Mirror, Mirror on Her Wall (Mirrors Don't Lie Book 2)

by Becki Willis

  “That’s how I think of them, Kenna. As part of my past, not of my future. I know that may sound cold, it may sound uncaring, but that’s all I’m capable of where they’re concerned. I have nothing left to give them.” Even before the tears trickled down her face, Makenna offered her a tissue. “When I was little, I tried so hard to make them love me.” It was the first time Kenzie had ever admitted that to anyone. “I never made a mess, never made a scene, never asked them to buy me things. I was always quiet and respectful and obedient. But it never mattered. Time and time again, they just ignored me and turned away. They broke my heart so many times with their indifference that finally one day, all I had left were little slivers of myself. And I knew that if I didn’t get out, I would become just like them. Cruel though it sounds, as far as I’m concerned, I have no parents.”

  “Have I told you how much I admire you? You are so strong, Kenzie. With a childhood like that, it would have been so easy for you to become mean and hateful. But instead of being cold and jaded, you are warm and caring, full of life and energy and optimism. It sounds like you have become everything they were not, and I am so proud of you for that.”

  “It was my revenge,” Kenzie admitted. “I refused to let them break me. Or mold me, for that matter. I was determined to be nothing like them. I wouldn’t allow them that victory over me.” They fell silent again, until Kenzie said gently, “You know, I may refer to them in the past tense, but you only refer to him as Joseph Mandarino, never as our father.”

  “He’s not my father. Kenneth Reagan is. Joseph Mandarino was simply my sperm donor.” Behind the hard edge of her words, a faint trace of regret softened her tone.

  “Have you looked at the box Mom brought?” Long ago, Kenzie had taken to calling the Reagans by the names of Mom and Dad. They had certainly been better parents to her than Joseph and Maggie Mandarino.

  “No. I wanted you to be with me when I did.” She didn’t have to say that she was too chicken to do the deed alone; Kenzie already knew.

  “Do you need more time?”

  “I have to admit, I am curious. How do you decide what to leave with your child when you abandon her at a church?”

  They sat in silence for a long moment, pondering the question. Kenzie said nothing as she gave her sister time to gather her courage. Makenna finally moved off the couch, returning a few moments later with a large white cardboard box marked ‘Makenna’.

  Madeline Reagan had kept each and every link to her past, few though they were. Twenty-three years ago, she and her sister-in-law found the little auburn haired child curled up on the church pew sleeping, clutching a handful of meager possessions to her. All were now tucked inside the box, wrapped in acid free tissue paper.

  “Here goes.” With a fortifying intake of breath, Makenna reached for the lid. Her hands were surprisingly unsteady. When the lid snagged on a corner, Kenzie reached over to lift it off and set it aside.

  There was a petite dress inside, stitched from a pink and green floral pattern, with pale pink socks and underwear that matched. A pair of blue jean shorts, a purple shirt with sparkling butterflies, another pair of socks and underwear, and a single pair of brown shoes were the only clothes inside the box; the only clothes her mother had packed for her when she gave her away. A small cloth satchel touted the current Barbie fashions of the day.

  A memory tugged on Makenna’s heart as she lifted out a children’s picture book.

  The same memory echoed in Kenzie’s mind. “I remember this book,” she whispered.

  “I-I think I do, too.” The image in Makenna’s mind was fuzzy, but she could picture two little girls curled up on a blue sofa, listening to a pleasant baritone recite the book. Their father had read this book to them.

  “Looks like you wrote all over it,” Kenzie murmured, nodding toward several of the words that were marked with pencil lead.

  “At least I was neat about it.” She traced a few of the markings, wondering about the child who had scribbled in the book. Had she been happy with the Mandarino family? The memory of her father seemed pleasant enough. Had there ever been a time their parents had loved their daughters? What had caused them to give one daughter away, yet keep the other, only to emotionally starve her of affection?

  Together they thumbed through the book, reading the story silently to themselves. Makenna finally closed the book, but she left it resting in her lap as she reached inside the box to pull out the next item.

  “Hey, I had one just like this!” Kenzie said, seeing the familiar rag doll with its looped yarn hair. “But mine had black hair, not red. And mine wore a red checked dress. I actually still have mine, put away in a box.”

  Makenna turned the doll over in her hands, trying to remember hugging the cloth body against her own tiny one, but no memory came to mind. She shrugged and placed the doll on top of the book.

  The last item in the box was a child-size quilt. This, she remembered. She lifted the colorful patchwork from the box and held it close, remembering being wrapped in it each night when she fell asleep. But the bed was in a room shared with her adopted sister Tracey, and the loving arms who tucked it around her were those of Madeline Reagan, the only mother she could remember. Makenna tucked the quilt around her arms, savoring the memory of a happy childhood. If only Kenzie could have those same memories.

  “I loved this blanket. I must have slept with it until I was at least eight.” She smiled at the memory. “I remember one time we went on vacation, and I somehow left the blanket behind. We had already gone several miles down the road when I realized it was missing. Daddy took one look at me, crying in the backseat, and turned around in the middle of the road.”

  Kenzie could remember a few favorite blankets she had left behind, a half dozen favorite toys, one pet, and a pathetically few number of friends. Her father never turned around for her. He was the one who insisted she leave them behind.

  Lost in her own memories, Makenna missed the sad expression on Kenzie’s face. Her fingers were moving along the edge of the blanket, searching for a familiar lump. “There was always a hard spot along one corner. I would work the fabric around in my hands, until I found it. I would fall asleep at night, stroking the rough edges. It always felt like there was something inside, but if it was, it was sewn in there tight.” She fingered the material, searching until her fingers found the stiff corner she remembered. The satin trim was hard and unyielding for about two inches along the border. She flecked her thumb over the familiar edge, smiling. “Ah, just how I remembered.”

  Rubbing her cheek along the softness of the old quilt, her eyes turned misty as she stared at her sister and she blurted out, “I’m so glad we found each other. I still can’t believe we were so lucky.”

  “It was fate,” Kenzie said with certainty. “We were destined to meet one another as adults, and to be given this second chance.”

  Makenna squeezed her hand and brightened the mood with a sudden smile. “So what do you see for the Mandarino sisters now? What part of the world shall we conquer first?”

  “Well, let’s see… there’s world peace, cure for the common cold, creating a balanced budget, finding the perfect pasta that doesn’t go to my hips … I don’t know, you pick!”

  “We’ll save the hard stuff for tomorrow. Tonight, let’s concentrate on finishing our ice cream and watching a movie.” She was already returning the pieces of her past into the box. She wanted to concentrate on the present, and a future that would include her twin sister and her very own Texas Ranger.

  As she folded her old baby quilt, the satin edge hit against the metal trim of the coffee table, clanging as it did so. With a frown, Makenna realized the noise came from the stiff corner. She tapped it against the table a second time, once again hearing the ping of metal against metal. “There’s definitely something in there!”

  A tiny glimmer of metal shone beneath a neat row of stitches. With a few deft plucks and tugs, the thread loosened enough to allow the hidden item to fall into her la
p.

  “What on earth…?” Makenna murmured breathlessly. She lifted the brass key up for inspection. Just over two inches long, it had jagged teeth and very little identification. The numbers ‘152’ were engraved on one side, the name ‘Simmons’ on the other. “Why-Why on earth is there a key sewn into my baby quilt?”

  Beside her, Kenzie’s face lost all color. “I knew it,” she whispered hoarsely.

  “Knew what? What does this key go to?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Then what are you talking about?”

  Kenzie continued to shake her head, dark curls tumbling around her shoulders. “I knew it was too simple. I knew there had to be more to it.” She tented her hands over her mouth, trying to pull in deep, steady breaths.

  “I don’t know what you’re referring to, but this is what’s been wrong with you, isn’t it?” Makenna guessed. Her own heart was now pounding with dread. “Talk to me, Kenzie. Tell me what’s been bothering you.”

  “Things were too neat. Too easy. In my experience, life is never that easy,” Kenzie whispered.

  Makenna reached for her hand, her touch and her voice soft. “What are you talking about, honey?”

  Gripping her sister’s hand, Kenzie lifted her green eyes, the expression in them wild with fear. “I-I’m going to have to leave.”

  “Leave?” Makenna asked in alarm. “Why would you have to leave? What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t you see? This key is what they were looking for. I never understood why the mafia thought my father would go back to New England in order to collect money he hid in a Swiss bank account. It never made any sense. But this does.”

  Understanding dawned upon Makenna. “The money isn’t in Switzerland.”

  “It’s here.”

  Makenna gasped, jerking the key up close to her heart. “What-What do you think this key goes to?” She was almost afraid to ask.

  “I have no idea. It looks like a key to a safety deposit box.”

  “If Joseph Mandarino was so brilliant, why would he hide stolen money in a bank?”

  “If our father really was so brilliant, why did he do any of those things?” She massaged her forehead with her fingers, trying to ease the ache in her head. There was no soothing the ache in her heart. “He double-crossed the mob, he dropped off the face of the earth for over twenty years, he abandoned one of his daughters and emotionally starved the other. What kind of person does that to begin with?” She pulled her fingers through her long dark curls as she rocked back and forth on the couch.

  “So why do you say you’ll have to leave? You won’t really go, will you?” Makenna asked in quiet desperation.

  She did not answer directly. “Kenna, didn’t you think the mafia went away just a little too easily after Foto’s botched attempt to kidnap me?”

  “But the FBI and the Rangers said they- they got the word out that you didn’t know where your father was,” Makenna protested. She wanted desperately to believe it was true, but suddenly the explanation sounded rather flimsy. “They said the mafia realized you were estranged from your parents and that kidnapping you was pointless.”

  “It all seemed a little too easy to me,” Kenzie admitted. “One minute the mafia is spying on me and following me and trying to kidnap me. Two failed attempts, and they suddenly just give up. That just never made sense to me. None of it did.”

  “But what does this key have to do with it?”

  “I have no idea.” Kenzie eyed the sliver of brass with trepidation. “But whatever it is, it’s what the mafia was after. And they aren’t going to stop until they have it.”

  “Kenzie, I’m scared,” Makenna whispered, her green eyes wide. “I think I should call Hardin. He’ll know what to do.”

  “Not- Not tonight, okay? Let’s keep this to ourselves for now.”

  “But why?”

  Kenzie had trouble explaining her reasoning. She instinctively knew that whatever secret the key held, it would soon change her world. Again. “I-I don’t know. Maybe because you’ve had the key for twenty-three years now, even if you didn’t know it. A few more days won’t make a difference.” Tears slipped into her eyes. “Maybe because I don’t want to leave. I swore I was through moving, through running, even though at the time I didn’t realize that’s what we were doing. Maybe because if we ignore the key, I can pretend it doesn’t exist.”

  “You won’t really leave, will you? Promise me you won’t run away!” Makenna grabbed her sister, pulling her into a scared, desperate hug.

  “I don’t want to. I like my life,” Kenzie whispered. “But I can’t put you in danger.”

  “But don’t you see? It’s not just you anymore. We’re sisters. If you’re in danger, I’m in danger. And whatever it is, we’ll face it together.”

  “Together.” It was the sweetest word in her heart’s dictionary.

  After a long embrace, Makenna pulled away but still clung to her sister’s hands. “Let’s watch a movie. You’re right, we don’t have to do anything about the key tonight. And we may be way off base on what it is. You, yourself, said how forgetful our father was. Maybe it was our house key and he sewed it into the blanket so he’d never forget where he put it.”

  The theory sounded fragile to both their ears, but Kenzie offered a weak smile. “Okay,” she agreed. “Let’s watch that movie.”

  Chapter Three

  One movie slipped into two, and the beginnings of a third. Well after midnight, Kenzie clicked off the television and lumbered her way to bed.

  It seemed only a matter of minutes before the sun streamed through her windows and her cell phone rang. Kenzie pushed a riot of dark curls from her face and groped around the nightstand for the phone. Finding it, she wedged it between her cheek and her pillow. “Hello?”

  “Kenzie? Is that you? What is wrong with your voice?”

  Recognizing her editor on the other end of the line, Kenzie groaned. “Ice cream hangover. Movie-thon.”

  Kathryn Harrington laughed. “That’s what happens when you have too much time on your hands. I’m calling to change that. How is your leg?”

  Kenzie sat up, instantly awake. “Great. The doctor says I’m ahead of schedule. I can ditch the cast next week.”

  “So you would be able to take an assignment at the beginning of the month?”

  “Absolutely.” There were only a handful of days left in this month, but she would probably have a few days of cushion.

  Or maybe not. “Perfect,” Kathryn cooed. “You leave on the first.”

  Technically, she could walk without the cast by then, but the doctor cautioned her to continue taking it easy - no running, no jumping, no rock climbing for at least another two weeks after that.

  “Cool.” The excitement of an upcoming assignment overruled health concerns. “Where am I headed?”

  “Estes Park, Colorado.”

  So much for no rock climbing. Kenzie twirled a curl at the base of her neck and fidgeted where she sat, trying to ignore the flare of caution shooting off in her head. “What am I covering?” she asked. Maybe there was a political convention there, or a new hospital dedication. Something safe and mundane, that could be shot from flat ground, no climbing involved.

  “Lingering devastation from the floods last fall. The re-building efforts have fallen behind.”

  “Okay, I can do that.” She put a little extra enthusiasm into her voice to cover the hint of doubt. Surely she could do the assignment without crawling around on too many rocky ledges.

  Kenzie was well known for her in-depth investigative methods. No shot was too dirty or too treacherous to capture. If the story was about a flood, she would not zoom in from an aerial angle; she would be right down in the water, getting wet and getting the true feel of the piece. That dedication to detail had garnered her reputation as a top-notch photojournalist.

  “I certainly hope so,” Kathryn said. “This isn’t a random assignment, you know. You were specifically requested.”

&nb
sp; Kenzie could hear the excitement bubbling just beneath the surface of Kathryn’s words. Her curiosity piqued, she asked, “Oh? Who asked for me? The senior editors?” Kathryn was her editor, but there were more above her.

  “Even better. A senior senator!”

  Her confused frown carried through the phone. “I don’t follow.”

  “U.S. Senator Harry Lawrence, senior senator from Colorado, requested that you accompany his Chief of Staff on a tour of the Big Thompson Canyon. He wants you to record the progress of restoration efforts, which he doesn’t feel have been enough.”

  “Harry Lawrence?” Kenzie squeaked. “Presidential hopeful Harry Lawrence?”

  “The one and only. He’s very focused on ecology and is concerned with efforts to stabilize the river. There is still a tremendous amount of cleanup and re-building to be done. He hopes to call attention to the problem with an exclusive interview that will run in Now Magazine.” Her own voice all but squealed in excitement. “And he specifically asked for you to be the photographer.”

  “I- I’m speechless.” For a stunned moment, Kenzie said nothing. “I’m also very flattered. This is almost unbelievable.”

  “Kenzie, your reputation is impeccable. You have an uncanny knack for getting to the heart of a story. Your recent story on NorthWind Energy is the perfect example. I particularly liked the photo you took of a moose along a mountain stream, with the wind turbine in the distance. It gave the subtle message that green energy co-exists with nature. Excellent work.”

  Kenzie squirmed again. Makenna had taken the photo while covering for her. But in truth, her sister had not realized the wind turbine could be seen in the far distance, until Kenzie cleaned up the shot. With a tweak here and there, the turbine was brought into focus and conveyed the exact message Kathryn credited her for. So at least she was still partially responsible for it.

  “Thank you,” Kenzie murmured demurely. “I’m just surprised a U.S. Senator is familiar with my work.”

  “Not Lawrence. He’s a huge supporter of green energy and all things ecological. If it has an impact on our earth, he keeps up with it.”