Whispering Pines Mysteries Books 7-9 (PAPERBACK BUNDLE)

Chapter 1
THE DREAM . . . NO, THIS ONE was squarely in the nightmare realm. I’d had it every few nights for the first week, then every other night. This week, it came two nights in a row, so I tried hard to stay awake. Around one thirty, my eyes refused to stay open, so I crawled into bed, hoping I was tired enough to sleep without dreaming. No such luck.
I stared out the windows, trying to get a fix on what time it was, and shivered at the sight of the frost-covered pine trees. The temperature wasn’t getting above forty during the day now that we were into late November and dropped below freezing at night. Ice had started to form in the shallow areas and permanently tree-shaded coves of Whispering Pines’ lake. The still unfrozen water looked colder, like it was starting to gel or stiffen in preparation for the thick layer of ice that would soon cap it and trap in all the lake’s secrets.
“Are you awake?” My boyfriend, Tripp Bennett, sat on the edge of the bed and rested a hand on my hip. He knew I’d been dreaming a lot lately, but he didn’t know it had been the same nightmare on replay. He pushed a lock of hair away from my eyes, a look of concern on his face.
“I’m awake.” I pushed myself up to sit, propping my pillow between my back and the headboard.
“Good. I wasn’t sure if I should wake you up or let you work through it.”
It had been three weeks since I’d moved out of the boathouse and into the main house. Tripp and I now shared Pine Time Bed-and-Breakfast’s all-white main floor bedroom. It was beautiful with its traditional raised-wood paneling and a wall of windows that provided an amazing view of the lake.
“You were having another nasty dream,” Tripp told me. “This has been happening a lot. Do you want to tell me about it?”
I rubbed the grit from the corners of my eyes. I wasn’t sure I wanted to talk about it. What if telling him made it worse? Then again, remaining mute about things rarely helped. What the heck.
“It only lasts a few seconds. I’m on one of the backstreets in Madison. Not sure where exactly. Probably the University area.”
“Are you a cop?”
I’d spent four years serving as a patrol officer and then one more as a detective for the Madison Police Department. A lot of that time was spent in the University area of town, so good guess on Tripp’s part.
“Yeah. I’m standing near my squad car, and Lupe is confronting Matt. As in, she’s yelling at him.”
Confusion creased Tripp’s brow. “Matt? The guy who died here last month? What was Lupe saying to him?”
“I couldn’t hear the words. She was angry, though. Or maybe scared.” I hadn’t considered that second possibility. The line between anger and fear could be blurry at times. “Whatever it was, she wanted him to do something, and when he wouldn’t do it, she shot him.”