Killer Dreams Ch. 66 - Conclusion

"Bring it over," David said. He used tongs to add it to the boiling soup without splashing anything. It smelled fantastic. "It will be ready in another hour, but we can keep it simmering for a few more hours. Some of our guests don't get off work until six."

"I'll take over stirring," William said. "Why don't you take the girls around and introduce them to everyone? They are here to see her, after all."

"Good idea." David started with the people outside, including his buddy Larry Miller of the Minneapolis Police. Most guests were from the Two Harbors Police or Lake County Sheriff's Department, though I met a few from the FBI and Saint Paul Homicide. Not everyone here was law enforcement; David invited our neighbors and the hockey parents who helped with the search efforts. By the time it got dark, over fifty people who'd helped in my rescue were sitting around eating Booyah and drinking beer.

It finally hit me just how big a deal my kidnapping had been.

The crowds thinned out after eight, and soon it was time to leave. I thanked David and Talia for the party and said goodbye to everyone. Gerald and Misty Costley led us out, and my parents drove us to the Two Harbors airport.

The five-passenger executive jet was warming up as we drove out next to it. I still couldn't believe David was paying for this! Gerald and David insisted that the jet rental wasn't much more than first-class tickets, and we wouldn't have to be in public or wait around for connecting flights. We all said goodbye to Dad before Mom led us onto the plane. Rocky lay down at my feet as the pilot closed the door and gave us our safety brief on the Cessna Citation Mustang. "We will make a refueling stop in Atlanta, then continue to Dominica," he said. He pointed out the self-service snack and drink area in the compact jet. "I'm the sole pilot tonight. If you need assistance, you can press the intercom button. Otherwise, feel free to get some sleep after we reach cruising altitude. We'll be in the air in five minutes."

Talia knew I needed to escape from Two Harbors to recover, and the sisters were happy to host us for ten days. We were hesitant to fly, though, and Talia was too pregnant to go back, and David wouldn't leave her. Gerald and Misty solved that problem. The Hope (formerly Brickline) sisters had raved about their sailing excursion out of St. Vincent and the Grenadines, so they booked a cruise after talking with David. By coordinating the dates, the private jet became cost competitive. Connie's parents agreed to let her go if Mom went.

It all came together quickly, and I couldn't believe it was happening.

I watched us climb out but fell asleep somewhere over Wisconsin. We had to put our seats up for landing and takeoff in Atlanta, but I got back to sleep quickly. We landed in Dominica just after sunrise.

Gerald and Misty took a taxi to Roseau while we piled into the Jeep with Lisa. "You guys ready to work?"

"As long as I get some beach time in," I replied. The sisters wanted us to relax and enjoy ourselves, but Connie and I wanted to help. We weren't old enough to work construction with her crew, but we would volunteer with her church and their charity.

"We live on the beach, so that's easy!" Their home was dreamy, the weather was the opposite of back home, and the people were friendly. We spent the weekend on the beach or the trails, seeing the incredible scenery of their island. We helped with child care and food at the church, making new friends during the week.

It was a dream vacation, and I didn't want to return home as we packed our suitcases. "Are you sure I can't stay here? I could finish the school year online," I begged.

"You don't do well in front of a computer all day. Covid proved that," Mom replied. "You need your friends and your sports back home."

"Why? I'll never escape my past there. We've been here for nine days, and nobody cares. The sisters made a new life here, and they are happy."

She pulled me into a hug. "I know how hard this is, baby. We need to talk." She pulled me to sit on the bed. "Your father and I are getting a divorce."

Wait. WHAT? "Mom? Why?"

She reached out and held my hand. "It's been building for years, but things came to a head during your kidnapping. Things were said and done that you can't walk back. We tried to hold our marriage together for you, but we can't do it anymore. I filed for divorce before I left, and Alan has already agreed to it and the division of assets. He's putting our house on the market. Once it sells, he's moving to Duluth, and I'll find a place in Two Harbors."

"I'm trying to escape Two Harbors, and Duluth won't be any different," I replied. "Why can't we move here?"

"They don't have hockey here," Mom said with a chuckle. "We aren't citizens, and I don't have a job."

I couldn't believe it. My life was falling apart, and even Rocky couldn't comfort me as I cried in Mom's arms.

The goodbyes later that day were tearful, and Laura said we were welcome back anytime. "We'd love it if you guys could join us for Christmas," she told us. "Construction on David and Talia's home will be done by then."

I didn't wait that long to head back to Dominica. I spent the first two months of summer there, helping with the charity, while Mom and Dad divorced and moved out of the house where I'd grown up. Mom lost her job in April and hadn't found a new one. Dad had all my stuff at his new home in Duluth. Moving there wasn't the answer I wanted.

When I returned home in August, I carried a job offer for Mom to work as a teacher with the Church school the sisters supported. "You can get a work visa, and I can go to school and help Lisa with building houses," I told her. "If you buy a house, you can get permanent residency."

"I don't know, honey. It's so far away!"

"Exactly," I said.

I was back in Portsmouth by the start of September. Mom bought a small place up the hill from the beach, and David's family moved down in late October.

I had my fresh start.

Chapter 71

David Hardin's POV

Lake Superior Home

Tuesday, April 25 ^th , 2023

"Honey, wake up." The panic in Talia's voice had my eyes open instantly. I hadn't fallen asleep after feeling her get out of bed, a common thing this late in her pregnancy. The bathroom light was on, and I saw her nightgown was soaked from the waist down. "My water broke, and I'm in labor."

"I'll call the ambulance," I said as I sat up. My phone said it was 2:32 am.

"No, I'm barely getting contractions, so we've got time," she said. "I'm taking a shower."

"I'll wake up your Mom." I slid my feet into slippers and went upstairs to wake her. I returned to our bedroom a minute later, checking on Talia as she entered our shower. "How far apart are the contractions?"

"Ten minutes or so," she said. I brushed my teeth and got ready, then helped her dry off. She had a contraction as I was doing her legs; she grunted in pain, holding on to the vanity until it passed.

We both got dressed before Fiona knocked on the door. "The go bag is in the car, and it's warming up," she told us. Ten minutes later, we were heading for Lake View Hospital. Mom sat in the back with her, helping her through the contractions, now eight minutes apart.

The hospital moved us to one of their birthing rooms, and the nurse checked her to find she had dilated to one centimeter. "Try to relax between contractions as much as you can," she told Talia. "You aren't close to being ready yet."

She was right. Her OB checked in just before seven, and the back labor must have sucked. My father-in-law warned me, "Never let her squeeze more than one finger at a time. You're a writer, so you have to protect your typing hands." He was right. My index and middle finger still hurt from being ground together during a contraction.

Don't even mention your pain to a woman in labor! "YOU DID THIS TO ME, YOU BASTARD," was her reply. "My back hurts! Get back to massaging it!"

"You better listen to your wife," Mom said. No, I didn't complain about my hands getting tired. I sucked it up and kept rubbing.

Her labor went on for hours.

Natural childbirth is an ideal to strive for before reality hits. It was too late for an epidural when an exhausted Talia changed her mind. When she asked me if I knew how much pain she was in, I should have stayed quiet and rubbed her back more. Did I? Nope. "Not as much as getting kicked in the balls," came out before I could stop myself. She pulled the 'Exorcist' head turn and shot me a glare. I kept digging. "Women have a kid and can't wait for their next one, but no guy ever said, 'that was fun, kick me in the balls again.'"

Talia offered to have Mom kick me in the balls every four minutes for comparison, but I convinced her that would stop the back rubs. Instead, Talia described in detail the many ways to get revenge after putting her through this. Fiona just smiled; I'd have to get that story from William.

The entertainment industry often portrays childbirth as a joyous occasion, with a beautiful child handed to beaming parents by the doctor. Having a blood-and-mucus-covered alien tear its way out of my exhausted and screaming wife? Having the doctor plop said bloody alien on her bare chest? THAT was reality. The nurses cleaned the baby while the doctor stitched up my wife's privates. I had to make sure he didn't sew it shut, as that was one of the options Talia mentioned late in her labor.

I was so proud of my wife and told her so. Our child was perfect in form and voice. She had thin brown hair, dark eyes, and no problems latching onto a nipple. Mom took a few pictures before sitting back. "Have you decided on a name?"

"Pamela Ann," Talia said.

"After your grandmother?"

Talia nodded. "And David's." I'd barely known mine. Granny Annie died when I was six, while Talia's grandmother died four years ago. "Doc, how soon until we can have another one?"

My eyes rolled to the stops, and it was a herculean effort not to bring up relative pain levels again.

Pamela didn't feed for long before she fell asleep. The nurse took her to get cleaned and checked while Mom helped Talia to the shower. They were still in the bathroom when the nurse put Pamela in my arms, wrapped like a burrito with a pink hat.

Holding her in my arms, I vowed to do anything to protect her.

Two days later, I drove us north on Highway 61 at two miles an hour under the speed limit. William and Fiona had everything ready for us as we pulled in. I was nervous and excited about our new life, while Talia just wanted to sleep.

Rocky took a long sniff of the new human as we moved into the house. He instinctively understood that she was both family and helpless. He watched over her like a hawk, checking on her with every noise and cry. They were going to be constant companions as Pamela grew up.

I did everything I could to help out. We had lots of help as we adjusted to our baby. Fiona stayed for six weeks before returning to the cities, and Jennifer spent a lot of time around our house. I wasn't getting much writing done, but I didn't care. I was happy that my work was flexible, so I could write while Pamela napped.

As the weather warmed, I got back to my morning lake swims. My fifth book, "Prime Detective," was coming out in paperback in June, and Valerie was pushing hard for book six. Thankfully, I hadn't had any nightmares since that last one in Dominica. Without a dream to base the book on, I had to choose a different crime to base it on.

The answer was less than a mile down the road. "Murder Manor" was about two-thirds done, very loosely based on the real-life murders at the Glensheen Mansion in Duluth. Wealthy mining heiress Elisabeth Congdon, 86 years old in 1977, was found suffocated with a satin pillow in her bed. Her nurse, Velma Pietila, was beaten to death with a candlestick. The prime suspect was Elisabeth's adopted daughter Marjorie, who stood to inherit eight million dollars, and her husband Roger. Police arrested them after finding evidence of a murder plot, including a note giving Roger $2.5 million from her inheritance. In the trials, he was convicted of murder, while she was acquitted. The Supreme Court tossed the conviction years later, and Roger took a plea deal for time served. On his deathbed, he denied involvement in the murders.

I moved the setting to a mansion on Lake Minnetonka, shifted it forward a generation, and confused the issue with multiple suspects. It would be challenging for the readers to figure out the killer before the last chapter! I was having fun writing this one.

The summer flew by, and book six went into printing in September. Talia stayed with her parents during the three-week book tour in October. Her parents joined us on the private jet to Dominica.

Our little poo-making machine slept through most of the flight, waking only for the landings and takeoffs. My little girl wrapped me around her tiny finger, and Talia took advantage of that. I knew Margarite and the girls would be thrilled to have another baby to spoil.

Lisa met us at the airport in a 2023 white Nissan Serena minivan. It looked like a brick, but Lisa swore by it as we loaded up the rear. "Seating for eight, and you can't beat a minivan with kids," she told me.

"I can see this struggling in the mountains," I objected.

"You'll see." It did better than I expected. I rode shotgun with Talia's parents behind us and the mom and baby in the third row. Lisa gave them the nickel tour as we crossed the volcanic island. The views were impressive, but so was our new home.

Adicia Adanaze and the Millenium Design and Construction staff were waiting for us on the shaded front porch. Laura and Lana walked out to the car while Margarite stayed in a rocking chair with Lori. "Leave the bags. You should take the tour first," Lisa told us.

While we greeted the girls, Lisa carried the car seat with a sleeping Pamela over to sit with Margarite. "She's so beautiful," she said. "Go. I've got her, and I'll see everything later."

"You didn't show them?"

Adicia shook her head. "It is your home, and they stayed away so they could enjoy the reveal with you," she replied. "It turned out better than I imagined." The view from the road was a seamless melding of modern hurricane-proof design with colonial island style. "Let's go inside, shall we?"

She handed Talia the keys, and I held her hand as she opened the door. She raised her hand to her mouth as we moved into the entryway. The design opened to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the ocean and the beach below. The living room, dining room, and kitchen all shared the view. Only the bathroom and the guest bedroom were walled off. The décor was classic, emphasizing comfort and color. "It's perfect," Talia said.

The rest of the home was just as impressive. "You've outdone yourselves," I said as we finished by the pool.

"I took the liberty of having a photographer shoot the home before you arrived," Adicia said. "With your permission, I'd like to use some of the shots in our advertising and portfolio."

It was the least I could do. "That's fine, but I'd like copies of everything." After the grand tour, the girls returned home, leaving Margarite to babysit while we did our final walkthrough. I gave them the check for the final installment, and Margarite took her parents home to show them the other house and prepare lunch.

We were finally alone. We sat in our new living room, looking out over the teal-colored water as Pamela breastfed. "It's better than I imagined," Talia said.

"Our life is better than I could have imagined," I replied. "I love you, Talia."

We spent our first night in our new home with the curtains of the master bedroom pulled back so we could see the moon over the water as we made love.

Talia woke to screams, but not from our baby. I'd had a new nightmare, this one worse than the others. I ran to the bathroom and threw up while Talia comforted our frightened child. "What did you see?"

I sat on the bed, still sweating and shaking from the adrenaline dump. "I saw someone assassinate me."

"Where? When?"

"I don't know, but I know what to avoid now," I told her. "That's the gift of foresight. I can change the future."

THE END