“Yes.”

“Grab the backseat. And if you get sucked into a dream that’s unimportant to the case, pull out of it. Don’t waste your strength. You can pull out of them now, can’t you?”

“Most of the time—the regular dreams, anyway. Not always with nightmares.”

“Keep working at that. It’s very important.”

“I want to try pausing the dreams. Panning the scene. How did you do that?”

“It’s all about focus, just as you focus to pull out of dreams, Janie. Just as you focus to help people change their dreams. Stare hard at the subject and talk to them with your mind. Tell them to stop. Focus on panning first—that comes most easily. Then pausing the scene. Who knows, perhaps you’ll be able to zoom and rewind someday—that really comes in handy when solving crimes. And keep studying the meanings of dreams too. You’ve read books on the subject, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Your work will be easier the more you can interpret some of the strange aspects that naturally occur in dreams. This, too, will help you immensely. Study my notes, see how I’ve interpreted dreams over the years.”

Janie nods, then blushes, remembering Miss Stubin can’t see her. “I will. Miss Stubin?”

“Yes, Janie?”

“About the green notebook…”

“Ah, you’ve found it, then.”

“Yes.”

“Go on.”

“Does Captain know about it? About what’s in it?”

“No. Not the notebook.”

“Does she know anything about how dream catching works?”

“Some,” Miss Stubin says guardedly. “We talked a little over the years.

She’s certainly someone you can talk to when you need to.”

“Does anyone else understand this besides you and me?” Miss Stubin hesitates. “Not that I know of.” Janie fidgets. “Should I read it? Do you want me to? Is it horrible?” Miss Stubin is silent for a very long time. “I can’t answer those questions for you. In good conscience, I can neither encourage you to read it nor discourage you from reading it. You must decide without my words swaying you either way.”

Janie sighs and reaches for the old woman’s hand, stroking the cool, paper-thin skin. “That’s what I thought you’d say.” Miss Stubin pats her gnarled hand on top of Janie’s soft one. She smiles wistfully and slowly disappears into the misty evening.

7:54 a.m.

It’s Sunday morning. And it’s time. It’s been ten days since Janie found the green spiral notebook.

She slips back into bed with Cabel for a few minutes. He’s just dozing now, not dreaming, and she holds him tightly, taking in whatever she can from him before she goes.

“I love you, Cabe,” she whispers.

And goes.

Back to her room two streets away.

8:15 a.m.

With the notebook resting ominously on Janie’s bed, Janie procrastinates.

Does her homework first.

And pours herself a bowl of cereal. Breakfast—one of the five most important meals of the day. Not to be skipped.

10:01 a.m.

She can’t stall any longer.

Janie stares at the green notebook.

Opens it.

Reads the first page again.

Takes a deep breath.

10:02 a.m.

Takes another deep breath.

10:06 a.m.

Picks up her cell phone and hits memory #2.

“Komisky,” she hears.

Janie’s voice squeaks. She clears her throat. “Hi, Captain. I’m sorry to call on a—”

“It’s okay. What’s up?”

“Um, yeah. The dreams…Did Miss Stubin ever show you what was in the files?”

“I’ve read the police reports she’s made, yes.”

“What about her other notes on handling dreams and stuff?”

“I glanced at the first few loose pages in the file, but I felt like I was invading her privacy, so I put everything away as she requested.”

“Did you two ever…you know, talk about her ability?” There is silence.

Plenty of it.

“What do you mean?”

Janie cringes silently. “I don’t know. Nothing.” Captain hesitates. “All right.”

“Okay.”

There is a nervous sigh.

“Captain?”

“Janie, is everything okay?”

Janie pauses.

“Yeah.”

Captain is quiet.

Janie waits. And Captain doesn’t press it.

“Okay,” Janie says finally.

“Janie?”

“Yes, sir.” It’s a whisper.

“Are you worried about Durbin? Do you want out of this?”

“No, sir. Not at all.”

“If something else is bothering you, you may say it, you know.”

“I know. I’m…I’m fine. Thanks.”

“May I give you some advice, Janie?”

“Sure,” Janie says.

“It’s your senior year. You’re too serious. Try to have some fun. Go bowling or to a movie or something once in a while, okay?” Janie grins shakily. “Yes, sir.”

“Call me anytime, Janie,” Captain says.

Janie’s throat is closed. “Bye,” she finally says.

Hangs up.

10:59 a.m.

Janie takes a deep breath.

Turns the page.