Slowly I closed the door. I listened for their retreating footsteps across the small porch. In a few moments the click, click, click of dog toenails was followed by a low whine. I opened the door to Holly and Maverick. Holly found a spot on the braided rug in front of the fireplace. Maverick tucked himself into a corner where he could observe the room.

I was suddenly too tired to unpack but still had my exercises to do. While both dogs watched, I pulled my exercise mat from my suitcase, grabbed a pillow off the bed and a towel from the bathroom, then slipped off my slacks and shirt. I found my tattered FBI T-shirt and baggy shorts and pulled them on. Removing my heavy glasses, I placed them on the bedside table.

Sitting on the bed, I tugged off my prosthetic left leg, attached below my knee, and propped it beside me.

Chapter 4

I crouched beside the rear bumper of the truck, my heart hammering in my ears. Churning blackness swirled on the other side of the vehicle. I had to kill this bleak presence of evil, but I was unarmed.

It’s a dream. Wake up!

Wait. I had a pistol. But something was terribly wrong. I looked around, but only tall grasses surrounded me. Wake up!

He yelled my name.

I turned and ran. His voice retreated in the distance. Coward! The earth rushed up to meet me. The raw smell of dirt filled my nose. Reaching forward, I dug my nails into the ground and pulled. I gained a few inches. Again I clawed forward. I tried to go faster, but something held my leg. Twisting around, I looked behind me.

The swirling blackness crept up my leg. I screamed.

Something wet touched my face, shoved against me. I pushed it away. It came again, more insistently. The scene faded, but the solid feel of the creature continued.

Opening my mouth to scream, I felt something wet slap against my teeth. I jerked upright, gasping.

Holly was on the bed, licking my face and nudging me awake.

The nightmare clung to my brain like pine pitch, reluctant to let go. I pushed Holly away from her frantic concern and sat up. My T-shirt was soaked. The sheets wrapped around my right ankle. The lamps I’d left flickering sent eerie shadows dancing around the cabin.

I needed to clear my head. A shot of whiskey would hit the spot, but I’d been on the wagon for three years now. And the easy fix of popping pills was no longer an option. I wasn’t going back there.

I left my oversized glasses beside the bed. I didn’t need them to see. They were only a prop I allowed myself to discourage unwanted attention.