She shuddered, took another breath. “I was afraid to sleep. I thought I heard voices even when I wasn’t asleep. I couldn’t understand them, but I’d be at work, doing my job, or stopping by the dry cleaners on the way home, and these voices would just fill my head. I thought I was having a breakdown. But why? Then I thought maybe I had a brain tumor. I even thought about making an appointment with a neurologist. Then last night, I took a sleeping pill. Maybe I could just drug my way out of it. But it came, and in the dream something was in bed with me.”

Her breath trembled out this time. “Not my bed, but somewhere else. A small room, a small hot room with a tiny window. I was someone else. I can’t explain it, really.”

“You’re doing fine,” Quinn assured her.

“It was happening to me, but I wasn’t me. I had long hair, and the shape of my body, it was different. I was wearing a long nightgown. I know because it…it pulled it up. It was touching me. It was cold, it was so cold. I couldn’t scream, I couldn’t fight, even when it raped me. It was inside me, but I couldn’t see, I couldn’t move. I felt it, all of it, as if it were happening, but I couldn’t stop it.”

She wasn’t aware of the tears until Fox pressed a napkin into her hand. “Thanks. When it was over, when it was gone, there was a voice in my head. Just one voice this time, and it calmed me, it made me warm again and took away the pain. It said: ‘Hawkins Hollow.’”

“Layla, were you raped?” Fox spoke very quietly. “When you came out of the dream, was there any sign you’d been raped?”

“No.” She pressed her lips together, kept her gaze on his face. His eyes were golden brown, and full of compassion. “I woke up in my own bed, and I made myself go…check. There was nothing. It hurt me, so there would’ve been bruises, there would’ve been marks, but there was nothing. It was early in the morning, not quite four in the morning, and I kept thinking Hawkins Hollow. So I packed, and I took a cab out to the airport to rent a car. Then I drove here. I’ve never been here.”

She paused to look at Quinn now, at Cal. “I’ve never heard of Hawkins Hollow that I can remember, but I knew what roads to take. I knew how to get here, and how to get to the hotel. I checked in this morning, went up to the room they gave me, and I slept like the dead until nearly six. When I walked into the dining room and saw that thing, I thought I was still asleep. Dreaming again.”

“It’s a wonder you didn’t bolt,” Quinn commented.

Layla sent her an exhausted look. “To where?”

“There’s that.” Quinn put a hand on Layla’s shoulder, rubbing gently as she spoke. “I think we all need as much information as there is to be had, from every source there is. I think, from this point, it’s share and share alike, one for goddamn all and all for goddamn one. You don’t like that,” she said with a nod toward Cal, “but I think you’re going to have to get used to it.”

“You’ve been in this for days. Fox and I have lived with it for years. Lived in it. So, don’t put on your badge and call yourself captain yet, Blondie.”

“Living in it for twenty-one years gives you certain advantages. But you haven’t figured it out, you haven’t stopped it or even identified it, as far as I can tell, in your twenty-one-year experience. So loosen up.”

“You poked at my ninety-seven-year-old great-grandmother today.”

“Oh, bull. Your remarkable and fascinating ninety-seven-year-old great-grandmother came up to where I was researching in the library, sat down, and had a conversation with me of her own free will. There was no poking. My keen observation skills tell me you didn’t inherit your tight-ass tendencies from her.”

“Kids, kids.” Fox held up a hand. “Tense situation, agreed, but we’re all on the same side, or are on the same side potentially. So chill. Cal, Quinn makes a good point, and it bears consideration. At the same time, Quinn, you’ve been in the Hollow a couple of days, and Layla less than that. You’re going to have to be patient, and accept the fact that some areas of information are more sensitive than others, and may take time to be offered. Even if we start with what can and has been corroborated or documented-”

“What are you, a lawyer?” Layla asked.

“Yeah.”

“Figures,” she said under her breath.

“Let’s just table this,” Cal suggested. “Let’s let it sit, so we can all think about it for the night. I said I’d take you to the Pagan Stone tomorrow, and I will. Let’s see how it goes.”

“Accepted.”

“Are you two all right at the hotel? You can stay here if you’re not easy about going back.”

The fact that he’d offered had Quinn’s hackles smoothing down again. “We’re not wimps, are we, Layla?”

“I wouldn’t have said I was a few days ago. Now, I’m not so sure. But I’ll be all right at the hotel.” In fact, she wanted to go back, crawl into that big, soft bed and pull the covers over her head. “I slept better there than I have all week, so that’s something.”

Quinn decided she’d wait until they were back before she advised Layla to lower all the shades, and maybe leave a light burning.

IN THE MORNING, QUINN PRESSED AN EAR AGAINST the door to Layla’s room. Since she heard the muted sounds of the Today show, she gave the door a knuckle rap. “It’s Quinn,” she added, in case Layla was still jumpy.

Layla opened the door in a pretty damn cute pair of purple-and-white-striped pajama pants and a purple sleep tank. There was color in her cheeks, and her quiet green eyes had the clarity that told Quinn she’d been awake awhile.

“I’m about to head out to Cal’s. Mind if I come in a minute?”

“No.” She stepped back. “I was trying to figure out what I’m supposed to do with myself today.”

“You can come with me if you want.”

“Into the woods? Not quite ready for that, thanks. You know…” Layla switched off the TV before dropping into a chair. “I was thinking about the wimp statement you made last night. I’ve never been a wimp, but it occurred to me as I was huddled in bed with the shades drawn and this stupid chair under the doorknob that I’ve never had anything happen that tested that before. My life’s been pretty normal.”

“You came here, and you’re still here. So I’m thinking that puts you pretty low on the wimp scale. How’d you sleep?”

“Good. Once I got there, good. No dreams, no visitations, no bumps in the night. So, of course, now I’m wondering why.”

“No dreams for me either.” Quinn glanced around the room. Layla’s bed was a sleigh style and the color scheme was muted greens and creams. “We could theorize that your room here’s a safe zone, but that’s off because mine isn’t, and it’s two doors down. It could be that whatever it is just took the night off. Maybe needed to recharge some expended energy.”

“Happy thought.”

“You’ve got my cell number, Cal’s, Fox’s. We’ve got yours. We’re-connected. I wanted to let you know that the diner across the street, figuring you’re not going to try the dining room here again, has a nice breakfast.”

“I’m thinking I might try room service, and start on the books that you gave me last night. I didn’t want to try them for bedtime reading.”

“Wise. Okay. If you head out, it’s a nice town. Some cute little shops, a little museum I haven’t had time to explore so can’t give you a rating, and there’s always the Bowl-a-Rama.”

A hint of a smile appeared around Layla’s mouth. “Is there?”

“It’s Cal’s family’s place. Interesting, and it feels like the hub of the town. So, I’ll look you up when I get back?”

“Okay. Quinn?” Layla added as Quinn reached for the door. “Wimp scale or not, I’m not sure I’d still be here if I hadn’t run into you.”

“I know how you feel. I’ll see you later.”

C AL WAS WAITING FOR HER WHEN SHE DROVE UP. He stepped out, started down the steps, the dog wandering behind him, as she got out of the car. He took a scan, starting with her feet. Good, sturdy hiking boots that showed some scars and wear, faded jeans, tough jacket in I’m-Not-a-Deer red, and a multistriped scarf that matched the cloche-style cap on her head. Silly hat, he mused, that was unaccountably appealing on her.