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“Yes,” Naomi shot back defensively, trying to reclaim the keys but Dylan didn’t let her.
Unlocking the front door, Dylan said, “You know, even the great Naomi Candella needs more than an hour sleep in three days.”
Dylan herded them inside, and Clara was glad that her oldest brother’s protective attention was fixed on Naomi at the moment and not on herself. Both of her older brothers had basically adopted Naomi, accepting her as a part of their family, which meant a lot to Clara, and she knew it meant a lot to her sister, too.
“I can spend the night,” Davis offered. “Then Naomi can get some sleep.”
“Would everyone stop fussing over me, I'm fine. I've gone with less sleep than this before.” Naomi stomped off into the kitchen.
Both Davis and Dylan looked amused; neither took Naomi’s frustrations personally. They’d known her long enough by now to know that she never gave herself a break. Naomi was like a whirlwind that never stopped.
Following her to the kitchen, Dylan wrapped an arm around Naomi’s waist, lifted her off the floor and carried her to the sitting area, where he set her down on one of the couches. “Sit. Rest,” he ordered. “Davis will make some tea, then the two of you are going to go to bed. And no arguments, Naomi—you need sleep, and if you won't agree to get any, then I'm going to make you take a sleeping pill.”
“Fine,” Naomi sighed long-sufferingly.
Clara couldn’t help but chuckle; her sister hated being coddled.
“And what are you laughing at?” Dylan turned on her. “You think you look any better than she does? How much sleep haveyouhad the last few nights? How many nightmares?”
The reminder of her nightmares sobered her instantly. Her dreams the last couple of nights had been odd, not quite the same as the nightmare that had haunted her sleep right after her abduction. This one kept getting hazy in parts like her mind was trying to unlock the memories it had previously locked away.
“By the look on your face, I'd say the nightmares have been bad.” Dylan gentled his voice. “Are you coping okay?”
Was she? She guessed she was coping as well as could be expected, given the circumstances. She hated that another child had been taken, and she felt so guilty that she couldn’t give the police anything that might help them figure out who the Doll Killers were. She believed in her heart that it was the same people who had taken her. She didn’t know what had made them stop or what had made them start up again, and she didn’t care. She just wanted them stopped once and for all.
“Clara?”
“I'm okay,” she assured her brother.
“She blames herself because she can't remember what happened,” Naomi informed him.
That earned her a frown. “That’s ridiculous, Clara. You were six years old. If you could cope with remembering what happened, your brain wouldn’t have blocked it out.”
She glared at her traitor of a sister. Naomi had just told Dylan that to get the focus off herself. “I’m not a child anymore, though, Dylan,” she reminded him.
“Do you want to remember?” Davis asked, bringing over a tray full of cups and a teapot.
“I want to be able to help find the two missing children and stop this,” she replied.
“That sounds like a no.” Davis handed her a cup and sat beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
Leaning into him, she was glad that her brothers had insisted on taking her out tonight. She’d been disappointed but understanding when Jonathon had called to cancel. If they were going to try dating, then she was going to have to get used to that and learn not to take it personally. But having the date canceled had left her feeling a little lost. She feared having too much time on her hands, which would leave her mind free to wander into unpleasant territory. But then Dylan and Davis had turned up at her place and taken her and Naomi out for dinner and a movie. She’d enjoyed just chatting and having fun with her siblings like they usually did. Everyone had carefully avoided any talk on the Doll Killers, until now.
“It’s not your job to solve this case, Clara,” Davis reminded her.
“But they're trying to pin it all on Tommy.” Tears were welling up in her eyes and she determinedly held them back. Learning that one of the police officers Tommy shot had died was horrifying. How could her sweet, quiet friend fire a gun into a sea of people? What was he thinking? Why had he stopped taking his medication? Why had he started seeing a psychiatrist again and not told her? Why wouldn’t he have told her that he was struggling with depression again? He knew he could trust her, didn’t he? So many questions and no chance of getting any answers.
“But if he didn’t do it, they’ll find that out, honey,” Dylan said.
Jonathon had said the same thing to her. And she wanted to believe it; she did. But sometimes it was hard to let go of a notion once it lodged itself in your head.
“All right, drink up, then bedtime,” Dylan announced. “I’ll stay here tonight.”
“No, you should go home to your family,” she protested. Her oldest brother had a beautiful wife and an adorable four-year-old son who Clara loved dearly.
“They're fine, they're asleep already, and I told Maria I’d probably stay here tonight. If I don’t stay then, Naomi isn’t going to sleep, and even if I drug Naomi to make her sleep then you're not going to sleep because subconsciously you need to know that someone is here and awake for you to be able to sleep. So, I'm staying.”
“Me too,” Davis added. “It’ll be like a sleepover,” he joked.
