“No, and since he was local, I would have known. Well, I might not have known if he’d fathered a child out of wedlock, but in a small town, secrets get out. We all have a doppelganger somewhere in this world. Perhaps you ran into Ely’s.”
“That’s probably it,” I murmured. “Are his parents still around?”
“No. They died not long after Ely disappeared.”
“Well, thanks. I’ve taken up more of your time than I intended.”
“It’s a pleasure to talk to someone about something other than medicine.”
I showed her to the door.
Toeller paused on the porch and rested her hand on the rail. “It is strange about the disappearing hikers. How far did you say you traced this seven-year pattern?”
The porch swing swayed in the breeze, as if rocked by an invisible guest.
“Over a hundred years,” I said. “Then I ran out of newspapers.”
The doctor rubbed her jaw. “Interesting. Perhaps…” She shook her head. “Call me if there’s any change in your aunt’s condition, or if you need to talk — even if it’s about UFOs and disappearing hikers.”
“Thanks.” I watched the doctor glide down the steps to her silver BMW, parked in the drive.
The doctor reversed the car down the driveway and roared off.
Doctor Toeller had looked as if she’d thought of something about the hikers, but she’d stopped herself. Did she know more than she was telling?
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
From my seat in the bay window, I looked a question at Lenore, pale in her loose, linen dress. Lenore had kicked off her sandals, and they lay tumbled beside our aunt’s bed. Pots clattered in the kitchen, Jayce making a dinner nobody would eat.
Ellen wheezed in her sleep, and I found my own breath catching. Was this the death rattle I’d heard about, or was that a myth?
“It won’t be long now.” Lenore’s voice crackled with emotion.
My insides squeezed. Above me, the witch ball turned lazily, moonlight glinting off its blue glass.
Ellen’s eyes opened. “Karin?”
I sprang from my seat and hurried to the side of the bed, taking Ellen’s gnarled hand. “I’m here.”
“He told me… it’s more dangerous for you.”
“He?” I smoothed my aunt’s rumpled hair.
Silent, Lenore drifted to the opposite side of the bed.
“Who is he?” I asked.
“I’d kill for peach ice cream,” Ellen said.
“Then I’ll get you some.” Lenore hurried from the bedroom.
I blinked away tears. I’d gotten used to Ellen’s odd jumps in logic, but her moments of consciousness had grown fewer and further between.
Soon. What do you say to a dying woman, to the woman who raised you? I’d told her I’d loved her countless, careless times. But now, the moment when it mattered the most, the words rose awkwardly to my lips, and I had to force them through. “I love you, Ellen.” She had been my mother in every way that counted. “Thank you,” I whispered.
“I don’t want to die.” Ellen’s eyes closed.
I clutched my stomach, nauseated. The thought of Ellen dying afraid was too much. I felt myself unraveling, streamers of fear and loss coming undone.
Lenore returned to the bedroom. “We’re out of ice cream. Someone will have to make a grocery run.” Lines appeared between her blond brows. “Is everything all right?”
I swallowed, looking away. “My car’s blocking the driveway. I’ll go.” I shot our aunt an anxious look. It was her first request for food in two days. If Ellen wanted ice cream, she was going to get it, and it would be her favorite. But I hated to leave, and I’d been gone for so much of the day, while Lenore had been here. As patient as she was, Lenore was probably going stir crazy. “Or you can take my keys, if you’d rather.”
“No. I’ll stay.” She followed me to the porch. “Don’t worry, she’ll be here when you return,” she said in a low voice.
Unable to speak, I hitched my purse over my shoulder. I nodded, walked outside to my car, and reversed out of the driveway.
I rolled down the window. The warm breeze played across my skin, fluttering the sleeves of my peasant top. My hair tossed, auburn strands streaming out the window, lashing my face. I raked back my hair. It flew loose as soon as I released it, the wind victorious.
Ellen was dying. A wave of coming loss swamped me, and tears streamed down my cheeks. I pulled to the side of the road and cried until my rational mind told me enough. Ellen wasn’t gone yet, and I was wasting time I could be spending with my aunt. Digging in my bag, I found a package of tissues and wiped my eyes, blew my nose.
Enough.
My aunt’s favorite ice cream came from an over-priced, specialty grocery store. Its small, ground-level lot was full, so I parked in its underground garage.
I jogged up the concrete steps and emerged beside a planter filled with rosemary in a narrow concrete corridor. I walked past a section of lattice, past a bulletin board papered with community flyers and business cards. I passed a display of herbs and went inside, my flesh pebbling in cool air scented by cut flowers.
Heat from my spider bite flared through my palm, and I clenched my fist. I walked through the floral section to the rear of the store, where the ice cream waited in rows behind glass doors.
For a moment I thought the peach ice cream was gone, and I panicked.
Then I saw one box left and grabbed it, relieved, tentacles of frosty air coiling toward me. Letting the door slam, I walked down the aisle, enjoying the icy feel of the carton against my burning palm.
Steve Woodley stood in the vitamins section and studied a fat, white jar. Frowning, he removed a cardboard price tag from its plastic casing on the shelf. He popped the plastic into his mouth and chewed.
My jaw slackened. Had that actually happened? Shocked and a little repulsed, I edged away, unsure what to say or do.
Woodley turned and swallowed, smiled. “Miss Bonheim! How nice to see you.”
I forced myself to smile in response, nodding toward the bottle he held. “Is that the secret to your good health?”
“That and staying engaged in community life. But that’s easy living in a town as lovely as Doyle. How is your aunt?”
“Craving ice cream.” I held the carton out like a shield.
“They’ve got the best here.”
I looked at the rows of vitamins. “You eat ice cream? I thought you’d be on a paleo diet.” Or at least a regime that did not involve plastic. Was he even aware he’d eaten the casing? The movement had been relaxed, as casual as this conversation.
“No,” he said. “Exercise, moderation, and vitamins are all you need. No reason to suffer with limiting diets. If you can’t live life, what’s the good of it?”
“Not much, I guess.” Unless your expanded diet included plastic price tabs.
His blue eyes darkened. “How are you girls doing? This tragedy with your aunt… What a thing to deal with when you’re so young.”
“We’re not that young anymore.” In two years, we’d be thirty. A decade ago, thirty had seemed ancient. Now, not so much.
“Chin up. You’ll always be younger than me. By the way, did you ever learn about that article Alicia was working on regarding the town council?”
“Only that it had to do with vote buying,” I said, reckless. “Does that make any sense?” I waited for a reaction.
His silvery brows rose. “Vote buying? Here? That’s quite a wild accusation. I love serving Doyle, but I can’t imagine paying for votes for the privilege.”
“It does seem strange.” My face tightened. Serves me right for thinking I could outsmart a politician. “Have you heard anything about Alicia’s case?”
“That’s in the hands of the Sheriff’s Department. They don’t keep mere city council members informed.”
“Too bad. I saw you outside Ground, talking to the police when her body was discovered. I hoped maybe you’d heard something. This
has been rough on Jayce.”
He clapped my shoulder. “Well, give me a call if you learn anything.” Returning the vitamins to the shelf, he strode down the aisle, disappearing into the wine section.
Thoughtful, I went to stand in line. Wasn’t there a disease that made people eat weird things? Or was Woodley just strange? He hadn’t seemed fazed when I’d brought up the vote buying. But most successful politicians were good liars.
I skimmed the magazine covers. Tabloids shouted bold-print headlines about celebrity divorces and alien abductions and Elvis sightings. Thinking of what Nick had said, I reached for the alien abduction tabloid.
“Next in line,” said the cashier, a pleasant-looking older woman in glasses. Her hair was silvered, her skin faintly lined, but it had a sheen to it, an air-brushed perfection.
I abandoned the tabloid, the skin prickling at the back of my neck. Nick had been right about the beauty of Doyle’s population. They even aged well. The councilman was proof of that, in spite of his odd eating habits.
Unnerved, I paid, snatching the bag from the checker’s grasp. “Thanks.” I hurried from the store, my purse slung over my shoulder, grocery bag swinging from one hand, keys jingling from the other. I turned the corner, walking past the bulletin board, my flip-flops smack-smacking the ground.
Behind me, another pair of flip-flops slap-slapped, another pair of keys jangled.
The muscles between my shoulder blades tightened.
Yellowish shadows from the overhead lights flattened the scene, turning the rosemary planters gray. The corridor seemed too close, the walls oppressive.
A feeling of uncanniness swept over me. I had the odd sense that I was the person behind me holding the keys and wearing the sandals, that we were one and the same.
I lengthened my strides, putting more distance between myself and the other person. I’d taken enough martial arts classes to know two things. First, I sucked at martial arts. Second, I wasn’t happy not-knowing who was behind me.
At the top of the steps to the downstairs lot, I glanced over my shoulder. Faded jeans, flip-flops, peasant blouse, cascades of auburn hair. I was looking at myself, a mirror image. And then I was dashing around the bend, down the stairs, my heart thundering.
It had been an optical illusion. It had to be.
But I raced down the seven steps to the concrete floor and stood, staring, at the section of lattice. The person would walk past it on the other side, and it wouldn’t be my identical twin, and I would laugh at my imagination.
Sandals slap-slapped the concrete. Keys jingled.
I watched, waited, staring. Any second now, the other woman would walk past the latticework.
The keys jangled past. The sandals smacked the pavement. The sounds of the woman walked past, but I saw no one. No shadow, no figure, no flash of color. Nothing. It was as if the person was invisible.
Disbelieving, I turned to stare at the top of the stairs. My eyes had tricked me, that was all. The light was too dim to really see anything. The person would walk past or around the cement wall, and I would see who it was.
The footfalls silenced.
I gripped my keys, the metal digging into my flesh. Any moment, any moment, the person would come. I watched the stairs, the edge of the concrete wall.
“Karin.”
I pivoted, gasping.
Nick stood in front of me, and my insides heated, remembering his touch.
“Karin Bonheim?” a woman asked from behind me.
I whirled.
Sunny Peel stood at the top of the stairs, a bag of groceries in her arms.
I gaped. How had I mistaken the realtor for myself? She sported a tight, lemon yellow top, white jeans and sneakers, her brown hair coiled into a neat chignon.
Sunny trotted down the stairs. “Don’t you love this store? They have the very best products. We’re so lucky to have a place like this in tiny old Doyle.”
I nodded, mute.
“How’s your aunt?” Sunny asked.
“My aunt’s…” I shook my head, bewildered. “Not well.”
Sunny reached the bottom of the stairs. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Liar.
The voice rang, a shout in my left ear.
At least my newly vocal inner voice and I were in sync. How long would it take after Ellen’s death for Sunny to swoop in with her realty brochures and business cards and contracts? “Thank you,” I choked out.
Sunny shifted the bag to her hip, and offered her hand to Nick. “Hi, Nick. It’s nice to see you again. I heard you’re representing Jayce in this terrible mess?”
He nodded. “Word gets around.”
I tightened my grip on my paper bag. Seeing myself in Sunny was a hell of a mind trick. I must be under more stress than I’d thought.
A voice inside insisted that there was more to it than that.
“The curse of living in a small town.” Sunny smiled, rueful. “It’s hard to believe this could happen in Ground. I found that location for Jayce’s shop. It seemed perfect.” She sighed. “But I guess you can’t help the type of person who walks inside.”
“No,” I said, irrationally annoyed. There I went again, mentally jumping all over Sunny for no reason. I shifted my weight.
“Have the police come to their senses?” she asked. “They can’t really believe Jayce was responsible?”
“I’m not exactly in their confidence,” Nick said. “But the sheriff’s not jumping to conclusions.”
I glanced at him. That wasn’t the impression I’d gotten.
“Well, I won’t keep you two,” Sunny said. “Please give your family my best, Karin.”
“Thanks,” I said. “You too.” I touched Sunny’s arm. “By the way, that outfit looks great.”
Sunny pinked. “Why, thank you! That’s so nice of you to say.”
There. Maybe the compliment would make up for some of my inner nastiness.
Nick nudged me. “I’ll see you to your car. Nice running into you, Sunny.”
“Bye.” Sunny stood at the base of the steps and watched us walk to my Ford. Nick’s SUV sat parked beside it.
“What are you doing here?” I glanced at Sunny.
She tossed her hair and walked across the parking lot.
“I stopped by your house to speak with Jayce. Your aunt woke up. When she learned you’d gone, she got upset, said you were in danger. I told her I’d find you.”
My stomach lurched. “Oh, no.” I unlocked the car and tossed paper bag and purse onto the passenger’s seat. “I’m sorry you had to do that, but thanks.” Gee, this wasn’t awkward at all.
A car lock chirped, echoing in the parking structure. On the other side of the lot, Sunny slid into her red, Spider convertible.
“It’s no trouble,” Nick said. “What happened back there?”
I stilled. “Happened?”
“You looked like you’d seen a ghost.”
“A ghost? No.”
He quirked a brow. “Then what?”
Oh, hell. If he thought I was crazy, I might as well go all in. “Have you ever felt like you’d stumbled into a parallel world?” I asked slowly. “It seems like your world, but things aren’t quite right? That this isn’t really your life?”
“Yes,” he said.
Of course he had. He’d fallen into the worst of all unreal worlds — a missing loved one. “Your sis—”
Swiftly he reached forward, his hands light on my jaw, and kissed me. My legs shook, my heart banging against my ribcage. Laughter and tears welled up inside me, and both faded into arousal.
We broke apart.
“We need to stop doing this,” he said.
“I’d rather not. Stop, I mean.” He smelled of cedar and cool bracken, two scents I was coming to adore.
We kissed again, hot and quick and frantic.
“So either you don’t think I’m crazy,” I said, my breath coming in short gasps, “or you don’t care.”
“Why would I think you’re
crazy?”
“The way you left earlier—”
“Your sister may be arrested. Your aunt is dying. I should have known—”
“Will she be arrested?” Fear for Jayce arced through me. “You told Sunny the sheriff was looking at other options.”
“That’s what Sheriff McCourt said. But I don’t believe it. I’m sorry, but you should be prepared.”
Dizzy, I braced myself on the hood of my car. I couldn’t lose Jayce too.
“I’ll see you home,” he said.
“You don’t have to.”
“I promised your aunt.”
I nodded. My aunt was waiting, and I’d spent too much time away from the house. I got into the car, and Nick shut my door. I rolled down the window.
“I’ll follow,” he said, his hands braced on the open window. He hesitated, looking as if he wanted to say more. But Nick stepped away from the car, his arms dropping to his sides. “Drive safe.”
“Always do.” Okay, usually. Mostly.
I drove to my aunt’s, Nick’s headlights weaving on the looping road behind me. What the hell had happened outside the store? How could I have seen and heard myself? Was I going crazy? Or was it part of this weird burst of magic now that Ellen had released the binding spell?
The psychiatrist, Carl Jung, said the things that drive us crazy about others are the things that irritate us about ourselves. Had I projected myself onto Sunny? Was I as false as the too-cheerful realtor? My lips compressed. How many times had Jayce told me to loosen up, open up, let people get to know me? But I liked keeping private.
I blew out a shaky breath. At least Jayce’s instincts about her lawyer had been right. And that was the real problem, the real question. What was I doing with Nick? He deserved someone sane and stable. Right now, I was neither.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Nick saw me to the black-painted door of my aunt’s house. The porch swing swayed, as if someone had just abandoned it. My mouth parted to invite him to stay.
“I should go,” he said. “I’m going to take a walk, clear my head.”
The porch light flickered above us.
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