Unbroken Page 21

  She raised her right hand and stared at it, remembering that she had heard how you weren’t supposed to be able to see your hands in a dream. Flexing her fingers, she watched as they curled into a fist, the veins and tendons shifting beneath her skin and standing out in sharp relief. She pressed her fist against her mouth to stifle the sounds she was making.

  “And you’re not going crazy,” the reflection said softly. “No crazier than I am, anyway. You’re the sanest you’ve ever been ever since you got rid of me.”

  “Got rid of you? What are you talking about? Who are you?” Kiera found it almost impossible to breathe. “I never got rid of you.

  “Yes you did. You set me free,” the reflection said, its voice ending in a long-drawn-out, sorrowful note. “I’m not part of you anymore, but somehow I’m still here. Look, I’m just as confused as you are, but I guess no matter what happens, I’ll always be a part of you.”

  Without realizing it, Kiera opened her hand and raised it to her forehead, touching the bandage that covered the scar from her surgery. In the window, her reflection did the same thing, and the light pressure of her fingers against the incision sent a mild electrical shock through her even as she had the unnerving sensation of not really being able to feel her own touch. It was like watching someone else—a twin—touch her own head.

  “Who are you?” Kiera asked, but even before she finished asking the question, she knew the answer. She was seeing a ghost of herself. She hadn’t died, but a part of her had. And that part of her that was dead, the growth Dr. Martindale had cut out of her head, had been alive and now, somehow, it was haunting her.

  “What do you want?” Kiera asked, her voice trembling as she leaned forward and stared intently at her reflection. She fought back the fear that rose inside her as the reflection’s eyes widened with confusion. She had no idea—even by paying attention to how she was reacting to this—what this pale reflection was feeling. It looked like fear in her reflection’s eyes, but it could just as well been caring and sympathy.

  Is she afraid for me or for herself? Kiera wondered, but the thought struck her as foolish.

  This is me! She hit herself on the chest with her clenched fist. The resounding thud startled her.

  “Something’s coming,” the reflection said in a low, grating whisper.

  “What’s coming?”

  “I’m not sure. I’m just as confused as you are. I can’t see it clearly, but I can feel it. Can’t you? I know you can. But all I know for sure is, you have to be careful who you trust.”

  “Be careful?” Kiera echoed, dumbfounded as she stared at herself and nodded slowly. She was no longer amazed to see that her refection didn’t match her movements. As crazy as it was, she accepted that, even if she was dreaming, what was happening was as real as if she was talking to her twin.

  But I never had a twin, she thought, and a shiver rushed through her when she heard—or thought she heard—a voice say, “Not anymore, you don’t. But I still want to help.”

  “Help me what?” Kiera asked as a surge of desperation filled her. She felt herself getting lost as she stared into the dark, glazed hollow of her reflection’s eyes.

  Before she could answer, the reflection began to waver and fade. Kiera refocused her eyes and realized she was staring past the glass to the driveway and the street beyond. The sound of the unseen car was still there, still rumbling steadily. Although she noticed it as if for the first time, she knew it had never really gone away. It had always been there, but as it got louder now, she saw in the distance another car coming up the street. Her blood went cold when she saw a dark Volvo—just like her car—crest the rise a few hundred feet away from her house.

  Kiera watched in stunned amazement as the car drew closer. She anticipated that it would slow down and turn into the driveway, and when it did, she knew she would see herself behind the steering wheel.

  A blur of motion off to one side caught her attention. She saw her reflection shake its head back and forth, but she couldn’t tell if this was meant as a warning or an expression of sadness.

  “What are you trying to tell me?” she asked desperately as she adjusted her focus to look at her reflection again. Coldness gripped her heart, and a soft concussion like a muffled explosion popped inside her head. Her reflection remained in the glass, but Kiera no longer experienced that odd feeling of duality, of looking at herself in the window while at the same time looking back at herself from the glass.

  At the edge of hearing, she heard a voice whisper something, but it was lost beneath the roar of the car as it approached the house. Kiera watched with steadily rising terror as it got closer to the driveway, but then—surprisingly—it went past the house.

  Kiera turned her head to track the car as it sped down the street until it rounded the corner and was out of sight. As crazy and impossible as it seemed, she was positive she had just watched herself drive past the house in her car. She jumped when she looked at the driveway again and saw a car parked in front of the garage.

  It was a police cruiser. She watched in stunned silence as two men, one wearing a policeman’s uniform, the other a dark business suit, got out and started up the walkway to the front door. Kiera recognized Detective Fielding from that day in the hospital when she had learned Liz had died. Running her hands over her face, she tried to pull herself together but knew she must look a wreck as she went to the door and opened it before the detective rang the bell.

  “Mrs. Davis,” Fielding said as he reached into his suit coat pocket, pulled out his wallet, and flashed his ID badge. “I’m Detective Fielding.”

  “I know.”

  “This is Officer Doyle. Do you mind if we have a word with you?”

  “Of course not,” Kiera said, taking a breath as she backed away from the door so they could enter. “Please, come in.” She led the two men into the living room.

  Trembling inside, she sat down on the couch, tucking her feet beneath her while indicating for Detective Fielding to sit down in what was usually Nate’s chair. Officer Doyle remained standing in the doorway.

  “What can I do for you?” she asked. She wished she sounded chipper and bright, but she was painfully aware of the tremor in her voice. “Have you found out who killed my friend?”

  “Not yet,” Fielding said. “We’re checking out a few things regarding an accident last night involving Robert Townsend.”

  A cold shock hit Kiera’s stomach as her face drained of blood. She folded her hands tightly in her lap to stop them from trembling.

  “I just heard about that,” Kiera said. “My husband’s on his way home now with my daughter.”

  Detective Fielding nodded, his mouth a thin, grim line. Kiera remembered him being friendlier that day in the hospital, and she wondered if it had all been an act to get her to confess if she had anything to confess to. She was sure she didn’t, but she flinched anyway, remembering the clear images she’d had in a dream about what had happened to Liz O’Keefe. She wondered if Detective Fielding noticed, too, and if he took this as a sign that she might be more involved than she was letting on.

  Stop feeling so guilty, she told herself . . . Or was it someone else speaking . . . someone she couldn’t see who was whispering in her ear? You didn’t do anything wrong.

  “I understand your daughter was dating Mr. Townsend,” Fielding said.

  “Yes,” Kiera replied, praying the detective couldn’t see through her façade as easily as she imagined he could.

  “And I’m under the impression that you didn’t exactly approve of the relationship.” Fielding frowned, his eyebrows making a dark V on his forehead.

  “No. I don’t—I didn’t approve,” Kiera said, struggling to keep her voice from breaking. Sweat broke out across her face, and the trembling inside her stomach got worse. “He was too old for her.”

  “And what did you do about it?” Fielding asked. He placed his hands on his knees and leaned farther forward, his eyes darkening, his expression even grimmer.


  “What do you mean, what did I do? I did what any concerned parent would do. I made it perfectly clear to her that I didn’t like him and that, to be honest, I suspected he was taking advantage of her.”

  “What do you mean, ‘taking advantage’?”

  Kiera stiffened, thinking she had blundered into a trap he had set for her that she hadn’t even seen.

  “I think you know what I mean,” Kiera said, struggling to keep her voice steady. “He was a known drug user, and I thought he was only interested in her for sexual reasons. I did whatever was necessary to make that clear to her.”

  “Really?” Detective Fielding loosened his posture and leaned back in the chair. “Whatever was necessary?”

  Kiera frowned and, biting her lower lip, regarded him steadily. She still had the feeling she was playing right into his hands, but she wasn’t sure what he was trying to get her to admit.

  “This is beginning to sound like an interrogation,” she said. “If there’s . . . Should I have my lawyer present?”

  “That’s entirely within your rights,” Fielding said, “but I just wanted to ask you a few questions to clear up a couple of things.”

  Kiera nodded but still wasn’t convinced. There was something he wasn’t telling her, and she needed to know what it was before she said anything she might regret.

  “Maybe we should wait until my husband gets home.” She glanced at her wristwatch. “He should be along any minute.”

  Fielding shook his head. “I don’t think that’s necessary. What I really came to ask you about is that last night, someone saw Robbie Townsend as he was driving away from his apartment, and they reported seeing a dark blue or black Volvo pull out behind him and follow him.”

  “Really,” Kiera said.

  “Since your car fits that description, I was wondering if you’d let me take a quick look at it.”

  “My car?” Kiera said hollowly. She couldn’t comprehend what he was getting at, and was tossed between outrage and steadily mounting fear. Vague memories and fragmented images of two cars racing along a dark, winding road late at night arose in her mind and headlights coming straight at her, but there was no way Kiera could distinguish if these were real memories or fragments of a dream or something she had imagined after Jon told her about Robbie’s accident. The images blurred with other vague memories . . . memories from long ago . . . when she and Jon had driven out to the picnic area on the Hancock River and parked . . .

  No! she told herself, praying that she didn’t say or do anything to arouse the detective’s suspicions further. Don’t even think about that!

  “Would you mind?” Fielding asked, making a motion to stand up. He made it sound like such a reasonable request as he glanced at Officer Doyle, who stood silently in the doorway.

  “Is your car in the garage? It will only take a second.”

  “What do you expect to find?” Kiera asked. The blood in her veins had turned to ice water, and she hugged herself as she shivered.

  “Apparently Mr. Townsend’s car was forced off the road by another car. His left door panel and fender were scraped, and we found some flakes of dark blue paint on the bare metal.”

  “You think I had something to do with this?” Kiera asked, too frightened to speak above a whisper. The memories or dreams or whatever they were got more intense, like something she had forgotten and was only now remembering.

  “I would just like to have a look at your car,” Fielding said simply.

  Kiera knew if they went out there and found a dent or some paint missing from her car, she was in serious trouble, and as crazy as it seemed, she would be more surprised if they didn’t find damage on her car.

  Maybe those images weren’t dreams. Maybe they were real memories.

  She couldn’t tell what was real and what was imaginary anymore, but she got up from the couch and led the detective and patrolman out into the garage. Her hand was slick with sweat and trembling as she turned the doorknob leading into the garage. Just as she opened the door, the garage door started rattling as it began to open. Daylight filled the gradually widening gap, and she saw a car—Nate’s car—pull into the driveway.

  Kiera realized she’d been holding her breath and let it out in a long, whistling sigh.

  “My husband’s home,” she said simply, hoping this would somehow protect her from what might happen next.

  Detective Fielding grunted before walking down the short flight of steps into the garage. He folded his arms over his chest and waited for Nate to pull to a stop in front of the now fully opened garage door.

  “Trista,” Kiera said, pushing past Fielding and walking quickly to the passenger’s door. Through the windshield, she could see her daughter staring wide-eyed at her and the police. It was obvious she thought they were here to interview her. Lowering her head, she made no move to get out of the car.

  “What’s this all about?” Nate asked as he stepped out of the car and started toward them.

  Kiera glanced at Fielding, then at her husband. The sense of unreality sweeping over her was so intense her mind was a blank, and she had nothing to say.

  “Mr. Davis,” Detective Fielding said cheerfully as he walked over to Nate with his hand extended so they could shake. “We just stopped by to ask your wife a few questions.”

  “My wife?” Nate looked genuinely surprised. “What business do you have with my—”

  Everyone turned when the passenger’s door opened, and Trista, looking pale and shaky, stepped blinking into the bright sunlight. Her face was red and puffy from crying, and her eyes were bloodshot. She hunched her shoulders and walked briskly toward the house. Kiera rushed over to her and hugged her.

  “I’m so sorry,” Kiera said.

  When she pulled her daughter close to her, she was surprised by how thin and frail she felt in her arms. It reminded her of when Trista was a baby, and her heart ached for her child and what she must be going through.

  “I’ll just bet you are,” Trista said. Her lower lip was trembling when she pulled back and looked at her mother. The only other sound she made was a low groan that started somewhere deep inside her chest before she broke away from her mother’s embrace and dashed into the house, shouldering her way past the patrolman who stood close to the door. Once she was inside the house, a long, barking sound filled the air, but it was cut off when she slammed the door shut.

  For a few awkward seconds, everyone just stood there looking at each other in stunned silence. Kiera wanted to go after Trista and see what she could do to help, but she knew there was nothing. The chasm between them yawned all the wider.

  Finally, Nate cleared his throat and, squaring his shoulders, looked at Fielding.

  “So what’s this all about?” he said, shooting a quick glance at Kiera.

  Fielding’s expression never wavered as he indicated the open garage door with a curt nod of his head.

  “We got a report that a car fitting the description of your wife’s car was seen in the vicinity of the accident last night.”

  “What are you—? You mean the accident involving Townsend?”

  Fielding nodded quickly, and Nate looked at Kiera again, who was standing off to one side with her clenched fist covering her mouth. At that moment, with all three men staring at her, Kiera felt more vulnerable than she had ever felt in her life.

  “We’d like to check the car for damage,” Fielding said.

  Nate took a step toward the open garage as though to block their entry.

  “Don’t you need a search warrant for that?”

  “We can go that route if that’s how you want to play it,” Fielding said simply. “I was hoping—if neither one of you has anything to hide—you’d allow us to take a look.”

  Nate shot Kiera a harsh glance. Still stunned and feeling out of it, Kiera shrugged as though there was nothing she could do to stop whatever was going to happen next. Her first impulse was to go into the house, but she didn’t want to do anything that would make her appear gui
lty.

  Guilty of what? she asked herself. I didn’t do anything wrong . . . and I certainly didn’t have anything to do with Robbie’s death last night.

  She wanted to shriek this out loud, but even that might be construed as an admission of guilt. Her only option was to go along with Fielding’s request and see what happened.

  Nate, who obviously had been considering the pros and cons of cooperating with the police, finally relaxed his stance and, turning on his heel, walked into the garage with the detective close behind him. Kiera was bursting with anticipation and wanted to look with them, but a cold, sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach convinced her that she should prepare herself for the worst.

  What if I did do something last night?

  What if I don’t even remember getting into my car driving over to Robbie’s apartment and then following him and forcing him off the road?

  What if I wanted him to leave Trista alone so badly I was willing to kill him?

  Time seemed to stand still as she waited there in the blazing sun and watched the dark silhouettes of the two men as they inspected the car in the garage. From where she stood, she could see part of her car, but Nate’s car blocked her view. Fielding knelt down and inspected the front bumper. Then he stood up and, pointing at the fender, said something to Nate, who nodded and then glanced outside at Kiera.

  “Oh my God,” she whispered when the two men came back out of the garage and walked over to her.

  “Thank you for your time, Mrs. Davis,” Detective Fielding said as he held his hand out for her to shake. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

  Kiera thought her grip was too damp and weak, and broke off the contact quickly.

  “Was there—?” she said, but that was all she managed before her throat closed off.

  Detective Fielding shook his head sharply. “I didn’t see anything wrong.” He shot a quick glance at the house and added, “Tell your daughter I’m sorry about what happened.”

  “I will,” Kiera said softly, but even as she said it, she knew she wouldn’t. She bristled at the thought that anyone would offer sympathy or condolences to Trista. She and Robbie had only been dating. At least they hadn’t been married. Now that it was over, when she searched her feelings, Kiera wanted to smile because, as horrible as it was, at least now she didn’t have to worry about her daughter being with a creep like Robbie Townsend.