“You think he saw what you saw?”
“I don’t know how. It was my regression, how could he see it?”
“Maybe he was shocked by the idea of you regressing into a past life.”
“Why? He had no reason to believe it until later. It makes no sense.”
“Nothing does in this whole thing?” He pulled her close to him, almost protectively. Her baby was napping and the house was unusually still.
“I called Dr. Caslow.” She laid her head on his shoulder. “She didn’t have much to say.”
“Did you tell her about us… the ‘old’ us?”
“Yeah. She thought it was very interesting.”
“That’s all? Just very interesting? What about all the crap she fed you about no such thing as past lives. Feldman must have told her why he was kicking you to her.”
“I asked. No comment. Just wanted to know how I was making out.”
“Great! No clue on Feldman’s whereabouts, huh?” he asked.
“Didn’t ask. Didn’t know he was incommunicado at the time.”
“More likely hiding out.”
“That’s ridiculous, Craig. Why would he hide? He did nothing wrong, legally or morally. There must be something else. Maybe a vacation?”
“The service said he canceled a whole week of appointments. That eliminates a planned vacation, wouldn’t you say?”
“I suppose. Well, we’ll just have to wait until he gets back. Meanwhile, you promised me a whole day tomorrow.”
“Right. I was thinking about a picnic… ”
“A little cool for the beach, isn’t it?”
“I was thinking more of the Preserves. I found a great, secluded spot we can ride the horses to. There’s even a little pond for atmosphere.”
She shivered slightly and snuggled more tightly into his body. A mental video of a shaded meadow, towering oaks and a tumbling stream reeled briefly through her head.
“Something wrong with that?”
“No, it’s okay. Sounds like fun.” Was it also deja vu?
It was sixteen years since she and Allen Clarke were spooked while picnicking in the Skokie Lagoons. Not surprising, considering what happened to her twice before. Could this little venture be tempting fate?
A third time to die?
She shook her head, gritting her teeth. That was then, hundreds of years ago. She refused to let foolish memories of ancient times get in the way of her happiness now.
Nothing really to worry about.
So, why was she so tense?
CHAPTER NINETY-ONE
“Still no word from Dr. Feldman?” Ashley had just finished packing their picnic. Craig hovered behind, his hands lightly on her shoulders. They had remained circumspect in her house.
“Nothing” he replied. “His service hasn’t heard from him all week. The girl actually sounded concerned. Said that even when he’s away, he never goes more than two days without calling in for messages.”
“You think he’s all right?”
“Don’t know, but it’d sure be a lousy trick for him to disappear, or maybe die, before we had a chance to learn what’s going on.”
“Oh, Craig.” She shoved him playfully. “What a terrible thing to say.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m just frustrated. I really like the guy.”
Hefting the pair of wicker saddlebags, bulging at the seams, the necks of wine bottles protruding from each corner, he grinned.
“Looks like enough there for an army.”
“I just wanted to be sure we had everything.”
She was incredibly sexy when she did her “little girl” pout. He pulled her into his arms, tilting her face up, her warm gray eyes igniting a fire in him.
“You are everything. I don’t know how I’ve lived so long without you.”
“Yeah.” She smiled at him. “A hundred and fifty years is a very long time.”
“Damned tootin’.” They shared a soft, lingering kiss, filled more with a delicious warmth than a flaming heat. She sighed.
“Not now, lover.” He nodded, stepping away, one hand trailing along her arm.
“You’re right,” he said. “We start this and we’ll miss our picnic. It’s a beautiful day.”
She gathered a light denim jacket and a large canteen filled with cold water. Dressed in faded jeans and a light-green plaid flannel shirt, she looked nothing like a French countess, or even the daughter of a Philadelphia shipping tycoon. She was Ashley Bradford now (he’d already dropped the name Easton from his thoughts) and that was fine with him.
“So, do we ride the horses to this place?” she asked.
“Gotta drive first. I borrowed my trainer’s Explorer and trailer. It’s about a 45 minute drive, then maybe a thirty minute ride. But there’s no hurry. We got all day.”
“Right. The kids won’t be home from school ‘til after Three, and Maria’s here with the baby. She’ll have dinner ready, even if we run late.”
“Good. It’s no fun if we’re rushed.”
“You’re eating with us tonight, aren’t you?”
“If I’m invited.”
“You’re always invited. I want… I need my life filled with you. Day and night!”
“Me, too, but isn’t that a little premature. The night thing, I mean. We’re both still married, and what about the kids?”
“We’ve had legal separations for months. We’d already be free if it weren’t for all the haggling. I’m getting my final decree the end of next week, thank God.”
“About time, isn’t it? Rudolph’s dragging Toni in, screaming and yelling, but mine should be over in a few weeks, too.”
“She’s still threatening you? You don’t think she could be… ”
“I don’t know. She’s a lot of things, but I don’t know if she could stomach murder. Her brother, Brad, maybe… ”
“Jeez, that’s scary.” She shook her head, arching russet eyebrows. “These people have no grasp of reality, do they?”
“Nope. They seem to feel they’re exempt. But I’m not gonna let them dictate our lives for us. They’ve done that for too many years already.”
“Yes, too many bad times, treading water, watching the years slide by. But, we have each other now, and that’s why I want you here every chance I get. Ricky and Beth need to get to know you better, and Janine can grow up with you. I’ve waited all these years… hundreds of years… and I’m not going to let them make me wait any longer.”
“Okay, then. Together day and night. But let’s not flaunt it. No need to give ‘em any new ammunition in these last days of the war.”
“Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn.”
He marveled at the look of fierce independence that filled her face. She turned at the door, looking back into the house.
“Maria, we’re going. Should be home by Four. Mr. Thornton is staying for dinner.”
“Si, senora. Buena suerte.”
“What?” Craig asked.
“Good luck. Strange thing to say.”
They hurried through the door to the waiting SUV and trailer.
CHAPTER NINETY-TWO
The monstrosity of it!
His face covered with perspiration, he lay shivering on his sofa for a moment before opening his eyes. He blinked several times, searching the familiar surroundings of his den. No danger here. Not yet, at least.
Bruce Feldman’s hand touched his neck tentatively. He swallowed. Everything was working. Only memories, but he shuddered at their reality.
Such cold-blooded calculation, right to the end. And when it was over, others shouldered the guilt, freeing this maniac to continue life unfettered by conscience or punishment.
Got to get up, shake it off, get a hold of myself.
This final trip had drained Bruce Feldman’s reserves, sucking away his energy.
Five agonizing ventures back to the 17th and 19th Centuries in search of the truth… a full accounting of what really happened to two young people brutally denied their li
ves together, and how he had been involved.
He gingerly turned his head side to side, stretching the cramped muscles of his neck, thinking again of his own complicity, and how that bastard had let no one stand in the way.
He’d finally reconstructed most of story from both lives… and deaths… each trip becoming easier, clearer, more detailed… and more frightening. He’d see things through his eyes, both before and after the horrible deaths of Ashley and Craig in those lives.
He was now certain of his companion there, and the psychotic logic spawning such ghastly deeds. The two lovers weren’t the only ones who had suffered.
And, one more thing he learned. Ashley’s and Craig’s murderer was here again, living in Chicago, and certainly knew them. He doubted the motive to kill had changed very much over the past 300 years.
Feldman struggled to a sitting position, rubbing his arms across his body, his throat dry and raw, his head pounding. Once again, the two young people were in danger. After what he’d just learned, that might be sooner than later.
The private line on his phone was winking a message. Patients were looking for him through his service, but he had no time to retrieve complaints from a bunch of neurotics. There was a much more important task at hand.
The clock was running.
He massaged the back of his neck, trying to ease the tension cramps. He waggled his tongue back and forth between his cheeks and then over his teeth. The ache at the back of his mouth slowly dissipated.
Damn, those visions were vivid… painfully vivid. He needed to revise those self-hypnotism tapes and how he handled this with patients. There certainly wasn’t enough insulation from regressed sensations, especially now that he understood their reality.
He heaved himself to his feet and lumbered somewhat unsteadily into the bathroom, looking for pain-killers. The thunder in his head was keeping an agonizing beat with his heart.
After washing down three pills with a large glass of water, he returned to his study, slumping into his desk chair, propping his head up in his hands, elbows on the desk, fingers gently massaging his temples. He’d give the medication a few minute to begin working before he tried to reach Craig Thornton.
Thirty minutes later, feeling more relaxed, the throbbing in his head relegated to distant drums, he dialed Craig’s office.
“Sorry, Doctor,” Melissa, Craig’s personal assistant, said. “Mr. Thornton has been out most of the week.”
“He hasn’t been there at all?”
“Well, yeah. A half-day on Tuesday and a few hours yesterday morning. But he told me he’d be gone all day today, and maybe tomorrow. We might not see him before Monday.”
“Can he afford to be gone that much, Melissa?” He was just treading water, wondering what to do next, trying to cordon off the rising tide of irrational anger, swirling out of the depths of his subconscious.
“Oh, sure. If there’s no new sales promos on tap, this joint pretty well runs itself.”
“Okay. Well, leave word I called, but I’m going to try to track him down.”
“Is it that important?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“Then try Mrs. Easton. He’s probably over there.”
“Just what I had in mind, Melissa. Thanks.”
Fucking that immoral bitch, ruining their marriages.
He blinked
Stop it! For God’s sake, stop it! None of this was their fault. He wasn’t an avenging angel. Not in this lifetime, anyhow.
At least he hoped not!
He sat for a moment, struggling to relax every particle of his being. His headache was under the control of the pain-killers. Time to act professionally. He flipped open his book, searching for Ashley Easton’s phone number. A moment later, the phone was answered.
“Bueno?”
“Hello?” Who was this, the nanny?
“Si?”
“Is this Mrs. Easton’s residence?”
“Si.”
“Is she there?”
“No. No es here.”
“Do you know where she is?” He spoke slowly and clearly.
“No. No es here. Go out.”
“Was she alone?”
“No. With Senor Thornton.”
“You don’t know where they went?”
“No, senor.”
This was getting frustrating. He’d better go to there to await their return. Better speak to them today. Time may be running out.
He slammed the lid hard on the pulsing thread of fury trying to sneak out of the iron vault to which he had banished it.
CHAPTER NINETY-THREE
Bruce Feldman paced restlessly in front of the unlit fireplace of the sitting room. Despite his preoccupation, he couldn’t help but appreciate the classic elegance Ashley had produced in modern ranch house. The walls, dark raised-panel cherry, were accented with intricate moldings, the furnishings 17th Century French… antiques or reproductions? He wasn’t expert enough to know. Was all this a subconscious reflection of her life as Victoria du Chevalier? It seemed likely.
“Sorry, senor. La bambina, the wet diaper.”
“No problem,” he said, “but I must find Mrs. Easton. She didn’t tell you when she was expected home?”
“No, senor. Only that Senor Thornton, he will take the dinner with us.”
“But no specific time?”
“Si, after four, I think. Maybe later.”
“Oh? Why is that?”
“They take mucho food and vino. No have the hunger for many horas after.”
“They packed a lunch, you mean?”
“Si. For the… como se dice? Picnic? Si, una picnic.”
“They went on a picnic?” He started to shake, his voice cracking. This was terrible!
Fucking everybody else while they’re fucking each other! They don’t give a damn for...”
No! Shut up, he ordered the restrained anger, hammering on the door of its cell. He beat it back with a wavering determination. He was there to help, not kill… he hoped!
“Where, Maria? For God’s sake, you must know where.”
“No se, senor. They go on los caballos, I think. Me see the trailer.”
“On the horses? A picnic by horseback?”
“Si, es possible.”
Damn! Just like twice before. Won’t they ever learn?
But, how would they really know? Probably jumping the gun, but it didn’t feel like paranoid delusions. It felt dangerous. He had to find them. But to do what? That was what worried him.
“Think, woman! It’s very important. Didn’t you hear anything that might tell me where to look.”
“Maybe...” Eyes cast down, stroking her chin. “... a drive... Si, he says quarenta-cinco… forty-five minutas they drive. Me remember. Forty-five minutas they drive, then on los caballos una media hora.” She looked at him, shrugging.
“This helps?” she asked.
“It’s a start. Thanks. May I use the phone.
She nodded, pointing to the small table near a large stuffed chair.
CHAPTER NINETY-FOUR
They arrived at Craig’s secret glade just after Noon. In no hurry, they had enjoyed the countryside as they cruised leisurely up Highway 60 toward their destination.
It always amazed her how rural this area remained, so close the bustling city. At first there were scattered residential enclaves, mostly modern cookie-cutter homes, pandering to young executives and professionals looking for secure neighborhoods. Even these were separated by fields and surprisingly thick woods. Farther out, everything was farm land and trees, the houses rustic and widely spaced.
The entrance to the state park was so densely forested, it could have been northern Wisconsin. Once inside, they found wide fields dotted with barbecues, picnic tables, volleyball nets and a softball diamond near the parking lot. A few canoes and kayaks were beached along the shore of a small lake, sparkling like a sapphire in the late morning sun. Paved bike and unpaved hiking trails split off into various direction i
nto a lush woods of tall firs, oaks and maples. Horse paths, lightly used or regularly maintained, trailed into the woods. They were smooth and uncluttered by droppings.
They unloaded Injun and Bellwether, Craig’s horse, at the back of the lot and saddled up. Both animals accepted the bulky wicker baskets without fuss, and they were off for a leisurely ride through the trees, pausing frequently to observe two cardinals and other colorful birds, flittering among the branches. Small animals, busy with unknown tasks, darted along the path.
After about fifteen minutes, Craig turned off the trail and into the woods. Ashley followed along a scarce track she would never have noticed on her own. They arrived, a half mile later, to an idyllic clearing. Wild flowers perfumed the air, a thick cushion of grass carpeting the ground, a serenade performed by the gentle burbling of a tiny creek wending its way sinuously along the shaded border of the little meadow. They dismounted, standing in silent awe for several minutes, just absorbing the peaceful glory of the spot.
“How did you ever find this place?” she asked. “It’s so beautiful.”
“Yeah, isn’t it? I like to explore. Found some survey maps and kinda suspected this might be here. It’s better’n I expected.”
“It’s marvelous. And it feels so comfortable, almost like I’ve been here before.”
“Funny, me too.” He took her free hand in his.
“You know what I think?” she asked, still gazing at the surrounding woods.
“What?”
“This is a lot like the place where we were first together.”
“When? We’ve never been in a place like this that I can remember.”
“You’re not thinking back far enough.”
“I don’t understand.” He turned her to him.
“Close your eyes and visualize it.” Hers closed as she spoke. “Remember that spot… not now, but 300 years ago. Don’t you see it?”
“Oh, yeah, I see what you mean. It did look like this, didn’t it? You were so beautiful, my Victoria...”
“As you were handsome, my dashing Earl...”
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