Chapter 3

Janelle bounced up and down on Will's stiff dick, sweaty and naked.
No, not naked -- her blouse was still hanging on her arms.
So they'd been in a hurry.
She started to moan. No, grunt. No, chant: "Oh oh oh oh yeah yeah yeah yeah..."
She was close.
Will was closer.

"Ngh, ngh, ngh, NGH! NGH!... NGH!... Ngh..."

It took less than five minutes.
And more than five Kleenex to get it all off of his chest.

He'd used her. Actually, just the fresh memory of her. An intense and angry rub, twisting her as far away as he could manage from the person he thought she really was. He'd turned her into a reckless club girl out for a speed screw, and then he'd obliged her -- behavior as much unlike him as it seemed unlike her.

It was spiteful and mean, a private revenge for what she'd done-- tried to do to him. It made him feel dirty and guilty and mad. It was the mad that he fostered. He needed it as much as he needed the quick release to keep thoughts of her at bay. At least for a little while, long enough to finish the Carlisle case. All he had to do was find out where she'd pawned the ring; the rest of the sordid business was someone else's problem.

That's the way Will liked it. Get the item, don't get involved.

His heart hadn't yet slowed, but Will could already feel the post-climactic calm lowering him. He didn't make a habit of using a 'manual release' to prepare for Dream -- after so many years, he could get to Dream faster than he could get to climax -- but sometimes the endorphins made it easier.

And Will knew he couldn't dive straight in with his usual aplomb. Even after (ahem) releasing Janelle, she had influence. If he took an active role in Dream, his subconscious would wander and he'd end up locking on to her, and then she'd be everywhere. So he had to go back to the way he did it in the beginning, before he'd realized all he could do. He had to let it flow. It took more time -- more wandering than searching -- but people being people eventually a subject's thoughts would turn to the matter at hand and take him right to it. It was better than nothing. And right now, it was all he had.

He knew he could let the Carlisle solution come naturally. It had been a while since he'd done that. Maybe he was working too hard. Maybe that's all it was...

So Will let himself drift, the most tenuous of thoughts flowing him through Dream toward the Carlisle house...

Connie Carlisle is here. She is thinking of the ring. She's always thinking of it. She feels guilty.
He lingers; no need to nudge, she's already heading that way.

Memory, made bolder and darker with meaning. The letter in her hand. The ring still on her finger. The SUV rolling down the road, slow but still too fast.
Will finds himself in the back seat. See, this isn't so hard.
An address scribbled, directions added. No, don't look; let it happen.

We'll be there soon enough.

It's dark; how long have they been driving? Did he nod off?

The SUV rocks gently with the undulations of the road; he always used to find riding in the car soothing, before-

He's just a passenger. He's not driving this time.
He's not old enough.

"Dad?"
"We're almost home."
His mom turns around. "Shh. Go back to sleep, honey."

No. This is why he doesn't let go. It brings him back here.
It's been a long time. But he always ends up here. He always closes his eyes. And the ending is always the same.

But before he closes his eyes, he looks to the seat next to him.

A young woman is there.
Janelle is there.

And then everything goes sideways. The first instant of crunching metal is so loud it wakes him.

Like it always does.

But this time when Will snapped awake, heart pounding, chest heaving, lungs burning, this time he didn't relax so quickly.

This time was different. The nightmare never changed, but it was different. Janelle wasn't supposed to be there, but she was there, sitting next to him at the end.

This was bad. Really bad. She'd put a spell on him. If she could penetrate such a deeply guarded memory, such a traumatic moment, it meant he was obsessed.

This had happened once before. Not this bad -- not all the way into The Accident -- but then he hadn't given himself so much hanging rope before.

There was only one thing he could do. Only one thing worked before; he hoped it would work this time, before it wrecked him.

He'd have to stop sleeping.

Will stepped out of the office building. It was a cool day, and he hadn't worn a coat, but still he turned down a cab. It was better to walk, even if it was all the way across town.