Hunting Eve by Iris Johansen Page B

a dream image. You’re the most stubborn realist I’ve ever met. Did it shock you to find that there was no sensible explanation?”
    “There could have been a practical, scientific explanation.” She took another drink of water. “There were statues of her, and they looked like me. Since I couldn’t trace my own ancestors, someone suggested that it could have been a racial ancestral memory.”
    “That’s a reach.”
    “So were the dreams.”
    “And you preferred to latch onto an explanation you could comfortably accept.”
    “Maybe.” She finished the water and put the bottle back on the nightstand. “Turn out the light. I’m okay now.”
    “Not yet. I want to explore this a little further. I’m intrigued at seeing this side of you.”
    “You mean you’re intrigued at the idea I could be a little weird, like you?” She shook her head. “I admit that those dreams when I was younger were strange and disturbing, but I haven’t had one like that in years.”
    “Not even tonight?”
    Yes, that dream of Eve had been like the dreams of Cira. The clarity, the realism, the sense of being there with her. “Perhaps. Look, Eve believes in all that kind of stuff. I respect her, but she’s not me. It was a dream, Caleb. Drop it.”
    “After I ask you a few questions. When you were searching for answers to Cira’s story, did you find some of those answers because of what you dreamed about Cira?”
    She was silent. “Yes.”
    “You didn’t want to admit that.”
    “As I told you, possible racial ancestral memory.”
    “The dreams were very detailed?”
    “Most of the time.”
    “Interesting. Could you remember the details of your dream about Eve?”
    “Probably. If I tried.”
    “Why don’t you try?”
    “What?”
    “It couldn’t hurt, could it?” He opened the drawer of the nightstand and took out a yellow pad and pen. “Describe the surroundings, what Eve was looking at, what she was thinking, anything you can remember.”
    “Why?”
    “Details. It worked once, didn’t it? You found the answers to Cira. You might be able to find where Eve is right now.”
    “It was a dream, dammit.”
    Caleb merely looked at her.
    “And I wouldn’t have any racial or ancestral memory with Eve. I’m adopted.”
    “But you have a connection with her whose power could supersede any vague ancestral memory like the one you’re describing.” He added softly, “Faith can move mountains. Love can move mountains. Maybe there’s a reason you started to think about silver mornings.”
    “Good God, you sound almost sentimental. Not at all like you.”
    He smiled. “I have an agenda. It’s not going to be simple to keep you in this hospital for a few days. If you have something of value to do that will push the hunt forward, it will be easier for me.”
    She gazed at him without expression. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”
    “How did you find Cira?”
    “Scouring the Internet for info, tracking down esoteric books, calling academic experts when I had leads.” She paused. “You’re saying that I should do the same thing with investigating the area where I saw Eve in my dream.”
    “Or anything that she was thinking that might give you a clue.”
    She didn’t speak for a long time. “You know it’s crazy.”
    “What could it hurt?” he repeated.
    What could hurt was the desperate hope she was beginning to feel, she thought. She was grasping at straws, and probably the disappointment was going to crush her.
    But she had found Cira in the end. She hadn’t given up until she had all the answers. So this was different, the odds even greater that she wouldn’t be able to succeed. Take every chance, go down every road that might lead to Eve.
    “They were new mountains, sharp, towering. Maybe the Rockies.”
    “Put it down on the notepad.”
    “Later.” She sat up straighter in bed. “Get my sketchpad from the closet.”
    “Yes, ma’am.” He went over to the closet. “You’re right, drawing