Read Sleep No More for Free Online Page A

With the distraction of her work day over, these things had become a toxin invading her thoughts. The festering splinter of her sleepwalking was throbbing with each heartbeat. It whispered a cadence of condemnation that matched the rhythm of her pulse.
    And beneath that, reaching across time, was the echo of her sister's screams--
    "Are you all right?"
    Abby blinked; the cries of pain and terror faded back into the past, sliding beneath the lively sounds of Jeter's. The hostess stood in front of her with a concerned look on her face.
    While Abby had been lost in thought, the path to the bar had cleared.
    "Fine." Abby forced a smile and moved toward the bar. "Just picking up a carry-out order."
    The barstools were nearly all taken. A knot of people were having an animated conversation in front of where she normally picked up her order.
    As she stepped up behind an open barstool, she made an effort to avoid making eye contact with anyone. The problem with small towns was when you wanted to grab and dash with your dinner someone invariably sucked you into an unwanted conversation.
    Sam noticed her from behind the bar and nodded. He finished mixing a drink and then grabbed a brown paper bag from near the register. Before he reached her with it, a voice on her left said, "Did you and Maggie get all of the flowers delivered?"
    Even with a simple question, Jason Coble's voice soothed her ruffled nerve endings and all thoughts of avoiding conversation evaporated.
    "We did," she said, turning to him. "Thanks to your help, Maggie had time for an extra game of checkers with Mr. Deveraux."
    Sam set the bag with her dinner on the bar and Abby paid her bill.
    Jason eyed the bag. "Dinner for one?"
    He was wearing an oxford shirt with rolled-up sleeves and jeans; looking less like Indiana Jones and more like the kind of professor college girls fell wildly in love with. Quiet. Confident. Hot.
    "As a matter of fact, yes," she admitted.
    He gestured to the empty barstool next to him. "Join me? I'll buy you a beer to go with whatever's in that bag."
    His semi-sad smile tugged at her heart. She imagined the loneliness in his eyes was reflected in her own.
    The appeal of eating in her empty house was diminishing by the second; the whole idea suddenly felt more like exile than sanctuary.
    It bothered her a little that his presence could change her once-set mind so quickly. Even so, she sat down next to him. "Thanks, I believe I will."
    Sam came back and handed Abby real silverware and a napkin. She ordered a beer; Jason made certain it went on his tab.
    As Sam walked away, he shot Abby a wink. She responded with a perturbed stare. Damn busybody. This was why she ate at home.
    Jason, seemingly oblivious to her eye war with Sam, reached over and pulled the top of her bag open. He peeked inside. "Maybe you have something better than boiled shrimp in there."
    Abby drew the bag to her. "I do." She looked at him sternly. "And I don't share."
    He leaned close when she opened the Styrofoam container, breathing deeply as the steam rose from her pecan-honey-glazed fried chicken. "Didn't expect a skinny girl like you--"
    She thumped the top of his head with the back of her spoon.
    He jerked upright, surprise in his eyes.
    "You get over there and peel your low-fat shrimp." She shooed him away with a flip of her fingers.
    He laughed and the shadow of sadness seemed to lift from him. It felt nice to have boosted his spirits, and she realized he'd improved hers as well.
    They talked of inconsequential things for a while. Jason's dry humor engaged her completely, keeping her thoughts away from dark places. He finished his beer and ordered another. Abby declined a second, but ordered coffee, just to have a reason to stay.
    There was a lull in their conversation as she stirred cream into her coffee. She toyed with the idea of quizzing him about her father's lapses--who better to let her know if she had reason to worry than a psychiatrist. But tonight he wasn't a