already have the information.

“He’s stated that were following up clues and he expects to have suspects in hand shortly. Frankly, that’s a load. The forensic people found hundreds of cigarette butts—that will prove nothing. The only real thing we have from the cemetery is that little patch of fabric you found, Quinn.” She sighed. “We have a roadblock up on Roosevelt—checking all cars heading north. And we have scores of officers out questioning people. Mason has sent out for officers in other cities to question the friends and parents of the dead men. We’re doing everything right, I’m sure, except that….”

Her voice trailed.

“Except that what?” Danni asked.

“He doesn’t believe in zombie-nuns,” Sandy told them. “Anyway, Davy has been brought to an interrogation room to speak with you, Miss Cafferty. And, Quinn, if you’re ready, I’ll take you up to the morgue—you said you wanted to speak with the medical examiner. It’s about an hour up.”

Danni saw Quinn frown. He didn’t like leaving without her. Well, her fault. She had woken up screaming for him.

“Not to worry,” Danni said. “I’ll be fine here. I’m at a police station,” she reminded him.

Quinn nodded and turned to Sandy Burnett. “Thank you. Can we go right away—and get back right away.”

“Of course.”

Sandy quickly introduced to Danni to the desk sergeant, Ned Martinez, who would help her with anything she needed.

She had her own pencils and sketchpad; she didn’t need anything.

Quinn left; Martinez escorted Danni to the interrogation. Davy Gray was a nice looking young man of about twenty-five. He’d bathed recently; his hair was still damp and smoothed back on his head. He was subdued but seemed pleased to be working with Danni.

She asked him just to talk at first and she tried to get him to focus on the nun-thing that had passed by him—to try to remember every detail.

Then she began to draw. And as she did, Davy concentrated very hard, and little by little, he began to have her make changes.

Long before she had finished, Danni realized that they were talking about two very different zombie nuns. Davy’s nun had flesh torn off the right side of the face and a big pustule on the right.

The zombie nun they had dismantled had pustules on the left side and a big tear on the right.

“You going to arrest it?” Davy asked dryly, mocking himself—and yet serious and still scared.

“I think it’s important, Davy,” she said. She thanked him and rose.

“They aren’t going to kick me out now, are they?” Davy asked her.

Danni hesitated. She couldn’t lie—and she didn’t know the Key West police. “I don’t think so,” she told him, and added, “I think you’re still a suspect.”

That pleased him. She thanked him again and headed out of the interrogation room, looking at her watch.

Quinn had been gone just about an hour and a half. It would still be a while before he was back. She headed to the front and asked Sargent Martinez what he knew about the filming going on in the Keys.

“Today, they’re on the beach, near Ft. Zachary Taylor,” he told her. “They’ve been hiring extras from all over the island—want a chance to work?” he asked her.

She smiled. “No, but I think I’ll head there,” she told him. “Watch what’s going on!”

“In bad taste, I say,” Martinez told her. “They shouldn’t still be filming that thing—not when we have real murders going on here. But, hey, people are what they are. You hear them talking now in the bars and coffee houses—the movie is going to be big! People being horribly murdered—and a film director taking advantage of it!”

“Taking advantage of it?” Danni asked.

Martinez shrugged. “People can’t wait to see the finished product—because it was filmed while truly horrible things were happening.”

“Ah,” she murmured.

“I’ll get a driver for you—he can get you right through the crowds,” Martinez offered, and Danni thanked him.

She decided to text Quinn. “
Movie people. They know props, film history—and animatronics. You think any of these guys might be involved? Vanessa was a bit player—corpse #3—in Zombie Nuns of the Apocalypse.”