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  Caught up in her panic, Kiera didn’t know what to do. She was so off balance she felt like she was in free fall and had no idea which direction was up. When she turned her head, the motion, combined with the motion of the turning car, made it feel as though they were spinning out of control.

  Somehow, she followed the car as it whizzed past them. The slanting rays of the setting sun reflected off the windshield, but through the side window, she caught a glimpse of the driver that made her heart stop in her chest.

  “You get the number?” Nate asked, his voice laced with agitation.

  Kiera couldn’t respond. Like earlier today at the cemetery, the person in the car looked exactly like her. She forgot to exhale and held her breath until her chest burned like it was on fire. Gasping loudly, she finally expelled the last traces of air from her lungs, but the dizziness that gripped her only got worse. As Nate straightened out the car following the turn, it felt as though they had hit a patch of black ice and were spinning around and around in wide, lazy circles.

  Through her confusion, Kiera somehow kept focused on the car that had been following them as it sped down the road. There was no way she could make out the license plate number, and in a flash, the car disappeared around the bend, swallowed by the intervening trees that lined the roadside.

  “Did you get it?”

  Still swept up by vertigo, Kiera couldn’t respond. She braced herself with both hands on the car seat, and after taking another deep breath, somehow managed to speak.

  “Stop the car! Now!”

  Nate applied the brakes, and the car coasted to a gentle stop, the tires hissing in the dirt on the side of the road. Before the car even stopped moving, Kiera swung the door open and, leaning out while clinging to the door handle, vomited onto the roadside. Wave after wave of nausea rushed over her, bathing her body with cold sweat.

  “Christ, Kiera,” Nate said.

  The sick, sour taste of vomit filled her mouth and throat, gagging her. She exhaled and tried to take another breath, but fluid got into her lungs and made her cough before more vomit gushed from her mouth, splattering the roadside and the inside of the car door. Nate placed his hand on her back and patted her gently, but his touch didn’t seem to matter.

  When she tried to speak, her stomach convulsed again. She closed her eyes, convinced she was going to die where she was, and she almost wished she would. The pain in her stomach was intolerable. It felt like she was being ripped apart by huge, invisible claws inside her. Staring into the flickering darkness that spiraled behind her closed eyes, she imagined a voice was calling to her. It was faint and faraway, and there was no way she could make out what it was saying above the rumble of the car’s engine and her own violent retching sounds, but one thought cut through everything else.

  She could hear a voice—her own voice, calling to her. She couldn’t tell what it was saying, but it seemed to be getting closer, and when it did, she was terrified that she would hear what it had to say all too well.

  4

  “She what?”

  Kiera was sure she couldn’t handle another shock today, and she wanted to believe she hadn’t heard Nate correctly, but the expression on his face told her otherwise.

  “She’s moving out . . . She’s already left.”

  Stunned and filled with sudden rage, Kiera stood there in the kitchen, her mouth hanging open as she looked around the house. The second they got home, Kiera had rushed to the kitchen sink for a glass of water to rinse the aftertaste of vomit from her mouth. She had splashed cool water on her face and was reaching for a hand towel when she had asked where Trista was. It was then that Nate told her Trista had moved in with Robbie.

  “You knew about this?” she shouted. “And you didn’t tell me all day? You let me . . .”

  After everything else that had happened today, she was too wrung out even to stand. She couldn’t believe she could feel this angry. Her pulse pounded in her head, and her vision blurred as she listened to the total silence of the house.

  “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you stop her?”

  Nate shrugged as he stared at her. He looked so helpless, so utterly useless it was almost ridiculous.

  “When did she leave?”

  Nate bowed his head and focused on the floor.

  “She told me this morning, before I left to pick you up.” His voice broke the terrible silence of the house.

  “I want you to call her right now! I’ll call her. I want her home now!” She paused and swallowed hard, still tasting the residue of vomit. “No. Call the police. We’ll report that she’s a minor and she’s with an older man. If that scumbag even so much as touches her, I’ll charge him with rape, the lousy son of a bitch. This is my daughter we’re talking about!” She paused and looked wide-eyed at Nate, overwhelmed by a sudden feeling of betrayal. “But how could you . . . ? How could you let her do this to me?”

  “What choice did I have?” Nate said with a shrug. He could barely make eye contact with her, and Kiera wondered if he realized just how ineffectual he sounded. “While you were in the hospital, we talked about—”

  He stopped himself, and Kiera could see he didn’t want to say what he was going to say. After everything else she had been through today, she was so exhausted she didn’t think she could handle this. She closed her eyes and wished with all her strength that this last bit of news would finish her off, kill her so she wouldn’t have to deal with it anymore. If she was dead, she wouldn’t have to face the train wreck her life had become.

  “About what?” she asked in a low, shattered voice. Nate looked at her, his eyes shining with a distant gleam that only emphasized how far apart they had grown.

  “She said she really appreciated not having you around, that when you weren’t here, she finally realized how much tension and hostility you added to the family.”

  “Me?” Kiera sagged back and had to support herself with both hands on the counter. The strength drained out of her as a heady, floating feeling took hold of her. When she looked down, she was surprised to see that she was not lying flat on the floor.

  “That I add to the family . . . ?” she said, more distantly.

  She recognized her own voice but had no sensation of speaking the words out loud. They echoed inside her head like a far-off rumble of thunder. When she looked around the kitchen, she had the sensation that her head kept rotating. She was carried away by that same unnerving, disconnected feeling she had experienced on the drive home.

  “I’m sorry,” Nate said, “I should have told you sooner, but I wanted to prepare you for it.”

  “This is how you prepare me for it?”

  Kiera locked eyes with him, and he stared back at her, his gaze cutting through her with such intensity it made her feel uncomfortable, and she had to look away. No matter where she looked, she could imagine someone she couldn’t see was lurking nearby, watching her. The dissociated feeling got so strong she was suddenly convinced it was herself—her real self—who was watching this with a cool, clinical, almost amused detachment.

  “Nate,” she heard herself say. “I can’t . . . after everything else that’s happened, I just can’t take this.”

  “I know,” Nate said, but Kiera’s only clear thought was, Do you really?

  She wanted to run upstairs and dive into bed. If she could just go to sleep, maybe all of this would go away . . . maybe she’d wake up and find out this had all been a dream, but there was no way she could sleep. She wondered if she should take a little extra pain medication to get to sleep . . . or maybe knock back a belt or two of whiskey, but she doubted even that would help.

  I have to do something—anything—to get away from this!

  She knew she was as close as she had ever been to having a complete nervous breakdown . . . That was, if her mind hadn’t snapped already and she just didn’t realize it yet.

  Maybe that’s it . . . Maybe I’m already so far gone I don’t even realize how crazy I am . . . I never had an operation .
. . There was never a growth in my brain . . . I had a mental breakdown, and I’ve been in a psych ward all this time . . . I’m so out of it I don’t even know how bad off I am!

  A small, rational part of her mind told her this wasn’t true—it couldn’t be—but she had been under so much stress lately that any explanation seemed not only reasonable but probable.

  “I . . . I have to lie down,” she said in a voice not much more than a gasp.

  “Let me help you,” Nate said, moving forward and offering his arm for support.

  Kiera leaned against him, but she was surprised how distant and cold he felt. Even when he helped her, Nate didn’t seem to really be there for her. A terrible sadness gripped her as she contemplated just how much she and Nate had lost.

  “We have to do something . . . about Trista,” she said feebly as they moved down the hallway toward the stairs.

  “I will. I’ll call and tell her she has to come home.”

  As they started up the stairs, every step made Kiera feel weaker and weaker. Her insides were vibrating like jelly, and her vision was blurred. When a thick, sour taste filled her throat, she was afraid she was going to vomit again, but there was nothing left in her stomach to throw up.

  “Make sure you do,” she said. “Promise me you’ll get her home, ’cause if you don’t, I’ll drive over there myself and drag her home.”

  “There’s no need to talk like that,” Nate said. His calm, reasonable tone only made Kiera’s anger at him flare all the higher.

  Once upstairs, they made their way down the hall to their bedroom. When Nate pushed the door open, Kiera thought the bed looked too far away and too high for her to get onto, but she collapsed face-first onto the mattress.

  “You want me to help you undress?” Nate asked.

  Kiera snorted and shook her head, rubbing her face against the pillow. Wave after wave of darkness was dragging her down, but still, she couldn’t quite let go. She desperately clung to consciousness until she heard Nate on the phone. She assumed he was talking to Trista and wanted to stay awake until her daughter was safely home, but she couldn’t resist the dreamy, downward fall that was pulling her down . . . down . . . down . . .

  5

  Kiera wasn’t sure when the voices had started, and for a long time, she thought she might have been the one talking. No, not talking—yelling. One voice in particular rose higher than the other, which at first she assumed was Nate.

  But it wasn’t Nate. As alienated as she felt from her husband, his voice never made her feel the way this voice did, so gruff and demanding.

  “You said you wanted more beer . . . So get it.”

  Kiera strained to see where she was, but darkness surrounded her, closing in around her like a wet woolen blanket. She found it difficult to breathe the humid air. Even so, the man’s voice sent chills through her.

  “Why d’you want something to drink?” the man’s voice said. “We’re relaxin’ now, ain’t we?”

  Kiera’s stomach muscles clenched when she finally recognized who was speaking. It was Robbie Townsend. So that other voice—the woman—must be Trista. Chills ran up Kiera’s back when she realized—somehow—she was hearing an argument between Trista and her boyfriend.

  Did she bring him home?

  Are they in her bedroom?

  Would she have the nerve to do something like that?

  She realized Robbie’s voice was slurred. It was obvious he’d been drinking.

  “Whassa matter? You ain’t relaxed? You can’t relax without somethin’ to drink? S’that it?”

  “No.”

  That was definitely Trista. The tightness she heard in her daughter’s voice filled Kiera with concern for her. Something bad was happening here.

  Why can’t I wake up?

  Why isn’t Nate doing something about this?

  As she listened, the light began to brighten around her, and she saw two figures—Trista and Robbie. They were sprawled on a couch in a room that looked like a bomb had gone off. Litter was strewn everywhere—empty beer bottles, fast-food wrappers, pizza boxes, dirty clothes, newspapers . . . It was a total mess, and Kiera wanted to tell Trista to get out of there, but for some reason, she couldn’t make her mouth form any words.

  “Come on,” Robbie said as he stood up and wiped away the drool that was leaking from the corner of his mouth. “Whadda’ yah say we go to bed?”

  “I don’t want to,” Trista said in a low and controlled voice. “Not right now, anyway.”

  “That’s fucking bullshit.”

  Kiera watched, helpless to move, as he jabbed his forefinger at her, hitting her on the breastbone hard enough to make her wince.

  Get out of there! Kiera wanted to shout, but her voice was trapped inside her.

  “I don’t have to prove anything,” Trista said as she backed away from him.

  Kiera watched as she turned to the door. Robbie, still sprawled on the floor, shifted forward so he was balanced on his knees and started to run his zipper down. Before he got far, he lost his balance and fell backward, hitting his head on the edge of the couch.

  Trista squealed, her hand shaking as she threw open the deadbolt lock and darted out onto the porch.

  “Where the fuck you going? Get back here!” Robbie bellowed, but Trista slammed the door shut behind her and ran down the stairs to the parking lot.

  The scene shifted, and Kiera found herself moving along beside her daughter as she ran across the parking lot to the alley beside the darkened apartment building. Just before she ducked out of sight, the apartment door swung open so fast Kiera heard the glass rattle when it hit the wall. A dark silhouette reeled out on the porch.

  “You’d better get yer ass back here right the fuck now, or you’ll be goddamned sorry!”

  Kiera cringed as Robbie’s voice filled the night, echoing from the surrounding buildings. He stumbled and almost fell as he came down the stairs and ran over to his car. After looking up and down the street, he got into it and started it up.

  With the fluid transition of a dream, Kiera now found herself moving down a long, winding dark road. Ahead of her, she could see two red taillights and knew she had to catch up with them.

  She knew Robbie was driving the car, but she wasn’t sure if Trista was in the car or not. She had a sense that her daughter was hiding in the darkness somewhere, afraid to move, but Kiera was moving and, although it wasn’t the result of anything she did, she found that she was rapidly closing the gap between her and the car in front of her.

  I’ll get you, you son of a bitch, she thought as the darkness slid past her. She could see her hands on a car’s steering wheel in front of her, but she had an unusual sense of flying. There was no engine sound . . . no wind through an open window . . . just a dizzying sensation of flying along the dark curves of the road until she found herself beside a fast-moving car.

  Fear gripped her as she looked to the right and saw Robbie at the wheel of the other car. His face had a ghastly blue glow from the dashboard lights, and his eyes were focused on the road ahead of him.

  You’ll leave my daughter alone! Kiera thought, but it was as if she had spoken the words out loud, because Robbie’s head slowly swiveled around until he was looking straight at her. His eyes held a dull, red glow that sent a spike of fear through her.

  “Fuckin’ bitch!” Robbie shouted as he glared at her and banged his clenched fist repeatedly against the steering wheel. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

  He kept driving without looking at the curving road ahead. The bright wash of his headlights splintered into fragments of light that hurt Kiera’s eyes.

  Kiera didn’t recognize where she was. The houses, fields, and trees that flashed past her all looked unfamiliar. She noticed that every house she passed was plunged into darkness, as if there had been a massive power outage.

  You can’t do what you’re doing to my little girl! Kiera thought, although the thought was so clear in her mind she was positive she had shouted it. Sh
e was convinced she had when Robbie turned and looked at her again, his face contorted into a wild, angry sneer.

  Suddenly, Kiera was no longer beside him. She was still moving silently through the night, but the only light came from two yellow circles in front of her. As she watched breathlessly, the circles resolved, and Kiera realized they were headlights, and they were coming straight at her.

  “Are you fuckin’ nuts?” she heard someone—it must have been Robbie—shout. She saw him clearly through the windshield of the approaching car now. He gripped the steering wheel and pulled it hard to the right. Tires squealed like banshees on the asphalt as Robbie lost control of his car. It lurched heavily to the right when its wheels ran off the edge of the pavement. The chassis hit the ground with a loud clunk that sent sparks flying out from under his car.

  It was all over before Kiera knew what was happening. Suddenly she was no longer moving, although she had no sense of stopping or slowing down. She watched in mute horror as Robbie’s car careened down into a gully and then flipped over. It had been going so fast it rolled over five or six times before finally coming to rest. When it did, it was a twisted wreck, lying upside down more than fifty feet off the road. Steam hissed loudly, and smoke curled lazily up into the night sky to be whisked away by a gentle breeze.

  Robbie was dead in an instant. His head had smashed through the windshield, and a huge splash of blood washed the crumpled hood of his car and dripped from the dashboard onto the floor. His sightless eyes were wide open and staring up at the night sky as though he couldn’t believe what had just happened.

  CHAPTER 9

  Phantom Limb

  1

  Kiera woke up earlier than usual, but she wasn’t at all surprised she hadn’t slept any longer because of the dream she’d had. In the early morning light, the memory of it was already fading, but it left behind a feeling of discomfort that she couldn’t shake as she got out of bed and washed up.