The Sleepwalker

THE SLEEPWALKER L C GEORGE Published by Inkubator Books www.inkubatorbooks.com Copyright © 2023 by L C George L C George has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this work. ISBN (eBook): 978-1-83756-103-2 ISBN (Paperback): 978-1-83756-104-9 ISBN (Hardback): 978-1-83756-105-6 THE SLEEPWALKER is a work of fiction. People, places, events, and situations are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher. CONTENTS Inkubator Books Prologue 1. Tessa 2. Sam 3. Tessa 4. Sam 5. Tessa 6. Sam 7. Tessa 8. Sam 9. Tessa 10. Sam 11. Tessa 12. Sam 13. Tessa 14. Sam 15. Tessa 16. Sam 17. Tessa 18. Sam 19. Tessa 20. Sam 21. Tessa 22. Sam 23. Tessa 24. Sam 25. Tessa 26. Sam 27. Tessa 28. Sam 29. Tessa 30. Sam 31. Tessa 32. Sam 33. Tessa 34. Sam 35. Tessa 36. Sam 37. Tessa 38. Sam 39. Tessa 40. Sam 41. Tessa 42. Sam 43. Tessa 44. Sam 45. Tessa 46. Sam 47. Lindy 48. Sam 49. Lindy 50. Lindy 51. Sam 52. Lindy 53. Sam 54. Lindy 55. Sam 56. Lindy 57. Sam 58. Lindy 59. Sam 60. Lindy 61. Sam 62. Lindy 63. Sam 64. Lindy 65. Sam 66. Tessa 67. Sam Epilogue Inkubator Newsletter Thank You For Reading About the Author JOIN THE INKUBATOR MAILING LIST You will be the first to learn about new releases plus the many FREE and discounted Kindle books we offer! bit.ly/3dOTSW2 PROLOGUE SAM My eyes shot open with that panicked sensation of falling as my body propelled itself forward, my hands flat against the bed sheets. Dread weighed heavy on my chest, but I didn’t know why. My heart hammered as I searched my foggy brain, attempting to untangle my mind from my dreams and identify the cause for such panic. Had I been having one of my nightmares? I gripped the bedding tighter, reassuring myself that I was, at least, still in my own bed this time. Daylight was starting to seep through the curtains, and I noticed with a jolt that my wife was still sleeping beside me. The room was oddly quiet, still. A deeper unease wound itself around me. I squinted through the semidarkness, past my wife’s sleeping form, in the direction of my daughter’s crib nestled against Tessa’s side of the bed. But I couldn’t make out Cora’s tiny form in the dim light. Her crib was empty. The three-month-old Cora couldn’t have gotten out of the crib by herself. Tessa was a light sleeper. Cora must have woken her during the night, and Tessa would have taken her somewhere else in the house. But my wife was still in our bed. My mind raced. Could Tessa have fallen asleep with Cora in our bed? She was usually so cautious, almost paranoid, about these things. “Tessa?” I half whispered. There was no response. No longer feeling in the slightest bit drowsy, I pulled the duvet back from her face, now desperate to wake her. “Tessa?” I recoiled, crying out. Her lips were tinged blue. Her cheeks colourless – so pale they were barely distinguishable from the egg-white bed sheets. Her eyes open, staring. She was, unmistakeably, dead. 1 TESSA SIX MONTHS PREVIOUS I smiled at my friend across from me, my heart clenching and a heat rising to my cheeks as she rolled her eyes for the millionth time that morning. I knew it was probably getting tedious, but I just couldn’t help steering the conversation back to that subject – my impending arrival. I stroked my ever-expanding stomach in the hope that he or she might give a little poke or wiggle in response. I’d waited so long for this moment. At least that was how it felt. I couldn’t help that it was the only subject that seemed to hold my interest. I stretched my legs out under the table, trying to offer some relief to my throbbing back. “Let’s just hope it’s all worth it when it arrives,” Bella remarked, rolling her eyes again. I wondered if she was aware she was doing it. “I mean, you might be excited, but you look like total crap!” I blinked in an attempt to mask my reflexive flinch at her harsh words. A smile pulled at the corners of her mouth as her eyes softened. “Well, thanks for the vote of confidence,” I retorted, struggling to maintain an impassive half smirk. Such remarks were just Bella’s way, but knowing that didn’t take the slight sting out of the dig. It was undeniable: I did look bloody awful. Besides the severe lack of sleep, I looked like an elephant, my swollen stomach so round it was as though I had swallowed a beach ball. And it didn’t help my self-esteem to have this reality confirmed by my extremely glamorous friend. With her shiny swish of near jet-black hair, her piercing blue eyes and flawless skin, Bella was everything I could never hope to be. She waved her hand in front of her face as though to swipe the comment away, and leaned back in her chair. I lifted my mug to my lips, discreetly studying my beautiful friend as she perched across from me in my warm, sun-drenched kitchen. I pushed away the stab of envy for her natural perfection, filling my mind instead with the idea of the tiny heart beating away inside me. The thought brought some comfort, softening the remaining sting of Bella’s remark and my sadness at her news. Bella had been living in the house opposite for a while already before the two of us actually got to know one another. It had taken a few awkward moments, bumping into each other on the street – neither one of us seeming to know if we should greet one another