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“You’re to blame.” Rip’s voice thundered, though his mouth didn’t move, and somehow Jules knew he was talking about Edie. “You let her do this.”
“I didn’t!” Jules insisted, the drops of blood dripping onto the floor.
Jules sat bolt upright in the darkness, the strange room closing in on her. Where the hell was she?
“Hey. You okay?” Trent was beside her in the bed. His strong arms surrounded her, dragging her close. She blinked hard, remembering where she was and how she’d gotten here, fool that she was.
“No.” She was shaking her head; she was definitely not okay on so many levels. Good Lord, she was an idiot, and the memory of the nightmare still caused goose bumps to rise on her skin. “It’s … it’s everything. I get this recurring nightmare about Dad’s murder. It just keeps coming back, and it changes just a little each time. I always hear a disturbing dripping sound. And I check around and know it’s coming from the den.”
She let out a breath, shivering a little, though Trent’s arms surrounded her.
“And that’s where it changes. I walk into the den, and the TV’s always on and Dad’s always on the floor, blood pooling around him, but sometimes he’s still alive and he talks to me. Sometimes my mother is nearby; other times Shaylee is cowering and … and it all gets so blurry. All the people I cared about at that time in my life are nearby, but it’s as if they’re acting, playing different roles.” She shook her head in the darkness. “Oh, I don’t know what it means, if it means anything.” She let out a soft breath, ruffling the hairs on his chest. “To tell you the truth, it scares me to death.”
“Shhh.” He kissed her hair. “Let it go.”
“Believe me, I’ve tried, but …” She sighed, wishing that horrid night would stop haunting her. It won’t; not until the memory is clear. Her recollections of the night of her father’s death had changed with time, aged a bit, in shattered little pieces that she’d formed into a smooth montage. She was living at home, the marriage between Rip and Edie disintegrating by the day. They were continually sniping at each other, the arguments escalating. She and Shaylee had taken refuge upstairs, listening to music with the volume turned up to mute the painful words her parents thrust at each other.
Seeing them destroying each other took its toll on Jules and her half sister. And the aftermath of Rip’s death had been worse. Jules had scrapped her plans of moving away to college and had forced Trent from her life. Shay had started getting into trouble at school, and Edie … Edie had nearly lost it, falling into a horrible depression that had only lifted with the advent of Grant Sykes into her life. She’d felt a failure with two divorces, widowhood, and the loss of any considerations of wealth. Max Stillman was determined that she never get one more dime of his money to the point that he’d nearly turned his back completely on his own daughter, doting instead on Max Junior. So they’d both lost their fathers that night. Though Shay’s relationship had always been tenuous with Max, Rip had doted on Jules. Once Rip was killed, the murderer, a robber who had taken his wallet and fled in smooth-soled, size 12 shoes, according to partial impressions in the mud, their lives had changed forever. Had it been random? A business partner who had been taken? The husband of one of Rip’s girlfriends finally taking revenge?
No one knew.
All in all, it had been a disaster, the night of Rip Delaney’s death changing the course of Jules’s life and haunting her dreams.
“I think,” she said, blinking in the darkness, “the nightmare is never going to go away. It’ll always be with me.”
“Hey.” Trent’s voice was low. Steady. “I’m here.”
She snorted a laugh, finding a hint of macabre humor in his single statement. “And?”
“And this time I’m not going away.”
A lump formed in her throat, and she let his strong arms comfort her. “Even if I push?” she asked.
“Especially then.”
“Need I remind you that ‘here’ is in the middle of a madhouse of a boarding school where people are being killed?”
“It won’t always be this way.” God, he said it with such conviction.
Jules wanted to take comfort in his strong belief, she supposed, but it was difficult. As she roused and the nightmare skittered away to hide in the murky corners of her mind, she was faced with what she and Trent had discovered in Lynch’s partially burnt files. Also, now there was the heart-jarring realization that she’d made love to Cooper Trent again.
As quick as lightning, she’d slid willingly between the sheets of the ex–bull rider’s bed, and they had become lovers again in a heartbeat.
She hadn’t even put up a fight, and then had fallen asleep in his arms.
Stupid, stupid, stupid!
What was wrong with her?
Had she just taken solace and comfort for a few hours? Needed a reaffirmation of life and love in the middle of this chaos?
What an inane rationale.
Sleeping with him would help nothing. Tears stung the back of her eyes, but she fought them back. “You’re a fool, Cooper Trent.”
“At the very least.”
“I’m serious.”
