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Trembling, Willa removed the shade from the lamp on the table next to the bed and hefting the base, quickly searched the small apartment to make sure the thief wasn’t still there.
The apartment was small with few places to hide. Once she’d checked the bathroom and the closet and under the bed, that didn’t leave much of a hiding place.
But still she moved the couch out away from the wall to look behind it, feeling foolish. Why would someone be hiding in the apartment after taking the painting? But why would anyone come into her apartment and take an unfinished painting to begin with?
Once she was sure there was no one lurking in the apartment, she put the lamp back beside her bed, the shade on again and turned on all the lights.
Her stomach felt queasy and she remembered the sandwich Odell had given her. The supply boat wouldn’t be coming until tomorrow morning with her groceries.
She had bought a box of granola bars before she’d met Gator at the dock and several bottles of water. She took the water from her large purse, opened one and put the other in the fridge. Too antsy to sit, she ate the sandwich and one of the bars standing up.
She felt a bit better but still nervous as she listened to the sounds of the night and the creaks and groans of the old villa and thought of the story about the Santiago family. Overhead, she heard footfalls on the floor as if someone was creeping around up there, then silence.
On impulse, she checked the hole behind the couch. No light shone from the floor above. She slid the couch back, double-checked the door to make sure it was locked, then made sure all the windows were closed and locked before hooking a chair under the doorknob as an extra precaution before going to bed.
As exhausted as she was, she thought sleep would elude her, especially given that someone had taken the disturbing painting she’d planned to paint over in the morning. Who? And why? Alma Garcia? The same person who’d cut the tape on the painting supply box while it was on the dock? Maybe the poor old soul had a problem with taking things. Willa would have to keep her door locked. And keep an eye on the old woman.
And Odell. What had he buried? Or dug up? She knew she would have to find out. She thought about going out there now but suddenly she couldn’t keep her eyes open. Sleep dragged her down as if she’d been drugged.
She tried to fight it, suddenly afraid that Odell had put something in the sandwich. She felt as if she were underwater desperately trying to swim to the surface. She thought she heard a sound at her door then someone calling her name but then she went under and there was nothing but blackness.
In the dream the water was dark. She stood on the edge of the pool. There was something just below the surface. She could almost make out what it was. She leaned closer.
A face began to take shape. The face of a little boy like the one she’d seen in the photograph except the boy seemed to be fighting to save himself, as if he was being held under. There was terror in his eyes and he was gasping.
Suddenly the child’s face floated to the surface. Not the face of a little boy but the bloated, distended face of a monster, the decomposed skin slipping off, the face literally dissolving before her eyes.
Willa screamed and lurched backward but the child’s hand came out of the fetid water and grabbed her wrist, pulling her toward the pool as if to drag her to the bottom with him.
Frantically she fought to free herself but the grip on her wrist was like a steel band. She screamed again as she was dragged to the lip of the pool, what was left of the child’s face grinning grotesquely up at her.
“Hey! It’s me!”
Suddenly her eyes flew open and she fell backward. Odell grabbed her and pulled her back from the edge of the pool. She struck out at him, still deep in the nightmare.
“Hey, what’s wrong with you?”
He held her at arm’s length until her eyes focused on him, then he let go. She stumbled back from him, confused and shaking with terror.
“Are you all right?”
She blinked and looked around, memory of where she was slowly coming back to her. “How did I get down here?”
He shook his head. “Oh, man, were you sleepwalking?”
Her gaze flickered over the moonlit courtyard. Still in the grip of the dream, she stared at the dark water of the pool, until she finally pulled her gaze away and looked at Odell. He was wearing only pajama bottoms, his chest and feet bare, hair mussed as if he’d just woken up.
“I heard a scream and I came running out….” He was staring at her, looking almost as scared of her as she was of him. “That was really creepy. I’ve never seen anyone sleepwalking before. You were looking right at me and yet you didn’t seem to be seeing me at all. If I hadn’t grabbed you, you looked like you were going to fall into the deep end of the pool.”
She tried to make sense of what he was saying. “It was only a dream?”
He chuckled, looking relieved that she was no longer freaking. “More like a nightmare from the way you were screaming.”
It had been so real. She shot a glance toward the stagnant water of the pool again and shuddered, hugging her bare arms. She glanced down and saw that her feet were bare and realized she was wearing only her nightshirt. Although it covered her from her shoulders to her knees, she felt half-naked in the hot humid night air with this man.
She remembered the sandwich and the feeling that she’d been drugged. Was it possible he’d put something in the sandwich to make her hallucinate? But why would he do that? If he’d been sent here to kill her, why not just drown her in the pool get it over with? Why save her?
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Odell asked.
