Twisted Dreams

By Beth Sadler

Leesha Richards has been haunted by violent dreams since childhood and now a grisly murder has been committed. Leesha's dreams are the only clue dedicated homicide detective Jake Polanski has to track down the killer.
Working together they must solve the riddle of her dreams and bring the Monster to justice, while protecting their growing love.
The race is on to find him before he gets to Leesha to stop her identifying him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Beth Sadler
• Release date: Nov 14, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301155972

Beth Sadler

Married for 49 years to my own Tall, Dark and Handsome Hero. A marriage that has produced three sons and four young grandchildren. Through all of life's ups and downs I have always found pleasure in jotting down the scenes that played out in my imagination. Now, I'm finally able to sit at my desk and let the stories flow, (Ah retirement feels good). Cheers, Beth Sadler

Book preview

Prologue

Silent screams ravaged her mind as she struggled to wake from the hell she’d been enduring in her sleep. Gasping for breath, she shot up in bed, struggling to escape the dream that held her in its relentless grip. But it was not to be; the vision proved stronger than her terror and dragged her back into its clutches. She sat, captive to the demons that had her staring blindly at the wallpaper covered wall opposite the bed. She stared, transfixed, while the scene played out to its inevitable conclusion.

It was a nightmare that only she could see and one that she was powerless to resist.

Sitting rigidly upright, her eyes darting from side to side, she watched the final scene play out to its terrible conclusion. Her hands clenched so tightly that, blood seeped from the wounds her nails caused in the tender skin of her palms as agonised moans escaped her trembling lips and deep shudders wracked her slender body. The internal battle lasted another twenty, endless minutes.

Gradually the vision loosened its hold on her subconscious, and she started to come back to the present. Her warm, cosy room came into focus before her desperate eyes, revealing the polished antiques and soft, rose coloured cushions and bedding.

Struggling with her pillows, she piled them at her back before sinking into them with a desperate sigh of relief. The huge sleigh bed and matching dresser had been a present to herself on the sale of her first book and until now, had been a source of great pleasure to her.

Her eyes drifted to the matching dresser, the sight of its solid bulk helping to ground her. She took comfort from the sight of the gleaming wood hugging the corner of the room and the pretty, rose coloured water jug and basin that decorated its polished surface. The room had a traditional, comfortable feel that helped chase the chill from her soul.

The quaint, romantic charm of the room might have seemed an unusual choice for an independent young businesswoman, but it spelled home to Leesha.

The one thing that wasn’t in the room was a mirror, and she had a very good reason for that omission.

She took a deep, soothing breath as she watched the soft, ivory lace drapes billowing gently in the cool, early morning breeze. Slowly, the trembling subsided as Leesha left the terror, that only she could see, behind.

Carefully making her way to the edge of the bed, she tried to still her shaking body while she found the floor with her feet.

She had to get to her phone and record what she’d witnessed before any of the details faded. From experience, she knew fatigue would overtake her soon and when she woke again some of the details would be hazy. But not, oh God, never, the monstrous deeds of the human animal that prowled through her nightmares. After eight years he was back, and nothing was going to be the same again, "Oh God, why is it happening again, why, after all this time?

Leesha staggered across her bedroom, struggling to reach the door leading to her small study. The original designer of the apartment had designated the room as a nursery, but without the need to put it to that use, Leesha had found that it served her perfectly as an office.

It housed filing cabinets and a small desk for the computer that Leesha used for her work. She’d left her phone on the desk before heading off to bed earlier that night. Now she was desperately trying to reach it on her unsteady feet. A cool breeze drifted through the open window and Leesha greedily gulped in the reviving air.

Oh God, please let me stay awake long enough to record the details. She made a silent vow that this time she wouldn’t stop until someone took her story seriously--she’d been fobbed off and treated as a neurotic fool for the last time.

With one last massive effort she clutched the office chair in front of the desk and sank gratefully onto the seat. Her phone was there where she’d left it and she quickly pressed the button to turn it on. Selecting the record app, she spoke towards the microphone in a determined, if somewhat shaky voice; frantic to recall everything she’d seen before her strength left her.

By the time she was finished, her eyesight was so blurry that she couldn’t distinguish the small icons on her smart-phone. So, using her landline she pressed the top button by feel and made the necessary call. If she was going to wake in time for her morning meeting, some electronic help was going to be needed.

Soon, too soon, she started to slide to the carpeted floor, her eyelids closing wearily, even as she struggled to stay awake.

In the chill hour before dawn, the only witness to her distress was the merrily flashing record light on her smart phone, an incongruously cheerful sight in the face of the horror that it had just recorded.

Chapter 1

Jake Polanski was thirty nine years old and had spent seventeen of them on the New York police force. First as a rookie cop on the beat, then, by sacrificing any semblance of a normal life, he had made it to detective in the homicide squad. His life was the JOB.

Letting his massive frame slump into the seat of his office chair, he appeared boneless and totally relaxed to the average observer. The average observer would have been wrong. Jake Polanski was pissed, royally pissed!! He didn’t appreciate the people upstairs dictating how he ran his cases and even less did he like being told to put one to bed that nagged at him even in his sleep.

He and his partner, Dale Rubens, had spent the last ten days, mostly without sleep, trying to get a lead on the person responsible for the brutal slaying of a young woman on the waterfront. She’d been abducted from the street where she plied her trade as a ‘Working Girl.’ Only twenty two years of age and already totally dependent on her pimp to keep her supplied with her daily fix of heroin. She had no one who cared enough about her to demand justice. That’s where Jake and Dale came in---they cared.

Jake slammed down the phone and twisted the chair around until he was facing Dale.

Well, that went well. We are now officially notified to wind up the Sheena Edwards case and hand over all our notes to Records where it will end up in the ‘Too Hard’ basket.

He ran agitated fingers through his thick, black hair, the harsh overhead lights glinting on the odd silver strand that proved he was no longer a rookie cop.

Dale gave a disgruntled groan and rammed his chair back against the wall on his side of their cramped cubicle.

Hell, don’t the idiots upstairs ever think past the next budget, don’t they realise that every unsolved murder is one more perp left loose on the streets? he spat, as he exploded out of his chair.

He was as tall as his partner, but where Jake was six foot five inches of solid muscle, Dale was athletically slim. He had the look of an athlete who could run all day and then back-up and run all night. In fact, he did habitually enter marathons and regularly placed in the top five.

Let’s get out of here and hit the street hard, maybe we’ll get lucky and bounce something up, anything’s better than just sitting here going around in circles, Dale spat.

Jake unrolled from his chair and without any apparent effort was half way across the room before Dale had finished speaking. He too couldn’t contain his exasperation with the deadline they’d just been dealt.

That girl deserves justice. She sure as hell never got it while she was alive. Raped and abused by her father as a kid and on the streets by fourteen to escape him. Then hooked on H by the time she had left her baby fat behind, Jake ground out the facts that Dale already knew.

Jake gave a disgusted groan as he thought of how truly vicious mankind could be in pursuit of its ‘pleasures.’ Let’s try the church on Forty First Street. We might just get lucky and turn up Sheena’s pimp. Lenny’s a devout Catholic who never misses Mass and it’s the area that she worked. We just might pick up a lead on him, if he ever attended there.

I’m with you; if we only have today to wind this case up, let’s give it everything we’ve got. Maybe something will break if we shake the tree hard enough.

With controlled aggression the two partners moved through the squad room, not even stopping to exchange banter with the other cops on duty as they usually did. As one, they headed for the dusty, beat up Ford that was their assigned vehicle and which, if there was a Good Lord in heaven, might actually stay in one piece until their shift finished.

Countless red lights and a sick air-conditioner frustrated their progress downtown in the mid-morning traffic. Dale contented himself by eating trail mix that he always kept in a packet in his jacket pocket, while Jake tapped the steering wheel with ever-increasing exasperation.

Don’t you ever wonder what real food tastes like? snarled Jake, in an attempt to alleviate his frustration by baiting his partner.

Dale shot him a mock offended look. Just so you know, according to Naomi I have the body of a Greek God, preened Dale. And it’s all due to my extraordinarily good eating habits. Not like some I could name, he scoffed.

When they had first been partnered up, the squad room had taken bets on how long they would tolerate each other before it came to blows. Dale constantly ate trail mix and scorned fat of any kind, whereas Jake considered a hamburger and a beer, the supreme dining out experience.

Jake dressed in crumpled jeans and any sweat shirt that came to hand, topped by the most disreputable looking black leather jacket that he absolutely refused to be parted from. Dale, on the other hand, carried neatness to an almost obsessive level and always looked coordinated enough to pass as a model for GQ.

Jake would rather sit than stand, ride than walk and ate nothing that was labelled healthy. In spite of these differences, or perhaps because of them, they shared a bond that was stronger than many blood ties.

In your dreams, partner, laughed Jake.

Ah well what can I say, it was my good looks and charm that won her heart.

Dale stretched out in his seat and preened, slipping his trendy wraparound sunglasses up onto the top of his head. This pose had Jake bellowing with uncontrollable laughter and finally throwing off his black mood.

You idiot, the way I heard it, was if your mother hadn’t blackmailed you into meeting her, you wouldn’t have even known that lovely lady existed. I hear she had to beg Naomi to meet you. Apparently all her friends thought you were a figment of her imagination

Well that was only because I worked around the clock in those days, pretty well like you do now and never actually met Mom’s friends. They were starting to think she had made me up. Of course, once they met me they were bowled over by my good looks, charm and savoir faire.

Jake choked and spluttered with laughter. Do I look like I’m buying that story? Now, how about kicking that air-conditioner into action before I cook?

With a strategically placed thump from the side of Dale’s fist, the air-conditioner coughed into action and the rest of the trip downtown passed in semi-comfortable silence.

When they neared Forty-First Street, Jake mentally readied himself for action. "How do you want to play this interview with the priest, good cop, bad cop, or a straight out beg for help?

Jake if you threaten the priest I’m denying that I’m with you, Dale threatened.

Fine, just pray for my black soul while we’re in here, Jake muttered gloomily.

Dale choked and doubled over laughing. I doubt it would do you any good, I’m a Jew and this is a Catholic church we’re heading to.

Hey, any help I can get to redeem this sinner’s soul, Jake suggested around a smile.

From what I hear from the gossip around the squad room, you're definitely a sinner, especially with the ladies. It seems your handsome, beat-up mug and over-muscled physique is very much appreciated by them.

Naw, not me, with the hours we’ve been working I’m having trouble remembering what a woman looks like. We can’t all have a great wife like yours. Naomi’s the only woman I’ve met who understands the commitment we make to the Job.

Yeah, I know and she thinks I’m the greatest too, Dale smirked happily.

Jake took in Dale’s cheerful smirk and was glad his friend had found the woman for him, but admitted to himself that he was a little envious too.

Somehow, the thought of a quick, no strings attached tumble between the sheets didn’t have the appeal that it had when he was younger. The truth was, he would rather come home to Spike and his house; than do the dinner date, followed by hot sweaty sex and no strings routine. It was starting to look like the life style he had taken abundant advantage of in the past was just that. Something he wanted to leave in the past.

If he faced the facts, he had to admit that the single lifestyle had lost its appeal at around the same time that Dale had married Naomi. They’d shown him what a real relationship could be like.

Jake was an orphan. He’d been raised in foster homes from the age of five, after his parents had been killed in a car accident. Jake had been with them, but had no memory of the crash and had suffered only minor injuries himself.

It turned out that he had no relatives, his parents both being orphans themselves. So that left the foster system for Jake.

He’d experienced no real cruelty, but it was a sad fact that there was a large measure of indifference in a lot of the homes he was placed in. In most, he’d been regarded as a source of income rather than a child to be loved and cherished.

Jake had worked out the system at a pretty early age, and until he met Dale, had protected his heart and soul by never relying on anyone but himself.

Surprisingly, the two men had formed a bond the minute they met, and until Naomi came along, had been inseparable. Now Jake had seen what a real family was like and he didn’t want to settle for anything less for himself. Better to be alone, than to continue in a string of pointless, empty relationships.

Jake was still musing on his bachelor state when they pulled up outside the Church. Quickly parking the car they entered the building and went in search of the priest.

It was slightly chill inside the church, along with a pervasive, overlaying odour of mould and incense that permeated into every dank corner of the building. Dim light filtered through the stained glass window high above the altar. It wasn’t strong enough to penetrate to all the corners of the massive room, but it was enough to light the way down the central aisle.

The two detectives made their way slowly towards the front of the church, uneasily aware that they were easy targets for anyone lurking in the shadows. Their shoes rang hollowly off the cool flagstone floor, as their eyes cautiously searched the dim recesses in search of life. A smart cop was always on his toes in badly lit areas, especially if he wanted to stay alive long enough to draw his pension.

An old woman stepped out of the confessional box. She looked washed-out and weary, beaten down by her struggle to stay alive in this sorry part of town. The two men studied her with sympathy in their eyes.

That’s what life does to you down here, thought Jake.

With a quiet, Thank You to the as yet unseen priest in the other box, she slowly made her way down the centre aisle, warily passing wide of the two detectives as she left the church.

The door to the other box opened and Father Anthony appeared. It was immediately obvious that here was a man totally at ease with his calling. The air of humility was at home on his face and he seemed to ooze compassion without making any effort.

With a gentle smile he approached them and with a slight gesture, quietly ushered them to a seat running along the wall. I’m Father Anthony. I’m pleased to welcome you into God’s house, my sons. How may I assist you today?

Jake rubbed his eyes and frowned down at the old priest, as he produced his shield and introduced himself and Dale. They balanced uneasily on the edge of the pew opposite him, while Jake searched his mind for the right questions to ask.

To be absolutely honest, Father, I wish I knew. But, how about if we start with if you’ve seen Lenny Jackson lately?

The priest frowned, looking pensive as he replied, I’m sorry my son, I can’t help you. Since one of his girls was brutally murdered close by, most of the people involved in that trade have found it expedient to pray in other churches. I suspect that he’s well aware that the police would come here asking questions eventually.

Sadly for Sheena, Father, your flock will start filtering back after today. We’ve been given our orders to move on to the next case tomorrow. Jake gave a disgusted sigh as he explained their deadline to the priest.

If only we could’ve found Lenny, we might have picked up a lead of some sort, enough to convince the chief to give us a bit more time. He might at least have been able to tell us if she has any family left, or where she came from. All we know is what we got from the other working girls we questioned.

Jake rubbed a long fingered hand over his face in an effort to clear his thoughts. She just seems to have appeared on the streets at fourteen and all she ever told the other girls was, that her father raped and beat her from an early age. The only other clue we have is the ring she was clutching in her hand when we found her. It was slippery with blood and could easily have come from the finger of the killer.

As Jake finished speaking, Father Anthony gave a start and turned white, a look of shock on his face.

What is it, Father? What do you know?

Nothing, well nothing connected to your case I don’t think, my son. Father Anthony’s shocked look was turning to one of consideration. Please forgive my stupid reaction; it was just your mention of a ring. You see, about a week ago I heard a story I found impossible to understand, or to be honest, to believe. A young woman told me of a murder she’d seen in a dream and described a ring she said was left at the scene of the crime. She was very distressed and I could only advise her to tell the police. However, she said she’d already done that and was ignored.

Did you recognise her? Jake asked hopefully. "Was she a local ‘Working Girl’?

No, she definitely wasn’t a prostitute, or a local. She mentioned that she was in the area on business and had decided on impulse to speak to me.

I’d like to speak to her if she returns. She was more than likely an attention seeker who heard about the ring somehow, but I’m desperate enough to grab at any information. And Father, if Lenny Jackson shows up please, contact me immediately.

Jake handed the priest his card. The numbers for the station house and my cell are on there. Ring me day or night if you have any information, no matter how vague it seems to be.

The priest took the card and quickly made it vanish into his cassock pocket. I won’t hesitate, Detective. Believe me I don’t want this man wandering free in my neighbourhood either.

The priest was escorting them from his church, when he suddenly realised that the detectives didn’t have his details. If you’ll wait a moment, I’ll give you my card so that you can contact me easily.

Father Anthony hurried down the aisle then vanished through a door to the left. After a few seconds he reappeared carrying an old fashioned card case. Opening it, he carefully selected a card and presented one to Dale and another to Jake with a flourish. Then, with a final, God be with you my sons, he ushered them down the aisle to the main door.

Outside, the beat up Ford waited to take them back to headquarters, they piled in and seeing they were in the right vicinity, Jake sent up a prayer for the car’s continued good behaviour.

The drive back to headquarters was just as slow as before and just as hot. Jake noticed that his prayers hadn’t helped the air-conditioner to work any better. Ah well, the Good Lord obviously had more important jobs to take care of today. He would write up the contact with the priest then, he and Dale could head out to reinterview the street girls.

Hours later they returned to the squad room, tired and defeated--nothing new had turned up and their shift was over. Jake slumped into his chair, exhausted and his mind blank. Without new information, this was it: they’d hit the brick wall.

The strident ringing of Jake’s phone stirred him back to the present and he reached a long arm across the desk to answer it. Dale roused himself from his own introspection to watch Jake as a vague look of interest crossed his face as he listened to the caller. With an Okay, keep it there and I’ll pick it up on my way out, he hung up the receiver.

Dale watched eyebrow cocked in query, as he waited for an explanation.

Jake nodded towards the phone. That was the front desk. Apparently some ditsy woman came in ten days ago, claiming to have dreamed of a murder. She insisted on making a statement and expected it to be followed up. It sounds a lot like it could be our priest’s visitor. Jake gave a heavy sigh then stood up to leave, the chair he’d been sitting on groaning in relief.

"Guess what? They misfiled her statement and now that it’s turned up again, we’ve inherited Ms. Psychic.

Dale felt the same frustration as Jake, sighing as he voiced his thoughts, You know there are always crazies out there looking for attention. They put their hands up every time there’s a crime committed. She probably just guessed at the details.

Yeah, I know, but that doesn’t explain her knowing about the ring. That bit of information wasn’t released.

With a disgusted snort he headed for the door. Come on pal, let’s go home. I said I’d pick-up the file and recording on my way out. I’ll check it out tonight and fill you in tomorrow morning.

Dale shot him a sly grin as he spoke, "What, no hot date tonight?

Jake gave a lazy shrug as he answered, Nope, I’m way to busy working on my house.

Are you sure you’re feeling okay, Dale joked.

I’m fine, just waiting for a woman like Naomi to catch me, Jake laughed in reply.

Dale was relieved to see Jake shaking off his gloomy mood. The man was worrying too much over this case.

Still smiling when he reached the front desk, Jake collected the file and recording. He wasn’t going to let this woo-woo stuff disturb his good mood until later, much later.

The pride and joy of Jake’s life was his restored Mustang and with its welfare in mind he’d bought a run-down house in Queens where he could tuck it away safely in a garage at night.

The yuppies were starting to move into the area and rebuild a solid community that was raising prices fast. It didn’t hurt either that he was a cop; it lent the impression of security to the area. Not that he would be of much use if a crime was committed, with his recent workload he hadn’t been home a lot.

Pulling into the pizza parlour a few blocks from home, he ordered enough food to keep his big body fuelled for action. Cooking was a talent he hadn’t mastered yet. He spared a glancing thought for the home cooked meal that Dale would be enjoying about now, then decided that his pizza with everything on it had Dale’s meal beat, whatever it was.

Pulling into the garage at the side of his house he hit the remote button, closing the roll-a-door then, made his way through the connecting door into the kitchen.

A huge grey cat uncurled from the window over the sink and stretched lazily, staring in Jake’s direction and sniffed the air at the smell of food. Its ragged ear and beat-up appearance suggested that this could be one mean cat if need be.

Hi Spike, you catch any mice today? Got to earn your keep you know, pizza doesn’t come cheap.

Spike gave his servant a vicious look out of his one good eye. ‘Share or Die’ was the obvious message.

Jake took the hint, quickly tearing two slices off the pie and dropping them into his superior’s food bowl before heading for an old, heavily padded and torn recliner chair. It was always best to keep a good distance away from the cat when he was dining. Get too close and he was inclined to attack first, and check later if you really intended taking back his food.

The homes in this neighbourhood were built in the days of large families, so the rooms were large and airy with high ceilings, but sadly, very small windows.

Jake had started in the kitchen by knocking a good size hole in the back wall and putting in a beautiful bay window in cypress pine. It brought in light and a view of Jake’s roomy backyard.

In the nook formed by the curve of the window, he’d placed a round timber table and four matching chairs. Table and chairs had been his first restoration project.

His most immediate problem was trying to get the plumbing sorted out. He’d re-finished the timber cupboards, but needed to fix the leaks in the pipes before he could put anything away.

He looked towards the jacket that he’d thrown on a cupboard in the corner of the room and the Woo- Woo file still in the pocket. With a shake of his head and a soft groan he made himself leave it there. First he needed to fix those pipes before Noah paid him a visit and asked to park his Ark in the backyard.

Rising from his comfortable, if disreputable chair, he began emptying the various containers that he’d used to catch the drips from the ageing pipes. Next he brought in the new copper pipe from the garage where he’d stored it. After turning off the water at the mains Jake tackled the task of measuring and cutting the new pipe. The job was simple and didn’t need his full concentration, so inevitably, as he worked his mind kept returning to the Sheena Edwards case and the file he had yet to check.

Jake began installing the new lengths of pipe that would keep the Ark from his door and give him back the use of his kitchen. Time passed swiftly as he measured and cut, soldered and cleaned the new pipe. After a couple of breaks for coffee, the job was done.

Jake crossed his fingers as he went to turn the water back on and prayed to the DIY god that the kitchen wouldn’t be flooded when he got back inside. Cautiously poking his head around the kitchen door, he listened for any drips or rattles in the pipes then, gave a big sigh of relief when there was only silence.

He grinned at the cat. No biggie, eh Spike? Nothing to this plumbing caper, don’t know why plumbers charge so much. He cast a quick look around just in case there was a plumber lurking in the corner; you just never knew when you might need one.

Spike gave another of his disdainful ‘Who’re you kidding’ looks, at his foolish servant; then with a cat’s natural curiosity, warily approached the new pipes, checking to see if the completed job was up to his standards. With a swish of his tail he gave his approval of the plumbing then, regally glided over to the big easy chair and commandeered it, daring Jake to try and move him.

I take it you just gave your seal of approval, now can I have my chair back?

Jake scooped up the cat and set him down in his basket in

Reviews for Twisted Dreams

[ToyiaMckinney · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Fell in love with the characters from the first page... Great read!