by Jill Cooper
Should I be flattered? Instead my stomach twists with acid at the thought of eating a meal with him. I’m not sure why it revolts me—he has a charming accent, he’s sophisticated and good looking—but my skin shivers at being so close to him.
“Thank you for the offer, but I’m already seeing someone. Exclusive.” Being I’m engaged and all, I flash my ring to him.
“Aww,” Rex’s smiles as if he’s relieved. “Well, maybe in a different time or place, then.”
What a strange thing to say. But I’m quiet as we ride the elevator down together. An awkward silence lingers between us. I cross my wrists and watch the floors count down before we both get off in the lobby. Rex goes left and I head straight ahead with a sigh of relief.
The lobby is filled with paying customers waiting for their chance to rewatch fifteen minutes of their chosen memories. The front desk’s phone continuously rings and is answered as I hurry past. I walk over the Rewind Seal—a clock that’s etched in the floor—and gaze over my shoulder at the bustle.
Why do I feel like I’m escaping something sinister rather than just leaving for the day?
Outside, Don’s limo waits for me, idling by the curb. The chauffer opens the back door and I slip inside. Handsome and smiling, Don hands me a glass of champagne. He’s more relaxed than I’ve seen him in weeks.
“Things went well with Senator O’Reily?”
“I have a feeling he won’t be a problem anymore.” Don grins and we clink our glasses together. That’s something we can both drink to.
Chapter Twelve: Cassidy Winters
We have dinner at my favorite fresh seafood restaurant, and we eat on the balcony overlooking the harbor. The railing and pergola twinkle overhead twinkle thanks to a strand of small lights. When dessert comes, Don reaches across the table to stroke my hand. From the look in his eye, I can tell he has one thing on his mind.
His arm is tight against my waist as we walk along the pier toward the waiting limo. Don’s had a little too much to drink and he stumbles slightly as we lean on the railing. “We could’ve had the valet bring it by.”
Don shrugs. “Then I’d miss how beautiful you look with the harbor sparkling in your eyes and how your hair blows in the breeze.” His arms curl beneath mine and we fall into each other, sharing a romantic kiss that takes my breath away. My lips part against his and I’m sure nothing’s ever felt as perfect as this.
But the problems with Rewind…it all lingers in the back of my mind as his wine-tinged breath takes me away to places I’d thought are kept for fairytales.
****
Back at the penthouse suite we make love, long and hard until we’re both too tired to do anything else. This is where we are building our life together, but it doesn’t feel like mine. There’s always a reminder that it is strictly his. I’m hoping once we marry, things will be different.
Don sleeps beneath the simple white sheet, and I creep from the bed. The gas fireplace warms me as I dress in a pair of skinny jeans. I pair it with a long sleeve blue t-shirt and slip my feet into a pair of high top sneakers. My revolver sits on the dresser, and after great internal debate, I grab it and stick it in the back of my jeans.
Just in case.
I gaze out the window before heading to the elevator and riding it down to the lobby, my mind spinning about what I’m doing. As head of security, going to Rewind after it’s been locked down for the day isn’t exactly prohibited, but going through Dr. Crane’s files…. well, that was another story.
The doorman tips his hat at me as he gets the door. “Can I get the car for you, Ms. Winters?”
I grease his palm with a few crisp bills. “This time I rather walk. If you could keep this between us…”
He winks his response. “It never happened.”
Just what I like to hear.
****
I approach the Prudential Tower, and just beyond it is the skyscraper that Rewind calls home. The lobby lights are dim for the night. When I knock, the nighttime security guard, Thomas, lets me in. “Everything okay, Cass?”
“Sure. Just some late-night paperwork I forgot to file for Patricia.” I grimace and suck in my breath to make it appear bad.
Thomas widens his eyes as he locks the door behind me. “Damn. Go on up.”
“Thank you.” I snap my finger at him, playfully, “Our secret, right?”
“Like you were never here.” It’s becoming a trend.
I slip over the security carousel and push the button to call the elevator. My stomach is tight as I step on and I get a sinking feeling that I’ve done this before. But I haven’t. It’s one of the worst cases of de javu I’ve ever had.
I get off on the main security level where my office is. Inside, it’s dark and the monitors are off as nighttime security runs through the lobby. At my private office, I grab the copy of skeleton keys in my locked drawer. I show myself out, making sure the halls are clear before I take the stairwell up another three levels.
To the private lab of Miranda Crane.
Delilah’s screensaver rotates on her screen, dimly lighting the way. I slip on a pair of black gloves and, using security’s access code that gives us carte blanche I disable the alarm system and unlock the door.
The office is bigger than most people’s apartments. Bookcases line the wall, shelves jam-packed with binders, and there are two tan leather sofas in the middle of the room. I head to the back to the sprawling desk and then behind it to the filing cabinet.
Just what I’m looking for.
Drawer after drawer, I search for information on Test Subject One—Molly. I find information on everyone but her. My failure to cross-reference her last name leaves me drifting in the dark. Sighing, hands on my hips, I think back to what Molly said.
She’d called Miranda Mom.
I search under Crane and I find nothing about Molly, but instead I find a folder marked Lara—the girl Molly thinks we should all know. Maybe I hadn’t found anything on Molly yet, but maybe this will unlock what I need to know.
Pulling it out, I allow the filing cabinet to close as I flip through the information in the folder.
Police reports, autopsy diagrams, and lists of suspects for the break-in from over fifteen years ago. My heart stills at the photo of a little girl’s cupped hand, her body just out of frame. I flip page after page, looking for how all of this is relevant in anyway when I come to Lara’s smiling school picture.
I’m taken back by how much she looks like Molly from the chin to the brown curly hair. Is it possible they’re the same person and somehow Miranda figured out a way to use time travel to bring her here?
It doesn’t feel right. That’s not the right answer. I have to keep digging.
Bringing out my smart phone, I use it to take photos of the file. If it’s important—I don’t know yet—but in my gut, I think it is. After I organize the folder the way I’d found it, I slide it into the filing cabinet, prepared to slink away.
When I grab the door handle it starts to spin in my hand. It is pulled open and I stare into the dumbfounded face of Miranda Crane.
Chapter Thirteen: Cassidy Winters
“What are you doing in my office?” Her words rip through the air, indignant and arrogant as ever, but there’s something different about her eyes. They’re wider, almost manic as she looks me up and down.
I swallow my own misgivings and play the only card that can get me out of this. “Official business. Maybe I should be asking you while you’re here so late at night? Don’t you have a family to go home to, Dr. Crane?”
“That’s an insensitive question.” Her scowl falters and she holds onto the door tight. “Who sent you here?” Miranda’s question almost demands an answer consider the fury with which she asks it. “Did Patricia send you?”
The question throws me off guard. I’d thought they are the best of buddies, but if Miranda suspects her of something… “And if she did?”
Miranda steps through the door and glances over her shoulder
and out into the hall before she grabs my wrist. “You can’t listen to her. Please, Cassidy. I just need a little more time. Don’t tell her I was here, please. Tell her…something. Anything you think that’ll work. Please.” She tacks the please on with sincerity.
I’m not used to seeing the great Dr. Crane beg for anything, especially not from me.
“What does she have on you?” My eyes narrow with suspicion and I think back to the file on Lara Crane I had just found. “Does this have something to do with your daughter?”
“Of course, it does,” Miranda hisses. “You know that! Everything that is happening has to do with her!”
“I don’t know anything. I came here to find out information on Molly, but I found nothing on her at all. Only a file on your daughter.”
“So Patricia didn’t send you?” Miranda closes her eyes as if in a silent prayer and the color slowly returns to her cheeks. “Then why are you here? What are you up to?”
I cross my arms and stare her down. “What does Patricia have to do with your daughter?”
“Everything,” Miranda whispers, tears springing up to her eyes. “But we can’t talk here. It’s not safe. We’ll meet tomorrow.” She searches her purse for a piece of paper. On it she writes something and shoves it into my hand. “You can get away for lunch, can’t you?”
I commit the address to memory before I stuff it in my jeans pocket. “I’ll be there.”
“This conversation never happened.” Miranda pulls her purse strap onto her shoulder and tosses her hair back. “You can make sure of that, can’t you? Clean the security tapes. Immediately.”
Doing so would get me fired if I was caught, but I nod. She has the answers I need and her fear of Patricia surprises me. More than anything, my curiosity must be sated and Patricia can never know I was here.
“It better be worth all this trouble,” I warn her. “If it’s not, I go to Patricia James myself.”
A lie, but a good one. Miranda’s face grinds with fear and I realize how dangerous Patricia, my future mother-in-law, must be to inspire that kind of fear.
In the security office, I do as I promised Miranda. I remove the security tapes so it looks like neither I nor Miranda were ever there, and I clear the visitor’s logs so it looks like no one visited the Rewind Agency after dark on the night in question. I’m reasonably sure that Patricia never speaks to the guards about such matters, she barely speaks at me except to bark orders.
On my way out, I wave good-bye to Thomas, doing my best to smile and stay cordial.
When I get back home, the penthouse is still dark. The gas fireplace has dimmed in my absence and I change out of my clothes and slip into my pajama bottoms. Back in the bed, I shimmy under the covers and Don stirs.
He moans, one arm thrown over his forehead as his other hand reaches for me, pulling me down for a kiss. “There you are, Lara,” he whispers, half asleep. “I’ve missed you.”
Lara was just a girl when she’d died. Donovan would’ve just been a young boy. It wasn’t possible for Don to know her, but he does.
It seems we all do.
Chapter Fourteen: Lara Crane
Rick barely speaks in the morning as we prepare for Jax to swing by. I dress in a pair of comfortable jeans and a stretchy blue top. It’s the dressiest thing I seem to own. I wash the dishes and Rick busies himself tidying up the apartment in order to avoid having to talk.
The previous tense night replays in my mind and Rick’s angry voice loops like a resounding echo trapped inside a cave. “How could you do this? You’ve thrown away both of our futures! We’re supposed to be married, Lara. Married!”
But he’s not the one who’s a cold-blooded murderer; that all falls on me. Or a version of me I could’ve become. And now I’m stuck here for the time being—or maybe forever. The pain and remorse of realizing what I’m capable of—under the right set of circumstances—leaves me reeling.
Today I have to pull it together. I need to search for an answer, stretch my powers.
Find a way home.
When the knock comes, I turn off the faucet and turn to Rick. He stares me down, a stack of magazines in his hand. The knock comes again, more urgent this time.
“Can we get the door and at least pretend that everything is all right?”
Rick storms over and pulls the door open. “Sorry,” he apologizes to Jax, “things have been hectic this morning.”
“It’s all right, Mr. Miller.” Jax shakes his hand as he steps inside. “I understand things are tense and overwhelming right now.” He puts his briefcase up onto the counter and snaps it open. “Morning, Lara.”
The nonchalant way in which he addresses me isn’t surprising, but it throws me. “Morning.” I twist the dish towel in my hand. Rick walks over to greet me. He glances over me and for a brief moment pushes my short hair to the side, inspecting. “He bruised your neck in the attack? Are you all right?”
Donovan. Just the mention of what had transpired between us, awakens my nerves. It’s like being punched in the stomach.
“I’ll live.” I grimace—what a poor choice of words that was.
“We’ll need to get you to the police station so that can be documented.” Jax pauses and waits for me to agree before continuing, “The police spoke with the lawyer for the James family. Donovan will be arriving at the station for questioning later this afternoon. I’ll escort you both there to make your statements.”
“Statements?” Rick rolls his eyes. “He should be arrested. He broke the door off its hinges and slammed Lara against the wall.”
“I know.” Jax sighs and puts his hand in his pocket. “It’s not fair, I get that, but the way this town works…. The James’s have money. They contribute to the police, to the community. His mother was a senator for God sakes.”
“So that’s it, then?” Rick snorts and shakes his head. “Lara will be railroaded and it won’t matter what he does to us?”
“No,” Jax says firmly. “It does matter and I’ll make sure his lawyer understands that if Donovan does this again, he won’t get off so easily.”
“Right,” Rick says dryly and walks away. When he slams the bathroom door, I jump.
“Sorry,” I mutter. “This is hard on him. His brother went to jail and…” I shake my head and let my thoughts trail off.
“Everything okay between you two?” Jax’s eyes narrow as he studies me and it triggers my nerves. It’s like growing up in his house all over again.
“Just stress, like you said when you came in.”
“Shelve it as soon as you can. The more unified we can make you seem as you confront this injustice by the James family, the better. Today when we get to the police station, I need you both to hold hands when you enter.”
Slowly, I nod. “We can pull it off.”
“Good.” Jax glances at my neck one more time. “Wear your hair up. The cameras will love that.”
My eyes widen as I realize what he’s saying. “Did you tip the press off about what happened? Won’t that get you in trouble?”
“Cases are won and lost in the public courts, Lara. The public is just dying to see something about you they can get behind. No one likes the little person being railroaded by the wealthy, powerful family.” Jax picks up his briefcase and heads to the door.
“You really think I can win this?”
“If we play our cards right. Let’s start today.” Jax smiles. “Your attitude already seems a lot better than it has in previous days. I know it’s hard to keep that chip off your shoulder, but good work. I’ll see you this afternoon once you get off work.”
Work? Someone would actually still employ me with the murder charges hanging over my head?
“Right.” Nervously I ask, “And that’d be where, exactly?”
Jax laughs and shakes his briefcase at me. “Incorrigible. You’re still going with that amnesia thing?”
“Amnesia thing?”
“I’ll bite.” Jax sighs but his eyes say he thinks I’m playing wi
th him. “You were unconscious when the police found you. You said you remembered going to see Patricia James but nothing else. Remember now?”
I nod. “Sure, yeah. I’m a real character.”
“The hospital seemed to think so.” Jax bids me farewell and as he leaves, I shut the door and lean against it.
He never answered my question. Maybe there’s more to the story. Maybe there’s a way out of this after all that proves something else was going on other than my rage at an unjust system. Time to find out, but first, I knock on the bathroom door.
“Are you ever coming out of there?” I cross my arms.
Rick pulls the door open and his face is a cross between angry and contrite. “It was probably pretty immature of me to lock myself in the bathroom.”
At my feet, Sparky barks a passionate ‘Yes.’
It makes Rick smile. “I can’t say I’m happy, but I’ll drive you to work on my way to school.”
“School?”
Rick blinks at my blank stare. “Community college. I’m working on my bachelors. You’ve been supportive of it….in the past.”
“Still am.” I force a smile and pat his arms. “Great job!”
“You are acting so weird. I guess murdering someone—” He sighs as I gasp and back away from him. “Sorry, I just thought…you were supposed to be better than that, Lara. I was the screw-up. I was the mistake, not you.”
With mournful despair, Rick walks away toward the bedroom and leaves me staring at him. I swallow hard. I’ll make it up to him, somehow. I’ll make it up to everyone here. If this Lara Crane really does have amnesia, then someone has set her up.
And I’ll figure out who did and if it had really been me…
Maybe it’s time to finally live with some consequences.
****
Toilets.
I flush the toilet and toss my brush into my cleaning pail. Sitting back on my heels, I pull off the orange rubber gloves and wipe my sweaty brow. Being a cleaning lady to the wealthy hadn’t exactly been on my bucket list of jobs to hold, but here I am, cleaning a giant home a few streets over from where the James’s live. Here I am, scrubbing toilets and the bathroom floor corners. Exhausting work, but I am nearly done for the day.