Page 51 of Close Up

She sensed movement and turned to look into the living room. Rex loomed in the shadows. He padded forward to greet her. He did not appear concerned. She took that as a good omen. She gave him a couple of pats and then moved on across the room.

There was no sign of Nick but the French doors were open to the night. She went to the threshold and studied the enclosed patio andgarden. Nick stood quietly in the moonlight, gazing through the wrought iron gate at the silvered ocean.

“Nick?”

He turned slowly to face her, but in the dense shadows she could not make out his expression.

“It’s all right,” he said. “There’s nothing wrong. I just came out here to do some thinking.”

She walked across the patio to join him. When she got close she was aware of a little heat in his eyes. As if he was running a low-grade fever, she thought. He had a towel draped around his neck.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“Yes.”

The fever heat in his eyes was just a trick of the moonlight, she decided. It was already fading. But as she watched he used the towel to dash sweat off his forehead.

“You’re not feeling ill?” she asked.

“No, damn it, I am not ill. There’s nothing wrong. You can go back to bed.”

Understanding whispered through her.

“You came out here to think about the killer’s poems and the man you noticed in the photos, didn’t you?” she said. “You’re working. I’m sorry I disturbed you.”

She started to turn back toward the shadowed front room of the villa.

“You asked me why I did not marry Patricia after she was... widowed,” he said. “I told you it was because the violence that took place on the hotel rooftop frightened her. That was true but it wasn’t the whole truth. There’s more to the story.”

She stopped and faced him. “I’m listening.”

“For generations the men of the Sundridge line have had a tendency to experience odd dreams.”

“Everyone has strange dreams from time to time.”

“Not like the Sundridge curse dreams,” Nick said. Grim certainty resonated in the words. “Not like my dreams.”

“How are they different?”

“The kind of dreams I’m talking about feel more like visions. Sometimes they seem like premonitions. I get the sense that if I don’t do something—if I don’t act—someone will die.”

“Okay, that kind of dreaming definitely sounds unnerving.”

“The visions used to strike randomly, day or night. But I’ve developed some control over them. Most of my ancestors found some way to cope with the curse, too. But it’s very easy for those who witness a man in a fever dream to conclude that he is... unbalanced. That kind of dreaming makes intimate relationships—marriage—highly problematic. Disturbing.”

“Your dreams made Patricia think you might be insane?”

“We never shared a bed but at one point during the short time that we were together she walked in on me one night when I was dreaming.”

“Like I did just now?”

“You thought I was ill.”

“It looked like you were running a fever. I didn’t think you were crazy.”

“You might change your mind if I told you what I just saw in my vision,” Nick said.

“Try me.”

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