Chapter 7: The Rivers
Her nightmares had subsided to once a week. It wasn’t the ideal situation, but Lindsay was dealing. She and Connor hunted regularly and for the most part, the distraction kept her from dwelling on them. She was happier.
Connor’s, on the other hand, had worsened. They never changed but they now left him with a feeling as though something was missing. He’d wake expecting to know what that something was.
Lindsay wished the dreams would stop. They teased and tricked him into believing he’d stumble upon that something sometime during the day. She hated how unfair it was. Connor told her that though the dream remained the same, there was always some new clue he hadn’t noticed before. Really noticed. Like the light would suddenly shine on a lamp or his camera-like focus would zoom in on a picture. They had always been there, but now he needed them. He needed to piece them together to find what he was missing.
Lindsay was cleaning a cut she’d just gotten as she put the dishes in the dishwasher. Of all things. Housework. She scoffed. Hunting accidents were no big deal. They came with the territory. But housework injuries?
She’d freaked out a little too excessively.
“Stupid knife,” Lindsay muttered. “Stupid dishes.” She flicked her hair over her shoulder with a bounce of her chin.
Connor walked behind her to get to the bathroom. She held her breath until he had closed the door.
“Why have dishes anyway?” she continued. “Why not just eat off the counter? We don’t have to be civilized. This is our house. Who’d know it if we ate off the counter? And it’s not like we don’t clean it.
“We could start using paper plates. But paper plates are expensive. Ugh, money. I hate money. This country is too focused on the upper class. When are we going to get what we’re due? What about the little people? Why should we---”
“Are you talking to me?” Connor asked through the bathroom door.
Lindsay shook her head, resurfacing from her thoughts. “No,” she called back.
Her cut had stopped bleeding finally. She withdrew her finger from under the running water.
The bathroom door opened. Connor took a few steps and wrapped his arms around Lindsay’s waist. She leaned her head back to rest it on his shoulder.
“All better?” he asked.
“All better.” She couldn’t believe she’d just ranted about politics. She hated politics.
“So,” Connor began, “whatcha want to do today?”
“Find a hunt,” she replied, blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes.
Lindsay knew that Connor really wanted to try hypnosis again. They’d done it three times this week already. But he was afraid to bring it up. Nervous that Lindsay would disapprove, terrified of getting pulled into the dream again. So she tried to distract him.
“Of course you do,” Connor said. His eyes fell.
She didn’t want him to go under again. This dream was already driving him crazy. Four years was a long time to deal. But if he couldn’t figure out what it was trying to tell him...
Maybe that was worse.
It was the same road. They passed the same rusted-over mile markers. Maybe some trees on either side of the two-lane blacktop had lost some limbs from a storm, but that was it. Nothing had been done to expand the small highway. No construction crews had come through to repair any sewer lines because there weren’t any.
It had been four years since their last trip to Pennsylvania. Nothing of note had happened. So it was strange that Lindsay could recall almost every detail of the ride through the state. She and Connor had met up with Sam and Dean. They’d checked the area for more vampires. They met up with the brothers again for dinner. Two days later, the Rivers were back at home. It was more of a social visit than a hunt.
But now... The only hunt that Lindsay could come up with was the one she’d been obsessed with for a whole year.
“Where did Jack say he saw her last?” Connor asked, his eyes on the road.
Lindsay flipped another page of her journal. “He said she was in the neighborhood of the Jacobs’ place,” she replied.
“What?” Lindsay looked up and watched the ten mile marker whizz by her window. “It’s the closest we’ve gotten to finding her,” she said.
Connor glanced sideways at her. “I just don’t like that house, that’s all,” he said. “It freaks me out.”
“Yeah,” she sighed, dropping her eyes back to her sister’s picture, held loosely against the page in her journal.
Lindsay hadn’t looked into that house until now because it was so weird. But when had that ever stopped her before? For some reason, that was a question she couldn’t seem to answer.
“We’ll scope it out, okay? We’ll find her,” Connor added, unconsciously running a hand through his hair, making it stick up like dark icicles.
He could feel his wife’s discomfort. She knew just from his immediate silence that he was forming a promise: they hadn’t found Haven, but today was going to be the day that they’d come that much closer to her.