Shadow of the Storm

by Candle Sutton

  Tree skeletons writhe. Looks like the wind hasn’t slowed any since I walked here earlier.

  Ugh. I really don’t want to walk. Even though it’s only a few blocks.

  So then. I guess it’s to my usual barstool to wait. Maybe I’ll even splurge and order a dessert.

  Except I’m really not hungry.

  I remove my apron, retrieve my stuff from my locker, and prepare a mango iced tea as I go through the kitchen on my way back to the bar.

  I’ve barely taken a seat when I spot a familiar face coming my direction. Red hair, tall and skinny… do I know him?

  The detective! From the other night.

  And he’s here for me.

  His singular focus on me, not to mention the fact that he’s walking directly toward me, leaves no room for doubt.

  But why? Why is he here?

  It’s because I’m a criminal, isn’t it? He found a warrant out on me and is here to take me in.

  I have to get out of here!

  But he’s standing between me and the exit. There isn’t even an employee only area in this part of the bar.

  I’ve trapped myself.

  I have to play it cool. Maybe he’s only here to ask some follow-up questions from the other night.

  But it’s been five days. Wouldn’t he have come around before now?

  Drawing a deep breath, I ease into a calm I don’t feel.

  “Ms. Jones.” He nods at a stool nearby. “Mind if I take a seat?”

  It doesn’t really sound like a question and although I do mind, I find myself agreeing. “Sure. Detective… I’m sorry, but I don’t remember your name.”

  “Evans. Most people call me Vic.” He settles on the stool and leans an elbow on the bar. “May I call you Stormy? Or should I call you Audra Parker?”

  Audra Parker! It’s the name from my dream. But how could he possibly know that name?

  I can’t let on that I recognize it. Why, I’m not sure, but everything in me says to deny it. Deny it all. “Why would you call me Audra Parker?”

  “Because it’s your name, isn’t it?”

  “Not as far as I know. But Stormy’s fine.” I smile as though he’s joking, even though I know he isn’t.

  “Funny thing about that. Something felt off the other day so I did some checking. Found a missing person’s report that fits you to a T. So howsabout you come clean and tell me what your angle is here.”

  “There’s no angle. I’m not missing and I’m certainly not this Audra person. My name is Stormy Jones. I can even show you my license, if that will help.”

  He stares at me. The silence drags for several seconds that feel like hours. Finally, he nods. “I’d like to see that. If you don’t mind.”

  Again, not a request.

  I grab my wallet and dig out my license. Thank goodness I haven’t been carrying all the licenses.

  He examines it. I half expect him to pull out some kind of light or device to inspect it more thoroughly. Finally, he hands it back and looks up at me. “So the name Audra Parker doesn’t mean anything to you?”

  “No.” It’s scary how easy it is for me to lie convincingly.

  “She looks exactly like you.”

  “Well, they say we all have a twin out there somewhere.”

  He snorts. “Right.”

  “You also thought I was Zak’s sister, remember? It seems I have a lot of twins out there.”

  “What you have is the ability to dodge my questions.”

  He doesn’t believe me. It shouldn’t surprise me, but I thought I was really convincing. Heck, I almost believe myself.

  I have to win him over. If I don’t, this little life I’ve built for myself here will shatter like glass. “Look, detective, I don’t know what you want from me.”

  “How about the truth?”

  “I’m giving it to you.” I hold his gaze with my own. “What’s the big deal about her anyway? Is she wanted for something?”

  How I manage to keep my tone so normal is a mystery.

  His answer could unlock memories. It could blow my past wide open.

  It could also destroy my future.

  The scrutiny in his stare makes me want to squirm, but I manage to remain still.

  “Mostly, she’s just a missing person. But the police do want to question her about something she may have witnessed.”

  A witness.

  That could explain why those men were trying to kill me. Maybe I saw something I shouldn’t have.

  Assuming I am Audra Parker.

  But the name was in my dreams and it feels right, for whatever that’s worth.

  Should I own it? I could tell Evans what I do know and see where this goes from there. It might help me remember everything.

  Something stops me. I don’t know what, but there’s just this gut feeling that I shouldn’t tell him anything.

  This could be a ruse to get me to talk. Audra Parker may not be a witness.

  Maybe she’s a suspect and Evans is telling me this to try to trip me up.

  “Well, if I hear from this imaginary sister of mine, I’ll be sure to have her call you.”

  His eyes narrow slightly. “Maybe you should come to the station and have yourself fingerprinted. Eliminate the possibility once and for all.”

  And have the prints come back as belonging to someone other than Stormy Jones? No thanks. “Do you have a warrant?”

  His jaw clenches.

  “Didn’t think so. You come in here, accuse me of lying about who I am and then expect me to help you out? Forget it.”

  “Got something to hide?”

  “No. But I don’t have to satisfy your unwarranted suspicion either.”

  He pushes off the stool and looms over me. “I’ll be back with that warrant. Until then, don’t leave town.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  He takes one step away, then turns and spears me with eyes that are colder than the ice outside. “One more thing.”

  I wait. Whatever it is, it won’t be good.

  “Zak’s a friend and has been through a lot. If I find out that you have some kind of agenda or if you drag him into anything, I will hunt you down. You understand?”

  A shiver races up my spine, but I try not to let it show. “He’s my friend, too. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt him.”

  He stares at me a second longer before leaving without a word.

  Tremors attack my body. That was close.

  I can’t believe he checked into me. Or that there’s a missing person named Audra Parker, who might turn out to be me.

  Was Evans telling the truth? Is Audra Parker simply a missing witness? Or is she a person of interest?

  There’s a big difference between the two.

  An image flashes through my mind. Agent Strand. With handcuffs.

  He’s telling me my rights.

  The handcuffs cinch tight around my wrists. He pushes my head down as he forces me into the backseat of an unmarked vehicle.

  I’m sitting on my hands. It’s uncomfortable, but I know he won’t take the cuffs off. He can’t.

  Red and blue lights swirl outside from several cop cars.

  People stare. A few point. At me.

  I turn my head away.

  A cupboard bangs and I blink the bar back into focus.

  So that’s how I know Strand. He’s the one who arrested me.

  I think I might be sick. Maybe something to drink will help. It can’t hurt, right?

  I reach for my tea. My hand closes around the glass, which jostles under my shaking fingers. Liquid sloshes over the edges.

  Okay. Maybe I don’t need to drink anything right this second.

  I grab a napkin and wipe my fingers.

  “Stormy?”

  I gasp and whirl, nearly falling off my barstool.

  Drew stands behind the bar, his eyebrows lowered in concern. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Fine.”

  His attention shifts toward the door through which
Evans exited. “Was he bothering you?”

  “No. Yes. It’s complicated.” Pain shoots behind my eyes.

  “Next time, let me know. You shouldn’t let anyone threaten you, especially here. No matter how complicated it is.”

  “He’s a cop.” In retrospect, probably not the wisest admission. Then again, Drew saw him the other night, so I’m sure he already knows.

  “That still doesn’t give him the right to harass you.”

  Doesn’t it? Detective Evans carries a badge and a gun. He has a power that Drew lacks. He can arrest us all, throw us in jail, and make life more miserable than it already is.

  Evans knows who I am. I think.

  Either way, he doesn’t believe me. And he has the authority to cause me more trouble than I can handle right now.

  Drew’s hand captures one of mine and gently massages it. “Talk to me.”

  “He’s a detective and he found a missing person’s report that matches my description. They think she witnessed something.”

  His brow wrinkles. “Wouldn’t there be a name on the missing person’s report?”

  The pounding in my head intensifies. “There was.”

  “So… I’m confused. Is it you or isn’t it?”

  “It’s complicated.” Great. Now I sound like some kind of parrot.

  “Uncomplicate it.” His tone is firm, yet not harsh. “I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.”

  I meet his eyes. I want to tell him everything, but couldn’t that get him in trouble? After all, if I’m not really Stormy – and I don’t think I am – then his dad hired someone with a fake ID.

  The last thing I want to do is cause trouble for the people who have done so much for me already.

  “I can’t.”

  “Why?”

  I meet his warm chocolate eyes. “I can’t do anything that might cause trouble for you or your dad.”

  “Let me worry about that.”

  “What if Stormy isn’t my real name?” The words spill out before I can stop them.

  “How could it not be your real name? I’ve seen your ID.”

  “I know. And the detective did, too. But he says the woman on the report looks exactly like me. And her name is Audra Parker.”

  He absorbs that. “Does that name mean anything to you?”

  “I–I don’t know. Maybe.” Tell him or keep it in? The urge to trust him is so strong that I don’t even try to fight it. “It was in a dream I had a few nights ago.”

  “Okay. So maybe she’s a sister. She could even be your twin. That would explain it, right?”

  Do I have a twin? That might explain all the weird, conflicting memories. I’ve heard about twins having some kind of psychic connection. Maybe I’m living some of her memories as well.

  It feels like a stretch, though.

  “But we have different last names.”

  “Maybe she’s married. Or maybe…” He falters. “Maybe you are.”

  I can’t be married. Surely I’d know. Instinctively, if nothing else. Not to mention there was that guy from my dream. Ryan. My cheating, scuzzy, despicable boyfriend.

  Ex-boyfriend. There’s no way I’d ever go out with him again.

  Drew pulls his hand away. “I’ve gotta get back to the customers, but let’s pick this up again later, okay?”

  I nod, not sure what to say.

  “And Stormy.” The intensity in his eyes both pulls me in and scares me away. “Relax. I trust you. And I’m a pretty good judge of character.”

  But even good judges can make mistakes.

  Drew moves back into the bar area to tend to the half dozen tables that still have customers.

  Isn’t it closing time yet? All I really want right now is to go home.

  I could walk. The roads were pretty decent earlier and it’s not that late.

  But the very real concern that Detective Evans will be waiting for me keeps me in my seat.

  While my head still pulses with each heartbeat, the shaking has abated. I reach for my glass and manage a drink.

  Mmmm. Mango iced tea. Now this I remember.

  Humid summer days. Porch swings. Sailboat rides. Luncheons.

  Varied scenes flicker through my mind and with them, the knowledge that I drink tea. Lots and lots of tea. Usually with lemon.

  I like drinking tea on porch swings. Love it on sailboat rides. And it’s the only thing that gets me through fancy luncheons with my mom.

  My mom.

  She flickers into my mind.

  She looks almost exactly like me. Older, obviously, and her eyes are more gray than blue, but our features are the same.

  Could her name be Audra Parker?

  No.

  In my dream, Ryan called me Audra. And somehow, I know that Ryan was my boyfriend, not my mom’s.

  No, no matter what I told Detective Evans or Drew, I’m Audra. I know it. But until I know more about this incident I supposedly witnessed, I can’t tell anyone.

  “Hey, Stormy.”

  I blink as Malachi’s voice filters through my thoughts. He’s standing a few feet away, Sam right behind him.

  Why is Sam here? It’s his day off.

  Then again, he just moved out on his own. Maybe he’s at loose ends.

  I can certainly relate to that.

  In spite of the pain pounding through my head, I manage a smile. “Hey, guys.”

  They pull up stools next to mine.

  As soon as they get settled, I focus in on Sam. “Did you get all unpacked?”

  “Yeah. Doesn’t take long when you don’t have much.”

  “It’s nice that Drew was able to find a furnished apartment for you.”

  “I guess.” He stares at me. “You okay? You look kinda, I dunno, stressed.”

  It’s bad enough that Drew managed to get the story out of me. I’m not going to spill my messy private life to both of them, too. “I have a headache.”

  “I think Charlie keeps aspirin on hand. Want me to check?”

  Sam’s such a nice guy. I don’t know how anyone, much less his father, could be so cruel to him. “Thanks, but I’ll be okay. I’m probably dehydrated or something.”

  I pick up my glass and take a drink for good measure.

  Time for a change of subject. Besides, there’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to Malachi about all day. “Malachi, I have to ask. Yesterday, with Zak’s sister, did you… did you know? That she’d wake up?”

  He shakes his head. “No. I knew God wanted me to pray for her, but I didn’t know God would heal her so quickly.”

  So quickly. Meaning he believed God would heal her. “But how could you know God would do anything?”

  Listen to me, talking like I believe God is there.

  Then again, maybe I do. Yesterday was kind of hard to deny. And Drew and Malachi believe it and they’re both pretty smart guys.

  “God told me.”

  Sam snorts, but doesn’t voice the doubts he and I obviously share.

  “So what? Like a booming voice from a cloud or something?”

  Malachi chuckles softly. “That’s the Hollywood version. No, normally God speaks in a whisper that you hear in your heart.”

  “And the whisper said to pray for her so God could heal her?”

  “Close. I knew I was supposed to pray for her, but God didn’t need my prayers in order to heal her. He could have done it on His own, with or without my prayers. But prayer is how He involves us in what He’s doing. It gives us a chance to not only see what He’s doing, but see that He listens to us and cares about the things that we care about.”

  “Oh yeah? And how’s that working out in my life? Or Sam’s? Where was God when that happened?” I nod at the cast on Sam’s arm.

  “Right beside Sam. I don’t know why God doesn’t stop things like this from happening, but that doesn’t mean He isn’t working in spite of it.” Malachi divides his attention between the two of us. “Take us for example. Sitting here together, talking about all th
is. This has been going on for what, years?”

  Sam nods.

  Malachi slides his gaze back to me. “And then suddenly you show up. And I show up. And Drew comes home. And boom. Sam finally tells someone what’s going on and look where we’re at now.”

  “But why even let it happen in the first place? Why not stop it before it happened?”

  “Because this is an evil world and man has a choice. We all choose whether or not we’re going to do what’s right or do what’s wrong. Those choices impact other people.”

  Drew drops off Malachi’s limeade and Sam’s beer.

  “So, what?” I drop my voice and lean in. “You want me to accept that because some guys chose to do something bad, now I have to run for my life? Like a world made of dominos? Knock one down and the whole thing tumbles?”

  Reaching for the glass, Malachi spears me with an intense look. “You’re in a Friday stage of life. Right now, it’s all you can see. But Sunday is coming.”

  I know Malachi well enough by now to know that there’s a deeper meaning behind those words. “Care to elaborate on what a Friday stage of life is?”

  “It’s the times when things look the worst. The darkest day in all of history was a Friday. Ironically, it’s what we now call Good Friday.”

  Good Friday. It’s a church thing, I think. Yes, comes before Easter. But I can’t for the life of me remember what it’s about. “So if it was the darkest day, why do we call it good?”

  “Because we know what happened on Sunday.” Malachi scoots his barstool back so he can see both me and Sam. “Good Friday is the day that Jesus Christ died to save people from their sins.”

  His gaze is so intense that I fight the instinct to look away.

  “Jesus is the Son of God, who chose to come to earth to be the perfect sacrifice for sin. He chose to be born as a baby and live as a man for the sole purpose of dying a horrible death. On Good Friday.

  “It seemed like the worst day. He was betrayed by a friend. Falsely accused. Publicly beaten and mocked. Forced to walk naked to the place of His execution. Then nailed to a cross and displayed for everyone to watch Him die a slow, excruciating death.”

  Betrayed. The word jumps out at me and brings to mind images of Ryan.

  Yes, I understand betrayal. I may not personally understand the rest, but betrayal I get.