The Doctor + Four

“It’s me, Barry.” In the semidarkness, his silhouette loomed.

Duke, cursing as he stabbed at her. “Don’t…” Terror made the word stick in her throat.

“Bad dream?” His palm smoothed her forehead. Reassuring. Gentle. Yet her subconscious flashed a red alert.

This was Barry, not Duke, Sonya told herself. The man who’d come to her aid last night, and made love to her. Why was she still so frightened, as if her subconscious was trying to send a warning?

A fact surfaced. “You said…ex-con.”

He answered warily. “That’s right.”

“What…for?” She still found it hard to talk. Impossible to stir. She was almost as helpless as in her dream.

“You mean what did they convict me of?” Barry asked tightly. “Murder.”

Murder.

Who had he killed—a girlfriend? Despite his easygoing veneer, she’d seen the violence with which he’d attacked Duke. If Barry lost his temper, she could imagine his powerful hands throttling whoever infuriated him. Perhaps regretting it afterward, too late.

“Manslaughter, to be specific,” he went on. “I didn’t do it, but everyone says that, don’t they?”

He seemed to expect a reply. Perhaps absolution. Did he take all women for fools?

She’d had sex with the man. Yet what did she really know of him? He might have lied about being a reporter and invented the appealing tale of a sister and a family home.

Last night, Sonya had been too overwhelmed by events to think clearly. What a vulnerable position she’d put herself in, bringing a convicted killer into her home.

“Please leave.” Her voice trembled.

“What?”

“Get out!”

“You’re having a delayed reaction to what happened yesterday,” he said. “Sonya, you don’t mean this.”

She’d asked him to leave. And he’d refused.

Shaking off the sleep-drugged sensation at last, she tumbled out of bed and gripped her robe. Stiff-legged and awkward, she pulled it on as she ran. Smacked the edge of the door frame, ignored the painful ache in her hip and kept going.

“Hey! Wait!” Barry’s shout followed her down the stairs. Sonya staggered into the living room, snagged her purse and fled to the front porch.

She groped inside the bag. Where was her cell? Not in its accustomed slot. Had he swiped it while she’d slept?

At last she found it at the bottom. About to dial the police, she tried to phrase the complaint in her mind. Officer, I’ve been…

Foolish. Indiscreet. Stupid. She had no doubt Barry posed a threat, yet she could form no convincing accusation.

From inside the condo sounded masculine footsteps. Murder. How could she have put herself at his mercy?

Maybe she should keep running and scream until some neighbor offered aid. But as the cool morning air blew off the remnants of her dream state, the scent of jasmine drifted to Sonya. Along an adjacent boulevard, early morning traffic murmured. The world had become normal again. The sense of peril muted into uneasiness.

She should have expected a reaction like this. Violence and danger left their mark on the subconscious. She’d managed to suppress the trauma for a few hours, but it had breached her defenses in sleep.

Barry emerged, his clothes hanging in disarray as he regarded her grumpily. She skittered off the porch and drew the robe tighter. Gravel dug into her bare feet.

“What do you think I’m going to do, bite you?” he growled. “Come inside before you catch cold.” He noticed the phone. “Did you call the cops?”

She shook her head. Still shaken. Still not in full control.

He appeared to be listening. For a siren? Nothing stirred but a cat, yowling a few doors off. “Well, thanks for that, anyway,” he muttered. “Goodbye then.”

“You’re leaving?” She hadn’t expected him to acquiesce so readily.

“It’s what you want, isn’t it?”

A moment ago she’d wanted nothing else. Now she began to fear she’d overreacted. Still, best to let him go. “Have…have a safe flight.” The mundane civility sounded absurd in her own ears.

“Just a minute. I left my camera in the kitchen.” He disappeared but returned quickly, holding the device in one hand. “Care to search me to make sure I didn’t steal anything?”

“I…I trust you.”

“We both know that isn’t true.” He regarded her with a mixture of anger and disappointment, then stalked away. Despite the breeze, Sonya stood observing until he rounded a corner and vanished from sight.

He hadn’t raged at her or shouted insults. He’d behaved quite decently, considering the circumstances. Had she misjudged him? She certainly had a poor history of gauging men’s characters.

Inside, her clothes still littered the carpet from last night, and the room carried the subtle tang of a man’s body along with leftover cooking odors. How long before the condo became entirely hers once more?

The whole situation struck Sonya as bizarre and inexplicable. She didn’t do things like this. Jump into bed with a stranger. Panic beyond reason.

No use trying to sleep in this agitated state. Instead, she went to the kitchen to brew coffee. Two pans sat soaking in the sink where Barry had left them.

They’d had fun cooking together and their lovemaking had been spectacular. If she hadn’t suffered that nightmare, maybe…No. This relationship had never had a future.

A convicted murderer. Just her luck.

As she fixed the coffee, one fact became clear: she’d drifted for too long since the engagement had ended. Unfulfilled urges had made her susceptible.

Well, her parents had taught her to learn from mistakes. At thirty-three, maybe she’d needed this wake-up call.

She remembered her insight at the hospital—that if she sought a family to love and cherish, she’d better make plans. No more trysts with strangers or fantasies about someday adopting. Time to set goals and go after them.

While pouring a mug of coffee, Sonya recalled Duke’s threats. He posed no immediate danger, but sooner or later he’d get out of jail. Her nightmare might yet materialize.

Besides, since her family members had scattered and most of her old friends had moved on, Fullerton was little more than a place to work. She yearned for an old-fashioned town where neighbors visited one another and friendships endured.

Sitting at the table, sipping the brew, she let her mind play over possibilities. She rejected the first one that came to mind—the newly built community in Arizona where her brother and sister lived. The flat desert landscape didn’t appeal to her.

Now that she was considering making a change, though, she began to recognize other advantages to moving. Away from Southern California’s sky-high real estate prices, she could afford a house. And once she settled in a community, she’d be ready to start searching for a child or a sibling group. Enough to fill up her home and her heart.