Chapters (53)
- Front Cover
- Letter from the Author
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Contents
- • One •
- • Two •
- • Three •
- • Four •
- • Five •
- • Six •
- • Seven •
- • Eight •
- • Nine •
- • Ten •
- • Eleven •
- • Twelve •
- • Thirteen •
- • Fourteen •
- • Fifteen •
- • Sixteen •
- • Seventeen •
- • Eighteen •
- • Nineteen •
- • Twenty •
- • Twenty-One •
- • Twenty-Two •
- • Twenty-Three •
- • Twenty-Four •
- • Twenty-Five •
- • Twenty-Six •
- • Twenty-Seven •
- • Twenty-Eight •
- • Twenty-Nine •
- • Thirty •
- • Thirty-One •
- • Thirty-Two •
- • Thirty-Three •
- • Thirty-Four •
- • Thirty-Five •
- • Thirty-Six •
- • Thirty-Seven •
- • Thirty-Eight •
- • ∞ •
- • Thirty-Nine •
- • Forty •
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgments
- Excerpt from Be Dazzled
- One
- Two
- About the Author
- Back Cover
Kane thought he had known fear, but this new horror recalibrated all the bad he’d gone through so far. This was so much worse than he thought. It must have been a long time before Kane answered, or maybe he never answered at all, because the next thing he heard was a ringing, hammering laugh.
“Do not look so aghast, Mr. Montgomery. I do not think you murdered Maxine Osman. I’m not sure who did. That’s why we’re here, together.”
Kane shook off his shock. He couldn’t lose himself now.
“You need my help figuring out the murderer?” he asked.
“Ah, so you are smart! Yes, I have a proposition. A bit of homework for you.” From their bag Dr. Poesy pulled a notebook and handed it to Kane. It was thin and had a supple red leather cover so bright Kane thought the color would stain his hands. It came with its own golden pen in a leather loop, and the pages were blank except for the first, which read My Dream Journal.
“You want me to keep a dream journal?”
“Of course not.” Dr. Poesy laughed. “I may not be your real psychologist, but you are still under my evaluation, and as long as that’s the case, the police cannot touch you. Keeping this journal, along with weekly check-ins with me, should give you the time and inspiration you need to give me the information I want about Maxine Osman and your incendiary evening together. Do this for me, and I will handle the rest.”
Kane’s voice was a pale-blue whisper. “But I told the police everything I know.”
Dr. Poesy smiled. “You and I both know there is more to your story. Perhaps you’ve lied. Perhaps you haven’t. Perhaps your dreams will reveal what your waking mind cannot bear. It does not matter, so long as it makes it onto those pages. No detail should be considered irrelevant. Withhold nothing, or I will know. You have three weeks.”
“But…”
Kane stopped himself. What was he doing, revealing how little he knew? Dr. Poesy had just said Kane was untouchable so long as he was being evaluated. If Dr. Poesy lost faith in his ability to be useful, the evaluation ended, and Kane’s freedom winked out like a light.
Dr. Poesy crossed his legs at the ankle. He draped his hands, one over the other, at the knee, and a flare of gold chain on his wrist caught the lamplight. Kane stared at it, helpless beneath the fear and panic surging through him.
“Look at me.”
Kane looked. Dr. Poesy leaned over the table, daring Kane to join him in a new, hushed closeness.