Nick arrived a few minutes later.
“Look at this!” she said, her eyes shining.
“I’ll be damned,” Nick whispered as he studied the grainy newsprint photograph of Addie. “That’s the same woman in the photo you showed me yesterday. And her name—Addie. Didn’t you tell me that was the name of the woman in your dreams?”
“They called it the ‘Trial of the Century.’” Kate was talking fast. “Jess Stewart—he’s the husband—was arrested and put on trial for the murder of his wife. My great-grandfather stood by him in a very public way. He even offered a reward to anyone who found the real killer. They were friends! Jess Stewart worked for him at Canby Lines.”
Nick stared at Kate, open mouthed. In one afternoon of research, she had indeed produced evidence of the impossible.
“You’re right about one thing,” Nick said. “I can hardly believe this. It’s just—” He sighed. “I deal with black-and-white issues. This is one hell of a shade of gray.” Nick leafed through the copies of articles. “What happened with the trial?” he asked her. “Was he found guilty?”
“I don’t know!” Kate cried. “The library was closing. I didn’t get to the rest of the story.”
“You’re going back tomorrow, I assume,” Nick said.
“As soon as the doors open.”
“Let me know what you find,” he said. “I won’t be putting this in the case file, but now you’ve got me hooked.”
Kate took a gulp of her coffee and gathered her copies back into their folder. “I’ve got to tell Simon about this,” she said. “He’s not going to believe it, either.”
She stood up and Nick reached for her hand. “You know, Kate, I have no idea what to do with this information. But I’m really glad you took me along for the ride.”
She smiled at him and squeezed his hand, electricity jolting through her as she did so. The truth was, Nick was the first person she’d thought of calling when she found out about Addie and Jess. She wasn’t sure what that meant, but she knew it meant something.
“I’ll be in touch,” she said.
Kate hurried up the hill and burst through the doors of Harrison’s House to find Simon in the library with a cup of tea.
“I found it!” she announced, tears stinging the backs of her eyes. “It’s all true, Simon.”
She opened the folder and fished out the copies, telling him the whole story.
“You know what I wonder?” Simon said, still staring at the articles. “She died more than a century ago. You’re dreaming about her now. Why?”
“I don’t follow you,” Kate said.
“I think we’re going from a whodunit to a whydunit and, from there, to a whyKate.”
Kate wasn’t sure what he meant.
“Think about it from your perspective,” he said. “What would be so vital, so important, to compel you to come back from the dead and reach out from beyond the grave to someone living? Because that’s exactly what I think Addie is doing.”
“It sounds creepy when you say it like that.” Kate grimaced. “Do you think it’s that deliberate? You’re making it sound like Addie herself is doing all of this somehow. Invading my dreams.”
“If she’s not doing it, who is?” Simon said. “And why?”
Kate felt a chill at the thought of it. All these events were becoming too starkly real, too tangible. The bodies, the photograph, the articles. Her own physical reactions. The whole situation was haunting—literally.
“Do you think I’m supposed to do something for her?” Kate wondered.
“You want to hear a flat-out guess?” Simon said. “I’ll bet it has something to do with the trial.”
“We don’t even know if her husband was found guilty or innocent at this point,” Kate said. “Still, like Nick said last night, what could it possibly matter now? She’s been dead for almost a century. That trial is so long in the past that nobody even remembers it anymore.”
“Addie does.” Simon smiled.
As Kate settled in beneath her thick down comforter later that night, a confusion of thoughts swirled through her mind. It was difficult to process all that had happened during the day. A newspaper article confirming that the woman in her dreams was real and might have been murdered had produced a tightening in Kate’s stomach that wasn’t quieted by a good dinner, fine wine, or the companionship of the person closest to her in the world.
She couldn’t get it out of her mind. It was breathtaking, literally. Kate had been having trouble filling her lungs with air ever since she had seen those black, typewritten words on the page, those grainy photographs confirming Addie’s existence, and the fact that her death had resulted in the “Trial of the Century.”
Now, as Kate punched her pillow and turned onto her side, she couldn’t turn off those thoughts. Was Simon right? Were her dreams and Addie’s sudden reappearance somehow tied to the murder and the trial? Kate wasn’t sure, but whenever she thought of the notion of Addie’s husband killing her, she was overcome by a feeling that was hard to define. It just didn’t seem possible. The love that she had felt between them in her dreams—it was hard to imagine that kind of love curdling and ending in death.
Simon popped his head into Kate’s room, breaking her train of thought.
“And how are we doing?” he inquired.
“We’re doing just fine,” Kate laughed.
“I’m going downstairs to Skype with Jonathan,” Simon said. “If you need anything, just holler.”
Kate could already feel the heaviness behind her eyes as she snuggled down into bed. “I have a feeling I won’t be hollering. I’ll be drifting off in very short order.”
“Let me tuck you in,” Simon said, pulling the covers up to her chin. He kissed her, turned off the light, and closed the door, leaving Kate alone with her thoughts as her eyes fell shut.
She found herself standing in the middle of a large room. She recognized it almost immediately—it was the ballroom on the third floor of Harrison’s House. But it was different from how Kate remembered. It was cleaner, newer. All the shutters were open, and the windows were freshly washed. Candles lit the room—Kate saw their light flickering against the windowpanes.
Odd, Kate thought. Someone must have been up here cleaning all night long. Would Simon have done that? Why?
Then it occurred to her. Oh, I’m dreaming.
Then she heard the voices. Talking and laughing. Glasses clinking, high heels on the wood floor. The room was filled with people. Was this a party? Kate longed to turn around and see what was happening but could not direct her gaze away from the window. She felt a slight breeze on her face as she noticed that some of the windows themselves were open as well. The view was expansive and dramatic, but this, too, was different than she remembered it. Kate could see all the way down the road to the harbor, where two enormous ships floated lazily in the background and a cluster of smaller boats filled the slips at the town dock. People crowded the streets, walking into and among the shops. They congregated down at the harbor, and Kate noticed a group of young people—families, she thought—enjoying a picnic on a grassy hill overlooking the water. Green leaves adorned the trees, flowers were everywhere, and the sun was setting, turning the sky into an explosion of pinks and purples. What a lovely day, Kate thought. It must be high summer, tourist season.