Tell Me Your Dream by Sidney Sheldon

BOOK ONE
CHAPTER ONE
Someone was following her. She had read about stalkers, but they belonged
in a different, violent world. She had no idea who it could be, who
would want to harm her. She was trying desperately hard not to panic, but
lately her sleep had been filled with unbearable nightmares, and she had
awakened each morning with a feeling of impending doom. Perhaps it's all in
my imagination, Ashley Patterson thought. I'm working too hard. I need a
vacation.
She turned to study herself in her bedroom mirror. She was looking at
the image of a woman in her late twenties, neatly dressed, with patrician
features, a slim figure and intelligent, anxious brown eyes. There was a
quiet elegance about her, a subtle attractiveness. Her dark hair fell softly
to her shoulders. I hate my looks, Ashley thought. I'm too thin. I must
start eating more. She walked into the kitchen and began to fix breakfast,
forcing her mind to forget about the frightening thing that was happening,
and concentrating on preparing a fluffy omelette. She turned on the
coffeemaker and put a slice of bread in the toaster. Ten minutes later,
everything was ready. Ashley placed the dishes on the table and sat down.
She picked up a fork, stared at the food for a moment, then shook her
head in despair. Fear had taken away her appetite.
This can't go on, she thought angrily. Whoever he is, I won't let him do
this to me. I won't.
Ashley glanced at her watch. It was time to leave for work. She looked
around the familiar apartment, as though seeking some kind of reassurance

from it. It was an attractively furnished third-floor apartment on Via
Camino Court, with a living room, bedroom and den, bathroom, kitchen and
guest powder room. She had lived here in Cupertino, California, for three
years. Until two weeks ago, Ashley had thought of it as a comfortable nest,
a haven. Now it had turned into a fortress, a place where no one could get
in to harm her. Ashley walked to the front door and examined the lock. I'll
have a dead bolt put in, she thought. Tomorrow. She turned off all the
lights, checked to make sure the door was firmly locked behind her and
took the elevator to the basement garage.
The garage was deserted. Her car was twenty feet from the elevator. She
looked around carefully, then ran to the car, slid inside and locked the
doors, her heart pounding. She headed downtown, under a sky the color of
malice, dark and foreboding. The weather report had said rain. But it's not
going to rain, Ashley thought. The sun is going to come out. I'll make a deal
with you, God. If it doesn't rain, it means that everything is all right, that
I've been imagining things.
Ten minutes later, Ashley Patterson was driving through downtown Cupertino.
She was still awed by the miracle of what this once sleepy little corner
of Santa Clara Valley had become. Located fifty miles south of San
Francisco, it was where the computer revolution had started, and it had
been appropriately nicknamed Silicon Valley.
Ashley was employed at Global Computer Graphics Corporation, a successful,
fast-growing young company with two hundred employees.
As Ashley turned the car onto Silverado Street, she had the uneasy feeling
that he was behind her, following her. But who? And why? She looked
into her rearview mirror. Everything seemed normal. Every instinct told her
otherwise. Ahead of Ashley was the sprawling, modem-looking building that
housed Global Computer Graphics. She turned into the parking lot, showed
the guard her identification and pulled into her parking space. She felt safe
here. As she got out of the car, it began to rain.
At nine o'clock in the morning, Global Computer Graphics was already
humming with activity. There were eighty modular cubicles, occupied by
computer whizzes, all young, busily building Web sites, creating logos for
new companies, doing artwork for record and book publishing companies and
composing illustrations for magazines. The work floor was divided into several
divisions: administration, sales, marketing and technical support. The
atmosphere was casual. The employees walked around in jeans, tank tops
and sweaters.
As Ashley headed toward her desk, her supervisor, Shane Miller, approached her.
"Morning, Ashley."
Shane Miller was in his early thirties, a burly, earnest man with a pleasant
personality. In the beginning, he had tried to persuade Ashley to go to bed
with him, but he had finally given up, and they had become good friends.
He handed Ashley a copy of the latest Time magazine. "Seen this?"
Ashley looked at the cover. It featured a picture of a distinguishedlooking
man in his fifties, with silver hair. The caption read "Dr. Steven
Patterson, Father of Mini Heart Surgery."
"I've seen it."
"How does it feel to have a famous father?"
Ashley smiled. "Wonderful."
"He's a great man."
"I'll tell him you said so. We're having lunch."
"Good. By the way..." Shane Miller showed Ashley a photograph of a movie
star who was going to be used in an ad for a client. "We have a little problem
here. Desiree has gained about ten pounds, and it shows. Look at those
dark circles under her eyes. And even with makeup, her skin is splotchy. Do
you think you can help this?"
Ashley studied the picture. "I can fix her eyes by applying the blur filter.
I could try to thin her face by using the distort tool, but—No. That would
probably end up making her look odd." She studied the picture again. "I'll
have to airbrush or use the clone tool in some areas."
"Thanks. Are we on for Saturday night?"
"Yes."
Shane Miller nodded toward the photograph. "There's no hurry on this.
They want it last month." Ashley smiled. "What else is new?"
She went to work. Ashley was an expert in advertising and graphic design,
creating layouts with text and images.
Half an hour later, as Ashley was working on the photograph, she sensed
someone watching her. She looked up. It was Dennis Tibble. "Morning,
honey."
His voice grated on her nerves. Tibble was the company's computer genius.
He was known around the plant as "The Fixer." Whenever a computer
crashed, Tibble was sent for. He was in his early thirties, thin and bald with
an unpleasant, arrogant attitude. He had an obsessive personality, and the
word around the plant was that he was fixated on Ashley.
"Need any help?"
"No, thank you."
"Hey, what about us having a little dinner Saturday night?"

"Thank you. I'm busy."
"Going out with the boss again?"
Ashley turned to look at him, angry. "Look, it's none of your—"
"I don't know what you see in him, anyway. He's a nerd, cubed. I can give
you a better time." He winked. "You know what I mean?"
Ashley was trying to control her temper. "I have work to do, Dennis."
Tibble leaned close to her and whispered, "There's something you're going
to learn about me, honey. I don't give up. Ever."
She watched him walk away, and wondered: Could he be the one?
At 12:30, Ashley put her computer in suspend mode and headed for Margherita
di Roma, where she was joining her father for lunch.
She sat at a corner table in the crowded restaurant, watching her father
come toward her. She had to admit that he was handsome. People were
turning to stare at him as he walked to Ashley's table. "How does it feel to
have a famous father?"
Years earlier, Dr. Steven Patterson had pioneered a breakthrough in
minimally invasive heart surgery. He was constantly invited to lecture at
major hospitals around the world. Ashley's mother had died when Ashley
was twelve, and she had no one but her father.
"Sorry I'm late, Ashley." He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.
"That's all right. I just got here."
He sat down. "Have you seen Time magazine?"
"Yes. Shane showed it to me."
He frowned. "Shane? Your boss?"
"He's not my boss. He's—he's one of the supervisors."
"It's never good to mix business with pleasure, Ashley. You're seeing him
socially, aren't you? That's a mistake."
"Father, we're just good—"
A waiter came up to the table. "Would you like to see a menu?"
Dr. Patterson turned to him and snapped, "Can't you see we're in the middle
of a conversation? Go away until you're sent for."
"I—I'm sorry." The waiter turned and hurried off. Ashley cringed with
embarrassment. She had forgotten how savage her father's temper was.
He had once punched an intern during an operation for making an error in
judgment. Ashley remembered the screaming arguments between her
mother and father when she was a little girl. They had terrified her. Her
parents had always fought about the same thing, but try as she might, Ashley
could not remember what it was. She had blocked it from her mind.
Her father went on, as though there had been no interruption. "Where

were we? Oh, yes. Going out with Shane Miller is a mistake. A big mistake."
And his words brought back another terrible memory.
She could hear her father's voice saying, "Going out with Jim Cleary is a
mistake. A big mistake..." Ashley had just turned eighteen and was living in
Bedford, Pennsylvania, where she was born. Jim Cleary was the most popular
boy in Bedford Area High School. He was on the football team, was
handsome and amusing and had a killer smile. It seemed to Ashley that
every girl in school wanted to sleep with him. And most of them probably
have, she had thought, wryly. When Jim Cleary started asking Ashley out,
she was determined not to go to bed with him. She was sure he was interested
in her only for sex, but as time went on, she changed her mind. She
liked being with him, and he seemed to genuinely enjoy her company.
That winter, the senior class went for a weekend skiing trip in the mountains.
Jim Cleary loved to ski.
"We'll have a great time," he assured Ashley.
"I'm not going."
He looked at her in astonishment. "Why?"
"I hate cold weather. Even with gloves, my fingers get numb."
"But it will be fun to—"
"I'm not going."
And he had stayed in Bedford to be with her.
They shared the same interests and had the same ideals, and they always
had a wonderful time together.
When Jim Cleary had said to Ashley, "Someone asked me this morning if
you're my girlfriend. What shall I tell him?" Ashley had smiled and said,
"Tell him yes."
Dr. Patterson was worried. "You're seeing too much of that Cleary boy."
"Father, he's very decent, and I love him."
"How can you love him? He's a goddamned football player. I'm not going to
let you marry a football player. He's not good enough for you, Ashley."
He had said that about every boy she had gone out with.
Her father kept making disparaging remarks about Jim Cleary, but the
explosion occurred on the night of the high school graduation. Jim Cleary
was taking Ashley to an evening graduation party. When he came to pick her
up, she was sobbing.
"What's the matter? What's happened?"
"My—my father told me he's taking me away to London. He's registered
me in—in a college there."
Jim Cleary looked at her, stunned. "He's doing this because of us, isn't

he?"
Ashley nodded, miserable.
"When do you leave?"
"Tomorrow."
"No! Ashley, for God's sake, don't let him do this to us. Listen to me. I
want to marry you. My uncle offered me a really good job in Chicago with
his advertising agency. We'll run away. Meet me tomorrow morning at the
railroad station. There's a train leaving for Chicago at seven A.M. Will you
come with me?"
She looked at him a long moment and said softly, "Yes."
Thinking about it later, Ashley could not remember what the graduation
party was like. She and Jim had spent the entire evening excitedly discussing
their plans.
"Why don't we fly to Chicago?" Ashley asked.
"Because we would have to give our names to the airline. If we go by train,
nobody will know where we've gone."
As they were leaving the party, Jim Cleary asked softly, "Would you like
to stop off at my place? My folks are out of town for the weekend."
Ashley hesitated, torn. "Jim... we've waited this long. A few more days
won't matter."
"You're right." He grinned. "I may be the only man on this continent marrying
a virgin."
When Jim Cleary brought Ashley home from the party, Dr. Patterson was
waiting, in a rage. "Do you have any idea how late it is?"
"I'm sorry, sir. The party—"
"Don't give me any of your goddamn excuses, Cleary. Who the hell do you
think you're fooling?"
"I'm not—"
"From now on, you keep your goddamned hands off my daughter, do you
understand?"
"Father—"
"You keep out of this." He was screaming now. "Cleary, I want you to get
the hell out of here and stay out."
"Sir, your daughter and I—"
"Jim—"
"Get up to your room."
"Sir—"
"If I ever see you around here again, I'll break every bone in your body."
Ashley had never seen him so furious. It had ended

with everyone yelling. When it was over, Jim was gone and Ashley was in
tears.
I'm not going to let my father do this to me, Ashley thought, determinedly.
He's trying to ruin my life. She sat on her bed for a long time. Jim
is my future. I want to be with him. I don't belong here anymore. She rose
and began to pack an overnight bag. Thirty minutes later, Ashley slipped out
the back door and started toward Jim Cleary's home, a dozen blocks away.
I'll stay with him tonight, and we'll take the morning train to Chicago. But
as she got nearer to his house, Ashley thought. No. This is wrong. I don't
want to spoil everything. I'll meet lam at the station.
And she turned and headed back home.
Ashley was up the rest of that night thinking about her life with Jim and
how wonderful it was going to be. At 5:30, she picked up her suitcase and
moved silently past the closed door of her father's bedroom. She crept out
of the house and took a bus to the railroad station. When she reached the
station, Jim had not arrived. She was early. The train was not due for another
hour. Ashley sat on a bench eagerly waiting. She thought about her
father awakening and finding her gone. He would be furious.
But I can't let him live my life. One day he'll really get to know Jim, and
he'll see how lucky I am. 6:30... 6:40... 6:45... 6:50... There was still no sign
of Jim. Ashley was beginning to panic. What could have happened? She decided
to telephone him. There was no answer. 6:55...He'll be coming at any
moment. She heard the train whistle in the distance, and she looked at her
watch. 6:59. The train was pulling into the station. She rose to her feet and
looked around frantically. Something terrible has happened to him. He's
had an accident. He's in the hospital. A few minutes later, Ashley stood
there watching the train to Chicago pull out of the station, taking all her
dreams with it. She waited another half hour and tried to telephone Jim
again. When there was still no answer, she slowly headed home, desolate.
At noon, Ashley and her father were on a plane to London....

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