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  Was he sinking away again? She gave his hand another squeeze. “Hey, don’t leave me alone here. You slip off into oblivion again and there’s no telling what I’ll do with your wallet or your priceless artwork while you’re out.”

  He didn’t look concerned. “Don’t worry about me,” he mumbled, eyelids still closed. “I’m not dying on you. Just need a minute to come out of it. These dreams affect me too much…” Even as his voice trailed off, his fingers curled around her hand, as if attempting to hold onto that one connection to reality. It was the first time Teagan could recall having felt his touch without fear. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. He recaptured her attention when he whispered, “Keep thinking I’m gaining control, but then I lose it again.”

  Control of what? Consciousness? She didn’t ask.

  “You’ll be fine,” she reassured. But inwardly she wondered. His earlier reference to dreams wasn’t lost on her. What sort of nightmares gripped him that he couldn’t clear them from his mind, even during his waking hours? Thinking of her traitorous offer to his enemy, Dr. Green, she felt a twinge of guilt that was as unwanted as it was unexpected.

  Chapter 15

  Teagan’s breath came out in little white puffs as she exhaled the crisp morning air. Dawn was just graying the sky but the streetlights were still the main source of light over the snow-edged sidewalk beneath her feet. Shivering against a strong north gale, she shoved her fists deeper into her pockets and wished she’d worn something heavier than her thin jacket.

  Behind her, Sir’s apartment complex had long ago disappeared as she covered the distance toward her own, more dilapidated side of town. Already the streets were growing crowded, and even at this hushed hour, pedestrians scattered the sidewalks, rushing past in their thick winter coats, their heads all but hidden behind scarves, muffs, and hats.

  Teagan scarcely spared a thought for the passing streams of strangers. Her right hand, inside her pocket, was still tightly gripping the check from Sir, that little scrap of paper that had caused so much difficulty yesterday. Mentally, she kept replaying the night before, trying to remember at what point she had nodded off during the hours before dawn, her head resting on the arm of the sofa and her hand still curled around Sir’s.

  When she awoke, hours later, Sir’s hand had been replaced by a stiff piece of paper with a lot of zeros on it, tucked into her palm. Which of them had dropped off first during the night, she still wasn’t sure, but there was no question who was the first to stir. Sir was already long gone from the place by the time she woke and hadn’t left so much as a note behind. Aside from her grogginess and the check in her pocket, there was nothing to prove to her last night hadn’t all been a dream.

  She wondered if he always arose so early, or if he was merely eager to be away before she could bombard him with questions about what had happened. And she wanted to do exactly that. She remembered his shuddering body, his grinding jaw and clenched fists. Had it been nothing more than a random nightmare that had reduced him to such a state? She couldn’t believe it. Something was very wrong there, and she couldn’t shake the suspicion it all tied in with Sir’s weird late night rituals.

  She was so focused on her thoughts she almost didn’t notice the first time it happened. Someone, a stranger out of the crowd, jostled her elbow in passing, before striding quickly on without a word. You got used to being bumped and pushed on the sidewalks of a city this size. Teagan thought nothing of it, until a few minutes later when she was again brushed by a man coming from the opposite direction. Was she wrong in thinking it was the same man? Probably. A lot of people in the city owned blue coats.

  Still, the coincidence was enough to pull her out of her reverie. People had their purses snatched and their pockets picked on these streets every day. She couldn’t afford to let her attention stray like this. She snapped her thoughts back from the puzzle of Sir and focused on her surroundings. An intersection was coming up and she paused, along with a line of other pedestrians, to wait for a WALK signal.

  On the street behind her, a horn suddenly blared and the squeal of tires, followed by a crash, announced the occurrence of another fender bender in a city that saw its share of accidents every day. Teagan was among those who turned to glance curiously over their shoulders at the commotion. If she hadn’t done that, she might not have seen him, the blue-coated stranger, following behind her.

  She didn’t know why she immediately thought of that word: following. There was nothing to say he didn’t have a legitimate reason for turning around and heading back this direction again. And even if he didn’t, she was surrounded by a crowd of other pedestrians. He could be trailing any one of them, as easily as her. But he wasn’t. She knew that the moment she laid eyes on him this time. It was her he had jostled twice, her he was circling, and her his eyes were fixed on during the split second she glanced back at him.

  For a brief moment, their gazes met. Teagan drew a sharp breath. There was something unsettling, something threatening in his posture, even as his face was too far away to be read. All she could be sure of was she had never seen this man before. And he was watching her. Equally obvious, he didn’t want to be discovered watching her. She had no sooner turned and caught his eye, than he whirled abruptly, presenting his back to her, and began walking hastily in the other direction.

  A chill crept down Teagan’s spine and she hesitated. Should she follow him? Demand to know why he was watching her and what he wanted? The idea didn’t seem like a safe one. Briefly, she remembered the violent newspaper headlines only yesterday about robberies and attacks in dark alleys. There was no question there was evil in this city. Did she really want to confront it face-to-face?

  At that very moment, the WALK sign lit up and around her people began moving forward in a steady stream that carried her with it. Teagan caught a final glimpse of a retreating blue clad back through the crowd, and then her mysterious follower was gone, lost among the sea of unfamiliar faces. Shaking her head, Teagan allowed herself to be propelled onward by the momentum of the crowd. Was she letting her imagination carry her away? Sir had accused her of having an overly active imagination. Most likely the stranger was just looking for an easy mark, an unsuspecting passerby with an accessible pocket. She tried to put the incident from her mind as she walked on.

  The post office was right around the corner. She was about to pass it by when it occurred to her she might step in and check her box. It seemed very early to expect any response to her secret letter to Dr. Green, but it wouldn’t hurt to be sure.

  The inside of the post office was as cold as she remembered it. Did they never turn the heat up in here, she wondered. She couldn’t decide if her footsteps really rang unnaturally loud on the tiled floor or if it were only her own nerves telling her so. Certainly none of the strangers milling around seemed to notice her.

  “Easy,” she whispered to herself. There was no good reason for the nervous flutter she felt in the pit of her stomach.

  Despite the reassurance, her heart beat a little faster as she inserted her tiny key into one shiny box nestling in an entire wall of identical ones. There was no squeal of the hinged door, or anything so dramatic, as the box opened. But there it was. A single white envelope resting in the bottom of the box. She didn’t reach in for it immediately, but stood frozen, staring at the answer she’d been waiting for.

  A wave of misgiving washed over her. This was it then. No more questioning her actions in penning that hasty letter, no more debating with herself over whether or not the gains were worth the risk. The decision, whatever it may be, had been wrested from her hands.

  * * * *

  Back in the safety and comparative warmth of her one room apartment, Teagan slipped out of her jacket and sat on the edge of the bed, dragging off her shoes. Wiggling her fingers to work some warmth back into the stiff digits, she dug around in the pocket of her discarded jacket to retrieve the letter clumsily stuffed inside for safe keeping. She hadn’t wanted to read it in the post offic
e. Somehow this traitorous pact she was entering into seemed too private to be done in such a crowded place.

  Her hands trembled slightly as she tore at the envelope. Why so nervous, she asked herself, but had no answer. The fact the mysterious Dr. Green had responded to her letter at all was mildly surprising. She’d half managed to convince herself, during the days since mailing it off, she would probably never hear anything back.

  It was quite possible Dr. Green was merely writing to ask that this strange, crazy woman not contact him again with her bizarre offers.

  But he wasn’t. That became evident as she scanned the first tidy lines marching across the paper.

  * * * *

  A few minutes later, she sat shakily on the edge of the bed, staring at nothing. The letter from Dr. Green had already been carefully refolded and stuffed back into its envelope. It rested safely in the bottom drawer of the rickety stand beside her bed. She wasn’t sure whom she was hiding it from. She might as well have left it openly on the table as there was no one around to see it anyway.

  But its contents had left her unsettled and filled with the guilty urge to bury the note somewhere, much like a killer burying the evidence that might convict him. She tried to shake away such morbid thoughts. What was she afraid of? The answer to that came back quickly enough. Sir. What would he do to her if he ever got wind of the plot forming between her and his enemy? But he couldn’t know, could he?

  Besides, her more practical side chipped in, she was letting her overactive imagination weave too dark a picture here. It wasn’t as if there was anything that devious going on. Dr. Green had asked her to spy on Sir’s movements, to record any “unusual” actions in brief notes to be ailed to him daily.

  Where was the harm in that? She couldn’t imagine what such updates could possibly do, either in favor of Dr. Green or to harm Sir. Certainly she didn’t see how the doctor got any sort of vengeance out of it. But if so small a thing made the strange man happy, more if he was willing to pay well, almost as well as Sir, for the service, why shouldn’t she comply? Of course, the wad of crisp hundred dollar bills she’d found tucked inside the envelope hadn’t hurt much either.

  It was extra insurance, that was all, against Sir firing her on a sudden whim or any one of a number of other things that might happen. She could well have need of the extra income, however temporary it might be, and the small act of spying on her employer to receive it seemed easy enough. The only real difficulty would be in preventing Sir from realizing what she was up to.

  All of this went on in her mind as she made a valiant effort at steadying her nerves and laying her fears to rest. She was only half successful however. Despite all her brave reassurances, one pesky image kept replaying itself in the back of her mind. Sir, kneeling before the dresser in his red bedroom, his sharp eyes riveted on the white envelope sticking out of the edge of the drawer.

  She shivered. She was making too much of this. She needed to act before she could change her mind. She dug around in the drawer of her nightstand until she found a pad of paper and pen. With ruthless haste, born of the desire to have this thing done with, she scribbled out a brief report to the doctor, outlining everything that had happened between her and Sir since they had met. Immediately upon finishing the report, she stuffed it into an envelope that she placed inside her jacket pocket. The next time she went out she would mail it.

  While her hand was in the pocket of her jacket, she made a discovery. The check from Sir. Somehow she had all but forgotten it. She smiled. This should cheer her a little.

  She crouched before her nightstand and spread the scrap of paper out over the even surface, smoothing it flat where the paper curled along the edges.

  Sir’s name stared up at her, first in a tidy, undecorated script along the top of the check, and then in the larger, more imposing scrawl of his signature along the bottom. She didn’t know why she kept studying this bit of paper as if it might tell her something about the enigmatic personality who had owned it. She noted the amount had been made out to a much larger sum than they had initially agreed on. Payment for her help last night? Or a little reminder to keep her mouth shut. She dismissed the thought. Why should he care if she told people he had nightmares?

  Something new caught her eye—something she had failed to notice before. Her own name on the top line was filled out in its entirety. Teagan Grant. It had been so long since she had gone by any other name than simply Teagan it was almost startling to see her last name glaring up off the paper. It stirred memories she didn’t care to unearth.

  Shoving those thoughts to the back of her mind, Teagan focused on the aspect of this that disturbed her the most, and she found herself echoing Sir’s sentiments of last night: I never gave you my name.

  Chapter 16

  Teagan didn’t spend much more time examining Sir’s check. Now she finally had it in her possession the thing she most wanted to do at the moment was to cash it. It wasn’t that she didn’t think he was good for the money or anything, but… Well, with Sir you never knew. Would it have killed him to pay her in cash?

  She resisted the urge to dash out to the nearest bank right away however. After the late hours she had kept last night, she needed a long nap to clear her head. But even more than that, she wanted a hot shower to thaw out her frozen fingers and toes. She double-checked the latch on the door to her apartment before slipping out of her clothes and into the shower. She hadn’t forgotten that weird incident on the street earlier. It was an unnerving notion, the thought of someone secretly spying on her, following her…

  She shook away such thoughts as she stepped beneath the spray of hot water. She was making too much of it. Whoever her mysterious watcher was, it was very unlikely she would ever see him again. Closing her eyes, she breathed in the steamy air and felt warmth begin to trickle through her again.

  Her mind strayed to the subject of Sir. Where was he right now? Was he all right after the scary incident last night? Unbidden, the memory of his hand clutching hers stirred to the surface. She knew it had been an unconscious reaction on his part, a need to cling to whoever or whatever was closest at the time. Why then did the thought of it send a surge of warmth spreading through her?

  * * * *

  It was shortly after noon when Teagan locked the door of her apartment and set off for the quick walk to the post office. All the way there she kept second-guessing herself. She knew with sinking certainty that once this report on Sir was mailed off the future would be set. There was no turning back after this. She suspected Dr. Green wouldn’t take kindly to it if she tried to renege on their deal at some later date. For that matter, if Sir should somehow find out…

  She shook away the gloomy thoughts as she stepped into the post office. A few minutes later, when she passed back out those doors, she felt considerably lighter, as if a weight had been lifted from her. The letter was out of her hands now. For better or worse, the decision had been made. Time to move on.

  She hailed a passing cab on the street. It was a bit of a luxury, but she hadn’t forgotten the man who’d followed her on the street yesterday. Still not quite able to escape the shivery feeling of unseen eyes following her movements, she couldn’t bring herself to cover the distance to the bank on foot. This was one day the ride would be worth its fare.

  “NationBank, please,” she told the driver on a whim. She couldn’t say what brought on the sudden decision to go there. Well, why not, she asked herself. One bank was as good as another. Besides, a tiny part of her was curious about this business Sir was so obsessed with. What was the harm in catching a peek at the inside of the building where he spent all of his days?

  When, a few minutes later, the cab let her out in front of the bank’s doors, she swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. The local branch of NationBank was an imposing sight, the looming size of the building combining with its fancy architecture to make every other business lining the street seem insignificant. Teagan grew dizzy trying to count the many floors climbing upward tow
ard the blue sky above, and she quickly gave up the attempt.

  The revolving doors ahead emitted a constant stream of well dressed men and women who hurried past without giving a second glance to the hesitant young woman in their midst, standing beneath the shadow of the towering building and trying to work up the courage to enter. Teagan drew a staying breath, cast her fears to the winds, and plunged straight into the mass of strangers pouring through the doors.

  After a few embarrassing, unsuccessful tries at stepping through the revolving doors were frustrated by her own clumsiness, Teagan finally found herself in the bank’s lobby. This was a less impressive sight, despite the high vaulted ceilings and expensive décor. Banks, after all, were pretty much the same everywhere. This one was just larger and higher class than most.

  Teagan felt distinctly out of place waiting in line to get to a teller. The men and women at her front and back had the dress and manners to belong in a place like this. She did not. Suddenly, the brown pants and sweater outfit that had felt perfectly suitable out on the street now seemed drab and dowdy. It was a relief when the line moved forward and she found herself at last at the opposite end of the counter from an employee.

  “Hi. I’d just like to cash this,” she said, slipping Sir’s check across the cool granite counter.

  “No problem,” the distracted teller, a middle-aged brunette, replied. “I just need to see a picture ID.”

  “ID?” Teagan frowned.

  “Absolutely. We don’t cash checks without an ID,” the other woman replied firmly, shooting her a doubtful glance over the top of her thick glasses.

  Teagan felt her cheeks grow warm. “Oh, I, uh, didn’t know that. I guess I’ll have to go elsewhere—”

  But the teller had caught sight of the signature on the check. “Wait, hold on,” she said, as Teagan started to pull it back across the counter. “Is this a check from Mr. Rotham?” Her tone had taken on an abrupt change, going from annoyed to considerate. Appearing suddenly eager to help, she didn’t wait for an answer. “Never mind. Maybe we can make an exception in this case. Just let me call upstairs and clear it with him.”