Читать книгу The Missing Twin - Rita Herron - Страница 11

Madelyn’s emotions pinged back and forth as she drove Sara to her mother’s home. She had already called her assistant at the craft shop and asked her to cover for her for a few days. She needed time to see this through, and Sara needed her.

She so did not want to see Cissy’s grave upturned. Or her body desecrated.

But she’d trusted Dr. Emery and the hospital staff, virtual strangers, with her daughter before, because of her vulnerable emotional state, and she refused to do that now.

She had to know for sure if Cissy was buried and, if not, where she was.

The images Sara had painted tormented her.

Please dear God, if she did survive, let her be okay.

She glanced at Sara who gripped her blanket in one hand, a bouquet of sunflowers in her other for her grandmother. Sara never visited without a bouquet, and she always insisted they were from her and Cissy, not just her. Why was Sara obsessed with sunflowers?

Could her daughter possibly have some kind of psychic ability? Madelyn had never actually believed in anything supernatural, but what if she was wrong?

Perspiration trickled down the back of her neck, and she gripped the steering wheel tighter, mentally giving herself a pep talk as she had over the years.

She could do this. She was strong.

She had Sara, and no matter what happened, nothing was going to change that.

“Mommy, I liked Mr. Firewalker.”

Madelyn smiled, ignoring the tickle in her belly that the mere mention of the man’s name evoked. “I think he liked you, too, sweet pea.” She tousled Sara’s hair, well aware that Sara didn’t always make friends easily. Some of the children in preschool shied away when she boasted about a sister they couldn’t see. “After all, how could he not? You’re adorable and smart and have that gorgeous smile.”

Sara beamed a gap-toothed grin, and Madelyn steered the station wagon into the driveway at the assisted living facility, Sanctuary Seniors, and parked in front of her mother’s unit. A few months ago, her mother had suffered a stroke and was partially paralyzed on one side, leaving her confined to a wheelchair. But her mind was quick and seeing Sara always lifted her spirits.

Sara bounded out of the car clutching the flowers in one hand, raced up to the door and banged on the front. “Gran, guess who’s here,” she sang. “We gots a surprise for you!”

A second later, Liz Cummings, one of the health care workers, greeted Sara with a big hug.

By the time Madelyn made it inside, Sara was already perched on her mother’s lap in the wheelchair, talking in an animated voice about the big, dark-skinned Indian who could walk on fire, and Liz was putting the flowers in a vase on the window ledge so her mother could enjoy them.

Sara’s mother arched a brow as Madelyn entered. “So is this young man handsome, dear?”

Madelyn blushed. Her mother never ceased to play matchmaker. So far, Madelyn had managed to avoid a real date with the men her mother had thrown in front of her.

“He’s big, so biggg, Gran.” Sara threw up her hands indicating that he was gigantic, and Madelyn bit back a laugh. “And he’s gonna find Cissy. He promised.”

Madelyn’s smile faded. She hated to give Sara false hopes and then have her be even more devastated if things fell through. “Honey, he’s investigating, but we can’t be sure what we’ll find.”

“He will find her,” Sara insisted stubbornly. “He said he would and he can walk on fire so he can do anything.”

Madelyn’s mother, Cora, stroked Sara’s hair. “I’m sure he’ll do his best, pumpkin. Now, why don’t we have a tea party while your mommy does her errands? Liz brought us some cookies, but they look pretty bare to me.”

Sara clapped her hands. “We can decorate them, Gran! We’ll make ’em look like sunflowers for Cissy!”

“That sounds like a fabulous idea,” her mother said.

“Come on,” Liz said. “Help me put out the icing and sprinkles so we can make those cookies pretty.”

Sara skipped to the kitchen with Liz but worry knitted Madelyn’s brow.

“She’ll be all right.” Her mother wheeled her chair over and clasped Madelyn’s hand. “And so will you.”

Madelyn soaked in her mother’s smile. She loved her and Sara more than she could say. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Mom. Sara and I…we both need you.”

Her mother barked a laugh. “Well, I’m not going anywhere, sugar. Now you go and do what you need to do. I’ll take care of Sara while you look for Cissy.” She tilted her head toward the sunflowers. “I think Sara is right. Cissy loves sunflowers.”

Madelyn’s stomach twisted. Apparently her mother trusted Sara’s visions.

They exchanged concerned looks. But her mother refrained from commenting further on Sara’s recent sunflower obsession. They’d both hoped it would play itself out, but now Madelyn wondered if the sunflowers might be some kind of clue to her other daughter.

Pasting on a brave face, she hugged her mother. “I’ll call. You two have fun.”

“We always do,” her mother said with a beaming smile.

Madelyn’s throat thickened, and she nodded, afraid if she spoke, the dam holding back her emotions would break, and she’d fall on the floor in a puddle and start sobbing. Once she started, she might not be able to stop.

The morning sun sliced through the bare trees as she jogged to the minivan, then drove around the mountain. Early morning shadows flickered across the dark asphalt as the sun fought through the storm clouds gathering above. She slowed as she spotted the cemetery, dread flooding her at the sight of the sheriff’s car and the hearse.

The day of the funeral threatened to replay through Madelyn’s head, but she hit the pause button in her brain and zapped it on hold. She refused to relive that day again now with all these men watching.

Swallowing back nerves, she parked and walked to the top of the hill overlooking the Lost Angels corner where the sheriff and three other men stood conferring. Where was Caleb?

Inhaling a breath to fortify her courage, she stumbled down the hill and through the iron gate. Sheriff Gray gave her a concerned look, but she rushed past them, then looked into the tent protecting the site. Caleb was there, kneeling with his hand on Cissy’s grave. His dark skin had drained of color, and an odd mixture of grief and pain marred his face.

What was he doing? Could he see inside the grave?

CALEB’S WORLD SHIMMERED out of control as he felt a vision coming on. Darkness pulled at him, dragging him into an endless tunnel, a pit of silence that stretched below the ground, desolate, screaming with secrets…

“Caleb?”

The sound of a woman’s voice jerked him free of the spell.

“What are you doing?”

Twisting his head sideways, he spotted Madelyn staring at him, her arms crossed, her expression troubled.

He stood abruptly, taking a step back, confused by what he’d seen. By what he hadn’t seen. He needed more time, dammit. And he wasn’t ready to share his gift just yet. “Nothing. Just thinking about the case.” He crooked a thumb toward the sheriff. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” Sheriff Gray gestured toward the E.H. Officer. “Madelyn, this is Oliver Gordon, the Environmental Health Officer. He’ll oversee the exhumation.”

Madelyn nodded in greeting, obviously struggling with the reality of the task to come and its ramifications.

Gordon cleared his throat. “For health reasons, I have to ask everyone to wait a safe distance away. We must respect this grave as well as the surrounding ones.”

“Of course.” Madelyn folded her arms around her waist as if to hold herself together while the funeral home employees approached with shovels. The distress on her face made Caleb’s protective instincts surge. He wished he could spare her this ordeal, but this exhumation was vital to whether or not they moved forward with an investigation.

Amanda Peterson, GAI’s resident forensic anthropologist, climbed from a sporty gray sedan at the top of the hill and walked toward them.

Caleb gestured to Madelyn. “Come on, let’s take a walk.”

Her face paled, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she allowed him to guide her up the hill. Fine tremors rippled through her body as she stopped beneath a giant oak. Caleb rubbed a hand along her neck, hoping to calm her.

Amanda approached them, her expression sympathetic. “You must be Madelyn Andrews.” She extended her hand. “I’m Amanda Peterson. I work with Caleb and Gage at GAI.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Madelyn said. “I didn’t realize another agent would be present.”

Caleb’s gut pinched. “Amanda is a forensics anthropologist. We thought she might be helpful today.”

Madelyn’s eyes widened as the implications registered.

“She’s going to oversee the medical examiner’s work,” Caleb continued, “just so we can verify the findings. In light of Dr. Emery’s lies, we can’t be too careful.”

Amanda tugged her all-weather coat around her. “I’m sorry, Madelyn. I know this is difficult.”

“Yes, well, thank you for being here. If I’d had my wits about me five years ago, I would have demanded to see my child before I buried her.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Amanda said, her voice and smile genuinely understanding. “You were a victim. And we’re going to find out just how much of one today.”

Amanda’s pep talk seemed to give Madelyn strength, because she offered her a tiny smile.

Amanda nudged his arm as she headed down the hill as if silently ordering him to stay with Madelyn. Hell, she didn’t have to tell him that Madelyn was vulnerable.

But getting too close to her was dangerous for him.

“You didn’t answer me earlier, Caleb,” Madelyn said. “What were you doing at Cissy’s grave?” Suspicion flared in her eyes. “Do you have some kind of psychic ability that you didn’t mention? Is that why you believed Sara? Could you see inside the grave?”

Irritated that she’d caught him when he’d had no intention of revealing his personal visions, he hesitated. Telling her meant opening himself up to scrutiny.

His grandfather’s image flashed in his mind. White Feather, a shaman, a man with strong faith and belief in the Cherokee customs, in the healing power of herbs and the earth. And in the healing power of love.

He’d also believed in Caleb, in his visions, because his grandfather simply believed that he was special.

But if he had been so damn special, why hadn’t he foreseen the shooter that horrible day?

“Caleb, I’m not going to judge. I saw you with Sara, the look on your face. She trusted you and her trust doesn’t come easily.” Madelyn laid her palm against his cheek, stirring primal instincts and needs that had lain dormant too long. “Just tell me the truth,” she said softly.

His gaze met hers, and something sweet and frightening and sensual rippled between them, a connection he’d never felt, not even with Mara.

Because he had never shared the truth about himself with her. He had tried to be a man she’d approve of. A hard worker, a provider. They’d married because they both wanted to raise a family without the stigma of a mixed race.

But this sensual connection, this drive to be near Madelyn, was foreign and disturbing and heated his blood.

Arousing him.

Arousal and lust had no place in an investigation.

Self-loathing filled him. They were at a graveyard, for God’s sake. And Madelyn was inquiring about his gift and how it might impact this case. Not because she was remotely interested in him personally.

“Sometimes I sense things,” he said quietly, watching her for a reaction. “It’s not an ability I can control or call upon at will. It just…happens.”

Her expression softened. “That’s the reason you believed Sara? You sensed something when you shook her hand?”

“Yes, I believe that Sara is special,” he said by way of an answer. He jammed his hands in his pockets, ignoring the whistle of the wind bringing cries of the dead from the graves. He had to focus on one case here and that was the Andrews child. The other lost spirits would have to find another medium to hear their pleas.

Madelyn shivered and rubbed her hands up and down her arms. Leaves fluttered down from the trees, scattering amongst the markers, adding bold reds, yellows, and oranges to the brittle, brown grass.

Madelyn cleared her throat as if summoning courage. “What did you see when you touched the grave?”

His former vision flashed back. But he wasn’t certain it was a vision at all. A world of darkness spun around him, that long empty pit clawing at him.

Madelyn clutched his arm. “Caleb, tell me the truth. Please.”

“I didn’t see anything,” he said gruffly. “It was just dark and…I felt an emptiness. I…can’t explain it. Sometimes my senses, my visions aren’t correct. Sometimes they don’t even make sense.”

The heartbeat of silence while Madelyn stared at him felt like an eternity. “Just don’t lie to me,” she said. “I may seem like a fragile woman to you, but I can handle whatever happens.”

Caleb’s hearing suddenly seemed more acute. He could hear the scene behind him, the voices of the sheriff and funeral workers. Twigs snapped in the wind, leaves rustled, the shovel crunched dry dirt….

“How long has Sara had these nightmares about Cissy?” he asked.

Madelyn sighed, the weary sound of a worried mother. “I told you, the past two months, ever since we moved back to Sanctuary.”

“But you said she talked about her twin before?”

Madelyn nodded. “At eighteen months, she started acting as if she was playing with her. Even now, when she has tea parties, she sets a place for Cissy. When she colors, she draws Cissy and those sunflowers. When she plays on the seesaw, Cissy is always on the other end.”

Her voice broke, and she pressed a hand to her mouth to regain control, then forged ahead as if she needed to share her story. “When she was a baby, she’d lay on her side and giggle and reach out as if someone was there.”

Caleb’s mind raced to paranormal research he’d done. “Parapsychologists believe that children can see ghosts when they’re babies. They have a connection then, but once their innocence is lost and society trains them, they no longer believe, so the spirits don’t appear to them anymore.”

Madelyn chewed her bottom lip. “I read that, too. But Sara never lost that ability. In fact, her connection only seemed to grow stronger. Last year she started insisting that Cissy was alive, telling me stories about things she did, places she went. That’s when I got really worried.”

Caleb heard the pain in her voice. “When you consulted the shrinks?”

“Yes.” The wind swept Madelyn’s hair into her face, and she tucked it back with her fingers. “Sara seems so certain that her dreams are real, that her sister is alive, that I started to believe her.” Her shoulders fell. “Maybe because I really wanted to so badly.”

“That’s understandable.” Caleb ached to touch her, to soothe the torment in her voice, but the only way to help Madelyn was to uncover the truth.

If Sara was right, then her sister had been kidnapped and adopted by another family, she might be in danger…. And if she was wrong, Sara’s visions might be ESP—or she might have some form of mental illness.

Or she might be communing with a dead girl….

A noise down the hill jarred him, and he jerked his head toward the gravesite. Sheriff Gray had stepped outside the tent and was motioning for him.

“Walker, we’re ready,” Gray shouted.

Madelyn’s legs buckled, and he caught her around the waist. “Sit down on that bench by the fountain. Let me see what they found.”

Too weak to argue, she nodded and allowed him to guide her to the bench. His heart climbed into his throat as he left her small form hunched inside her coat, shivering on that cold, stone slab.

But he squared his shoulders, determined to end the questions in her mind. It was the only way she and her daughter could find closure and move on.

Clenching his jaw, he raced down the hill and stepped inside the tent beside Amanda. The mood was somber, reverent, racked with tension and dread.

Slowly the E.H. Officer opened the casket.

Caleb braced himself but shock still ripped through him.

The casket was empty.

MADELYN TWISTED HER HANDS together, willing herself to remain calm as she waited. But every second that ticked by felt like someone was pulling out her fingernails one by one. The sound of a car motor drew her gaze back to the parking lot, and she saw an elderly man exit a sedan and hobble toward a grave near the church. Probably his wife’s.

Poor man. How long had they been married before he’d lost her?

She’d thought she and Tim would grow old together, not that he would abandon her and Sara when they needed him most.

Bitterness threatened but she tamped it down. She’d long ago vowed not to indulge herself in that emotion for fear Sara would pick up on it.

She never wanted her daughter to know the truth about her father.

Voices carried in the wind, and she spotted Caleb walking toward her. Her lungs squeezed for air at his bleak expression. A bird chirped from a tree nearby, and leaves fluttered down into the fountain. One landed on the wings of the angel, another at her feet.

She gripped her hands together, waiting, watching for the small casket to appear.

“Madelyn,” he said in a gruff voice. “I’m sorry.”

She lunged to her feet. “What’s wrong?” Her voice cracked, and for the first time, she realized that she’d actually held out hope that Sara might be right. That Cissy was alive.

Suddenly oblivious to her surroundings, she vaulted down the hill, stumbling blindly. Whatever he had seen, she had to know.

“Madelyn, wait!”

Her boots pounded the ground as she ran down the hill. All she could think of was seeing that tiny casket, knowing whether her daughter was in there…

Her pulse pounded, sweat slid down her temple, and she stumbled over a loose rock and felt herself flailing to remain on two feet.

Caleb caught her arm and righted her, then helped her to the tent. Her heart pounded as she stepped beneath the tarp.

Dear God…

She gaped at Caleb. “I don’t understand,” she whispered.

A muscle ticked in Caleb’s jaw. “Someone lied to you, Madelyn. Dr. Emery, the funeral director maybe. But you didn’t bury your daughter five years ago. You buried an empty casket.”

Anger, shock and betrayal slammed into her along with a million questions. But the one fact that she latched onto was the one she wanted to believe more than anything.

The casket was empty because Sara was right.

Cissy was alive.

CISSY RAN AND HID BEHIND the door between the den and the kitchen clutching her dolly to her chest. They were screaming again. They’d been at it for a long time now.

“How could you do this?” her mama shouted. “Why?”

“Because you wanted a kid, you were grieving over losing Doug.”

“I know, but you lied to me.”

“Just keep your mouth shut!” the big man yelled.

Cissy peered around the corner and saw her mama reach for the phone. “It’s not right,” her mama cried. “What you’ve done… It’s not right. No wonder Cissy has bad dreams.”

“That kid is crazy. She always has been.” He grabbed her mama’s shoulders and shook her. “Listen to me. You call, you’ll lose her, and I’ll go to jail. You wouldn’t do that to your own family, would you?”

“But Cissy has a right to know the truth,” her mama argued. “And I won’t go to jail because I’ll tell the truth.”

“The truth. Hell, you don’t even know the truth, you stupid bitch.” He slapped her mother across the face. “You’re up to your damn eyeballs in this. The kid is evidence, and we can’t leave evidence behind.”

“What are you talking about?” Cissy’s mama looked terrified as she leaned against the sink.

Terror streaked through Cissy, and she backed into the hallway, but she tripped over a pair of work boots and yelped. He heard the noise and swung around. His face was red, his nostrils wide. His eyes bulged like a madman’s.

He was going to kill her.

“Damn kid,” he mumbled then turned and stomped toward Cissy, his big footsteps pounding the floor like a giant’s.

“No, I won’t let you hurt my baby.” Her mama grabbed his arm to stop him, but he swung his arm back with such force that he slung her to the floor. Her mama hit her head on the table with a whack and blood spurted and ran down her face.

Cissy bit back a scream. Tears blurred her vision.

His growl dragged her from her stupor though, and she turned and darted out the back door. The porch door slammed behind her. His loud bellow followed.

“Get back here, kid. Come on, we’ll play a little game.”

He didn’t want to play games, Cissy thought, as she barreled down the steps. He’d hurt her mama and now he was gonna hurt her.

She had to get away.

She dashed down the steps as quick as she could and ran toward the greenhouse and the sunflowers. It was the only place she’d be safe.

Sweat streamed down her face, and she heaved for a breath as she shoved open the heavy door and sneaked inside. She tucked her doll beneath her arm, then pushed with all her might to shut the door, pulling the metal latch. Then she ducked between the rows of sunflowers, weaving her way until she was hidden deep within the rows.

Crouching as low as she could, she hugged her dolly to her, closed her eyes and felt the tears flow.

“Please, Sara, help me,” she whispered. “I don’t know how much longer I can hide.”

The door rattled as he shook it. “Get out here right now, kid!”

Cissy rocked herself back and forth and rolled into a tiny ball. She could see her sister in her mind. She wasn’t crazy like the big meanie said.

“Sara, please come and get me,” she whispered. “I’m scared. I don’t wanna die.”