out of the water? When you looked like you were asleep?”
“Yes,” she answered. Then, because she wanted to be honest, she said, “And later—when I went to bed. That first night I was here.”
He gave her an appraising look. “A dream. If you’re in a dream, you’d be one of the characters. So—who were you?”
It was a very perceptive question. She wanted to duck away from his probing gaze. But she wasn’t going to be a coward, so she kept her eyes focused on him. “I was Linette.”
His indrawn breath raised goose bumps on her skin, but she struggled to stay rational. “What do you know about it?” she demanded.
When he didn’t answer, a terrible notion leaped into her mind. “Tell me what’s going on, damn you! Were you projecting some sort of dream into my head? Is that it?”
“No! How could I do something like that?” he shot back.
“I don’t know! If you didn’t hypnotize me—then what?”
She saw his hands clench, then unclench. Slowly and distinctly, he said, “I don’t know what happened to you[RG5]. But I’ve dreamed about Linette for years.”
She stared at him. Then the obvious question tumbled from her lips, the question he’d asked her. “And in those dreams—who are you?”
For a moment, she thought he was going to walk away instead of answering. He dragged shaky fingers through his hair. “I’m Andre. My grandfather. Myself. Hell, I don’t know anymore!”
Stunned, she tried to cope with the implications—just as the sounds of shouting and banging made them both look up. Once again, someone had interrupted their conversation before she could find out what she needed to know.
Andre took off toward the house. Morgan followed him. When they arrived at the front of the structure, they found a man pounding on the door with his big fists. He had obviously come here to make trouble, and Morgan gripped her purse, wondering if she was going to need her gun.
“Show your face, you bastard,” the guy shouted. “Show your face.”
“I take it you’re talking to me,” Andre said calmly from the driveway.
The man whirled. “Yeah, you.”
He came charging down the steps, his hands still balled into fists and his eyes flashing.
Morgan tensed and slipped her hand into her purse.
Glancing at Andre, she saw he was standing with his arms dangling casually at his sides. But the tension in his shoulders told her he was ready to repel an attack.
“What’s the problem, Carl?” he asked.
“Where were you when my brother delivered that car yesterday?”
“I was here—with Ms. Kirkland. What’s the problem?” Andre asked again.
“What did you do to my brother?” the man demanded.
“Your brother, Rick Brevard?”
“You damn well know who I mean.” His gaze swung to Morgan, then back again. “Did you see him yesterday?”
“If he was one of the men who delivered the car—yes,” she answered.
Andre took a protective step closer to her. “Could you tell us what this is all about?”
“The last I saw Rick, he was on his way out here—driving your rental car.”
“And he left again,” she said quickly. “With another man.”
“Henri Dauphin. I was damn well expecting them yesterday evening. They’re not back.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t help you,” Andre said.
“Where were you all day?” Brevard demanded. “And last night?”
“Last night, I was sleeping,” Andre said evenly, his gaze flicking to Morgan.
A few minutes ago, he’d said he was in the swamp. Had he slept there? He must have, he couldn’t stay up twenty-four hours a day.
“Today, I was in the bayou to saw up some logs and split them for firewood.”
“So you say.”
“Well, the fresh-cut logs are by the back door,” Andre said. “And I can help you look for the men.”
“I don’t need your help!”
“Then why are you here?”
“To tell you they’d better show up.”
“I hope they do,” Morgan answered.
“Yeah, you’d better hope so,” the man growled, his eyes on Andre. For a long moment, they stood facing each other, and Morgan was afraid Carl Brevard might do something stupid. Instead, he brushed past them, climbed into his car and slammed the door.
As he roared down the drive, Morgan breathed out a little sigh and pulled her hand from her purse.
“What were you going to do—pull a gun on him?” Andre asked.
“How did you know?”
“I saw your hand go into your purse.”
“It was an option,” she murmured.
“But not a very good one.”
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I would have done it—if I needed to.”
“You don’t want to get arrested because of me.”
“You think that would have happened?”
“Chere, the