When She Dreams (Burning Cove #6)(81)

“That’s your job, isn’t it? Cleaning up after Arthur.”

Dolores shrugged. “I’m the fixer. I do whatever is necessary to protect the star. I sent him home in a cab that night and then I drove Jennaway back to her beach house. I got her out of the car. She was so disoriented and so woozy she never realized I was walking her into the sea. She struggled a bit at the end, but it wasn’t difficult to push her head underwater and hold it there. She was hallucinating. Thought I was the Traveler.”

“You’ve made yourself into the human version of the Traveler,” Maggie said. “You’ve caused a lot of death. Virginia Jennaway, Beverly Nevins, Valerie Warren. Did I leave out anyone?”

“They were all distractions and problems,” Dolores shrieked. She took a breath and got her voice back under control. “Instead of going away quietly, they tried to make trouble. Jennaway wanted marriage. Nevins and Warren tried to blackmail us.”

“Killing me is going to cause you a lot of trouble, trust me.”

“In the beginning I didn’t think you would be a problem,” Dolores said. “You were just another conference attendee. Yes, you were supposedly writing a book about lucid dreaming, but I wasn’t worried. Then you and Sage discovered Nevins’s body. I told myself that wouldn’t be a problem, either. The situation was under control. Then I realized Oxlade was obsessed with you.”

“He wanted to run experiments on me,” Maggie said.

“That would have been manageable, too. The real complication was that Oxlade convinced Arthur that you are a truly unique dreamer, that you possess some genuine psychic talent. Now he is obsessed with you. He thinks you are the woman of his dreams, literally. The fool believes he needs you to fulfill his vision of the Guilfoyle Method. He thinks you can make him a star. He has concluded he no longer needs me.”

Maggie groped for the master light switch behind her. “If what you’re saying is true, he’s unhinged.”

“Quite possibly. I’ve been wondering about that. Oxlade did several sessions with him using the drug. I’m afraid Arthur actually believes he can use the enhancer to open the path to his psychic senses. He’s an actor who has gone too deeply into his role.”

“He’s deluded.”

“Yes, but I can handle that,” Dolores said. “As I said, you are the problem.”

“Aren’t you worried about the bracelet?” Maggie asked.

Dolores froze. “What do you know about the bracelet?”

“I know Arthur gave it to Eleanor Nevins. You found Eleanor’s diary and the photo when you searched the hotel room, but you didn’t find the bracelet, did you? In case you’re interested, it was taped under the toilet tank lid. There’s a lovely inscription on it. To EN, the woman of my dreams. It’s signed Dream Master.”

“Where is it?” Dolores hissed.

“In my evening bag.”

“Toss it here. Do it.”

“Sure.”

Maggie threw the bag straight at Dolores, who tried to catch it with her left hand. She fumbled and missed the small, glittering purse. It fell to the floor at her feet.

Maggie knew it was the only opening she was likely to get. She took advantage of the few seconds of distraction to slam the master light switch downward. The dim overhead fixtures illuminating the stage and the wings went out. Utter darkness, disorienting and claustrophobic, fell with shocking suddenness.

She dropped to the floor.

“Bitch,” Dolores shouted.

The pistol roared.

Maggie saw a flash of light. It disappeared immediately but it told her Dolores was still on the other side of Gloria’s unconscious body.

“Turn on the lights, you stupid creature,” Dolores shrieked.

Another gunshot reverberated through the theater. Maggie realized she could not remain huddled under the light switches. She began to haul herself across the stage on her belly.

Another shot thundered in the darkness. How many bullets were there in a small gun? She would have to remember to ask Sam. Assuming she survived.

Behind her she heard movement, followed by a thump and a shriek of rage. Dolores had stumbled against Gloria, but she was still on her feet.

Maggie kept going, feeling her way over the boards. Her fingers brushed against the leg of the chair. She toppled it onto its side and shoved it across the stage in the general direction of the gunshots.

The pistol blazed again in the darkness, but Dolores was still aiming high. Evidently she hadn’t realized her target was on the floor.

Maggie touched the gilded leg of the couch and quickly dragged herself around to the back. With luck it would serve as a barricade until she could get into the wings on the far side of the stage.

There was a solid thud behind her. Dolores had blundered into the chair. She screamed, rage and panic mingling in the unearthly shriek. There was a flurry of wild footsteps as she struggled to recover her balance.

She failed. There was a quickly silenced scream followed by a jolting thud when she toppled off the stage and landed on the floor in front of the first row of seats.

An ominous silence followed, and then came the sound of muffled sobs.

Maggie hesitated, not certain what to do next. After a moment she started feeling her way back across the stage, hoping to get to the bank of light switches.

The backstage door crashed open.