She dialed 911, telling herself that this was the only way—that going into the room and confronting the woman who had beaten her heightened the risk that her double would harm Maddie. She told herself Maddie would be all right, that she could keep the trauma of this night to a minimum, even as she tried to imagine explaining any of it to her daughter.
“My name is Tess Devlin,” she said into the phone. “There’s an intruder in my apartment. She attacked me and I’m afraid she’ll hurt my daughter.…”
Tess answered questions, but vaguely. Her mind could summon little else, and she knew that was good—that details would hurt her later. How could she accurately describe the woman in Maddie’s room without them thinking she must be some kind of lunatic? If they thought she’d done this all herself, they might think her a danger to Maddie, and she couldn’t live with that.
“Please, ma’am, just wait there until you hear the police arrive. They’re on the way,” the 911 dispatcher said.
Tess scowled, face numb and heart hollow. “I can’t do that. My daughter—”
“Ma’am, please.”
She dropped the phone, leaving it off the hook in case they still needed to trace the call or something. No, she said the police are on the way. But the phone stayed off the hook, and that was okay. It didn’t matter. She had made the call and now she had to get back, to distract the woman somehow, to make sure Maddie was safe.
Her head swam with black motes as she forced herself to stand, clutching the bedpost. Taking deep breaths, she felt slivers of herself returning, just enough to reel out of the room, somehow avoiding the shards of broken mirror on the floor. Still cloaked in the smell of her own blood, she sailed down the hall in a lurch and turned into Maddie’s room.
Her daughter lay alone in the starlight, buried under her covers, only her head poking out, a fan of hair on her pillow. Tess whipped around, breath coming too fast, staring along the hallway toward the steps. Only then did she feel the cold wind sweeping through the apartment. Taking deep breaths, she mustered her strength and went back into the hall. In the foyer at the front of the house, the door stood open to the autumn night, leaves blowing in over the threshold. In the distance, she could hear sirens.
“Mumma?” Maddie called to her.
Relief washed over her as she understood—the woman had gone and her daughter was still here. Safe in bed. Emotion welled up and overflowed, tears sliding down her cheeks as she made her way back along the hall.
“I’m here, baby,” she said, and a ripple of nausea went through her as she realized how much she sounded like the other woman. The other Tess.
“Who were you talking to in the other room?” Maddie asked.
Tess hesitated. The sirens were growing louder. The police would want to talk to Maddie, too, and the girl would see her mother’s blood and bruises and the broken mirror and she would never understand. An intruder, that was all she had to know. It didn’t need to make sense to her and the police would not expect it to. She was only six years old, after all. Only one thing mattered.
“You’re safe, my love,” Tess said, standing in the golden glow of the night-light, that place where—in the small hours—all of the best and worst imaginings had always seemed possible. “You’re safe.”
But she knew that she couldn’t keep Maddie safe.
And that was going to have to change.
TWO
Frank jerked awake. His shoulders hurt the worst, an ache that went to the bone. His lower back muscles were knotted so badly that the nerves around them were like tiny bombs, ready to go off if he shifted his weight or tried to rise. The groan that slipped from deep within him seemed too loud in the dark and he moved almost without thinking, exhaustion and malnutrition clouding his mind.
And something else, he thought. Something else.
His consciousness ebbed and flowed, but he knew there was more to the tide that shifted inside him than just the lack of proper rest and food. More than just the oppression of being a captive. Something else had been drained from him, and the hollow it left behind kept getting deeper. I’m fading, he thought, and far from the first time. Fading fast. He felt like a shadow of himself. For now the shadow seemed dark enough to have some texture, some substance, but as the hours crawled by he held a picture in his mind of the sun rising higher in the sky and the shadows growing thinner, until eventually the sun would be right overhead and the shadows would vanish altogether.
But he could feel his shadow burning away.
Frank could smell the stink of his own body, rank after so much time down here with the concrete and the damp, and he feared that soon that stink would be all that remained of him. With a deeper groan, he shifted himself against the post and all the little bombs in his lower back and shoulders exploded with bright, lancing pain. Muscles and nerves. The movement made his eyes brim with moisture but he cherished every little agony. Better that than the numbness spreading inside him, the chasm of nothing within.
Grunting, he dragged the chain of his handcuffs under the metal lip between the bottom of the post and the concrete. By now he could force the metal snug against the first of the bolts that anchored the post. One more breath, shoulders on fire, and then he started to saw back and forth again.
Fucker, he thought, imagining his own face. He wanted to smash it in.
You’re gonna die.
Frank couldn’t quite be sure which of him he was talking to. The one he wanted to save or the one he wanted to kill.
THREE
The dashboard clock in Nick’s car read 8:03 when he rolled up to the curb in front of Tess’s place. In his mind he could still see the tightness around Kyrie’s mouth when she had told him to go. Just go. Your daughter needs you. But in those same words—beneath them—had been others. Your ex-wife doesn’t, and don’t forget it.
The dynamic would not go away. For a while he had imagined that his new relationship could exist in harmony with the complications of the old one, that the two women occupied separate space in his life. He’d been an idiot. Whatever equation he had thought he could fit them into, whatever Venn diagram he’d hoped for, it had been a fantasy. Maddie threw off all calculations, because when he took her into consideration, nothing else mattered.
If Kyrie had difficulty separating the idea of him rushing to comfort his daughter from the image of him doing the same for Tess, there was nothing Nick could do about it. He would navigate those waters later. Right now, the only thing that mattered was being Daddy.
He turned off the engine and climbed out of the car, reaching back in for the hot cup of Dunkin’ Donuts coffee he’d picked up along the way. As he slammed the door and clicked the locking mechanism on his key fob, he realized with a pang of regret that he ought to have brought hot chocolate for Maddie. Even coffee for Tess. He’d never been good about such things, spent too much time inside his own head, but he had been teaching himself to pay more attention to the needs of those around them. It wasn’t always easy for him to read people, but he’d been making an effort.
His ex wouldn’t expect him to have thought of her—might even be shocked if he had—but Maddie might be hurt. The thought was nearly enough to make him leave his own coffee on the roof of the car, but he shook his head and kept walking. If Maddie asked for hot chocolate, he’d take her out to get some.
Nick turned up his collar as he walked to the Victorian’s front door. The second- and third-floor neighbors had their own entrance around the side of the building. Morning had come but the night’s chill remained, as if winter hastened to claim its turn. He knocked, and saw his fist tremble. The coffee cup shook in his other hand and he bent forward, a momentary fog passing through his thoughts.
Frowning, he shook his head. With a deep breath, the sudden wavering passed.
“What the hell was that?” he whispered to himself.
Then the door opened and he saw what the intruder had done to Tess the night before. He screwed up his face in concern as he reached for her. She
flinched backward as his fingers nearly grazed her cheek. For a second he thought she was afraid to be touched—afraid it would hurt—and he felt bad. Then he saw the confusion and distaste on her features and realized Tess had jerked away because she didn’t want to be touched by him.
“Sorry,” he said, glancing at his hand, which hung uselessly in the air for a moment before he dropped it to his side, almost embarrassed to own such things as hands.
Tess gingerly traced the swollen, raging-red bruise that the left side of her face had become. “It’s all right. I’ve seen me in the mirror. I know it’s a shock.”
Nick studied her eyes. Bloody red lines shot through the left one. “You okay?”
She laughed softly, wincing from the pain it caused her. “Seriously?”
“You know what I mean.”
She exhaled, letting him off the hook. “I do. Okay as I can be, I guess.”
The past hung between them, an unwelcome companion whose presence would not allow them to speak freely. Nick still felt love for Tess, and believed the same must be true in reverse, but he couldn’t take her in his arms and give her the kind of comfort a husband ought to. Nor would Tess welcome the attempt.
“I’m sorry,” Nick said, frown deepening. “This—”
Maddie appeared behind Tess in the doorway. “Daddy?” She had dressed for school and wore a bright pink backpack with cartoon monkeys all over it.
Nick grinned, but it felt like a lie. Tess stepped back to allow him inside, reminding him that she had kept him until then on the threshold. He knelt in front of his daughter and took her in his arms.
“Good morning, my love,” he said, voice muffled in the little girl’s hair.
“What are you doing here?”
Nick pulled back and studied her querulous expression. “Mommy told me what happened last night, so I decided to come and check on you guys.”
Maddie glanced around, suspicious of the shadowed corners of the room. “The bad lady’s gone, though. Mom said—”
“Of course she’s gone,” Nick said quickly. “And she won’t be back. Nothing to be afraid of, now. But it’s like when you wake up from a nightmare and you want to be hugged for a little while. The bad dream’s over but you still feel a little scared, right? You’re safe, bug. I just thought I’d hug you for a little while before you left for school.”
Her smile bloomed slowly, but when it came it lit up the room. “I could use some hugs.”
Nick laughed and swept her into his embrace again. He saw Tess smile and the sick feeling that had been roiling in the pit of his stomach returned. The bruises would fade. The cuts would heal. But how could they ever recover from the unwelcome knowledge that had been inflicted upon them?
“Maddie, honey, give me and Daddy a minute to talk, okay?” Tess said.
“We’re already late,” the girl said.
“I called the school. You won’t be in trouble,” Tess promised, caressing Maddie’s hair. “Go on in and watch TV for a minute.”
Nick kissed his daughter’s head and she poked him in the nose before running down the hall and into the living room, ponytail bouncing behind her. Rising to his feet, Nick turned to Tess.
“You need help cleaning up?”
Tess shook her head. “Already took care of the broken mirror and I’ve got a locksmith coming at one o’clock. I’ll give you a copy of the new key.”
“You don’t have to do that. It’s your house—”
“She’s your daughter,” Tess interrupted. “Like it or not, part of your life is here.”
Nick winced.
She waved the moment away. “I’m sorry. That’s not fair. I know how much she means to you. I’m just … you haven’t seen your double yet. It’s the strangest thing, like someone’s tearing down the walls around you and showing you what’s really been there all along.”
“Not to mention what she did to you.”
Tess visibly shuddered. “I don’t care what she did to me,” she whispered. “She had Maddie in her arms, Nick. And Maddie … she didn’t know it wasn’t me.”
Nick covered his mouth, trying to hear these words in his head and make them sound like something other than batshit crazy. He ran his palm over the stubble on his face, wishing very hard that he could make himself not believe in any of this. If Tess had lost her mind, that would create a hundred difficult complications, but it would be easier to process than any of this.
“Shit,” he rasped, shaking his head.
“I know how it sounds.”
Nick nodded. “Yeah. But I’m here. I’m on your side, Tessa. We’re meeting up with the others tonight. Audrey will be there. So will Frank.”
They both took a minute to let that sink in, giving each other a few seconds to bring up the elephant in the room. When Tess said nothing about seeing Frank again, Nick realized he had no interest in bringing it up either. That battle had already been fought, and as far as he was concerned all three members of what had once been the Devlin family had lost.
“We’re going to figure out who these people are, how the hell they’re pulling this off, and then we’re going to the police,” he went on. “The woman who did this to you? She’s got to be in cuffs after this.”
Tess smiled thinly. Painfully.
“What?” Nick demanded.
“Nothing. Go visit with Maddie. How much time do you have?”
“I’m going into the office later, but I have as much time as you need.”
“How does Kyrie feel about that?”
A barb hidden inside a seemingly innocent question. The past would never really be past. The blades might grow dull, but they’d still be stabbing each other with them for as long as they lived. Nick forced himself not to bring up a defensive shield, not to jab back.
“She’s fine.”
Tess hesitated, perhaps deciding whether to stab at him again. “I need a shower and a few minutes to breathe and deal with this. Do you think you could run her to school for me?”
“Of course,” Nick said, turning toward the living room.
“First, though, maybe you can tell me what you’re hiding.”
Nick glanced at her, saw the glint of half knowledge and full-on suspicion in her eyes, and guilt flooded through him. Frustrated, he pushed it away. Now was not the time to have this conversation—not even close to the right moment—but the part of him that still loved Tess looked at her bruised face and knew that she’d been beaten up body and soul in the past couple of days. He couldn’t lie to her now.
So he told her about the plans he and Kyrie had for London.
The revelation was not well received.
FOUR
Tess let the water run so hot that it seared away much of her hurt and anger. As she soaped and shampooed, wincing at the pain in her face and ribs, she fantasized about ways she might kill her ex-husband and get away with it. Running him down in her car gave her a certain grim satisfaction. Then she reminded herself that Maddie would have to suffer through the tragic murder of her father and it seemed less palatable.
Stop, she told herself. You love him.
And she did, even still. Not that she yearned for him—that ship had sailed—but she did care deeply for her former mister. Enough to forgive him, even though she wanted to strangle him. Enough to recognize that, no matter how inconvenient his plans to move to London for a couple of years with his too-smart and too-adorable girlfriend might be, he had a right to his own life. To his pursuit of happiness.
Truth was, if Tess could get out of the way and help her daughter over the feelings of abandonment that would certainly arise from Nick’s decision, Maddie would get to see London and beyond, to really experience another part of the world. It might be good for her, in the end.
She let out a feral roar in the shower and felt much better.
Turning off the shower, she squeezed excess water from her hair and slid open the door. With Maddie off to school, she had left the bathroom door open, and now the chilly air mad
e her shiver as she reached for her towel. The beating she had taken had distracted her body from the daily pains left over from her car accident, but whenever she dried herself off after a shower, her shoulder and spine reminded her.
She glanced into the half-steamed mirror and saw that the near-scalding water had turned her brown skin into a pinkish copper, which had already begun to fade. Hot and cold both felt good, balancing out the deep ache in the places where her double had punched or kicked her, but she felt another ache that persisted. Ever since she had seen her double in Maddie’s bedroom, she had felt an awful absence at her core. A loss not unlike grief. But now, at last, she sensed herself recovering. The pit remained in the center of her, but it didn’t seem so deep now.
As she did after any shower, she studied the vivid pink scar tissue that stretched across the top of her left breast and curved up toward her shoulder. The tree limb that had impaled her had done a savage job of it. She knew that plastic surgeons could do wonders for her—not make the scar vanish entirely but near enough—yet somehow she wasn’t ready yet. The scar felt like an outward expression of inner pain, like evidence, and she wasn’t ready to erase it.
Tess lifted her eyes to confront herself in the mirror, and recoiled at the sight of her dead face. She cried out, jerked back, and whipped her head around, heart thumping hard, primal fear crashing through her.
No, no, no. This can’t be.
She forced herself to look back. In her mind, she saw the death’s head again. The wisps of hair and parchment skin. The empty eye socket and too-sharp, heinous yellow teeth. But now she blinked and realized the image lingered only in her mind. Steadying her breath, trying to calm her heart, she put her hands on the sink and leaned over, doing her best not to throw up. She ran cold water and splashed her face.
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