Her Eyes

Her Eyes by Jennifer Cloud, Regan Taylor Amira Press www.amirapress.com Copyright © NOTICE: This eBook is licensed t...

Author: Cloud Jennifer | Taylor Regan

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Her Eyes by Jennifer Cloud, Regan Taylor

Amira Press www.amirapress.com

Copyright ©

NOTICE: This eBook is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution to any person via email, floppy disk, network, print out, or any other means is a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines and/or imprisonment. This notice overrides the Adobe Reader permissions which are erroneous. This eBook cannot be legally lent or given to others. This eBook is displayed using 100% recycled electrons.

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Her Eyes Copyright © December 2007, Jennifer Cloud and Regan Taylor Cover art by Skylar Sinclair © December 2007 This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this novel are fictitious or used fictitiously. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form. Amira Press, LLC Baltimore, MD 21216 www.amirapress.com

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Dedication From Regan: To Not-so-little Mel— you started out as a message that life goes on; you continue to show me so does love.

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Chapter One Outside an ambulance roared by, lights flashing, sirens blaring. The road in front of Catherine's house went for miles, stretching from rural cattle farms in Greenburg County all the way to the city. The sound of the ambulance dissipated as it rushed someone to the hospital. Catherine got up and looked into the next room to see if the sound had disturbed her husband, Frank. There he sat, swilling beer, and trying to pretend she wasn't home. Catherine White hadn't spoken to her husband all day. What is the point? They had nothing to say to each other. She heard all marriages go through this phase, where conversation drags and the couple slowly pulls away from each other. If it were only that, she would be fine with it. The truth of it was, she had never shared Frank's goals, dreams, or desires. He never understood that. Frank wanted their marriage to work. She wanted her freedom. Well, to be more precise she had wanted out of this farce of a marriage prior to James, her lover of six months, dying in a plane crash. Why he had to go to Spain a week ago was beyond her. She didn't even feel like mourning him. The dumb ass shouldn't have left her. In the week since he died her wish to have her marriage concluded rolled over and over in her mind. Now there was nowhere for her to go, so she stayed with her husband and wished for someone else. It was her curse. She built a safety net in Frank but that net had changed to a cage. 5


Having a man was all that counted. It was the only thing of importance to Catherine. Not just any man, though. He had to dote on her and think she was the sun and moon. And one who wasn't Frank. Not that she expected it to take long to find a replacement lover. After all, Catherine never had to look far for male attention. Ever since that first time behind the bleachers during a football game it had been easy to attract men who could give her the things she wanted. So why did I go off the deep end and marry Frank? She'd have to chalk that up to temporary insanity. Well, that and wanting to show up that unbelievably plain and utterly bland Pamela. Pammie. Ugh. How she ever made the cheerleading squad was beyond Catherine, but somehow dull and boring ole Pammie made it. The bitch had gotten everything in high school, the top grades, the best scholarships, the squad ... the one thing she didn't get was Frank White. That was the one thing Catherine got. She smacked her gum and returned to the kitchen table, putting on the last coat of nail polish. She should've had them professionally done, but her last manicurist had tossed Catherine out of the shop after she had innocently flirted with the woman's husband. Jealous, so many jealous women out there, and they made life hard for Catherine. It wasn't fair. She couldn't help being beautiful. Splaying her wet red nails on the tabletop, she lightly blew them. Her diamond rings sat in a neat little pile in front of her. Each was a gift from Frank, a trinket of his affection. Some affection. When each nail was dry enough, she added her jewelry, watching it sparkling in the overhead light. 6


I won? Eight years later and all Frank spoke of was having children, maybe moving closer to his parents. She wanted none of it. And why should she? She didn't need the baggage of diaper bags or crying kids. Frank was too much baggage all by himself. If only Frank were gone. She would have the house, the money, and no husband. She wouldn't jump into another set of vows either. For once in her life, she would be free to do what she pleased. If Frank were gone. The chilling thought clung to her mind, digging in with a life of its own. She popped the gum in her mouth and thought about it. The act of murder was easy. Over the years, she had watched dozens television shows about catching killers. There were ways to do it and not get caught. Shoot him then claiming someone had broken inside their loving home wouldn't be hard. Playing the sad and devoted widow might be nice. Catherine felt a smile spread on her face. There would be so much attention. Men and women alike would flock to her to offer their condolences. She could have her pick of men and they could sleep next to her right there in Frank's bed. She might even manage her men two at a time. On a whim, Catherine went to the bedroom and pulled the forty-five from its box in the closet. Frank had bought it and had taught her to use it for those nights when work kept him late. He called it work. She knew that his evening work meant wining and dining different developers who might be 7


interested in his services. There were occasions when supplies were shipped late or an interstate job ran at night instead of during the day. Let him stay late every day for all she cared. His little construction company was hardly the glossy enterprise that her friends' husbands held. She had to admit that the hard work gave him a nice body, but one she didn't want touching hers. There wasn't a reason why, at least none she'd ever been able to put her finger on. He was tall, broadshouldered with thick brown hair and amazing eyes and was really quite handsome. More often than not, he turned women's heads wherever he went. Frank never noticed. He just went about his business. Maybe if he would have gone after a few of those women, some spice, some challenge, would have been added to their marriage. But not good ole Frank. Her mind returned to the task at hand. The pistol had a good grip, and she clutched it, enjoying the weight. It had a rich smell of oil and metal, something unique she never noticed in another object. The cold metal of the silver gray gun reminded her of ice. She supposed murder should be cold, emotionless. She didn't feel emotionless though. Holding the gun, knowing what she was about to do was euphoric. Catherine opened the clip and checked the bullets the way Frank had shown her. The man wasn't much good for anything, but at least he had shown her how to load and fire the gun. There were five bullets. The thing was ready to go with a flip of the safety. She would finally get out of this marriage. How simple it would be, a pull of the trigger instead of long arguments with a lawyer presiding. 8


Divorce could be an option, if she wanted to be poor and her infidelities brought out for all to see. Frank, the strong, silent type, would grant her one. He might even want out of the marriage, too, but his sense of right and wrong wouldn't permit him to make the first move. No, a bullet to the brain would be more merciful than a long, drawn-out divorce. It would be so easy. After he was dead she would mess up the room, make it look like someone broke in and then call 911 to report an attempted robbery. There had been enough visitors to the house that the police would find other fingerprints, and if they didn't, well, the intruder would have been masked and wearing gloves. "Stop or I'll shoot." Catherine went to the hallway, trying to move silently. The door to the den, Frank's room, was open slightly. He'd been sleeping in the den for the last five months. She suspected that he knew about her affairs. He had to. The timing of his move to the den coincided with her meeting James. She remembered the night he came home early and looked her deeply in the eyes before asking if she still loved him. She told him yes. She'd lied, not to be mean, but because she didn't know what else to say. Barely into the room, she heard him breathing low and deep, already asleep. The door swung open slowly, his damn mutt on the floor by the couch. The shepherd looked up and bared his teeth. That dog never liked her. I may need to take a shot at him as well. Frank loved the stupid mutt and had named him Winter, although he only called him "Win" most of the time. He'd gotten the dog five months ago, about the same time he found out about her recreational activity. 9


"Stupid dog," she whispered. Maybe she shouldn't have said anything because the dog looked at her, watching her pull the gun up and aim it at Frank. For a minute her heart raced in her chest, excitement mixed with fear that he would wake and see her standing there. She didn't want him to know it was her. Her hand trembled. She hadn't expected that. There was a click from the gun as she eased off the safety and started putting pressure on the trigger. The shot would be close. She wouldn't miss his head. She drew in a steadying breath, but before she could exhale, Win came up snarling, ripping, and pain filled her face. **** "The dog!" Catherine jerked awake, leaving the memory behind in her nightmares. "Relax, Catherine." A doctor smiled down at her. "The surgery went well. How are you doing?" She reached up and found the left side of her face heavily bandaged, bringing back the memory of six months of the surgeries. The area was numb, but that wouldn't last, or so they said. The doctor believed minimal nerve damage occurred with what seemed like half her face torn away. The bandage covered a large part of her face and head, although the transplant procedure was only for her eye, cheek, and part of her forehead. All because of that damn dog. It went so wrong, so wrong. "I guess I'm okay." Her face seemed to have swollen to the size of a bowling ball. Although she didn't have any pain 10


yet, her face pulsed in time with her heartbeat. "Where's Frank?" "Your husband is in the waiting room. I'll send him in to see you." Catherine watched the doctor leave, glad that Frank had stayed. For all their problems, for how much she had wanted to be free of him, he had stood by her through all the surgeries and now this whole transplant procedure. From dollfaced beauty queen to freak of the week, and still Frank remained faithful. He deserved someone better. He deserved a beautiful wife. The door opened and she saw her handsome man appear. Frank carried a vase of roses and set them on the table near the bed. He was like that, caring, thoughtful, even after everything she'd done to him. "How are you?" He wore his jeans and a button-down flannel shirt. She hated those clothes. But now there would be no more fantasizing about men in suits going to power lunches. At least she wasn't alone. She hated the idea of being without a man. "I'm okay." She lied. Her face didn't hurt, but her emotions were racing from depression to rage. She didn't understand the alternating feelings she was having. One minute loving him, wanting him. The next hating everything about him. "The doctor told me that I couldn't stay long, but I wanted you to have these." He motioned toward the flowers. "Thank you." She looked over at the petals of deep red blooms. They were lovely, not like her, not like the beast she'd become. 11


Frank never complained, not once. He came daily to the hospital, always with something in his hand—a book, flowers, candy, little things. He hadn't even wanted her to get the surgery, saying that it wasn't worth the risk to her life. She'd wanted it though. She wanted to be the woman she used to be. "I'll bring you breakfast in the morning before I go to work. Wouldn't want you to eat this hospital food. As soon as work is over, I'll come by with dinner." That was something else he did, he brought her home-cooked food, food he prepared, every day. "You're a sweetheart." He gave her a kiss on her good cheek, the one not marred by Win's teeth and surgery, then left her. There wasn't a reason for him to stay, and Catherine wasn't sure she wanted him to. She needed rest, and for some reason, looking at Frank made her heart ache. He would go home and walk that damned dog. Yes, Frank had kept the dog after the attack. The dog was the reason she was here, the reason she looked like a Halloween creature come to life. She'd raised the gun to fire and the dog, that dog she thought was so stupid, jumped and turned her into this monster. She couldn't say much about it considering Frank found her on the floor, the gun knocked from her hand. She'd asked him to get rid of Win, but Frank wasn't stupid. Six months later, and he still kept the dog on his side of the bed. Why hasn't he divorced me? It was the one question she couldn't answer. 12


Catherine supposed the real reason he stayed with her now was pity. She didn't like pity. That emotion crept lower than hate, more despicable than sadness into the vile thing that stared at her every day from the mirror. She was pity, sadness, an untouchable, all because of a damn dog. "I want to be beautiful again." There was little chance of that, but she could dream. She often imagined that six months ago, she'd walked out, should have walked out, instead of going into that den. She touched the thick gauze wondering, hoping her sin wouldn't condemn her to be ugly forever. Outside the door, she heard someone mumbling. Holding her breath, she thought she heard her doctor's voice conversing with a nurse. She strained to hear but no words made it through. Thankfully, the door opened and a nurse entered. The white starched form hovered for a moment, offered a few kind words, checked her bandages, then left. She also left the door ajar. Catherine could hear the talk in the hallway this time. It was clear and clinical, but the nurse's voice held a hint of emotion. That tinge of sadness invoked fear in Catherine. "Do you think the transplant will work? I mean the risk of her body rejecting is so high. I'm worried, especially after the last patient." "We have to try." The doctor's voice remained low, slightly louder than a whisper causing Catherine to hold her breath again to hear. "But the black rot and bubbles on the last one ... I can't imagine that on a person's face." 13


"She knew the risks. I went over everything with her and she wanted it." The doctor must've realized the door was open because he reached out and shut it, ending her eavesdropping. They were talking about her. The doctor told her the risks. Even though he was the best in the field, the process of transplanting a face was still so new, so untried. He'd shown her the pictures, the awful photos of a person whose body had rejected the last transplant. It had been hideous, the slow degeneration of tissue, the bubbled surface, the rotted areas. She struggled to sit up and felt a tingle beneath the bandages. Something in there was taking hold. There was no mirror in sight. Catherine reached the call button. She had to see her face, even in the bandages. Some reassurance would get her through the night. "Yes," came the voice, the same voice who'd been speaking to the doctor in the hall. "Would it be possible to get a mirror?" "It wouldn't do you any good, Mrs. White. All you can see are bandages." The foolish request circled in her mind. "I know, but even seeing bandages would help." The intercom went dead. A few minutes later a nurse came in carrying a fresh pitcher of ice and a small hand-held mirror. She set the mirror on the tray, just out of reach, and refilled Catherine's cup. "I brought you the mirror, but remember that you won't be able to tell anything. The bandages cover all of the doctor's work and can't be removed yet." 14


"Please. I need to see." The nurse handed her a small, blue, plastic-backed mirror. A cheap one, very cheap. Catherine never tolerated anything cheap, but for this, to see her face or to imagine, she would take the cheap mirror. Carefully, she lifted it, as if it were the most fragile thing in the world. Then she looked at the wad of bandages, the tape holding it all in place. Only her good eye and her mouth could be seen. "We'll find out if the eye took in a couple of weeks. Don't worry. I'm sure it did." The nurse took the mirror and left the room in a swish of polyester. Her eye. She wanted to see from two eyes again instead of the gaping wound that the beast had left behind. She wanted to be a person. She sighed, remembering how she used to put liner around her lovely blue eyes. Sleep drifted to her again, and she gladly sank into the dark areas of her mind. Maybe when she woke this time, she would be whole. The dog's attack might fade to nothing but a dream. That's what she liked to concentrate on when resting. She liked to pretend she had never touched that gun. This time as linear thought faded, she saw a face. It wasn't her in her pre-mutilated life, but she knew the person. Not once before had she dreamed of Frank's ex, Pam Miller, but that's whose face she saw this time. Pam stared back at her with her pale green eyes, and Catherine could swear she saw anger in the expression.

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Chapter Two The day finally came to remove some of the bandages. The hospital staff had changed them, but this would be Catherine's first opportunity to see out of two eyes. As each coil of gauze left her, anticipation built. One of her rules was to never show she was nervous or scared, to always act in control. This, however, was harder now. Anxious to see what she looked like, eager to see out of both eyes, desperate to get on with her life, she couldn't hide anything. She wanted to scream at the doctor to hurry, but that would not be in keeping with the image she so desperately clung to. She was better than them, better than all of them. She didn't need to demean herself through desperate outbursts. She'd gone through so much, surely her face could be made right again. She deserved something after the agony. Worse had been the humiliation. After Win's attack and her subsequent disfigurement, old lovers wouldn't speak to her, men she had flirted with looked the other way. Assholes, all of them. It had been a nightmare. Even the television crews had been to her house causing her to hide inside until the chaos died away. She didn't want to be the freak on the six o'clock news. For all her years begging for attention, now she wanted to hide from the limelight. This surgery had been kept out of public view, but barely. All she needed were those old lovers seeing her reconstructed, like a science experiment. Rumors abounded about the woman with the new face. Restless 16


reporters called the hospital and had tried to get to her room. Tabloids ate up the story about the woman with the transplanted face, but Catherine refused to be the freak on the cover of the Enquirer. The strands of gauze went around, the nurse taking too much time, and the doctor encouraging her to be careful. It was enough to make Catherine scream. Finally, they reached the plastic piece set over her eye and slowly pulled the tape away, then removed it. "It may take a few minutes to adjust, for your vision to clear. Give it time." The doctor spoke softly, but the excitement held in his voice. Catherine blinked, the room fell away then came back in agonizing bright light. Another moment and she closed the eye that had survived the attack. There in the sterile hospital room, with everyone waiting and watching like she was some carnival display, she slowly opened the lid of her own eye, yes ... yes, she could see from two eyes. The doctor began asking her questions, checking each eye. He flashed the penlight in them, but all she wanted was the mirror. Her hands fidgeted restlessly, she fought the urge to reach up, push the doctor and his hands away, to grab for a mirror. All the while Frank stood quietly, stoically, in the corner of the room. His handsome face revealing none of the thoughts she was sure went through his mind. He hardly looked at her. When the doctor's curiosity was satisfied, he handed her another cheap plastic mirror. This was it, the culmination of 17


so much pain and fuss. She could finally find out if the operation was a success. "Remember that your face will be swollen for several weeks. What you see now hasn't healed yet." She held the mirror and gazed at herself. Parts of her face were still covered with bandages, but she could see her eyes. There was one problem. Her eyes had been blue, a captivating blue. One of her eyes remained that color while the other, the donor eye, was a green the exact shade of dead grass. "They don't match. I'm a freak." The skin around her eye remained bruised, nearly black. Even if it all healed in some semblance of her former self, her eyes would never match. She would for all times remain a mismatched monster. "Don't worry about eye color. The important part is that you can see." The doctor grinned, and she grew nauseous. "If it really bothers you, get contacts later. Your eyes can be any color you want." His tone belittled her. He probably thought eye color was foolish when faced with returning sight. It wasn't foolish. She'd become grotesque, some doll version of Frankenstein's monster. "Sure. At least I can see." Catherine looked at her husband and felt tears coming from both her freakish eyes. The gentle expression he held made her ache. He probably thought her tears were of joy. They weren't. She knew that for all times, she was trapped. **** 18


"Are you sure she's going to be okay?" Frank stared into Catherine's room, wondering what she would do next. She asked to be alone for a minute, and so he went into the hallway with the doctor. "She's always been ... well ... a little vain." He didn't mean to insult his wife, but the truth had to be told. He didn't like the distant way Catherine acted during their marriage, it frightened him. Her physical beauty had always been a focal point in her life. Before the accident, she had worked out at the gym three times a week and had spent hundreds in cosmetics to keep her perfect face properly painted. Honestly, after the accident, he hoped she would find a way to be that sweet girl from high school again—the one who saw the inner beauty, or maybe that had been nothing more than a ploy. Maybe the person he'd seen more and more of the past years was the real Catherine. "I don't know." The doctor glanced back into the room as he spoke. "She can start seeing a counselor. In fact, she probably should. We usually require that before and after transplant surgery. Sometimes ... well, sometimes people get ideas after a transplant. They ... well, never mind, counseling would be a good idea considering the trauma she's been through." Frank nodded, wishing he could help Catherine. He knew she had problems, but they'd made a vow to each other. That vow, made by two high school kids blinded by love, may have been made before she had grown so greedy and so interested in the things that didn't matter in life. Nonetheless, a vow had 19


to be honored even if she didn't honor her end. His mind wandered back to that night he found her with James.... Well, that was the past. Now, when she needed him, they could finally have the marriage he wanted. "I'll do that." He lingered at the door to her room, unsure if he should venture inside again. There were days Catherine acted happy to see him, and others when she flew into a rage at his presence. It was like she was two different people. He knew why. She didn't want to be alone. The same problems that haunted his life before her accident resurfaced again. He knew that Catherine didn't love him. This time she only had him. Frank was pretty sure that no matter how much it pleased her to have somebody, it angered her that her somebody was him. He was caught in a difficult predicament. If he left her, it would be abandoning a woman in distress. Staying made her wish for someone else. There was no way to win this one. He wished his father were still alive so he could ask what to do about Catherine. He seemed to have an answer for everything. Unfortunately, he had passed away, along with his mother, five years ago. What do I do? Hoping to ease her pain, he stepped back into the room. "Honey, are you okay?" Catherine nodded, but didn't look at him. "Why don't you go home? There's no reason for you to hang around."

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"Sure. I'll get the house fixed up and ready for you to come home." He touched her shoulder, wishing he could hold her. "If you want, I'll-I'll get rid of the dog." "No. You need that dog. Go on home." He tried so hard to be patient with her. As always, he kept quiet and silently kicked himself on the way to the elevator. He hit the down button, waiting for the lift to come. There, staring at his reflection, anger flooded his senses. He couldn't let this drop, not now. Frank marched back to her hospital room and pushed open the door. She turned, looked at him, and managed to roll both eyes at his appearance in her room. Through it all, she wouldn't become that sweet girl he'd fallen for. He doubted she'd ever been. "Listen, Catherine, you can sit and cry all you want to, but facts are facts. Outward beauty doesn't last. It's the person inside that makes you beautiful. Eyes that don't match or a scar-free face don't mean anything. You should be turning to me during all this, not shutting me out. We should be clinging to each other, not you trying to push me away." "Leave me alone, Frank." He closed his eyes, reliving the night, remembering the dog barking, growling, and the gun on the floor. Win had protected him, although he never growled at a stranger. "You were standing over me when the dog attacked you. I saw what you were going to do, and don't try to deny it." He fought to keep his anger under control. "Can you tell me why?" 21


"So I'd be free." Her words were nothing but a whisper, but he heard them, and they tore through his heart. "Do you want a divorce? I'll grant you one. I would have given you one months ago. I never wanted to trap you." Her bottom lip trembled. She didn't answer his offer of a divorce, she couldn't take personal responsibility for it. Instead, she put it all on him. "You'd like that now ... now that I'm a freak. You could go to one of those bimbos who are hanging on your friends. You'd like to abandon me, wouldn't you?" Her voice was a shrill scream. "I'd like to have a real wife, not someone who hates me." He turned and started toward the door. "I'll stay with you as long as you want. I owe you that, but we're married in name only. I'll be here in the morning to pick you up. I will keep taking care of you, but don't let it hurt your feelings if I keep sleeping in the den." Frank went back into the hall. It might've been wrong to mention the incident when she was down, but he had to say it. His wife had wanted him dead. He had covered for her with the police, had said there was an intruder and that Catherine tried to save him. Ironically, that was what Catherine tried to say as well. Their concocted stories were so similar. Why couldn't they share that connection to make the marriage work? There wasn't much left for him at home, but he would support her. Maybe he could work longer days. Work had always been his escape, and now, with her coming back home, he needed it. 22


He rode the elevator to the lobby then exited through the sliding glass doors. He'd parked at the far side of the lot. Even in the distance, he saw his red Dodge truck poking up in the mix of sedans and compacts. The sun started descending as he reached his truck. He stood there a moment, appreciating the coming sunset. The orange, red, and gold eased his mind. For a moment, everything was good again. He watched the sunset and took in the mix of fresh air and car exhaust. Things had to get better. He worked at being a good husband. His entire life he wanted to live up to the image of his father, who never had strayed from his mother and had rarely spoken a hard word. Of course, his father never had to live with Catherine. "Don't that beat all, a man who can appreciate the view." Frank turned and saw a nurse, one born of men's fantasies and not a hospital environment. Her legs went on for a mile, disappearing beneath a skirt too short for work. She had long blonde hair she wrapped into a ponytail. The lady walked up, and he noticed her exposed cleavage from a top not quite buttoned far enough. "Hello, miss." Frank turned back to the sky. "I'm June." She brushed against him. "I'm a private duty nurse at the hospital. Are you here seeing someone?" "Yes. My wife." "Oh." She stepped back a little. "What she in for?" "Nothing much. I better get going." He opened the door to his truck and stepped inside. "Maybe I'll see you around." 23


That was the last thing he heard as he shut the door. Even if he wanted another wife, it wouldn't be one like her. He had enough of the busty, look-at-me types. If God ever gave him the opportunity to do right by Catherine and find love, then he would look for a good girl, the kind that understood what a marriage was supposed to be about. A girl like the one he lost before he met Catherine. He gave the nurse a nod as he backed out of the parking lot. This would be his last night at home alone. It might be wrong, but he dreaded Catherine coming home. The very thought made him stop for a six pack of beer. She wouldn't be happy, although he'd built an addition to the deck while she was hospitalized and had installed a hot tub. Somehow, he knew she would find fault with it and more with him.

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Chapter Three "Twenty bucks for a fuck. Leave the money on the dresser." That was the line her mother had told so many men who made their way in and out of their single-wide trailer. At first, Catherine's mother tried to hide her line of work, but that became too difficult. From noon to midnight men visited her mother. Most of them smelled bad and dressed in jeans and flannel shirts. None of them were professionals. Many of them had wives and children at home. Her mother never found a man to stay with her, to love her. She sold herself because she had been too ugly for a man to want. Catherine's mother was overweight, a condition that had been brought on by being pregnant with Catherine. At least that's what her mother had told her on a daily basis. She always told Catherine that having a baby girl had ruined her life. These insults she would spew while holding a cigarette stained with red lipstick. Catherine remembered her greasy hair and that lipstick. The men that left the twenties didn't complain about her mother's weight. They would simply turn off the lights, hiding what they deemed unsightly while they emptied their loads. Sex. All her mother had been good for was sex. Catherine had learned that men had little control over sex. Sex controlled them. Even before Catherine had grown breasts, her mother's clients would look at her with that strange lust. As she grew older, a few of them tried to touch her. That was when she decided that she couldn't end up like 25


her mother. She would get married, she would be good enough for a man to stay. Her beauty was the ticket out of that rusty old trailer with the threadbare carpet. Now, she wasn't beautiful. Now men would only want her with the lights off where they couldn't see her scars. If Frank left her, she would have nothing. After all that she'd done, she wouldn't even have a dresser for men to leave their money. "I'll never be beautiful again." Catherine saw herself in the mirror. The odd eye teased her, making her look, she was sure, more like a collection of parts than a person. I can't live like this. I can't be a freak that people look at in disgust, point at like a circus sideshow. Not me. Maybe people who grew up ugly can, but not me. She shivered remembering her mother, usually drunk, making those loud noises. She didn't want to be that person. She wanted to be adored, worshipped, needed, and above the sordid things in her childhood. "I can't live like that. I won't." She looked in the little mirror. The green eye mocked her. "To kill myself is wrong." She reminded herself. "But I can't live like this! I'm tired ... so tired ... my life hasn't turned out the way I wanted, the way it should have. I shouldn't have married Frank ... I deserved someone better, someone with clean hands and a nice suit. I deserved someone who would buy me a big house and better jewelry. I wasn't cut out for the happy homemaker lifestyle. I want to go back and have a do-over starting with not marrying Frank." 26


Outside she heard the nurse, rattling that damn medicine cart down the hall. It was filled with drawers, and in each drawer, a new way to make the pain go away. That's what she needed, a way to take away the pain. It wasn't even the discomfort in her face, her soul seemed to be in agony. This time of night the nurse didn't watch her cart closely. She'd seen the overweight behemoth before leave the drawers open as she went into the rooms. The day nurses never did that. They guarded the cart like a holy shrine, keeping everything locked up tight. This one didn't, this one was sloppy. Catherine eased out of bed and cracked open her door. The edge of the medicine cart sat across the hall, just past her door. This was her chance. She could get that do-over or at least not turn out like her mother. Catherine stepped into the hallway, reached into the large open drawer, and pulled out one bottle and several blister packs of pills. She went back inside her room. No one saw her. The halls were blissfully empty as she closed her door. She had no idea what she'd taken. The bottle had some long chemical name on it. The blister packs were also unlabeled except for a C in the middle of the white pill. It didn't matter what they were. She poured a glass of water and started taking the pills from the bottle. When those were all down, she popped open each blister pack and swallowed those too. She wouldn't have to live this way. She didn't have to live. Catherine leaned back on the bed, waiting for the pills to do their job. She used to ridicule the ugly, make fun of those 27


overweight. Now she was worse than any of them, but she wouldn't be much longer. Her limbs started feeling heavy, then her eyes closed. A little vertigo made her grip the sheets, but overall, it wasn't so bad. No, dying wasn't so bad after all. She'd heard about some sort of light, but didn't see it. Some shades of forms, but no lights. It wasn't so bad over here, and she couldn't see that damn mirror. **** Frank never expected to be back at the hospital so soon. When the call came shortly after he returned home that Catherine had tried to kill herself, he couldn't believe it. Now, he saw her in the glass-enclosed room with a tube running down her throat. The event took on a surreal quality as the doctor explained what Catherine had done. "The nurse didn't notice the stolen pills until she went for her last count of the night. After that, the rooms were searched, and we found Catherine in distress. We pumped her stomach, of course. She still absorbed a large amount. Her breathing and heart have been severely suppressed by the medication. It's a wait-and-see thing at this point. We're not sure when she lost consciousness." "I understand." Guilt racked Frank's body. He'd wished he didn't have to take her home, but he didn't mean like this. No matter what Catherine had done, he never wanted her harmed. "Can I go in?" "Sure." The doctor put a hand on Frank's arm. "We're not sure if she can hear you." 28


Frank stepped through the first door and sat in the chair next to his wife's bed. The machine kept a steady rhythm, forcing air in and out of her lungs, but it didn't seem like she was there. Perhaps she had gone on to something better. "Catherine. I've tried to be a good husband." He looked at the pale, unmoving body. "I don't know how to make you happy. I guess I never did. If you don't love me, then I want you to go on. Staying would be cruel to both of us." He sniffed back a tear. He couldn't fight the thought that Pam, his sweet, loving Pam, would never have done anything like this. Life was precious to Pam, she didn't even like seeing a bug die. She would talk about karma and reincarnation and how souls go on and come back when they are ready. He recalled one time she had gotten this book about walking ... walk ... what was it she had said? Well, that didn't matter. Whoa, pull back. I can't be thinking about someone I haven't seen or talked to for ten years. Pam's gone, moved away ... and I married Catherine. If she makes it, then I have to help her get well. Suddenly, the room grew chilly, and he felt like he wasn't alone. The hairs on his arms stood on end, gooseflesh rushed over him. He stood, looking around the room but no one was there, not even at the window to the hall. But he couldn't shake the sense that he was not alone. Unseen eyes were on him. One of the beeping monitors spiked, lines topping, and then it grew quiet and steady once again. Catherine sat up in bed, her eyes wide looking to the ceiling. Her left hand rose 29


upward as if reaching for someone or something. She grabbed at the air, yet didn't close her hand around it. A small sound like a hiccup escaped her lips, and she fell back down on the bed. Just as she fell, the doctor came rushing in, crash cart in tow. Pushing Frank out of the way he went to set up the AED paddles only to discover, it seemed to Frank, that she was breathing. Her eyes were open, panic in their mixed depths, as she clawed at the breathing tube. "Easy now, Mrs. White, easy, we'll get this out. Easy. I want you to breathe in and then cough out, and when you cough, I'm going to pull it out." She obeyed, keeping the same horrified expression as the doctor removed the tube from her mouth. A nurse wiped her lip. Frank couldn't get closer to the bed. The doctor checked her eyes with his light while the nurse took her blood pressure, comparing the numbers against the machine at the wall. Finally the small crowd stepped away from the bed. One of the nurses left, shaking her head as she exited the room. The doctor looked pleased with himself, as if he just performed a miracle. Frank looked at the doctor who shook his hand. "Frank?" He turned his head to find Catherine looking at him. She struggled to sit and he wasn't sure she should be doing that, but when she tossed the blanket to the side it was too late to ask. "Is that you?" Her voice was different, softer, but the tube being down her throat could have done that. "Yes." Frank came closer and 30


touched her hand. They'd always been cool before but this time her hand felt warm. "I'm here." "I've missed you." Tears filled her eyes as she spoke. "I can't believe you're here with me." She pulled his hand to her face, touching his palm against her undamaged cheek. "I love you so much." "Do you really? What about..." "Why am I in the hospital?" Catherine looked around the room and back at him. "Was I injured? Why is this bandage on my face? Frank? What's going on?" "You don't remember?" "The last thing I remember was a car spinning out of control. There was a tree. I remember being in a bed while people whispered I might not recover from the impact." Her gaze grew distant. "Was I in a car accident?"

31


Chapter Four Catherine stayed in the hospital for another week. The doctors couldn't explain her memory loss, unless some brain damage had occurred when her breathing stopped. Nor could they explain the flip-flop in her personality, or that she suddenly started to use her left hand instead of the right. The psychologist had come in to talk about her, and Catherine couldn't believe she would have tried to take her own life. She insisted it had to be a mistake. Her memory loss encompassed much of their marriage. She spoke of things that almost sounded like someone else's life. When it came down to it, all Catherine seemed to know for sure was that Frank was her husband and that was enough for him. They pulled into the drive of their house, a house Frank had built from the ground up. Frank parked in front, then ran around the side to open her car door. Catherine took his hand, and he led her to the porch. She kept the same content smile on her face, not the disapproving glare Catherine usually held. "This is our home." She said it as if reassuring herself of a questionable fact. "Yes. I think I remember it." She followed him inside, looking at everything as if seeing it for the first time. "Bits and pieces are there, like parts of an old movie." Catherine walked through the house, touching things, staring at photographs for too long. A look of confusion crossed her features when she looked at one taken of her shortly before the accident. When her inspection took her to 32


the backdoor at the kitchen, she stopped, then touched the door knob. She pulled her hand back, nervous, and Frank opened the door for her. It led to the back deck, where he'd made most of his improvements. Frank spent a lot of time here, pouring himself into things he could control with his hands. He enjoyed it, but Catherine never understood his pleasure in creating. He carved intricate designs in the posts, picked out the perfect landscaping, ending in a small rose garden. At the time, he rationalized that he'd done it all for Catherine, when actually he had needed something to do to take up his time. Seeing the look on her face made him glad he'd done it though. He worked for years to see that honest sincere smile on her face. "This is new, right?" She touched the banister, ran her fingers along the edges. "Yes. You were in the hospital for quite a while, and I didn't know what to do with myself." She reached up, tracing the outline of the bandages still on her face. It was a thin pad of white now, carefully taped to hide the healing scars. Sadness passed over her face. She pressed against the gauze until she winced in pain. "I don't know why you waited on me. How can you love someone so messed up?" She relaxed, and she flopped her hands at her sides. She'd gone through so much, but the disgrace over her physical deformities seemed less for vanity and more for him this time. "It will heal." He didn't know what else to say. Not only was he stymied by what to say to someone who went through 33


all the pain she had, but he also wasn't sure what to say to the woman who had for so long tormented his existence, the woman who cheated on him. The woman he thought he loved. "Don't worry about it." Catherine seemed so unsure, nervous to disappoint him. He searched desperately for some gentle words to ease her pain. None would come. This was foreign territory. She never needed reassurance before and never cared about anything he said. He pulled her into his arms and held her, wondering what new trials were coming into their lives and when her caustic remarks would return. "The backyard is beautiful. You are very talented." She pulled away, stepped into the small rose garden and sat on the bench he had placed in the middle. Her arms wrapped around herself and she rocked back and forth like a small child. Odd, that was something Pam did when she was worried about a test. The day before her driving test she rocked so much he told her she was going to start an earthquake. He'd never seen Catherine so vulnerable. And why was he suddenly thinking about Pam? "Would you like to be alone, or may I join you?" "Only be with me if you want to, not for pity." She looked at him, tears in her mismatched eyes. "I'm not just talking about now. I want you, but only if you really want me for a wife, not for some vow or some sense of loyalty." Frank sat next to her and put an arm around her. She leaned against him, gave into his presence. The sensation was unlike any he experienced with Catherine, yet 34


reminiscent. A pull kept him in place, and he could swear a bond developed between them. In his mind, an image flashed of a carnival he'd gone to with Pam years before. Sitting by the pond, sharing a hot dog, his arm around her, her head on his shoulder. Warmth filled him, and for once in many years, he enjoyed his wife's company. This was the Catherine he had always wanted to be with. They sat there in silence for hours, and then Frank noticed the time. His stomach gave a second opinion on the late hour. Touching Catherine may be nice, but he needed food. "I'm starved. How about some dinner?" "What would you like?" She asked him, another rarity. "I don't know." She stood and started into the house, going through the back door and into the kitchen. There she opened the refrigerator, made a face, then opened the freezer. Very odd. He'd never known Catherine to cook. Now I'm being silly, looking for ghosts when there isn't anything but my wife struggling to recapture her life. "You don't have any food here. Poor guy. What did you do while I was in the hospital?" She looked in the pantry, jostled a few cans around, then turned to look at him. "The same thing I did before." He scratched his head, wondering if he'd missed some joke. "Ate out or had a frozen dinner." "What? I'm a great cook. Why would you..." Catherine's face turned white. "What's wrong?" 35


She gripped the edge of the counter. "It's like a bad dream." She reached down, pulled her shirt free from her pants then looked at her stomach, running her fingers over the smooth skin. "This doesn't make sense." "What?" "This may sound weird, but did you ever try to hurt me? Stab me?" Her stomach was smooth, perfect, not a scar or scratch and this seemed to amaze her. She kept looking at it, pulling at the skin as if checking for something. Frank took a step back, confusion and horror washing over him. "No. Never." "I didn't think you had." Then she closed her eyes. "No. He was smaller, dirtier. Always smelled of greasy car parts." "Who?" "What?" She shook her head. "I'm sorry, what?" "Who are you talking about?" "I don't know." She tried to smile, but it was a poor effort. "I keep having this bad dream." "Tell me about it." A knock at the door startled Frank as it echoed through the house that had grown too quiet. He stood, glad for any excuse to get away from this conversation for a minute. When she told him her dreams, his skin turned to gooseflesh, especially when he knew part of it wasn't a dream. He walked away and glanced back, happy she hadn't followed him. Another knock hurried his steps through the house. He pulled open the door to find his neighbor Jim standing there holding Win's leash tightly and a box tucked under his arm. 36


"This a bad time?" His Southern drawl always relaxed Frank. "No. Come on in." He opened the door wide, and Win bolted inside. The dog sniffed Frank, then stood on his back legs and gave him a big wet lick down his cheek. Frank patted him softly. He loved the old dog. "I saw your truck and thought you'd want Win back over. My wife also fixed you two supper." "Hello," Catherine appeared at the edge of the room. Win ran to her, stopped, and Frank watched Catherine visibly steady herself against the dog. He sniffed her feet, then sat on his haunches, lifting one paw. She bent slowly, holding out her hand for the dog. He licked it then they shook as if meeting for the first time. "Well, aren't you friendly?" She got down on her knees and petted him. "What's his name again? Oh wait. I remember, Win." "Well, Catherine, you're looking well." Jim had his old dirty ball cap on. "Thank you. It's good to be home and out of that hospital." She stepped towards the door. "I think I remember you. Jim? And your wife is ... Mary? Right, Jim and Mary?" "That's right." Frank reached down and gave the dog's head a rub. "Glad your memory is coming back." He handed her the box, one of those that Jim brought home from the grocery store. "My wife fixed ya'll some supper." "That is so sweet. She didn't have to do that." 37


"Our pleasure." "Why don't you join us?" She peered inside. "There's enough food here to feed an army." "No. No. My wife is setting the table right now." "Well, thank you. Next week I expect you and your wife over for a dinner. It'll be fun. Maybe we'll play some cards afterward." She turned and carried the box back into the dinning room with Win on her heels. Frank watched her leave and was surprised to find Jim doing the same. The old man just shook his head, brows furrowed, a serious expression plastered on his wrinkled face. "She was nice to me?" Jim posed a question that Frank wasn't sure if he should answer. "Catherine's different. I can't get over how well Win took to her. That dog never liked her, and she wasn't crazy about him either." "Are you sure you brought the right woman home from the hospital?" He scrubbed his scraggly gray chin then looked toward the kitchen again. "Catherine ain't actin' like herself." "I've noticed." The same thought had entered his mind, but he was starting to like the changes he saw in her. If only they were permanent. Yes, Catherine had changed. "Sounds like she's invited you over for dinner and cards. That could be fun." "I didn't know she cooked." Jim looked back toward the dinning room. "What kind of cards?" He scratched his head. "Weird. Really weird." 38


"It truly is." For the time being, Frank wasn't sure if the weird behavior was good or bad. Cooking, playing cards, being nice to the neighbors. Pam used to like to play rummy ... and why was he thinking of Pam again. He kind of liked this version of Catherine. "We'll come by. Just call me with the day and time." While holding that serious expression, he added, "find out what kind of cards we'll be playing. I ain't doing no strip poker." "Believe me, Jim. I don't want to play strip poker with you." Jim laughed heartily then patted Frank on the back. "Call me. Even if it's just to talk." Frank let him out the door and waved goodbye. He tried not to let Jim get to him but in truth, Catherine never liked their neighbors. Not once had she invited them to dinner, nor did she ever stop to speak to Jim when he visited. "Can I help you with that?" Frank asked as he went through the house and saw Catherine setting dishes on the table. "No. I like doing routine things. Sort of helps me feel like I'm at home." She tore off a couple of paper towels and folded them, placing each beside the plate. For a minute, she seemed to have trouble finding the silverware, then her slack memory caught, and she found the forks. She seemed to have the same momentary loss for the glasses, and then she found them and put them on the table. She'd chosen wine glasses, although there was no wine. "Sweetie, do you have everything you need?" 39


"Sure." Her face nearly glowed. She seemed content to set the table. "You know I don't drink, but I thought we could use the wine glasses since this was a special occasion." She pulled a bottle of water out of the refrigerator and poured it in the glass. "Oh, wait, you prefer beer, don't you?" "Whatever you're having is fine." "Are you sure?" She never offered to get him a drink before today. She might've in the early months of their marriage but that was too long ago to remember. "Absolutely. Water is fine." Catherine not drink wine? That was the first Frank had heard of it. Catherine drank, and often passed out on the couch. She wouldn't drink water under any circumstances. In fact, he remembered her complaining that it didn't have any taste. He was being silly. Catherine looked like the same woman he'd married. Her body was perfect, the long blonde hair was brushed the same way. Nothing physically had changed. Then he noticed her hands. "Sweetie, where are your rings?" "I took them off. They felt weird. I hope you don't mind." She shrugged. "I think a nurse ran off with one of those rings anyway." Catherine was never without her jewelry. From the moment she woke, she wore some ornaments. Special occasions had never been special unless he shelled out a small fortune for some gold or diamonds. Only one ring adorned her hand now, a plain gold band. The one he'd given her on their wedding day. The one he had to replace with 40


something fancier before her nagging drove him insane. "I'll call the hospital right now." "Don't bother. It's only rocks, right? Maybe the nurse needed it." She glanced down at her hands. "I hope you don't mind, but I found this one in the jewelry box a few minutes ago when I put up the others. It fits better." "I don't mind." He'd always preferred the plain band to the showy crap. "It looks perfect on you." Emotion swelled in his gut. The mix of pleasure and pain brought tears to his eyes. Something amazing had happened in that hospital, something wonderful. As he watched Catherine serve dinner, he couldn't help wondering if and hoping that she would stay this way. "Here, boy." Catherine took a bit of sausage from the ziti Mary had prepared and fed Win. Win wagged his tail, also content with this new version of Catherine. "You're amazing." Frank sat down, unable to stop staring. They sat to dine, and Catherine lifted her glass. "A toast. To us." She brought the glass to her lips, and all at once, she turned pale. Her mouth tightened in a straight line. The glass broke in her hand, water covering her lap and the table while shards littered the floor. Win started howling, and the room grew cold, as if someone had turned on the air conditioner. "Catherine?" He reached toward her, but she was unresponsive. Her eyes rolled back in her head and her body jerked, Frank grabbed her before she hit the floor. Win stopped howling and went to her. Frank almost stopped him until he saw the dog licking her face, as if trying to wake her. 41


"What happened?" Catherine leaned into Frank, broken glass falling from her clothes and clinking around them. "I think we should take you to the hospital. It looked like you were having a seizure." "Please, Frank, no more hospitals. I can't stand to be locked up in that place again." She sat up and saw the mess she'd made. "Oh, no. Look what I've done." "It's nothing. I'll get it." "No. I'll get it." Her hands shook. "I'm so embarrassed." She tossed a few of the bigger pieces that had landed on her pants into the trash. "I've ruined our lovely dinner. I'm so sorry." "You didn't ruin anything." Together, they got on their knees and started cleaning up the broken shards. Win, in his very unique way, helped by dragging over a dust pan, and Catherine got the broom. In a few minutes, everything was back to normal. They sat back at the table, Catherine with a fresh glass. This time when she brought the glass to her lips, Frank held his breath, but nothing happened. "Catherine, promise me something." "What?" She looked at him, nibbling her bottom lip in an odd way Catherine never had. In fact, only Pam ever nibbled at her lip that way. "Never mind." Frank took a bite of his now-cold ziti. They ate their dinner, and occasionally, he would catch Catherine looking at him. Her eyes were big, a soft smile played at her lips, and he could almost believe that she loved him. 42


Chapter Five The knife sliced through the air. He intended to kill her. In her heart and soul, she knew it. There was no mistaking the look of hatred in his eyes or the rage in his voice. For all the times he had struck her, beat her, threatened her, she knew tonight was the night she would die. That face, she didn't want to die looking at that face. "Please don't." He came closer, swishing the knife back and forth in front of him. The fillet knife was from his tackle box, not even a clean one from the kitchen. Dirty, smelly, crude—like him. This one had the remains of something brown and a few scales clung along the backside. "You can't leave me, Pam." His voice, the epitome of redneck in his slow and careful way, hung in the air and added to her terror. "You're my wife." "Stop it. Don't do this, Robert." Robert, who had promised her the moon and left her with only dust. Robert, the man who tried to destroy her spirit and when he couldn't, he now tried to destroy her body. I don't want to die, not this way. I want to live and have a full and fulfilling life. Someone, please hear me. I want to live! He came closer and leaned down, bringing the knife level with her waist. This was the only chance she would get. With all her might, she kicked out, causing him to lose his balance and stumble backward. The blow wasn't enough, though. He grabbed her arm, turning her, the knife sliced across her 43


belly. There was surprisingly little pain, and for a brief instant, she thought he had missed. Then the slow red line started. She raised the palm of her hand and smashed his nose, taking some pleasure in the snapping sound. He let go, and she began to run. The screen door slammed closed behind her. With her heart pounding wildly in her chest, she ran. She had to get away. Her car sat in the driveway. The blood from the wound poured freely now, running in a red stream to her pants and dotting her sneakers. So much blood. Too much blood, she had to find help. She made it into the car, fumbled with the handle, her hands slick with blood made pulling the door open difficult. Finally, she tugged it free and started it by the time the dizziness hit. There was no time to waste. Robert wouldn't be down for long, and he would finish the job. She floored the accelerator and started down the tired dirt road. Dust flew behind her. Then darkness, then light, the tree, glass tinkling. She flew into a waterfall that used to be the windshield, like a bird set free. Dying isn't so bad after all, but I don't want to die. I want to live and love and be loved. I don't want to die. "He killed you." A strange voice filled her head. One that wasn't hers. She'd never heard it before. "Men are evil, you know. He killed you, and you're too fucking stupid to even know it." Who are you? "The question is, who are you and what are you doing in my body?" 44


Catherine jerked awake to find Frank leaning over her. At first, she screamed, not knowing who he was or why he was in her bed. Wait, this was their bed. He was her husband. "Please don't hurt me." She raised her hands preparing for a blow. "Not again." "Sweetie, it's me." His hands were rough, but in a masculine way that she liked. He swept her hair from her face, the motion seemingly too gentle to come from such large strong hands. In the same delicate way, he pulled her closer. She rested her face on his chest. "I think you had a nightmare." "I guess so." She didn't want to say more. Had it been a nightmare? Nothing more than a silly bit of drama strung together by her mind? It felt so real, like it was a memory, not just a dream. Who was Robert? Why was he trying to kill her? It felt so real. It felt like she was reliving a life. Not necessarily her life, but a life. All she had were snatches of memory that came through the fog. He stroked her cheek. "I'm here. You don't have to be afraid of anything." When they'd gone to bed, she hadn't watched him undress even though she wanted to. She had imagined how he would look yet at the same time knew every muscle and plane of his body. Now she felt his body, hard and muscled, protecting her. The arms that held her were strong, but the way he held her made her forget the nightmare and the fear. This wasn't the man in the dream. This man wouldn't harm her. 45


Beneath her leg, he hardened, the stiff shaft smoothly rubbing against her. At that moment, she realized that he'd gone to bed naked. Her thighs moved together impulsively. She couldn't remember this man ever making love to her but his gentle treatment combined with his body stirred something inside her. She lay there a moment, trying to control her emotions. She'd just had a nightmare, but the way he held her aroused her in ways that she couldn't remember experiencing. Then she remembered her face. He might not want her. "Frank?" "What?" He sounded sleepy. "Well..." She didn't know what to say. She couldn't remember ever wanting a man like this much less making her desires known. "Nothing." She shouldn't pursue this. Exciting a man now was unthinkable, and a man like Frank could have gorgeous women. Who wouldn't want to be on the arm of such a muscled, intelligent man? "Goodnight." She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. He held her there, bringing her face close enough so that she saw him clearly, even in the dim light. His face wasn't classically handsome, but rugged, manly. The sensation between her thighs stirred again. "How are you?" he whispered near her ear, moving his mouth back and forth along her cheek. "Wonderful, now." She brought her thigh across him, rubbing his stiff length. A low moan of pleasure erupted from his throat. 46


"Really?" Frank kissed her again, harder this time, and she lost her breath. His tongue dipped into her mouth, touching hers before she followed. Everything felt so new, but this was her husband. She knew it in her heart. There was no reason to hold back or hesitate. He reached beneath her nightshirt, touching her body, caressing her skin in a slow sweet climb. Those rough hands found her breasts, cupping, holding. She kissed him harder, wanting him inside her. Then he lifted her shirt from her body. "You're so beautiful." His mouth went to one breast, then the other. They felt larger, fuller, than she remembered. But that couldn't be. Each kiss, circling the underside then coming up and taking her nipple into his hot mouth. She moaned, and heat spread through her body. She had to have him. Catherine reached down, touching his cock, caressing it from base to tip. It was large, hard, and she longed to taste the dewy tip, yet she didn't want to pull her breast from his hungry mouth. She ran her fingers through his hair and arched her back. Those rough hands ran down, sliding to her hips and rolling her onto her back. "Are you sure I won't hurt you?" She couldn't speak, only shook her head no while she reached for his groin, massaging him, tickling the underside of his sac before running along his length again. Familiar, but at the same time, different, better, right ... so right. The smooth head of his cock nudged against her thigh, drawing 47


closer to her mound. Agonizing seconds passed as he teased her, nearing to her opening, then pulling away while he plundered her mouth. Desire burned through her, and she thrust her hips up, trying to catch him, but he pulled back, just enough to rub himself against her clitoris, causing her to moan again. The hunger inside drove her mad. She reached around him, gripped his ass, and at his next tease, pulled him into her, sheathing him in her mound. It was too much. He stretched her, pushing then exiting only to bring himself back inside. She cried, unable to control her pleasure, and he hesitated. "Am I hurting you?" "Don't stop." She'd never remembered being demanding in bed, but he had to finish her. She was so close. "Please, don't stop." Frank eased his hips closer to hers, and she knew his hunger rose out of control. He entered her slowly then harder, taking her, possessing her in a passion greater than anything she'd ever experienced. Vibrations spread through her center, and she moaned, letting the delight roll through her. There was no reason to hold back. This was her husband, and she came. As her body let go, so did his. A grunt, another moan, and hot seed filled her. "Oh, Frank." Their bodies stilled. Hers beneath his. He rolled onto his back, bringing her with him. She'd become part of him, and 48


there she snuggled. His breathing slowed, becoming regular, and she let sleep envelop her. Frank was perfect, and that was her last though as the sleeping world seeped in. **** Catherine woke in the kitchen, the cold tile on her feet. Startled, she turned, trying to get her bearings. Her naked body chilled. Her body felt different ... more, more, more something she couldn't define. She couldn't remember what she'd been dreaming. The daze of sleep lifted, and she looked at the knife in her hand. It was a long fillet knife, sparkling in the bit of light coming in the window from the street. "What the hell?" She dropped it into the sink, horrified over why she had it and what it could mean. Panic-stricken, she ran back into her bedroom. Surely she hadn't acted out her nightmare. He had to be okay. He was her husband, she belonged with him. In her heart of hearts, she knew they were soul mates and still she feared what the darker areas of her mind might do during unrestrained sleep. There lay Frank. His beautiful body twisted in the covers. It was too dark to see him clearly from the door, so she crept forward and slid her hand down his chest, waiting until he breathed. His chest rose and fell. He was fine. Never in her life had she wanted to harm another human being and certainly not Frank. The idea that she could have hurt him wouldn't shake. Tears filled her eyes. She had to get 49


out of that room. She went to the bathroom and splashed cool water onto her face. This isn't happening. She'd just had a bad dream, nothing more. She loved Frank, at least she thought she did. I wouldn't marry a man I didn't love, would I? Of course not. He is, and always has been, the love of my life. Right now things felt too new to be sure, but that was from the accident, her suicide attempt. She couldn't imagine wanting to take her life and didn't remember the event at all. Maybe she'd gone insane. How else could she explain what happened to her face? The scars, the transplants, ... maybe that was it. She remembered once reading something about transplants and cell memory. No, she was home, safe and with her husband. Catherine looked at herself in the mirror. The edges of her hair were wet along with part of her bandage. She hadn't thought about that before splashing her face. She opened the medicine cabinet and pulled out a fresh pad along with cloth tape to secure it. As she pulled off the old bandage, she caught a glance of her eyes. The light was bad. That's all. She closed her eyes, then refocused them. On second look, everything was fine, but for a minute, she could've sworn two blue eyes held in the reflection instead of one blue and one green. Weren't my eyes green? No, that's not right. She replaced the bandage and looked again. One blue eye and one green looked back at her. Her vision perfect, but she couldn't help wondering why her eyes looked so different. It was more than the color. The blue one seemed colder somehow. 50


This isn't making sense. She brushed her hair and crawled back into bed. In the morning, there wouldn't be a knife in the sink. Everything would be fine. This was a bad dream, nothing more. She'd been through a lot of stress and hadn't settled back to her routine. Quietly, she snuggled against Frank. He responded, eyes flittering open briefly before he took her in his arms. They said nothing, and she felt safe again, removed from whatever horrors had caused her to sleepwalk. I don't want to lose him. "Well I do." I won't lose him, not again. "You don't have a choice." She opened her eyes again but no one was there. Another dream. She wasn't hearing voices in her head. She didn't hear them now. It must be a side effect of the drugs at the hospital. Yes, that was it. The residual of the drugs from the hospital was messing with her mind. That was all. Again, Catherine tried to sleep. She wasn't crazy. This was a temporary thing, and everything would be better in the morning. Deep in her heart, she wanted Frank more than anything. "But you can't hide from yourself." I'm safe in his arms. "No, you aren't. I won't let you be." You can't stop me. "No? I can stop him." 51


Chapter Six Frank had attempted to clear his calendar in the hopes of spending a solid week at home with Catherine. Originally, he didn't want to spend any time at home, but now things had changed. Catherine needed him. Something troubled her. He wasn't sure if it was from her injuries but it seemed like a strange dread had settled over her. Her difficulty sleeping also bothered her. She stayed restless, even moments after falling asleep. Those dreams she tried to casually mention disturbed her more than she was willing to admit. Honestly, he wasn't sure if she had nightmares before her hospital stint or not. It was embarrassing to say, but he had no idea how the old Catherine slept. After years of her rolling away from him, and then his sleeping in the den, he didn't know Catherine's sleeping patterns. On day two, however, his cell phone rang, disturbing their time together. They'd been cuddling on the couch, and he had to stop to handle business. So much for time with his wife. "What?" He didn't mean to bark, but the blissful moment had been too wonderful to disturb, until the digital chime. Some days he hated technology. The call was from Irwin, his foreman. A concrete support column hadn't been poured properly, and the job would likely be behind a week because of it. It was one of the few things that could pull him from Catherine's embrace. Damn, there were times he hated being the boss. 52


"I have to go." "I know." Disappointment filled her eyes. She actually cared that he was leaving. "I'll be back soon." "Then we can go to the market and get some real food in this place." "Deal." Shopping for food, now that was a new one. Catherine shopped—for clothes, jewelry, things to enhance her image—but food? Maybe there was something in the drugs they gave her during the surgeries. Frank showered and put on his slacks. No jeans today. There was no telling who he'd have to deal with to get the job back on schedule. It was a state thing. Those bastards were picky and slow to pay, but consistent work for his men was better than letting them go without a check until a better job came along. He wasn't sure why he worried anymore. He had six crews going and two more jobs waiting as soon as he could clear someone. Work had always been his focus and the more work the better, it kept Catherine in the style she liked to live in and him out of the house. Of course now, work was the last thing on his mind. Cuddling, loving, planning a future with Catherine took priority. For the first time since they returned from their honeymoon ten years ago it looked like they were going to have a real marriage. Maybe they would even have children. Even one child would be wonderful. She never wanted any before, said they would ruin her figure. But maybe now she would want a child, his child. "Are you sure you'll be okay here, all by yourself?" 53


"I'm a big girl. besides, I have Win." At the sound of his name, Win jumped onto the couch and put his head in her lap. Damn dog knew he wasn't supposed to be on the couch, but the look of them together kept Frank from saying anything. They both seemed content to keep each other company while waiting for him. "You used to want me to lock up Win when I went out." A deep crease appeared on her forehead, like she was trying to remember saying that. Then her pleasant smile returned, and she rubbed the dog's head. His tail wagged, and he rolled onto his back as a hint for a belly rub. "Don't lock him up. That would be terrible." He would never understand that fickle dog. Whatever enchanting qualities Catherine had picked up at the hospital worked on spoiled rotten mutts too. "Call me if he gives you any trouble." "I will." Frank went out the door. Catherine and Win followed him, stopping on the wraparound deck and waving goodbye as he pulled out of the driveway. They sat there on the top step while he drove down the road. She watched him leave, instead of waving him on while sitting in front of the television. "What's gotten into you, Catherine?" he asked as he looked into the rear view mirror at them. Frank had always imagined having a marriage like his parents'. His mother took care of the house while his father went out and earned a living. Mom had her church nights and occasionally babysat the neighbor's boys. They always had 54


dinner together as a family though. Dad would help Mom clear away the dishes. They would stand in the kitchen together, her washing, him drying. It seemed like they never enjoyed being away from each other. At night they would tuck him into bed. Dad would read him a story while his mom hugged him and listened too. When he married Catherine, the hopes for a similar situation quickly vanished. She had him locked into his vows. His mother had warned him. She had tried to tell him that Catherine wasn't the right one, but he hadn't listened. His father had only given him the talk that when a man took a wife, it was for life. Those were ideas from a forgotten time, but that's how Frank was raised. He had old-fashioned values. As he drove he let a little hope light in his heart. Maybe he would get a good wife now. He wanted to fall in love with Catherine again. He only hoped she would really love him this time instead of returning to her previous behavior. A half an hour later, he pulled up at the jobsite. Twenty men stood around, staring at the support beam and concrete column. He didn't need twenty guys standing around. Downtime could cost him a fortune. A trailer had been set up on site to use as an office. Frank marched inside to find his foreman, Irwin, sitting at the desk with his feet propped up. At the sight, the foreman straightened up and picked up the schedule for the project. "Give me that." Frank jerked the clipboard out of his hand. He hadn't meant to behave with so much anger, but he wanted to get back to Catherine, not watch guys stand around with their thumbs up their asses. 55


He went through the list of tasks and the timetable for each. Then he glanced through the supply list. At least one thing had been done correctly. All inferior items were marked and the supplier supposedly contacted over the problems. Sometimes he wondered about the inferior items. It wasn't anything he could say with certainty, but almost every time, Irwin did the ordering, something seemed to go wrong. "Irwin, get out there and tell the men to start taking down the far bank." "We were going to hit that next week." Frank locked his gaze on him, giving him the gentle reminder of who was the boss around here. "Do it now. I'll call this supplier and get this crap fixed." Irwin didn't move until Frank motioned for him to get outside. At least these guys could move dirt. It was common sense, and they owned the equipment to move dirt. As for the rest of it, who knew what he could manage. He just hoped he could hurry back home. **** Catherine sat on the porch with Win until she saw the taillights on Frank's truck disappear. How many times had she seen him rush off to work while she sat at home waiting? She wasn't sure. It felt familiar. Once again everything seemed like a movie, a crash course she hadn't known she'd taken. She knew the scenes but the essence of it remained lost. Her skin chilled and she decided to go inside. She reached for the door and stopped. Win started growling behind her. The sound, ominous threatening, a memory tickled the back 56


of her mind. A memory of ... a gun ... Win ... and then nothing. When Catherine turned around to find his hackles rise, teeth bared, and drool dripping from his gaping jaws. A flash of Win on top of her, his jaws wide open edged to consciousness. What happened to me? What hasn't Frank told me about how I ended up in the hospital? "I'll never tell." "Win?" He jumped forward, stopping before his snapping jaws made contact with her flesh. Catherine was terrified, then she realized why. That strange voice in her head rose, filling her. She stood alone on her porch but she wasn't alone and maybe she never would be. That voice, that presence tried to dominate her. "Run while you still can. That dog will kill us both." "I don't think that dog wants to hurt me, only you." The dog rose again, moving until his mouth was right beneath her blue eye, snapping and barking. From the side she heard someone yell. It was Jim. She turned her head, only a little, but saw a shotgun in his hands. The gun aimed at Win. "Win. Come," yelled Jim. "Get away from her." He took a step closer with the shotgun. "Stop, Jim," she yelled while the dog's focus stayed on her. "Just give me a minute." "Whoever you are? Get out or that dog will rip us both to shreds." I belong here. You're the intruder. "Then maybe I let the dog take us both". 57


"Win. Leave her alone!" Win lunged again, and she saw Jim take aim. Win's mouth stopped an inch before her face. A flash of that mouth so close to hers. No. That's not right. It wasn't hers ... someone else's ... tearing, ripping, pain. "I hate him, I don't want to die, I want out." She couldn't back up any farther, or even pull the door open to run inside. Letting the dog die wasn't an option though. She didn't know why, but Win was important to her. "Don't shoot, Jim. Don't!" Win snarled again, and she felt the cold drain from her body. Whatever, whoever had been inside her, fled. She was pretty sure they hadn't gone completely. Maybe the demon fell back into the subconscious parts of her mind. It hid from Win, waiting for another chance to come forward. Oh shit, am I possessed? She felt her knees give, turning to jelly. Win sniffed the air in front of her and stopped his aggression. At once, he went to her, licking her face—the side with the green eye—and wagging his tail. Jim ran up, still pointing his gun at the dog. "Are you okay?" The sound of his voice would've been friendly if he had would put away that gun. "Yes. I had a little episode. I think Win knew it was coming. That's what made him go a little crazy." "Episode?" "I think my head is a little screwed up. That's all." She pointed to the gun. "Could you lower that? It's making me nervous." 58


"I'm sorry. I thought old Win here was going to attack you again." Jim looked down at the dog but didn't pet him. He even took a step or two back when the dog edged in his direction. "Strangest thing I ever saw." Catherine stood and straightened. "Would you like to come in for a glass of water? You look a little flustered." "No." He stared at Win. "Would you like me to take Win to my house until Frank gets home?" "Oh no." She sounded defensive, hell she felt defensive. Something was seriously wrong in her head and only this crazy dog had scared it away. "I really want him with me." She reached down to pet him, happy to have his warm fur in her hand. "He's really a good dog. I think in his own way he was trying to help me." "Are you sure?" "Absolutely." "Okay." Jim started back across the yard to his home, pausing to look back at her. "Holler if you need me." He shook his head, probably thinking that she'd lost her mind. She didn't care. Whether she was going crazy or worse, she needed Win with her. For some reason, she thought her life depended on it. "I'm okay." She said it more to herself than to Jim, who was too far away to hear. "This is a side effect of the surgery and all. Nothing more. I need to act normal, and I'll be normal." She went back into the house, Win on her heels. He followed her into the kitchen. It was almost lunchtime and she was famished, although the cupboards were still bare. 59


There were a few leftovers from last night. She dished some out, making sure to give Win a bite or two of sausage. When it was heated and sitting in front of her, she couldn't touch a bite. Her stomach had turned into knots inside her. There had to be a logical reason that she heard voices in her head. She didn't think she'd gone crazy. It could be a tumor, but they'd run so many tests on her in the hospital that surely someone would've noticed something. Was that why I was there in the first place? Why my face was operated on? Why do I have a new eye? Did I have a tumor and it's back? Catherine sat in the kitchen floor with Win. He wagged his tail, kissing her on the nose. How any dog could have such rancid breath she would never know. She rubbed the sides of his face. "I wish you could tell me what was wrong. Am I crazy?" The dog tried to talk, at least as much as a dog can. He gave a half bark ending in a howl. She wasn't sure what it meant. Win seemed to know something. She scrubbed his head again. She also looked pretty silly sitting on the floor with the dog. Maybe some fresh air would do them both some good. Catherine opened the door and walked Win to the back porch. She liked the back better. It seemed clean, as if there was something wrong in the other areas of the house. She couldn't put her finger on it, but the back was brighter, healthier, unspoiled. Catherine followed the steps down to the manicured lawn. Frank certainly had a talent for making 60


things beautiful. Here she could get better, leave the incident behind. She would get better, and the voices would be gone. She lay down on the grass, Win putting his head on her stomach. It occurred to her that he was being too friendly. In some ways, maybe he thought being around her was for her safety too. "Catherine?" Frank's voice came from inside the house. "Out here." She rose up, disturbing the dog who gave a half bark of disapproval. "Are you okay? I got this call from Jim." She smiled. Jim was a good guy. Neighbors like him were hard to find. Few cared what anyone around them did, much less brought a gun to a neighbor's defense. She just hoped he never hurt Win. "I'm fine. I spooked Win and Jim ran over afraid that he'd been attacking me." She reached over and wrapped her arm around Win. "Don't worry. Win was just looking out for me." "Are you sure? Jim usually doesn't get upset over nothing." She didn't want to upset her husband. He had a right to know something strange had been happening. Of course she would have to give him a watered-down version, or he would haul her back to the hospital again. "I've had some trouble, not really a seizure, but something isn't quite right yet. Win seems to pick up on it. It makes him a little nuts. He wouldn't hurt me. I think he tries to scare it out of me." His eyes grew wide. "We need a doctor then." "No, Frank. I need to be here with you and him. I'll be fine when everything settles down." 61


"I don't know what to do here." "Trust me." She reached for his hand and gently pulled him to the ground. "I don't want to ever go back to that hospital. Everything I've ever wanted is here." "Then stop frightening me." He looked cute when he worried. She couldn't remember him ever showing so much concern, or devotion. Then again, she didn't connect with any old marital emotions. Beneath the surface, there were what she could only describe as memories of emotions, but they were convoluted and some how didn't fit with her life with Frank. It was like she was on the outside looking in at someone else's thoughts. Or more like she was watching someone else's memories be played back as if from a grainy old movie. All she had was the here and now. That would be enough. "Why don't we go out to dinner?" "No. Let's go shopping. I want food I've cooked. And I know you tried to bring me some decent meals while I was sick but, honey, that wasn't my own cooking. I appreciated it, really did, because that hospital stuff could kill. They don't season anything." Frank laughed and rolled backward until he lay flat on the ground. Win took it for an invitation and sat in the middle of his chest. When he complained, Win licked him. "Okay. You two win. We'll eat at home tonight." He rolled Win off his chest and got up. Frank helped Catherine to her feet. She held his hand and they went to the car. She only let go after he opened the door for her to slip inside. For some reason, she wanted to keep touching him. 62


Every moment, every second was precious, to be savored as if they might end without warning. They had mild conversation in the car. Frank talked about work. It seemed he didn't have anything else happening in his life except for his business. Something about Irvin or Irwin tickled at the edge of her mind. It was like she knew she should remember him, but for some reason just didn't. Something about Irv ... yeah, Irv ... felt wrong. She liked listening to her husband though. His voice was deep and smooth, reminding her of molasses. She closed her eyes as he spoke, letting the sound run over her. It comforted her in ways she didn't fully understand. "I must be boring you." She opened her eyes and looked at him. "No. I love listening to you talk. I missed it." She leaned over and rested her head on his arm. "It's like we've been apart for years instead of weeks." "I know what you mean." They pulled into the grocery store parking lot, and Catherine realized that she hadn't made a list. At the moment, she couldn't even remember what Frank's favorite foods were. That was terrible. What kind of wife couldn't remember the food her husband likes? "Are you in the mood for anything special?" She hoped to gain a hint. "Whatever you want." Frank's reply wasn't any help. Like the perfect gentleman, he opened her car door for her, and they walked arm in arm into the grocery store. Frank looked a little lost and suddenly she felt the same. She 63


remembered cooking, but couldn't remember ever shopping with Frank. Funny, her memories seemed to be of a different kitchen, but maybe when he built the deck he remodeled the kitchen too? Would he think it odd if she asked? She shook her head. She would make steak and potatoes tonight. All men loved that. She could also pick up ingredients for chili, broiled snapper, and maybe lasagna. If Frank made a face at anything, she would put it back. The last thing she needed was for Frank to think she'd lost her mind and couldn't even remember what kind of food he liked. Sure, odds were she had lost her mind. That would figure. Finally out of the hospital and she would have to go right back, back to those sterile walls where not even Win could protect her from the voices. "Something wrong?" Catherine realized that she'd stopped in front of the shopping carts, not moving, only staring straight ahead. Maybe she should tell him what had been going on with her. He was her husband, yet she didn't want to repeat her newest troubles. Somehow telling another that she'd lost her mind made it more real. "Nothing." She pulled a cart out. This was ridiculous. He was her husband and would love her regardless, wouldn't he? "I guess I should tell you something. My memory isn't coming back right. I've had weird lapses. I don't even remember what your favorite food is." She tried to look at him but she quickly dropped her gaze to the floor. "I must be the worst wife ever." 64


Frank lifted her chin, studying her with an intensity that made her nervous. "Catherine, I'm not going to lie to you. You have really changed since you went into the hospital. There was a time that you probably were the worst wife ever? Not now." For a moment, she thought there were tears in his eyes. "Anything you need to know, just ask. We don't need to have secrets. Not anymore." They started rolling the cart up the aisles. Catherine loaded it up, and Frank put a few items back. He wasn't big on fresh vegetables. She would have to work on that, but for now, there were other things they needed to discuss, other than groceries. "Frank, if I tell you something, will you promise not to take me back to the hospital." "What is it?" He raised an eyebrow. She could tell he was unwilling to make a promise he didn't want to keep. She tossed a can of beans into the cart. She didn't want to do this but talking about it at home would be worse. At least here he couldn't overreact. Here they could keep walking and shopping like normal people. "Do you think someone that hears voices in her mind is crazy?" He stopped walking and cocked his head to the side. "Have you been hearing voices?" "No." She immediately lied, then hated herself for it. "Maybe. I've heard that head injuries can cause some strange things to happen." She tossed in a can of carrots, which Frank immediately removed and put back on the shelf. Even dazed by her 65


question, he wasn't going to willingly purchase a vegetable. The next shopping trip she would have to go alone. And, now that she thought of it, maybe buy some clothing. For some reason, the low-cut blouses and tight jeans that she couldn't take a deep breath in just didn't feel right. Almost like someone else bought them. Although, if Frank had picked them out, he may like a woman to dress provocatively all the time. Then again, he hadn't said anything when he saw her in his shirt when he came home. Somehow wearing the flannel shirt was comforting, not just for Frank's scent in it, it just felt right. "I don't know. The injury wasn't like you fell and hit your head or anything like that. Well, your head did hit the ground, but, well, never mind. Some interesting things have happened, but if you start hearing lots of voices, we'll need to have a doctor talk to you. Not necessarily go to the hospital, just talk to a professional." What that professional might say frightened her. It was best to drop the subject. Whatever had happened wouldn't happen again. She was fine. Everything would be good, and she would not be haunted by a disembodied voice. That her inner dialogue was a subject best dropped didn't stop her, however, from looking at the "Elvis is alive" magazines. One headline caught her attention, "I got Jaybird's vocal cords in a transplant and now I can sing.". Geesh! They finished their trip and drove back home. Things started to get a more familiar edge to her. She helped unload the truck, and this time she knew where the items belonged. It made her feel better, like she belonged. 66


She cooked dinner, although Frank managed the grill, saying that fire was man's work. Her job was shoving potatoes into the microwave and rolls into the oven. Hardly an arduous task, but the way Frank pampered her, she doubted he'd let her do much of anything for a while. They sat down to a delicious dinner. The steak was a little too pink in the middle, but she didn't complain. He ate his with fervor so it must've been prepared correctly. He should know how she liked her steaks. Maybe she'd always eaten them this way. Win jumped to his feet moments before a knock at the door. The dog was smart. He sensed so much more than she ever could. Catherine didn't like their dinner disturbed but didn't complain. Again, she only wanted him near her, needed to touch him as often as possible. When Frank went to the door to answer it, she tried not to pout. She poked the underdone steak, wondering when she'd acquired this particular taste. Catherine considered feeding it to Win when that icy prickly sensation crept over her skin, causing the hairs on her arms to rise. She didn't want this happening again. Not now. She managed to stand but couldn't take a step or call out to Frank. Win quickly took note, turning from the door and facing her. Again ready to bite, the dog growled and snarled. She started to move toward the dog when the dizziness came. The world grew fuzzy, and then darkness washed over her. She gripped the table but couldn't find the seat. Everything seemed to slip away. 67


Win. **** Jim stood in the living room, giving Frank another account of the dog barking at Catherine when a loud thud caught their attention. Both men moved toward the kitchen. Jim froze at the edge, but Frank went forward, almost close enough to touch Win. "Boy, what's wrong?" He looked at Catherine, her back pressed against the dining room window. Win had gone crazy, maybe rabid. Drool ran from sharp teeth and his full attention was on Catherine. "Get that bastard away from me!" Catherine yelled, panic reverberating in her voice. Frank reached for Win. The dog snapped a warning to Frank then turned back toward Catherine. One wrong move and Win would pounce on her. Even though Frank was a large man, he wasn't sure he could get Win away without giving the dog a chance to hurt Catherine. "Don't you give a shit about me?" Catherine screamed, high-pitched and angry. "You're worthless." Win rose on his hind legs, front paws on Catherine's chest. His jaws stopped inches from her throat, ready to rip into it. Frank looked back at Jim. He couldn't let Win hurt Catherine. "Get to the bedroom. My hunting rifle is in the closet." Jim moved instantly. Frank refocused on Catherine, her wide eyes staring at the dog. Frank eased closer, trying to put his hands between Catherine's throat and the dog's teeth. He got his left hand between them, and tried to ease the dog 68


back. They had to be calm to get Win down. He looked deeply into Catherine's eyes, hoping to convey this when he realized they were both blue. Those were the old Catherine's eyes. "Your eyes?" The dog lunged, putting its teeth on Catherine's throat and Frank's hand. He didn't apply pressure though. Frank heard Jim running behind him, but Frank had the dog blocked with his body. "I belong here," Catherine cried, her voice raspy and hard. "No, you don't." She also answered, but the voice was softer, panicked, but still determined. Win started applying pressure, and Catherine screamed. Frank shoved his hand into Win's mouth, pulling him down at the same time. The two wrestled for a moment on the floor, but Win never bit Frank, only tried to use his body to get back to Catherine. "Don't shoot." Catherine ran toward them and waved at Jim. "Win, it's okay. It's over. It's okay, boy." As if the dog had learned some new command Frank was not aware of, he stopped. Catherine reached down and petted him. Instead of barking, he leaned to her with his tail wagging. He gave her sloppy wet kisses, happy without the slightest aggression. Frank stayed sitting on the tiled floor. This time when Catherine looked at him, her green eye had returned. Her voice had also lost that shrill edge from moments before. She hugged the dog, practically held onto him for dear life.

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"Please don't hurt Win. He wasn't going to hurt me." She looked frightened, but not like before. This time her fears were for the dog who'd just been at her throat. "Jim, would you take Win to your house for the night?" Jim started forward without saying a word. His body moved with rigid intensity as he stepped towards the dog. Catherine moved between them, keeping Win behind her. After what had just happened, she protected the dog. "You can't take Win. I want him to sleep with us tonight." Panic filled her voice, her eyes growing wide. "Please. I have to keep the dog with me. I have to." "Lady, you've got to be crazy." Jim spoke, then brought his hand to his mouth. She nodded, but Frank wasn't sure what she was agreeing to. She reached for the hunting rifle still in Jim's hands and put it on the floor. Without putting up any sort of argument, she led Win outside, closing the door behind them. "What in the hell just happened?" Frank realized that he was sitting on the floor in a mess of dog hair and drool. A few scratches marked his forearms, but the dog hadn't drawn any blood. "It's like what happened earlier." Jim offered him a hand and helped him to his feet. "Strangest thing I've ever seen. I figure you know your wife, Frank, but it's like there's two of her. Like one of those multiple personality people." He glanced to the back door then back to Frank. "What do you want me to do?"

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"I don't know. I guess go on home. I'll stop by in a little bit. I need someone to talk to." He picked up the rifle from the floor. "Did you notice Catherine's eyes just now?" He waited, but Jim shook his head no. Shock clung to the old man's face. It had a hold of Frank too, but he didn't want to admit it. Not yet anyway. He needed logic to right this, and so far, this wasn't in the same ballpark as anything rational. "Both Catherine's eyes were blue just now. Not the one green, one blue, they were both blue." He swallowed hard. "They were the old Catherine's." "Are you sure?" "Yes. How does that happen?" "I didn't think it did." Jim rubbed his eyes, making Frank believe he was trying to force the images out manually. "Me either." "You go talk to her. I'll be at the house. Bring the dog if ya want, but I won't keep him inside." "Thanks, Jim." Frank watched Jim go, not walking him out but waiting in the kitchen until the front door slammed shut. He wasn't sure what to do, or even what to say to Catherine. Suddenly he had to hold her in his arms. He wanted to see those beautiful mismatched eyes. It felt like he'd lose her at any minute. Something vicious beyond his control threatened his wife, his love. He ran out the back, finding her sitting in the grass, near the roses he'd planted. Both her arms were around Win. From the look of them, hell and high water couldn't part those two. He sat on the ground with them. 71


"I don't want you to take him, please." Frank gave Win a hug too, then pulled Catherine to him. Win was a little stubborn about moving, but finally gave in. Frank pushed Catherine to the ground, trying to see those eyes in the bit of light from the house. The green one appeared brighter, almost twinkling. "Win, go in the house and play." He couldn't explain it, but he needed her, to have her as part of him. That's all he said before pressing his mouth to Catherine's. Her kiss was reluctant, but grew in intensity as their tongues intertwined. Even the taste of her had changed since her stay in the hospital. He wanted to drink it in, taste every bit of her. This was his wife. He pulled her top free, nearly ripping her bra before he could reach her breasts. Her pants took less time. While enjoying her nipples, he unfastened her pants. She reciprocated, jerking away his clothes, but there, naked in the grass, their passions slowed as they gazed at each other, and he took in every detail of her body. Frank watched Catherine's reactions. Light touches down her sides made her coo while his lips on her breasts caused her to gasp in pleasure. She opened her thighs to him, exposing her sex. He touched the outline then slipped lower, wanting to taste those lips too. She started closing her legs, almost nervous about his slow downward progression. Frank flicked his tongue lower and her hips moved, involuntarily she spread her thighs. She watched him, ran her fingers through his hair. A strange quiver filled his belly, as if they'd never been together before now. They were learning 72


each other. Their years of marriage were erased, and here they were, a man and woman. Whatever happened between them, he'd remember this moment, the look on her face, the way she sounded when he gave her pleasure. This woman had never betrayed him or never caused him pain. "I love you, Catherine," he whispered climbing higher over her. "I love you too." At her response, he entered her. Her soft body moved in time beneath him. They were one and more than physically. This was his mate.

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Chapter Seven The hour grew late before Frank took Catherine inside their home. She looked tired, so he'd carried her and tucked her into bed. Win went to the foot of the bed and lay on top of the covers like a guard dog. "Will you be okay while I run next door and talk to Jim?" "Sure." She grinned in a sexy, sleepy way. "Don't leave me alone all night, though. I might get lonely." "I won't be long." He kissed her again and almost changed his mind. Jim might be waiting. He usually went to bed at eleven. Funny the things one knew about a neighbor, although Frank hadn't really known this, at least not consciously, until the night that night Catherine got hurt. The clocked ticked to midnight. Frank stepped outside, going down the front steps once he saw the lights on next door. The houses weren't too close together, thankfully, but he saw Mary's shadow appear in the window. A moment later, the porch light came on. Frank walked to the front door. Before he knocked, the door swung open, and Mary ushered him inside while looking out the door to see who or what he'd brought with him. "I came alone. Catherine wants Win to stay with her." "Don't stand at the door all night. Come in." Her head, covered in small pink foamy curlers, bobbed up and down as she spoke. Frank stepped into the house. Modern on the outside, the inside was filled with antiques, family photos, and clutter from 74


years of living in the same place. He liked it, despite the stack of newspapers that would never reach the recycling station or the overflowing green box with plastic bottles. That was how they were. They collected everything, thinking that one day it would come in handy. Problem was, even when a specific item would be helpful, they couldn't find it. They stopped at the living room. Jim sat in his recliner, gazing at the television, absently listening to the 11:00 news. Mary had a rocker near him, that left Frank the couch. He had to move five throw pillows before finding room to sit down, and then he realized that he'd messed up the afghan on the back of the couch. Quickly smoothing it, he sat, leaning forward to keep from disturbing anything else. "How is she?" Jim spoke first, hitting mute on the television before Frank responded. "Fine. I guess. This whole thing is getting weird." Mary looked at Jim then opened her mouth. Jim immediately shot her a warning look that she promptly ignored. Her eyes were wide, her interest barely restrained. Mary loved to talk anyway, but this time it seemed she had something that Jim didn't want her to say. "Now, I'm not one to believe in those non-Christian things. You know, supernatural stuff's more for those pagans." Her gentle cadence reminded Frank of another time when women wore long dresses to church and used fans while sitting in their pews. "You're a fine Baptist, Mary." Frank told her, even though he didn't like where this was going. 75


"At the hospital, you said her heart stopped. When she woke, she acted different." Mary paused, and Frank nodded, assuming that's what she wanted. "Has it occurred to you that ... well, have you ever heard of a walk-in?" "Is it like a drive-in?" Frank didn't mean to sound harsh or make light of what Mary was saying, but he couldn't follow this conversation. "No, smart-ass. You sound just like Jim." She shook one old boney finger at him. "A walk-in, it's like a spirit." "You think my wife is a ghost?" "No. I think when she tried to kill herself, her soul tried to leave and another took up residence." Her mouth shut tight, lips pressed together into a thin line. When no one spoke, she continued. "Okay, make fun if you want. How else would you explain her strange behavior, or the dog?" "I don't know. You explain it to me." "I think your Catherine changed her mind, and now there's two souls in that body. One has to go. I think Win is trying to make the old Catherine leave." She leaned back, crossing her arms over her large chest. "A walk-in, Mary?" Frank asked, a distant look growing in his eyes, as if he were remembering something. "What exactly do you mean by that?" "As I understand it. Now, remember, I don't necessarily believe this. It's just something I heard and then did a little reading about, you know?" Jim sighed, and Frank nodded. That Mary had done more than heard a little something and did a little reading was clear to both. 76


"Mary, if you have an idea what's going on with my wife I would sure like to know. At this point I think I'd believe anything." "Well, here's what I remember. I went to this lecture on reintarnation." "Reincarnation, Mary." "That's right, thank you Jim, reincarnation. So, what this person said is that before we're born we have this whole list of things we're going to do. In each life, we have certain things we're going to do to finally get to where we don't have to come back here anymore. Sometimes we bite off more than we can chew, and we get tired. We just don't think we can do it, so we want to give up. Now, suicide is a sin, a terrible sin and like the Catholics, they believe you go to hell for doing it. These metaphysical folks, they think that you can come back to do things right. "But, sometimes, there is a soul that is maybe more advanced or someone that really wants to live. The body they were in finished what that person needed. That's why sometimes children die. They finished their mission here on earth, and it's time for them to go. But they like it here. So they make a deal with someone who isn't happy or who feels like they can't go on, and when the time is right one soul takes the other's place. "Now, I don't know if this is so about Catherine. After the accident, she may have realized what a mean, rotten, snotty, b—" "Now, Mary, you know it's wrong to speak ill of the—" 77


"She's not dead, Jim. She may have been for a few minutes but she's not dead now." "Uh, Mary," Frank interrupted, "what were you going to say about Catherine and the accident?" As if to say, "See, someone thinks I have something important to say," to her husband, she nodded. "As I was sayin'," she continued, "Catherine wasn't the nicest person around. Self-centered, vain ... never did know what you saw in her. Anyway, she may have realized she made a mess of things and didn't know how to make it right. She thought pretty highly of her looks and maybe she thought that without them she was nothing, a big nothing. You add that in with how rotten she must have known she was, she may have just said, 'Enough,' and wanted out. Well about the time she wanted out, maybe another spirit, a nice one, was wandering by, and figured Catherine's body was as good as any other, and when Catherine stepped out, the other one stepped in ... walked in. See what I mean?" "I follow you, Mary," Frank assured her, "but I'm not sure about this. I mean, how does a soul just wander around?" "Ghosts, only not scary ones, but the ones that just weren't ready to die." "But what about that other person's family? Why not go back to that family?" "I don't know about that, the speaker didn't really talk about that, and I don't remember reading much about it. But it seems to me that if that person's job was done, they don't need to be part of that family anymore. And besides, if they have grieved, and went through the funeral and all, they 78


might not take too kindly so someone just popping in and sayin' 'Hi, I'm your dearly departed,' you know?" "I suppose." "Now, they don't always remember. In one of the articles I read—see I found this very interesting—they said that the new soul comes in and is able to pick things up, and they sort of remember, but they don't really know about the new body or remember a lot about the old. Over time, they forget the old life and become more and more the new person, but because they are more highly evolved, they don't become rotten. What I mean is not pick up the old personality traits." "Well, now, I have something to say." "What's that, Jim?" Frank nodded to the older man. "I remember years ago some actor died, he wasn't all that famous, just been on TV for a couple a months, and he died. Well they donated his body parts, you know heart, lungs, corneas, the usual parts. One guy got his heart, and he talked in a magazine about how he was glad to have this new heart because his old one didn't work too well and he was going to die and this one worked fine. But, he found himself liking other foods and sports he wasn't too fond of before. They called it 'cellular memory' or some such thing. The cells in the donated heart remembered what the first person was like. Maybe that's what's going on with Catherine. Maybe whoever donated her eye or skin or both, was a really nice, caring person and Catherine is benefiting from that nice person's parts." Frank didn't want to say it out loud, but that sounded even more out there than what Mary had to say. "Still, do either of 79


you think it could be both? That the donor was a good person and that nice personality is coming through and that another soul or the donor's soul wants to be here?" "You never know." Mary said, nodding sagely. "You never know." "Well, that makes as much sense as anything else I guess. I wonder who walked in if that happened. They don't tell you who the donors are with the privacy laws and all that. Still, Catherine said something the other night about a man who smelled bad and a knife. I thought it was just a dream, but now I'm not so sure." "I think we'll have to wait and see." "Jim, I do agree with you there. It's just so strange." "Have you told anyone else about this?" Jim asked. Frank remembered when a mother from their church had been worried over their daughter dressing in black and wearing funny make-up. Mary had half the women at her church organized into what people teasingly referred to as the Curse of the Baptists. They brought the family covered dishes for a month with someone from the church praying with them until the girl gave up wearing black. Sure, she'd tried to run away first. The ladies from the church tracked her down at a teenage hangout and embarrassed her into coming home. Now the girl had cleaned up and had a scholarship to college. She'd probably do anything to get out of this town. "I had to get some advice, but I didn't go gossiping." Mary groused.

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"No," Jim said dryly, "that would be a sin." He snickered, and Mary pushed the recliner button, forcing him into a seated position. "I appreciate everything, Mary, but I'm not buying soul jumping as an excuse for what's happening. I'm going to call a doctor tomorrow. I'm more worried about brain damage than anything else." "Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you." "Thanks, Mary." Frank said his goodbyes and Jim walked him out. They stopped halfway between the properties, neither seemed to know what to say. A stiff breeze chilled Frank. Finally, Jim spoke. "I know my wife seems daft, but some of what she said makes sense." He chewed his bottom lip a minute. "That sure as hell ain't the same Catherine who used to scowl at me from the window." "Sure, but then what? You want me to perform an exorcism? Maybe I should politely ask Catherine to leave and the nice one to hang around as my wife?" "That's what I'd do. That Catherine was a bitch." Jim's hand flew to his mouth. "I'm sorry, Frank. I didn't mean that." "It's okay. She was a bitch." "I always wondered what you saw in her. I know it's none of my business and I don't mean to offend." "None taken. What did I see in Catherine? I guess it actually starts with another lady. Well, actually she was a girl back then, but every way a lady." He thought back. 81


Everything had started with Pam. "Well ... back in high school, actually before that, I had this friend, Pam. We were best friends. Grew up a few doors down from each other. I remember the day she moved into the neighborhood. She was eight at the time, two years younger than me, and she looked so sad when she climbed out of her parents' car. She had these two long reddish-brown braids and the biggest green eyes I'd ever seen, saddest ones too, at least on that day. I rode up on my bike and said hello, and I think I fell in love with her then and there. I know a ten-year-old boy isn't supposed to have sweet thoughts about girls, especially an eight-year-old one he never met before, but I did for Pam. I bugged my mom for two days till she invited them to dinner. When we were playing that night, I told Pam I'd be her best friend if she wanted. She said yes and, you know, we were. From that moment on, we were. "I took her to my first junior high dance and my first senior dance. She was there for almost all my firsts." All but one, he thought to himself. "She was a little tomboyish, but always a lady if you know what I mean. When I tried out for the football team she was right there rooting me on and I remember her being so proud of me. She was a little shy but I encouraged her to try out for cheerleading and I remember how thrilled she was when she made the team. "Sometimes we would mix it up. You know how it is with friends who are almost like family. Sometimes you can get a bit testy with each other, and just when it would be getting kind of harsh, one or the other of us would say, 'I'll be your 82


best friend,' and, Jim, just those few little words made it all better." "So why didn't you marry her? What got into you?" "Catherine. There was only one thing I didn't do the first time with Pam." Frank smiled, and Jim nodded like he understood. "Well, that was Catherine. She was a cheerleader, too. Of course. Catherine was all about image, even then, and I was young and stupid. Trust me, Pam was cute. A real cutie without a stitch of makeup where Catherine could have owned a make-up store and it still wouldn't be enough. When I made quarterback in my senior year, Catherine set her sights on me. We went out a few times, and she would ask about Pam. I told her Pam was my best friend. Right after the homecoming game, instead of just going to the party, Catherine got me to go with her behind the bleachers, and we had sex. It was your typical fumbling teenaged sex. Over before I knew it. That was the only thing I didn't do with Pam first and probably the only thing that I should have. I really thought I was in love with Catherine, and when I told Pam, she was hurt. I knew she was, but made like I believed her when she said she only wanted to be friends anyway. "After that she started getting into some mystical type things. Past lives like what Mary was talking about, ghosts, things like that. Not weird stuff, but reading serious stuff. She went to listen to that Sylvia woman a few times, got all of that James Van Praagh's books and read them over and over. I don't buy into that soul mate stuff, but she did. In fact, one time she told me that soul mates were forever loves and that 83


just because they weren't together in one lifetime it didn't mean they wouldn't be in another." "You think that was crazy talk?" "No. Not from her. She really seemed to be studying those things. The other thing was she told me one time that she was sure she was going to die young. She just had a feeling she would die young and probably a sad death." "I can see how talk like that would make a fella shy away." "No, that's not why. She made it sound interesting. No, it was Catherine. The prettiest girl in school, and she told me she loved me. I still had my doubts about Catherine. I probably wouldn't have married her, but right before the prom, Pam moved away. It broke my heart and that made me turn to Catherine." "You know where she's at now? That Pam?" Jim shuffled his feet and looked at his own house, probably thinking of Mary who had to be everything to Jim. "Nope. Lost touch. Once Catherine and I were married, she told me my friendship with Pam was wrong, that it didn't look right. She often wondered if I didn't love Pam more. Never heard from Pam either, after the first month or so she moved away anyway. Some best friend, huh?" "So you don't know where she is and here you are married to a woman who was previously the nastiest woman in the neighborhood who's now flip-flopping back and forth in personality?" "Looks like. Jim?" "Yeah?" "You and Mary?" 84


"She's my best friend, Frank. She may get close to the gloom and doom stuff, and sometimes she reminds me of the people at the gate in those Frankenstein movies, but I love her. Always have, always will." He smiled, showing tobaccostained teeth and a love that could never fade for his wife. "Thanks, Jim. Well, we'll see what the next few weeks bring, huh?" "Yup." They parted, Frank laughing lightly to himself. It was hard to deny the changes, but tumors and such could cause behavioral changes. Oh, hell, he didn't know. He wanted a nice normal life, and he wanted it with the woman he'd brought home from the hospital. It might be a sin, but he didn't want the old Catherine coming back, ever. He stepped inside his house. All the lights were off. That was good, Catherine needed her rest. He went to the refrigerator for a beer, while still contemplating this new situation. He got one out, popped the top, and turned to find Catherine standing between the dining room and the kitchen with his handgun pointed at him. He caught his breath. "Catherine, what are you doing?" He spoke slowly, carefully, knowing this was not the loving version of Catherine. "Dog can't chase me away now." Frank glanced around. There was no sign of Win. Somewhere, probably the bedroom, he heard scratching and howling. She must've locked him up some place. He returned his gaze to Catherine. Both her eyes were blue. 85


Chapter Eight Jim slipped into his pajama bottoms. He didn't like wearing the shirt. It bunched up on him at night. Besides, it didn't fit so well over his belly anymore. He didn't want to tell Mary. She would put him on another diet. He hated when she got on a health kick. Instead of fried chicken, she would serve alfalfa, kelp, and those little rice cakes. He hated rice cakes. Nothing made them taste like real food. Mary had already gone to bed. She'd been there since he walked Frank back home. That's how she pouted. If he were lucky, she would be in bed for a couple of days. He laughed and noticed movement in the blankets. It wouldn't be good to rile her anymore tonight. She was a good woman, a busybody if ever there was one, but a fine wife. He pulled back the covers to slip in behind her. He'd gotten both legs under the covers and started pulling them over his belly when he heard the shot. It took a moment for him to register what it was. Then, he knew. Just like before. At once, he jumped to his feet, found the slippers on the floor, and ran to Frank's house. Behind him, he heard Mary calling out. Her shrill voice became lost as he slammed the front door shut and ran across the yard. At Frank's front door, he hesitated, afraid to knock, afraid not to. The crazy Catherine might kill anyone who came into the house, but he couldn't let his friend down. Jim burst through the door and ran to the only lighted room. 86


There on the floor was Catherine being held in Frank's arms. A pistol sat on the floor. "What the hell happened?" Jim's adrenaline had kicked up too far for polite conversation. "Catherine had another episode." She sobbed in his arms. Jim wasn't sure who to feel sorriest for—Frank, who loved a woman set on killing him, or Catherine, who couldn't help going after a man she loved. He was too old for this shit. Neighbors like these made nursing home life look promising. "You two have to do something. This is ridiculous." His voice rose louder than it should've, but he couldn't help it. He was too old for crazy neighbors trying to kill each other. "I've got an idea." Frank rose, carrying Catherine down the hall. He returned a moment later, alone, and with an empty laundry basket. "Would you mind taking a few things to your house, just for tonight?" "Okay." Jim was more confused than ever. "What are we doing?" At the moment, he'd try performing an exorcism, only he was afraid the demon would stay and whatever sweet soul Frank brought home from the hospital would leave. "You want me to run to that Catholic church and get holy water?" "Not funny." "I wasn't trying to be." Jim meant it. He'd even hijack a priest to get this mess under control. "What are we doing?" "You'll see." Frank pulled open the kitchen drawer and put all the knives inside the basket. On top went his pistol, and he added 87


any items that could be a threat, such as skewers. The last thing was a kitchen towel to cover the mess. "This will make me sleep better tonight." He handed Jim his rifle and shotgun. He had trouble holding both in one hand and balancing the basket full of implements that could be used for murder. "Maybe we should take her to the hospital tonight, or at least tie her to the bed so she doesn't do anything else." "No. This will be fine. I'll call a doctor in the morning." He'd never seen a man crazy enough to stay with a woman who'd acted like that. "So what happened?" "I don't know." Frank lowered his voice and stepped closer. "I came home, and she had a gun. Somehow, she had Win locked up in the bedroom. I got the gun away, although it went off during the struggle." He pointed to a hole in the wall, not much bigger than a dime. "That shocked her back to normal, or whatever normal is for her now." "I'm not sure you should stay here." He could already imagine the cops, blue lights flashing over the neighborhood while them there news teams showed up to ask him about his neighbors. "There's no way I'm deserting her. She's sick. It might be a mental illness, maybe even spiritual, but I can't desert her." Jim opened his mouth to argue, then stopped. He knew a man in love when he saw one. Whatever this new version of Catherine was, the short amount of time they'd spent together had changed Frank too. His friend was no longer content to play the tough guy, ignoring his wife and working 88


his way to an early grave. This Frank was fighting to keep his new Catherine. "I'm going home." It wasn't much of a goodbye, but Jim's old nerves couldn't take any more. He needed a good night's rest and Frank's messed-up household wasn't likely to let him have it. He strutted across the yard with a laundry basket, the night chill hanging over his skin. Maybe he'd tell Mary about the pajama top not fitting. He needed a new one for insane nights like this.

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Chapter Nine It was nine the next morning when Frank stole from their bed and called a friend, who also happened to be a physician. Usually Frank was an earlier riser, but last night he had a hard time sleeping. Who wouldn't have? Whenever rest would settle over him, he would wake, startled that Catherine was trying to kill him again. Catherine didn't sleep much either. Her tossing and turning didn't help things. There were also nightmares. She kept mumbling about a knife wound and a car. Then she would cry out, tears rolling down her cheeks. The words were always the same. Half asleep she would grab him and either tell him, "I need my friend, I need my best friend" or she'd ask him, "Are you still my friend?" There was something about her wanting her best friend that reached into his memory to a time that now seemed so long ago, a time of broken promises when his best friend moved away. After that, there hadn't been much to build a life on. Getting through to the switchboard took only a moment. After being put on hold, he watched the clock, hoping he'd get this finished before Catherine woke. She wouldn't like any of this, and he didn't want her to know that he contacted a doctor. "Hi, Frank." The familiar voice helped ease his mood. "Dan, I'm sorry I had to call you at the office, but I need some advice about Catherine." "What's wrong?" 90


He hadn't considered where to begin or how much to tell. Quietly, he stepped out the back door, closing it behind him. This conversation could take a few minutes, and he didn't need any interruptions. "Catherine's been acting strangely." Frank didn't want to mention the murder attempts. Stories like that might circulate. The doctor might even commit her. "How so?" "Her eyes change. I mean, you know that one is blue and the transplanted eye is green?" He didn't wait for a response but rushed on, "Well, sometimes both eyes look blue, and the dog goes nuts." This didn't sound good. There wasn't a way to break down the insane events into a logical conversation. "Calm down, you're not making sense." He couldn't avoid it. Maybe if he told the doctor everything, he could find a way to help Catherine. "She tried to kill me. One minute, she's fine, loving, caring, then she gets nasty and her eyes change. Could she have a tumor? Could she some how suddenly have a multiple personality? Can you examine her?" There was a long pause. The silence seemed to stretch forever while his friend and doctor assimilated his words. When Frank thought Dan had hung up, he heard a loud exhale. Frank knew this would be difficult. It's not like his buddy could write a fix-it-all prescription. "Frank, I'm going to be honest with you here. Eyes don't change color, not without artificial means. There are cases with multiple personalities having different illnesses or going from right hand to left, but not what you are telling me about 91


Catherine. It doesn't add up like that." Another pause from Dan, and Frank thought he'd scream. "You two never had the best marriage. Are you sure what you're witnessing isn't coming from her but maybe you?" "What are you saying?" "Come on. You've always wanted out of that marriage. Maybe you're mind is playing tricks on you to give you a reason. I mean, Catherine is a horrible person, but I don't think she's out to kill you. How about both of you come to the office? I'll give you a sedative and if you like, I'll run tests on her." He exhaled obscenely again. "They ran a full battery of tests including a MRI at the hospital so I sincerely doubt that anything is wrong with her." "I'm not crazy. You know me better than that and I've got a bullet hole in my wall to prove she tried to kill me. My neighbor has seen the change too. It's weird. She's had nightmares. And, Dan, this isn't the first time that things have escalated. We never talked about what happened the night Win attacked her the first time." Phone in hand, Frank stomped across the yard and looked at the rose garden, then at the spot where they'd made love last night. "Considering what she's been through, nightmares are normal." "Nightmares about a dog would be normal. She loves Win now and has nightmares about a car accident. She's dreaming about things that never happened. Oh, and this is the weirdest part. She's left-handed now."

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"Would it help you if I spoke with a neurologist? This sort of trauma isn't my specialty. It would be best if you had her personal physician from the hospital see her." "She won't see him again." Frank rubbed his hand over his face. This nightmare had to end soon. "Please ask around. Don't use her name, but I have to figure out something. She needs help." "Sure. It's the least I can do." Another exhale. "Let me know about bringing both of you in though." "No, thanks. Dan, let me ask you something. I'll warn you, it's weird." Frank summoned his resolve to say the question out loud. "Have you ever heard of something called cell memory?" "Cell memory?" "Yeah, like from the transplant. Have you ever seen anything about how people change after a transplant?" "That's not my specialty, but let me ask around and see what I can find out. Will that work?" His tone was condescending, not the usual way Dan treated him. Frank's peripheral vision caught movement through the windows in the kitchen. "Yeah, that would. Thanks." He continued to watch the movement in the house. Catherine was out of bed. He ended the call and tried to hide the phone at his side. There was no way to sneak it back into the kitchen, so he stepped through the door and set it on the table as if he had nothing to hide. "Who were you on the phone with?" Her tone wasn't accusatory, but guilt flooded Frank before he opened his mouth. 93


"Work. I might have to go in for a few hours again." He kissed her forehead, mostly to get a look at her eyes to see what color they were. "You doing better today?" "Fine." She hugged him close to her body, nuzzling his bare chest with her face. "I'm sorry about yesterday." "It's okay." It wasn't okay. In fact, it scared the hell out of him, but bringing it up wouldn't rectify anything. He needed to keep her calm, at least until he heard back from the doctor. There was no way of knowing what might set her off again. Behind them, the coffee pot started the small stream of the brew into the pot. In a few minutes he would have coffee, but for once he didn't need it to wake up. Every nerve in his body was wide awake. "Catherine, can you tell me what's going on?" Catherine pulled away and crumpled into the dining room chair. Propped on one hand, her face was hidden behind a sea of blonde hair. He couldn't see her eyes, and a nervous twinge went through him. "Where's Win?" "I let him out." Her shoulders slumped. "Are you afraid of me?" "No." Even if he were, he wanted her near him. "I've been hearing voices in my head, Frank. I'm going crazy. It's not my voice. It belongs to another woman." She looked up and nibbled her bottom lip nervously. Frank didn't know what to say. There wasn't a way to make crazy sound any better and the possibility that she'd gone nuts had surfaced a few times in his mind too. Admitting 94


it was unthinkable. "Did the voices tell you to try to kill me again?" "What do you mean, 'again'?" "Catherine, come on, please don't play dumb. You know what I mean." "No, Frank, I don't! Why would I try to hurt you? I love you. I've always loved you." She rubbed her temple as if trying to remember something. "Maybe you did once but, Catherine, don't you remember the night Win ... the night you got hurt?" "No, I don't. I remember our first kiss, I remember promising to be best friends, I remember what happened under the bleachers, but then I don't remember anything until ... until ... something about a knife and a car crash and then waking up in the hospital. Oh, Frank! Our entire marriage only comes to me in bits and pieces. Why don't I remember more of our marriage?" "I don't know, Catherine, I don't know." Frank wondered why she didn't remember more. And best friends? He had never promised Catherine he'd be her best friend. Pam was the only person he ever got that sentimental with. And what was that about the knife again? And the car? Catherine may speed and be an aggressive driver, but she'd never been in an accident. He watched her study him for a moment before she finally offered, "Win knows I'm going nuts too. Right before the other voice starts, he comes at me. It's like he's trying to scare it away." She shrugged. "I ... I understand if you don't believe me." 95


On cue, Win appeared at the back, bringing one enormous paw against the door. If he'd been taller, it would've been a knock instead of an awkward scratching. Frank stood and let him inside, noticing that the dog looked as stressed as he felt. The cell phone began ringing, not good. Work always called on the cell, so he ran through the house to where he'd left it on his charger. He didn't need Catherine realizing that he'd lied, nor did he want to admit to calling a doctor. "What?" His tone wasn't friendly, and he didn't care. "Can you come in?" asked Irwin. It seemed the man couldn't handle anything. Maybe it was time to let him go and find someone who actually wanted to be a foreman. "We've got some added expenses I need you to approve. Also the state is looking for bids on their upcoming sidewalk extension project. It looks like quick, easy money." "Money is never quick nor easy." He glanced back toward the dining room, but Catherine hadn't followed. "I'll be in, but I can't stay long." "Whatever you can spare." Frank hung up. He didn't like the tone in Irwin's voice. That guy had always been on the verge of disrespect, acting as if Frank kept himself too far from the dirty work. Hell, he didn't do so much of the dirty work. He'd spent years doing nearly everything himself, and now he was the boss. He deserved little perks after sweating and pushing for everything he had. Leaving Catherine alone presented certain problems. He didn't want to walk in on another bad scene or leave her 96


safety up to Win. Perhaps he could turn a bad situation into something good. "Catherine?" Frank called before he'd reached the dining room where she sat with a cup of coffee. "I have to go into work today. Would you like to come with me? We could go to the park. Maybe have a picnic lunch afterward." Her face lit up. "I'd like that. It sounds romantic." Romantic, he'd pulled off romantic. "Great." And Catherine was willing to come to his work site. Unbelievable. She finished her coffee, then got into the shower. He heard the water turn on and thought about Catherine, standing there, naked with water running down her body. She surprised him in every way, and because of her sweeter side, he'd never found her more attractive. With everything happening, he shouldn't want her but after a few moments he followed her to the bathroom and slipped in the shower. Every moment seemed too precious to let slip by. He had a terrible feeling he might lose his Catherine, a gut instinct he couldn't shake. He had to have her, needed to have her. She looked surprise to see him but didn't cover her naked body, instead she tried to cover her face, or at least the scarred side. Even with the gauze removed and the ragged red line where she'd been stitched together, Catherine was beautiful. She reminded him of a doll, some fine china doll that had been dropped. The lines looked like cracks in a perfect face. "Don't." He pulled her hand away and tried to kiss her. "But I'm ugly." 97


As he looked at her, she tried to turn, hide those marred features from him. Without a word, he touched her chin, guiding her back to face him. Lightly he kissed the jagged scar, then trailed his mouth to her lips. "You are beautiful," he whispered before going lower on her body. "Every wonderful inch of you." He looked at her face and thought tears might be gliding down. It was hard to tell in the shower. She had nothing to be ashamed of. Her face was different now but no less beautiful in his eyes. "I want to make love to you." Their kisses mingled in the hot water. She reached down to touch him, guiding his cock as he lifted her, pressing her back against the shower, and entered. There was no need to hesitate. She felt ready, welcoming, and wanting. Their bodies were one and only that way did was he whole. Twenty minutes later they emerged, their hands pruned and bodies satiated. It took two tries to get dressed because of rising passions. He hadn't wanted Catherine so much since high school. They'd made love more in these last few days than they had during the last three years of marriage. Catherine wore a pair of faded blue jeans and had pulled out one of his flannel shirts again. Some how the oversized shirt made her look so very sexy. He loved her in jeans, although she'd always preferred slacks and silk blouses to anything relaxed. She tied her hair back in a ponytail, and again left the jewelry behind in the box. Catherine looked perfect. 98


They left the house, driving the thirty minutes to the construction sight with her head leaning against his arm. He loved her little touches, the sexy glances she gave him. Whatever had happened to bring this change in Catherine, he was eternally grateful. He pulled up to the small trailer where Irwin stood outside, yelling something to a guy driving a dump truck. The site was busy as usual. Dump trucks lined the exit, hauling dirt from this location to another where the road had to be built up to equal the existing two-lane's surface. Frank parked and opened Catherine's door. He would've preferred leaving her in the car and away from all the dust but he wanted her near him. "Hi, Irwin. You remember Catherine." "Yes. Nice to see you again." Irwin looked at her a moment too long. Frank squelched the jealous impulse. He was being paranoid. Catherine took the proffered hand, shook it, and quickly grabbed Frank's arm with both of her hands. He liked that. There was no question who she loved, and she had no qualms about showing it. Frank's heart swelled with pride and something more ... hope? "I've got the proposal inside along with the recommended expenditures." Irwin led the way, opening the door for Frank and following Catherine inside the trailer. Frank glanced back and didn't appreciate the way Irwin's stare lingered on his wife's backside. 99


Quickly, Frank went through one folder, signing a bid for the state. Next he went through the added costs. Some were out of the question. One receipt, for lunch at the Yonkers Steak House, had to be something personal of Irwin's. Frank was really starting to dislike that guy. "You're paying for your own lunches." He set that receipt aside. "The new harnesses and hard hats are fine. I don't want my men getting hurt. We're not getting a new hydraulic lift. Get the old one fixed." "The lunch was business. I was out with the Mayor." Frank's nerves enflamed. He didn't like wining and dining for political gain. His work was excellent and his bids always fair. Kissing someone's ass wasn't going to help his company, especially when the meetings were held with Irwin, who didn't do his job with any finesse. "You know I disapprove of that." Irwin's hand balled in a fist. "Fine. At least go out there and look at the lift. I think we need a new one." Frank stood, grabbing his sunglasses as he did, "I'll be right back, Catherine." "I'll keep her company," replied Irwin while moving closer to her, a gleam in his eye. Catherine's eyes grew wide, and she started to say something, changed her mind, and shut her mouth. Her eyes were two different colors at least. It should only take a few minutes to check that stupid lift anyway. "Be right back." He left the trailer, closing the door behind him. **** 100


Five minutes passed after Frank had left. Every second felt like an eternity with Irwin's gaze going over her a little too intimately for her comfort. She stepped behind the desk, hoping to gain a little distance from him, and sat in the chair. "You're looking good." He sat on the edge of the desk. "Real good." "Thanks." She looked around the room, trying to find something to concentrate on instead of this man. On the desk was a pile of papers. She flipped through them wishing Frank would hurry. "It's been a while. A long while. How about after Frank starts coming into work regular again, you and I hook up like old times." Her body clenched in repulsion. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about." He laughed and licked his thick lips obscenely. "You remember. It hasn't been that long. What? A little over a year at most. Right before you and that James guy hooked up, and of course, that accident of yours. What did happen, Catherine? Frank never said, and there was nothing in the papers except something about a gun going off and that dog of his biting the hell out of you." She had no recollection of a James or Win attacking her or anything to do with this man. And this Irwin also talking about a gun. There was never a gun, but a knife, someone came after her with a knife. Or maybe she had woken during the surgery, and she was remembering the a scalpel. Maybe in the ambulance they went by a car crash. That could be 101


where she remembered the car from. Of course! That had to be it. Somehow that other side of her got Win upset or something upset Win, he bit her, and in the ambulance, they must have gone by a car accident. One so bad that she saw it, and it was so bad she felt like she was involved in it. That would make sense. Then the anesthesia when they operated must have worn off at one point so she got the scalpel mixed up with a knife. She would have to tell Frank. It made perfect sense. She'd check it out with him and see what he had to say. Now, however, she had to do something about Irwin so Catherine scooted back in her chair, trying to increase the distance between them. Then she looked out the small window, hoping to see Frank. "Come on. Give me a chance to renew your memory. You owe me that." "Sir, my memory might be a little fuzzy, but I promise you that I will never meet with you." She tried to keep her voice even but the idea of anyone other than Frank touching her made her nauseous. Irwin leaned over the desk and ran his hand along her cheek. "Don't play like that. You know you like my dick better." Catherine became enraged. Without thinking of the consequences, she slapped Irwin across the face. The sound, loud, echoed through the tiny trailer. It also did not hinder Irwin's advances. His smile grew wider. "I never knew you liked it rough." He raised his hand. She saw a different man, a man who hit her all the time, a man who sliced her with a knife, the 102


man from her memories. He wanted her dead. He'd never loved her and this time he was going to kill her. But who was he? Where did she know him from? Did he break into their home? Was he a burglar who surprised them? Was that how she got hurt? Catherine didn't realize that she'd been screaming until the air ran out of her lungs. As the door burst open, she sucked in air, gasped, and pressed herself against the wall of the trailer. "What happened?" Frank went to her, petting her back. "He wanted me to..." She couldn't finish the words. "Your wife is crazy." Frank rose, anger bubbling through him. Even the tips of his ears reddened. Catherine's vision cleared and she saw Irwin again, the icky foreman. She realized exactly what was going on, but didn't say a word as her husband came to her defense. For all Frank's gentle behavior, he was a force to be reckoned with when upset. He reached back then moved fast, almost too fast to keep up with. An upper cut to Irwin's jaw was all it took. Irwin stumbled backward. "Your wife is a whore." Irwin started forward but the look on Frank's face changed his mind. "I had her plenty of times." Catherine's mouth fell open, and torrid bits filled her memory. Mingling flesh, arms and legs, in a hotel room, and it had been Irwin and her. Oh no. She had been a whore. There had been others. Different faces filled her mind. The scent of sex and different colognes, different hands, all touching her. Catherine felt hot tears running down her cheeks. 103


It didn't take Frank a minute to react. He went forward, bloodying Irwin's nose. Irwin swung, but Frank was too fast, giving him another in the gut. Frank opened the trailer door and literally kicked Irwin down the steps. "You're fired," he screamed at the top of his lungs. "I quit." Irwin spat a trail of blood from his bloodied mouth. Catherine put her head in her hands and cried. She didn't want to face Frank, not now that she knew what had happened. How many others had she screwed behind Frank's back? Irwin said something about a James, but how many others? She wasn't a wife, she'd become something low, evil. "Are you okay?" Frank kneeled next to her. "He didn't hurt you, did he?" She shook her head but couldn't stop crying. Frank seemed like the perfect man and she couldn't imagine what made her do such things. She was too upset to do more than rock back and forth and hope Frank understood. She also had a sneaky suspicion that she'd done much worse. "Look at me," his voice soft again, reassuring. "I can't. I don't know what else I've done wrong." She wiped her face with the heels of her hands. "I don't think he was lying." "I know. I told you that you weren't always a good wife." He hugged her tightly against his body. "I never knew who or how often, but I had my suspicions. It's over now, though. None of it is as important as us right now." "You can forgive that?" She wasn't sure if she could forgive herself. 104


"That wasn't you." She started to protest, saying that it had been her. The memories were sketchy but enough came through that she felt dirty. All she wanted was another shower. She wasn't good enough for Frank. "I'm afraid this changes our picnic plans, though. I'm going to have to make some calls, pull someone off of another job. I have a guy in mind, but that means promoting someone else. I'll probably be here all day and maybe all week." "I understand." But she didn't want to. This was horrible. Her dreams of a loving home were shattered. "I'm sorry." Frank helped her back into his truck and drove her home. He said that he forgave her, but he was quieter this trip. It might've been her imagination, but he seemed colder too. All this sat like a weight on her heart. He walked her to the front door. Instead of a real kiss goodbye, he gave her a peck on the cheek. Things had changed. Damn it all, she hadn't wanted it too, but the happy home she had so briefly had had already turned sour. "I'll be home later." Catherine flopped onto the couch with Win. The two of them watched television until she thought she might go crazy. At six, she called his cell phone, but Frank didn't answer. She went to the kitchen and started dinner anyway. She set the table with candles, tried to make things romantic. By eight, she realized that Frank wasn't going to be home for dinner. Again, she called him. "I'm worried, Frank. Are you okay? Please call me. Please." 105


She didn't like the desperate sound in her voice. Then Win's fur started to lift, a low rumble came from his throat. Instead of grabbing him, hoping he'd make it better, she ran to the bathroom. It would be better to lose herself in madness than realize that she'd lost Frank. Catherine glanced at her reflection and again saw the woman with two blue eyes. She hated her. That was the person who'd done those terrible things, things she was paying for now. "I want my life back," both women said in unison. **** Frank checked his messages and nearly called Catherine back. He couldn't do it though. His gut stayed in knots. He'd never known she'd been sleeping with his foreman. In fact, he wasn't sure who his wife was or is. She'd tried to kill him, had slept around, and now, for brief moments, she was perfect. How long could that last? How long before she broke his heart? "How do I do this?" he asked himself in the empty trailer. He almost wished there were a different spirit caught in Catherine's body, that Mary's rambling about walk-ins was correct. But who would walk into Catherine's body? How could he know who it was or where they came from? Of course that would mean that the woman he loved wasn't his wife. He couldn't keep the knives and such away from her forever, but he didn't want to lose the soft side, the one that liked holding his hand. 106


She had said someone went after her. Was it possible there was a walk-in and that woman had been attacked? How could he find out? What good would it do? If he found out who she was, would it send her away? Or make the rest of the bad part of Catherine go away? Who was he kidding? There was no easy way out of this nightmare. The woman he wanted could vanish at any time.

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Chapter Ten At midnight, she heard the front door open. She turned on the living room light and watched Frank wince in pain. He stumbled, but it was the smell that gave away his drunkenness. She hated that smell. It was how he smelled when he would beat her. No. Frank didn't hit her. Frank loved her, was her best friend, the man she always wanted to spend her life with. "Why didn't you call me?" He didn't answer, only walked by to the kitchen. She followed, watching him drink straight from the faucet, then rummage through the refrigerator, pull out cold pasta, and begin eating it from the pot with a fork. "I will fix you a plate if you'd like." "That's okay." He finally spoke, although his words were slurred. "I don't like you driving home drunk. I could've gone out and picked you up." Frank stopped with a forkful halfway to his mouth. He set the pot on the counter then stepped closer, too close. He looked into her eyes and not in a loving way, in a manner that frightened her. "What are you doing?" "Checking your eyes." His mouth twisted in a painful look of hate. "I want to know who I'm dealing with."

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"I'm the woman who made the dinner you never came home for, the one who called you repeatedly, and the one you supposedly forgave." He turned his back on her. Rage, fresh and raw, filled her. None of this was fair. She didn't want to cause him pain, but he hadn't even called. She spent all night wondering if she would ever see him again or if he had decided to leave her. Damn it all. She'd been on an emotional roller coaster. All she ever wanted was Frank, and her marriage was slowly going down the drain along with her unable to do anything about it. "Irwin," he said in his drunken slur and shook his head. With a swipe of her hand, she knocked the pot of pasta to the floor. Sauce and noodles spilled over the tile in long red lines, blood-red lines. She would rather get his attention and have their argument than sit quietly while he decided the fate of their marriage. Frank looked at the mess, then back at her. "It seems I can even piss you off when both eyes aren't blue." He stepped over it and went into his study. She followed. "If you're going to try to kill me again, don't miss this time." There was no comment for that, no way to respond. Perhaps this behavior was the thing that had soured their marriage. No, that wasn't right. She remembered enough to know who'd been the villain. She stood there as his breathing leveled, and he fell into a drunken sleep. So, despite his kind words, he couldn't forgive. Not that she blamed him. She'd been unfaithful and violent. How could you love someone you couldn't trust? Right now, she couldn't even trust herself. 109


I told you he was a bastard. Let's kill him. I'll get him eventually. Win can't protect him forever. Catherine looked around for Win, but he was fast asleep on the bed. There was no one to chase away the other. That's when the reality of her situation hit her. She was a danger to Frank. Even he knew it. He would never act so horribly if this problem hadn't pushed him to the breaking point. Whatever good things he felt for her were helping to tear him apart. "There's only one thing I can do." For Frank's safety, and maybe her own, she had to leave him. The thought brought physical pain to her heart. There was no other choice. One night she could kill him. One night she could sneak out and screw strange men. There was no limit to the depravity the other thing in her would do, the dark side of her mind. "I am crazy." She took out a piece of paper and wrote a short note to Frank. She would need a little money. Catherine looked in her purse and found several credit cards. There was no way she could ever have paid for all those. She chose one from the stack and left the others on the table. Next, she went to the jewelry box and put those trinkets into her bag. She could pawn them with the hope she would get enough money not to use the credit card. There was no reason to burden Frank any further. With a small suitcase and her purse, she went to the door. Two hours had passed since Frank came home, and he'd hardly rolled over. Poor man didn't know how to deal with her. Drinking himself sick wouldn't make things better. 110


She turned the knob and felt her knees weaken. She loved Frank so much but she had no other choice. This was the only way to keep him safe. He wouldn't have to stay out half the night if she weren't home waiting. He would be safe from whatever insanity rocked her mind and just maybe Frank would find a woman worthy of him. "I love you, Frank." Catherine went out the side door to the garage where a little black Miata sat. She couldn't remember driving it, but it was hers. It had been a birthday gift last year, she was sure of it. She tossed her bags inside. One push of the button opened the garage, and she drove away. "You're free, Frank. I may not ever be whole, but at least I won't drag you down with me." She rolled down the window and felt the wind blow through her hair. It felt good. If only the wind would fix her, drive out the demon occupying her thoughts. Not that she would ever expect Frank to take her back. Too much had happened. She'd made too many mistakes. Maybe that was the real reason she tried to kill herself.

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Chapter Eleven The sun broke through the darkness, early morning eating away the night in long golden rays. Frank rubbed his eyes, trying to focus. He'd fallen asleep in his den, which wasn't much more than a small room with a couch and television, but was where he had spent so many nights here during his marriage. He stretched, and his head pounded, beating his transgressions from the previous night through him in unrelenting pain. Then he thought about Catherine. He'd been an ass last night. None of this was her fault, yet he had trouble with the facts in front of him. How could he deal with one person displaying such odd and dangerous behavior? He should be able to handle it but it was so damn hard. Frank went through the house, checking the bedroom first. Catherine wasn't there, and the bed hadn't been slept in. He went into the living room, hoping to find her on the couch. Again, nothing. In the kitchen, he found Win. The dog had one of Catherine's shoes. He didn't chew on it, only held it like some treasured memento. The rose garden. She must've gone back out there. Frank ran as fast as his aching head would allow, but she wasn't there either. His stomach started churning, from worry as much as from the alcohol from the previous night. He went back inside and found Win hadn't moved. 112


Something had happened to her, and then he noticed the note on the table. The long elegant strokes didn't look like his Catherine's writing. It was from her, though, at least that's what the signature said. He sat down to read it. He crumpled the letter in his fist, then laid his head on his arm. Catherine had left him out of fear for his safety and concern over what her behavior would cost him. She'd left most of her things, taking the bare minimum to start a new life. She also promised to send divorce papers, legally freeing him, as soon as she could afford to. "This isn't what I wanted." Tears ran down his face. "You're not the one I wanted to be rid of." Had she done it years ago, it would have hurt, but not the gut-wrenching loss he felt now. If it had happened before, he would've mourned the lost dream of a family but not the end of his marriage. The Catherine he was coming to know was special, someone to be treasured and loved. He had chased her away, though. Many nights he'd fantasized about being free from Catherine, about what would have happened if he had married Pam, but that was the old Catherine. It was not this smart, beautiful woman who'd spent these last few nights with him. This one he would fight to keep. But he had to know which one he was with. Which version of Catherine was the real one? She couldn't go far and even if she did, he could find her. He could check her credit card bills online, he had time to check some things out. He started a pot of coffee, jumped in the shower, and after a few cups of the steaming brew he was ready to go. 113


His first stop was the library. He occasionally visited but hadn't done any research since high school. A nice lady in her early fifties helped him to the nonfiction and metaphysical sections. Surrounded by the literature, he felt overwhelmed. So many strange things happened in the world every day, yet he knew so little about them. Of course, there were many books that looked like a crock of shit to him. He spent several hours reading while sitting in a stiff, straight-back chair. The comfy stuff was in the main reading room, and he didn't want anyone to see him reading books of this nature. It was silly sure, but even with the evidence, he had trouble swallowing the implications of Catherine's behavior. There were many volumes on transplants and traits that recipients had claimed they picked up from donors. There wasn't much in the truly scientific area, but on the anecdotal side, a tremendous amount of information existed. One hypnotherapist had five books out that discussed regressions he had done with transplant recipients and how they took on the traits of the donors. Some stopped smoking, some started running marathons, others could no longer stand drinking coffee. Overall, it read like a lot of their senses had changed. Many things they liked to look at and do shifted to the likes of the donor. But there was nothing about eye color changing. Of course, the person who donated the eye to Catherine had green eyes so that explained that. Her suddenly becoming left handed, that was different, and not at all addressed. Okay, so it looks like there is quite a bit of theory that someone can pick up traits from a transplant, but it doesn't 114


sound like that's what's going on with Catherine.... not with such a dramatic change. He went back to the online catalogue looking for information walk-ins but found little. He sighed, leaning back in his chair and stretching. An elderly woman with snow white hair sat down beside him and nodded hello. When he nodded back, she said to him, "I noticed you have been looking at transplant information and I saw you type in the search for 'walk-in.'" "Yeah. Do you know anything about it?" "Some. You want to go down to the metaphysical church. They have some books on walk-ins, and the minister there does hypnotherapy. They might be able to help you." "Thanks. Thanks a lot." The woman got up and walked toward the door before turning to him. "You go check it out. I'm sure they can answer your questions." Frank considered what the woman had said and figuring he had nothing more to lose, headed on over to the metaphysical church. **** Frank pulled up to the nondescript building acknowledging to himself that under other circumstances, he wouldn't have given it a second thought. Not the building, not what went on there. Come to think of it, what does go on there? Well, he was going to find out. Stepping into what appeared to be the lobby of a book store he paused and looked around a minute and the array of 115


books that talked about communicating with loved ones who had passed on, spirit attachment, tarot cards, runes and all manner of objects from crystal balls to eight-sided mirrors to candles in every color. What have I walked into? It also had a strange scent. He saw a single stream of smoke going into the air from a burning stick of incense. "Can I help you, sir?" Frank turned to look at forty-something-looking woman with reddish hair, slightly graying at the temples, her gray eyes warm, rather than the cool he would have expected, and her smile made him feel welcome. "Yes, well, maybe. I'm looking for a book or maybe just some information." "Of course. On what?" "This is going to sound odd. Probably make me sound unbalanced or even crazy, but I want, well I'm looking for something on what I heard is called a 'walk-in'." "Oh yes, we have quite a few on walk-ins. In fact, it seems to be a growing research area." "Research?" He could not imagine any professional researching something like that. "Well not so much in the scientific community, but in the metaphysical one. It certainly does explain a lot of things that happen. So, do you think you know a walk-in or that you yourself are one?" "I think ... well, it occurred to me, maybe ... oh, this is nuts." He turned to leave. "It's not nuts, mister. Listen, why not come and sit down and chat for a bit. I'm Maureen, and you are?" "Frank, Frank White." 116


"Good to meet you, Frank, and interestingly we have a speaker coming to talk on walk-ins tomorrow night. Harrison Parsons is wonderful about questions and helping people who suspect they are walk-ins figure it out." "I'm not sure. It's my wife, or my wife's body. She left and I need to find her." "And you think another day will make that much of a difference in finding her? Do you think she is going to hurt herself?" "No. Not that. I think she's confused and looking for answers." But she did try to kill herself in the hospital. Would she try it again? The sick feeling filled his gut again. He couldn't think about her hurting herself. It would drive him crazy. "Well, maybe the lecture tomorrow night will help. Meanwhile I can recommend two or three books here for you to look through, if you're interested." "Yes, thanks, I'll take them, and I think I will come by tomorrow night. What time? Do I need a reservation?"

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Chapter Twelve Frank headed home, his thoughts swirling. Was Catherine a walk-in? Was it transplant cell memory? Did she just have an epiphany where her life went wrong? Or did she somehow develop multiple personalities? Each option was confusing and overwhelming to consider. Even though she'd only been home a short time, the house was empty, so empty without her. If he remembered correctly, it was the same kind of empty feeling he had when Pam moved away. Pam. He hadn't thought of her for years and now, after Catherine's suicide attempt, it seemed she entered his mind often. Frank made himself a sandwich. Win lay by his feet while he picked up the first of the books and sat long into the night reading. A lot of what they said sounded just like what was going on with Catherine. Memory loss, using a different hand, doing different things—things she had never done before. Like a whole other person was there. The books were validating, but he was set on attending the lecture the next evening. With that information, he could go in search of Catherine, and maybe, just maybe, they could figure out what was going on together. "Please be okay, Catherine," he whispered in his empty home. "I will find you, and together, we'll make this better." ****

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He arrived for the lecture early the next night and sought a seat in the front of the room. As much as he wanted to disappear into the back wall, he also had questions upon questions and meant to get them answered. Harrison Parsons spoke for almost two hours, going in depth on just what a walk-in was. The information wasn't all that different than what Mary had said, although he did say a few things Frank observed in Catherine before she left. In addition to a list of traits to look for, he gave some anecdotal stories that were very helpful. He talked about how a child could be born, meet their life commitment, and pass on when the body they occupied failed. But then would find that the soul was up for doing some more work and would wait for a new body. Either through reincarnation or, if there was another soul that just couldn't get it together to complete another soul life mission, they would agree to step in. The other soul would then finish its lessons in another lifetime. Parsons went on to say that there would be confusion at first as the new soul settled into the body. There would be memories of the other lifetime as well as the current body's lifetime. The person wouldn't always be conscious of the event, in fact, often pretty naïve about it. Sometimes, things just wouldn't add for the person, like when memories of growing up felt passed on, as though the events had not really been experienced, only heard about. All of it sounded like what Catherine had been experiencing since waking up from the surgery and the subsequent suicide attempt. Parsons also mentioned that, occasionally, the original soul would change its mind and not want to go into the light of 119


creation. With another soul in place, two spirits would occupy one body. This state cannot last. There can be only one soul per vessel. Usually the weaker one flees. It sounded just like Catherine. When the lecture ended, Frank was one of the first to raise his hand. "Does it have to be someone good to leave? Or can it be someone mean-spirited and a good person moves in? Is it only good people who move in? Or can someone bad move in?" "Well, Frank, is it?" Parsons read from Frank's nametag. "It will generally be an essentially good soul who will move in. After all, they are taking on the work that the other soul just wasn't up to doing. Someone mean-spirited wouldn't be that giving. However, they can walk into any body. Good or bad." "And about bad people or people we perceive as bad. Are they really or is it just part of their karma? Part of the lessons of their souls?" Parsons smiled, and his smile held the gentle quality of a teacher trying to be patient with a particularly difficult student. "We will all be a bit nasty in one life or another, and we all will eventually, we hope, turn out good. Much of who we are as people is malleable, which is why it is particularly difficult when a child's karma is corrupted." That was interesting to Frank. Maybe this was the lifetime Catherine was supposed to be nasty. Then again, with Catherine's mother, she could've warped any child. Catherine may have greater things in her future that her soul was too burdened to fulfill. 120


The part about the walk-in leaving hung with him. It sure sounded like someone or something walked into Catherine. "What about possession? Is it another way to say possession?" He hadn't been called on this time and interrupted another person getting ready to ask a question. He felt his cheeks grow hot when he realized and he mouthed a silent "sorry". Parsons again gave him the patient smile. "No, possession is entirely different. With possession, there's no agreement, and generally, a lower-level spirit will attach to a body. Both souls stay in place. It's just that one dominates the other, generally the lower-level one. It feeds off the negative qualities to give it strength over the original soul. The soul doesn't invite it in and lacks the balance to make it leave." "Lower level? Like a devil?" "No, just a soul that hasn't evolved very much and, in all likelihood, may not do so. Some may call these demons or displaced spirits or even animal energies depending on your discipline." It certainly didn't seem that Catherine was possessed because she was nicer, kinder, gentler. She loved him the way he had always wanted and needed to be love. It really did seem like she was a walk-in. Now the question was, who walked in? "May I ask one more question?" He waited until Parsons nodded. "Do you ever know who walked in? Like it is a family member or someone you know?" "Maybe, maybe not. That's not what's important. Knowing who doesn't matter. What is important is that the walk-in soul 121


is giving up their chance to move on faster. They are giving the soul that walks out an incredible gift. Identity as we define it is of no importance in the spiritual realm." "No identity." For some reason, this saddened him. "We can't store a hundred lives in our minds, or worry over family members from ages ago. The build-up of sins, pains, lost loves, and wrongdoings would destroy us. The very storage of memories would defeat the purpose of the soul exploring from a new and innocent perspective. It might hinder the very goals the soul must accomplish. Even old souls can't remember what made them what they are. Not unless they exited this world and left its baggage." Parsons waited, and when Frank didn't say anything, he continued. "I suppose something residual would cling to the person. Maybe even the longing of a soul mate." Leaving the meeting, Frank felt for the first time like he had a direction. If he was honest about it, it was the first time since high school he had a purpose other than earning money. He headed home, mulling over what he had learned. Tomorrow he would go in search of Catherine, and maybe they could find out just what was going on.

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Chapter Thirteen Frank woke with a stiff neck and a book in his hand. He'd fallen asleep still researching walk-ins. He stretched, working the kinks from his neck. In spite of his physical aches, he felt more assured than he had in weeks. He touched the phone, ready to call every hotel in town, even get a private investigator to track Catherine down. As his hand made contact with the plastic, it rang. Hope sprang in his heart and he answered. "Catherine?" "No. It's Dan." "Hi, sorry. Catherine and I had a fight. I was hoping she would call me." It felt like more than any ordinary fight, though. This was a goodbye. He would be lucky as hell if she ever gave him the opportunity to apologize. He'd be lucky just to see her again. A chill swept over him, and he hoped it wasn't a premonition. "I've got some news." "You know what's causing Catherine's strange behavior?" "Not exactly, but one of my partners did the surgery on the donor. There are some odd things." He paused and started that awful loud breathing again. "You know that I don't give into anything that can't be scientifically documented, but the eye thing got me. Anyway, I spoke to my colleague about the donor and your wife's eye color changing. I even mentioned the nightmares." 123


"And?" Frank grew perturbed at the way Dan drew it out. He needed to get out there and find Catherine. "The donor was a lady named Pam. Legally, I can't divulge her last name. The thing is, she'd been attacked by her husband and technically died in a car accident on the way to get help. They kept her alive on a machine for a while and finally pulled the plug." "Just like in Catherine's dreams." Pam ... no, it couldn't be ... that would be too much of a coincidence. "Exactly. There's also never been a scientific reason for a person's eyes to change colors that drastically. Some people have eyes that gradually become more blue or more brown. And people with multiple personalities have been known to have different illnesses, but the eye color thing, well, nothing like what you've described." "Thanks. Dan, listen I have a question for you. Well maybe a few." "Go ahead." "Okay, you mentioned multiple personalities. I don't think that's what's wrong with Catherine, although she was righthanded before and I notice now she seems predominantly left. You ever done any research on transplants." What did the neighbor and this Parsons guy say last night say? "And cell memory. You ever hear of cell memory? Or, now don't be thinking I'm crazy here, all right? Just something the neighbor mentioned that maybe you have seen or heard about." "I'm listening." 124


"They said there was some research out there that with transplants sometimes the recipient picks up traits of the donor. "I've seen some research on that. Could be, but there's really no way of confirming it, not scientifically anyway." "I see. Well, thanks." Frank hung up the phone. Mary and Jim had been right. That wasn't his Catherine, at least not the one he wanted back. He was in love with Pam, whoever she was. As crazy as it sounded, that was the only explanation. Pam, there had to be some way to find out the last name. Dan said he couldn't divulge it, but that didn't mean he couldn't find out about her. Grabbing a cup of coffee, he walked into the den and booted up the computer while he went over what he knew besides the coincidence that the donor Pam had the same name as his friend, his best friend, from long ago. "Okay, Frank, you know there was a woman named Pam who died. Otherwise, she wouldn't have been a donor. People just don't donate body parts to strangers for the heck of it. That's fact number one. What other facts? Green eyes, she had green eyes. "Now, what have I observed. Catherine is now left-handed, whereas before she was right-handed. Pam, my Pam, was left-handed. I used to tease her all the time when we would sit side-by-side in a booth and our elbows would bump." He sighed then brought himself from the memories to the present. "She talked about a knife, about being attacked by a knife and a car accident. How old was this Pam? Parsons said 125


age doesn't matter. Dan wouldn't tell me, so no info on the age." Sitting down, Frank began to scan the obituaries going back over the past year, looking for a first name of Pam. He almost missed it among the longer, more detailed ones, the ones that went on and on about how wonderful the person was and the loving family left behind. There it was. It listed Pam Banner with her birth date and the date she died. Memorial to be held at Chapel of the Hills Cemetery. And that was all. There was nothing about her being a loving wife, nothing about her family, not a word about what a kind person she was. Was this his Pam? The last name wouldn't be Miller if she'd gotten married. Was it her? Or just another woman named Pam? It seemed she wasn't even a footnote to her family. At least now he had a last name—that meant he could check the marriage records and see if that was her maiden or married name. He scrolled back several issues, going back weeks before he found the article on the crash that killed this Pam Banner. He remembered it now. The crash this Pam died in. It had been nothing but a sad story on the news, but he remembered being upset over it all the same. On the way to the hospital, Jim driving Frank there, following close behind the ambulance he recalled hearing the news on the radio. An accident involving silver car had a section of the road closed. It was far beyond his house, but the story upset him. At the time, he thought it had been stress over Catherine. Now he wasn't so sure. 126


Stabilizing Catherine had taken a few days, and during that time, specialists had been brought in. They spoke to Frank about how it was touch-and-go. They had started mentioning the possibility of transplants then and adding her to the list. Frank said yes but told them that it had to be Catherine's decision. Frank felt sick to his stomach as he read about how Pam's husband tried to kill her. How he cut at her stomach, telling her he was going to remove the child she had just found out she was carrying. The man had been tried and convicted of two counts of murder in the first degree. He wouldn't be getting out of prison. Not that that would bring Pam back. Finishing the last article he could find, Frank stretched, working more kinks out of his neck and back. He was surprised to find it was almost sunset.

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Chapter Fourteen It was an average-looking hotel room. A queen-size bed with one of those green and orange geometric patterned spreads and matching curtains they should have done without. Matching fake wood nightstands sat on either side of the bed, the kind that, if you chipped it you'd see that sawdust material. There was a desk of the same particleboard with a mirror that could only reflect from the waist up surrounded by an ornate decoration framing the glass. Three drawers were on the left of an open space where one could sit. Near the windows, there was a little table. The main source of light was a dim pole lamp that had maybe a sixtywatt bulb in it. There was an in-the-wall air conditioner under the window that afforded a view of the parking lot. To the right as one walked into the room was the closet area with the ubiquitous attached hangers. The bathroom had the paper loped over the toilet seat to prove it had been cleaned. The shower with a half-sized tub had a dark ring in a perfect line near the top from some previous occupant. She couldn't forget the all-pervading stale smell that seems to exist in every hotel room, even the finer ones. It mixed with whatever sanitizer they used creating the perfume, "eau du stinky hotel." Catherine didn't remember leaving the house, not really. The wind was the only thing she recalled until the neon lights of this establishment lured her in. Catherine checked in, vaguely aware she used the name Pam White. For some odd 128


reason that didn't make sense, she liked it. It had a nice sound. When she arrived upstairs at the room, the first realization hit her that leaving was probably the first smart move she'd made in over a year. A year? How about since high school? Maybe she picked the name "Pam" because she was the great love of Frank's life. Wait, she was the great love of Frank's life. So many thought filled her head in a murky soup. She couldn't tell what memories were hers. Oh no. That was it. That other voice in her head was getting stronger. That's why her thoughts were muddled. Catherine sat on the bed, trying to think. She married Frank straight out of high school. Then again, she distinctly remembered leaving him before his senior prom. Part of her thought she had fallen in love with him when they were children, and the other had never loved him. Her head hurt. She tried again to think about anything that defined her as a person. She remembered her mother and father. They were loving, good people. They divorced when she was in high school. No, that wasn't right. Her mother lived in a trailer park and hit her with that leather belt that had the big buckle. She flopped on the bed. Pain scorched through her mind. Her body turned and twisted. For a moment no thought was possible. Every part of her hurt. All at once her seizures and headache ended. She lay perfectly still for a moment. Her body was her own again. Fatigue filled her, but she managed to sit up right and glanced into the mirror on the wall. One named came to mind as she sat there, Pam. Talk about a mealy-mouthed, plain Jane who couldn't find her way 129


out of a paper bag. Well, the paper bag part wasn't necessarily true. Pam Miller had been pretty smart, bookwise anyway, but when it came to guys, "Can we say loser?" Catherine asked while looking at herself in the mirror. "At least I have my own blue eyes back. That green and blue thing was too weird." Deciding she needed a drink, Catherine grabbed her purse and headed downstairs and in search of a liquor store. Fortunately, in this part of town, she didn't have far to look for one. She purchased a bottle of scotch, some chips and headed back to the room. She dropped off the bottle and went to grab some ice before settling in to toast her new life sans Frank White. She turned on the radio in the room. While out getting her scotch, she figured out that Pam was the green-eyed person's name. The donor had to be that dumpy girl Frank had been so hung up on. It was the only thing that would explain the last few days. Sitting in one of the lumpy side chairs, Catherine pondered what she had found out about her donor since her transplant. It was definitely Pammie from high school. She apparently had been a doormat for her husband and had nearly died by his hand. "Now he and I would have made a great couple. We know how to end a relationship right. Well, actually he does. He offed his wife while I'm still stuck with ole Frankie." She caught images of this Pam running from a house. Actually it was a pretty nice-looking house, the whole white picket fence thing that Frank would have liked. Blood ran from a cut to her stomach. The twit got into her car and some 130


how managed to not just slam into a tree, but to practically rip the car in two right down the middle. She managed to live long enough to get to the hospital and the husband, pretending to be oh-so-sorry about her, was more than happy to donate her organs. Unfortunately for him, she hung around long enough and muttered things during her coma that the husband was arrested. "And lucky me got the bottle-green eye. Whoop dee doo." Pammie from high school would have been an organ donor too. What a dipshit. She was so trusting, thinking the best of everyone. That made it easy to fool her. A few well-placed rumors and making sure Pam knew who was banging Frank, their little relationship clique broke apart. Frank was probably the most popular guy in school. Everyone wanted to be his friend, and he was friends with just about everyone. No one had been as close to him as Pammie. They were inseparable until Catherine entered the picture. "I played her so well." He and Pammie had been friends since they were kids, and everyone just assumed they would get married some day. They were, really, the perfect couple. Catherine wanted to be the perfect one. Everyone said she was pretty, beautiful. Besides, she needed a good catch—someone to get her out of the trailer park. She didn't want to end up a fuck bag like her mommy. So Catherine set her sights on Frank. They didn't really date so much as Catherine would show up wherever Frank was. Pam hated it, but never said anything to Frank. Maybe she knew Frank was out of her league. The coup de 131


grâce had come when Catherine arranged the seduction under the bleachers after the senior year home coming game and oh-so-very carefully made sure Pam saw it all. Not only that, it was Pam she "confided" in that she was pregnant with Frank's kid. Fat chance of that. There was no child, but Pam left town. Frank proposed pretty quickly and, oh gee, what do you know, she "lost" the baby. Catherine gained more by graduation than her mother had in her entire life. She was a wife. A man chose her over everything else and who worked hard to support her. Her mother never had that. Her mother never had a man buy her a car, a house, or jewelry. "I told you I was special, Momma." She stood, walked to the mirror, and raised the glass in a toast to herself. "Well, here's to losers named Pam. May the world soon be free of all of them." As she stood admiring herself in the mirror, she suddenly felt a twinge in her gut, sharp enough to cause her to double partway over the desk. With her face only inches from the mirror, she saw her eyes begin to change. First, the transplanted one, then the other grew green. A brief instance they were both green and she fell back into that dark sea of the other's consciousness. This wouldn't do, and she fought forward, seeing the mirror again and her one blue eye returned to blue. Her lips didn't move, but the image in the mirror's seemed to. "Why don't you just go, Catherine?" Catherine didn't want to go. The only thing she had left to cling to was her hate, and that was enough to tether her to this realm and give her a fighting chance at the body she 132


nearly gave up in her fit of pity. She couldn't let Pam have this body, her body, her life. Pam had it all and lost it. A second chance shouldn't be handed to her. "Me go? I'm not the loser ... losers are named Pam and I'm named Ca-cath. Ca..." **** Had someone been able to walk by the room or to peer in the window, they would not have been able help but notice the flickering of what seemed to be lights in the darkened room. Akin to the flicker of an old black-and-white television set, the lights seemed to blink on and off in the room. As one would pass in front of the mirror, the dim image of a woman would appear ghostlike in its reflection. The chill in the room came not from the air conditioner sitting silently under that window. Something more sinister dropped the temperature, opening doors and possibilities that should never have been. The two bits of energy, paced across from each other like animals readying for attack. The air grew colder, frost tingeing the window as the lights crept around the room. Shadows around them grew deeper, draping the room in mourning tones of the dead. Perhaps even more disturbing to any who would pass by would have been the woman's body lying on the bed. Seemingly peacefully sleeping on her back, long blonde hair spread like a halo around her neck and shoulders, hands clasped as if in prayer, a closer look would reveal she was not breathing. Around and over her the two flickering images argued and threatened. 133


"The body is mine, you twisted goody-two shoes." "No, Catherine, it is mine now, you gave it up." "Never, I never give up what is mine. The body is mine, and Frank is mine. Now that I know you want him, I won't kill him, but I'll hurt him back enough he'll wish he were dead. I'll hurt him so he can't touch me, only look and wish he could feel the desire surging through him. At first, I was disgusted you gave my body to him so freely, had sex with him. Now I'm glad because when he's nothing more than a broken shell that can't do for himself, not even end his own life, he'll have the memory and that, that will hurt him." "Why would you do that, Catherine, let him go, let yourself go? You made the decision to stop your time in this life. I was there, I walked in. Go, find peace." "You don't really believe that 'go into the light' shit, do you? Please tell me you aren't that stupid. Maybe you are. You enjoyed fucking Frank." "Making love with Frank is incredible, and if you had once, just once, allowed it to be making love and not just sex—" "Make love with Frank? Are you crazy? I only wanted him because he could make me more than I was. I'm done with him now, you stupid bitch. I'll find a new lover who is better than Frank, then another one after that. Men use women like whores, it's only fair to use them back. Frank will be my good name, and I'll get a good fuck from whomever I find. I'm not giving up my future for you, bimbo." "I'm not a bimbo, Catherine. I love Frank, and he loves me." The light energy grew brighter. "Listen to yourself. 134


You're not happy. You never will be. Leave this realm and let go of all that hate eating you alive." "He's mine," she shrieked. "I will keep that body, stupid green eye, scars and all if for no other reason than it will keep you from having Frank." "The body is dying. It can't go on for much longer without one of us inside it to make it live. I'm going to enter the body now." "I don't think so." The ball of energy that was Catherine launched itself at Pam, emitting a sound akin to the sizzle of a live wire. Pam managed to evade the attack, flying high above the sparks that flew. Countering with her own attack Pam managed to send Catherine into the mirror's surface, flying towards the body. Before she could enter, Catherine grabbed her by the silver cord that emanated from the body to Pam's energy source, "No! I won't let you have that body." "If not that one, I'll find another. Don't you see, Catherine, Frank and I belong together. I may not live in that body, but there will be another soul unable to complete her life lessons, and I'll walk into that body. I will find Frank again, and somehow, some way, I'll make sure he knows it's me. He'll divorce you and marry me. Why not let go now, why put all of us through this trauma?" "Because I can. Because I can." She launched herself at Pam again. The glow of the two energy bodies so intense that a passerby would have sworn the room was on fire. The lights twined, losing any distinction to human form and becoming knotted tangles of flowing light that fell into the hull named Catherine. The body shuddered, not able to take them both 135


easily, then the room fell silent, and the hull started breathing.

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Chapter Fifteen With new resolve, Frank grabbed the phonebook of the shelf and started dialing hotels. With no family and few friends, he doubted there were many places she could stay. Frank called every number, asking for Catherine White. It wasn't until he called The Little Inn that he found her. While the other hotels seemed guarded about guest privacy, the desk clerk at The Little Inn said something that originally would have been odd in different circumstances. He said, "Well there was a Pam White, but when she called for room service a bit ago she said her name was Catherine." Without another word, not even thanks, or dialing her room number, he hung up and ran out of the house. His truck rumbled to life, tires screeching as he fishtailed onto the main road, then hooked onto the interstate. There was no thought of speed limits or of the number of moving violations he'd committed. Thankfully, the police hadn't been out on the roads. Twenty minutes later, he pulled up at The Little Inn where a motley group of vehicles sat in front of the quaint hotel. It had a rundown appearance, but that gave it some degree of charm. It certainly wasn't a hooker hangout like a few of them in town. The front desk clerk had given him the room number over the phone. He parked in front of the pale blue door with the number 208. Catherine's black Miata sat one spot over. This had to be the right place. 137


He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to make himself presentable. He hadn't thought about what to say before now. Nothing like this had ever happened before. Sure Catherine had gone to hotels, but he'd never followed, nor had he cared if she'd come back. Frank took a mint from the pack in the dash and got out of his car. A twinge of fear filled him. What if she had a guy in there? His old Catherine would never be alone, but this wasn't his old Catherine. Maybe he was more afraid that it would be his old Catherine and that sweet spirit had already fled. He walked up the stairs and knocked on the painted metal door. A shadow passed by the peephole, then the doorknob turned. She didn't open the door far, just enough for the chain to catch. "Hi, Frank." Her voice was low, cool, leaving him unable to discern anything from the tone. "Can I come in and talk?" She shut the door and he heard the metal of the chain pushed from the slot. He held his breath, hoping and waiting. When she opened the door again, he saw the unthinkable— Catherine had two blue eyes. He almost cried out in pain. His fit from last night must've pushed the woman he loved away. "No!" He gripped her by both shoulders. "Not you. Where is she?" "What are you talking about?" That was his old Catherine with the clipped words and hard edge to everything she'd said. "I don't want you. I want the other Catherine. My greeneyed baby has to be in there someplace." 138


"Have you lost your mind? I'm your wife. I always have been." She looked around the hotel room. "I'm not sure what happened. My memory is a little vague, but I know who my husband is." He let go. There wasn't a car fast enough to take him where his love had gone. Defeated, he slumped to the bed. Maybe his research had taken too long or his drunken outburst had made his love leave forever. Catherine sat in a chair across from him, her long legs agape despite the skirt she wore. She might clean up better than her mother, but at heart, she was nothing more than a cheap whore. He should've seen that years ago and ended this. "Are you here to beg me back?" She moved one leg back and forth, probably trying to make him see that she wasn't wearing underwear. "No. I don't want you back." He inhaled deeply. Never had he betrayed his vows, but this time he couldn't keep them. His old Catherine had never wanted him and those vows had kept him trapped. He'd tasted life, a real life with someone who cared about him. There was no going back. "I'm in love with someone else." He leaned forward and looked into her eyes. "Her eyes are green, like some rare jewel. She likes to cook and snuggle in the garden. Win even likes her. I think her name used to be Pam, in a different life. She went by Catherine for a short time, and I fell in love with her." He stood. "If she'd ever give me a second chance, I'd never make the same mistake." 139


"You've cheated on me. What the hell!" Catherine stood. "You don't want this marriage over. I'll take you to the cleaners." "Whatever." "She lost. A loser for a loser, except you can't have her. She's dead ... dead!" Frank started walking back to the door. His heart grew heavy, a lead weight in his chest. His business meant nothing anymore. All that he cared for had gone, leaving that shrew in her wake. As he passed the mirror, he had a fleeting glance of Catherine's reflection, except it wasn't Catherine. It was Pam, his Pam, the girl he loved his whole life. He saw an ephemeral version of her when they first met. That first day when she said she would be his best friend. He watched as she morphed into the girl he took to his first dance in junior high school, then to the young lady. His Pam. Suddenly, he knew, he knew without a doubt. It was his Pam that the ambulance had passed on the road the night Catherine tried to kill him. It really was his Pam who was the donor. "Frank?" The gentleness in the voice stopped him. He turned and saw that one green eye, alongside the blue. Both were awash in tears, running down the face that he'd only known as Catherine. "You're back." He picked her up and swung her in his arms. "Never leave me again." "I can't stay. It's a losing battle. I don't belong here. She won't let me stay." "You belong with me." 140


"Let me go, you bastard," the hard clipped tones came again. "I'll always love you," followed his sweet woman's voice. He put Catherine on the floor. Nothing he could do would fix Catherine. There wasn't a way to have the woman inside. As Catherine fell to the floor, he could see the inner struggles, muscles strained in her face. She winced as if in pain. He didn't know what to do. Then Catherine jumped to her feet. "I want to stay." She twisted. "You don't belong here." If he'd known what was about to happen, he would've stopped her. As it was, he got out of the way as this crazed woman flung open the hotel room door, and ran down the steps, taking them two at a time. He thought she might stop at her car, but no, she kept going, kept running towards the busy street just beyond. Time seemed to slow. Even his screams were held in place as Catherine ran into the street. A red Volkswagen bug clipped her, spinning Catherine between the two lanes. It wasn't until a small truck came up, its driver's ear glued to a cell phone, that Catherine stopped. If she let out a sound, Frank never knew. All he heard was the sound of the truck's brakes, then Catherine went up into the air, landing on the windshield in a mixed thump and crash. The truck swerved too late, ran into another car before stopping on the sidewalk with Catherine lodged in his windshield like some ornament, not a person at all. Her body too lifeless to really be Catherine. "Catherine?" His heart beat loudly in his ears. "No!" 141


Chapter Sixteen The respirator rose and fell in perfect rhythm. Frank had spent too much time in this place, smelling the sterilizer mixed with something strange underneath, like death. Perhaps it was. A hospital seemed a reasonable place for the grim reaper to linger, waiting for a new crop to take to the other side. A heart monitor beeped next to the bed, plotting Catherine's heartbeat in little spiky lines. She'd been unconscious for two days. The driver of the truck had been released with only minor injuries. No one knew if Catherine would ever be released. Frank hadn't left her side since the surgeons finished repairing her internal injuries and wiring her thigh bone back together with screws and who knew what kind of hardware. "Please come back to me." He kept repeating this strange mantra, occasionally mixing it with a prayer. "Please come back to me, Pam." He whispered the name and only when no one was around so they wouldn't think he'd gone insane. Although part of him felt like he'd gone over that edge. Surely, none of this had been sane or normal or manageable. All he had was a dim hope that maybe the woman he loved his entire life would return. The doctors said that she had a fifty-fifty chance of recovery. He kept that in mind. Those weren't too terrible. She could beat those odds. Catherine could do it, she'd do it 142


for him. Maybe this accident was enough to send the old Catherine out for good and give him his sweet one. His Pam. "Please, Catherine ... Pam, come back. Please come back to me." Then the heart monitor stopped its spiky lines and a single loud continuous beep emitted from the machine. Lights flashed and he heard people rushing outside the room, ready to come in, but he knew this was it. **** From the flesh form on the bed, lights tumbled to the floor, flowed together, then arched into the air. Everyone in the room could feel the tension, but none saw the struggle for life between the two forces. Everyone felt the chill, but none knew the opening of existence swirled around them, hungry for a soul lost. The lights danced, the fluorescent bulbs in the room blinked wildly for a moment as the fight flowed to the ceiling. Human will struck where hand and foot could not. One hard lunge, and one light entered the body while the other found the fleshy hull closed. It could no longer house two souls, could no longer take the abuse of their occupation. This left one a person and the other nothing more than shadow waiting for eternity to open and take it into its embrace.

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Chapter Seventeen Even as the first person shoved Frank away, wheeling in a crash cart, he knew nothing would be the same. He'd tasted love, found something too amazing to keep. At least he'd tasted it for a moment. "Wait, she's coming back." One doctor, dressed in green scrubs, waved his hands to stop resuscitation efforts. Frank turned, seeing a man holding paddles precariously over Catherine. The machine by the bed started beeping again. He edged closer, wishing wondering. Then he saw her hand move, pulling the oxygen mask from her nose. He held his breath wanting, wishing for green eyes. It had to be his Pam, his love. With all his heart, he longed for it. He deserved happiness. He deserved her. "Frank?" The voice was soft. He pushed through the white-clad group surrounding her bed. She blinked, then reached for him. The IV in her hand stretched, pulling against the tape holding it in her skin. "Catherine? Pam?" He wasn't sure if he could take looking into her eyes. Frank had to see though, had to know if two blue ones would burn hatred into him or if one might be green, if there might be hope. His heart pushed into his throat. It had to be her. "It's okay, Frank. I'm here to stay." Frank leaned over as she reached one pale hand up and rubbed her eyes. He stared, leaned close, hoping to see green 144


in her eyes, holding him with love. She moved her hand slowly, every second beat loudly in his ears, driving him crazy as he waited to see those eyes. The doctors clamored around them. One bumped into his side, checking her IV, he stopped looking at her face for a brief second. When he glanced back, her eyes were closed again. "Look at me, love. Please." A smile crept across her lips. The ache in him grew until he couldn't think. Could it be? Was it possible to hold her again in his arms? It had to be. Whatever cosmic forces brought her back wouldn't let him lose her again. She leaned up and opened her eyes. For a second, he saw green, shimmering green eyes, but that had only been his imagination. As he stared, the warm hopes faded into cold certainty. Those weren't green eyes, but cold ice blue. "No," the denial left his lips like a prayer. "It can't be." It was more than the color of her eyes. This was Catherine in all her hateful glory. He never realized so much about the soul colored the physical appearance. Maybe he had never noticed it before. The beauty and light had completely gone from Catherine's eyes. Pam was nowhere in there. "I'm all yours, hubby dear." **** The gauze-like world stretched, the sinuous layers of eternity lay before her, every thread a journey through the fabric separating the worlds. Before her sat eternity, nothing more than color, love, warmth, beauty, and soft-focused 145


objects just beyond Pam's sight. She couldn't pass into that sweet oblivion of light and color, not yet. Retreating a few steps, she felt the cold, heard metal clanging, and so she followed it to where she knew Frank was. The silky layers folded, broke away from her like a spider's web, hurting her as she stepped onto cold tile. She expected many things when the hard light hit her eyes. There stood Frank, stepping away from a hospital bed, the bed he wished she lay in instead of that monster. She reached to him, a shadowed form of her previous self, and found her hand pass through him. That wasn't the worst of it. As she gazed around the room, she saw that she'd not been alone in escaping the afterworld. Other shimmering shapes walked around her, some crying, some screaming, and none happy. Most stayed in the hallway, one or two drifted into the room as if attracted to the recently taken body. They stood near, gazing at Catherine, hunger and lust apparent in their eyes. They were slowly degrading to something base, primal emotions, and echoes of what they once were. Looking at them troubled her. She didn't want to believe that she would join their ranks. Their shadow forms hardly resembled human beings anymore. They'd become nothing but decayed wills. She turned away from them, unwilling to watch their deranged march through the hall. Again, she reached to Frank, but instead of gripping him, let her hand slide near his skin. This time he reacted and touched his cheek. If only he knew she was here, that she loved him, would've done anything to be with him. 146


Oh, no. Catherine had made it back. As soon as she recovered, she would do something terrible to him. Pam came closer, wishing there were a way to communicate with him, longing to pass the message. "Frank, don't trust her. She'll try to do worse than kill you." No one in the room looked at her. Her warning shrieks caught no one's attention, not even a glance from the shadowed forms now joining their drifting ranks in the hallways. Another worse thought filled her. She reached around her, tried to find that webbing, the doorway back to where she'd been. There was nothing, only a hospital room. This couldn't be. She looked around again, watching a shadowed form of a woman slip to the floor, crying. Pam realized that not only had she lost a body, but she'd been locked away from the peace allowed for the dead. That world shut its door to her because she'd rejected it. Now she was trapped in a nightmare of tortured souls, inches from those that still lived. It was worth it for Frank. Hell itself would be worth it, but being witness to life, unable to live it, unable to escape it, would be agony. Worse, she would have to watch whatever Catherine did to her lover. Despair crept into her soul, and she too almost fell to the floor crying. A nurse entered, walking through her and to a doctor near Catherine's bed. The action stung, like a shock from static electricity. For a moment, all she could do was watch the nurse lean closely to the doctor. "We need you next door." 147


Instinct, more than logic, guided her out the door, away from her love, and into the neighboring room. There, on the bed, lay a body of a woman, no more than eighteen. Machines ran noisily on each side of the bed. Tubes ran in the woman's pale white throat. Locks of long red hair lay across the pillow. "She has no family. The state gave us the paperwork to pull the plug." The nurse sounded grim. "They say anything about organ donation? She's only eighteen, some of the organs should be viable." "No. There was no donor card or any statement so we can't." "That's a shame, could have saved a few lives with those organs." The doctor looked at the chart then checked the monitors again. "Bring me in another doctor. We have to make this official." "It's so sad to see one die so young." This was Pam's chance. She ran forward and dove into the body on the bed. She had no idea what the girl's story was, but then she hadn't when she entered Catherine's either. All she knew was she wasn't ready to die. Time was different on the other side, information passed at a different rate. It was with a knowing unlike any other that she understood the ability to move into another's body, live out their life. The other soul would be given a chance to try again. Desperation, desperation to be with Frank propelled her toward another unknown. She had to do this. Pam had to live. So she entered the dying lump of skin and bones. 148


At first, the flesh was tight, constricting. Pain burned from Pam's outer reaches, slicing into her from the foreign body. Pam moved with it, trying to ease herself into its plane. She rolled and felt more stabs emanating from her outside, the new flesh, then sinking into her core. She cried out, stretched, tried to take it all in and become part of it. The throbbing was horrible, but she had to do it, had to for Frank. He needed her, and she needed a way to reach him. A flesh hand to touch him, to protect him from that monster named Catherine. With determination that she would remember who she was, who Catherine was, and that she could find Frank, she rolled, setting herself in line with the body. As she did, she glimpsed a form above the bed. It was a woman, the body's owner above her smiling. Tears filled the woman's face. Her energy ebbed and flowed in tired and erratic lines. "I don't want to be here anymore." The woman was young but had hurt too much too soon in this life to take anymore. "Then leave in peace," replied Pam. "Thank you." As if her words set the woman free, she flowed into the texture between the worlds, headed for a happier place. The threads opened, took her in, then folded closed. The action caused a ripple, a wave perhaps only Pam could feel. It hit her, grew in intensity, knocking her backward. "Frank," she screamed suddenly afraid she'd missed a new host. "Frank, I'm here. Frank! Please, Frank."

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Chapter Eighteen "What was that?" Frank had been held in grief, taking awkward steps away from the woman on the bed when he heard a cry from another room. The sound was nothing more than a shriek, but it held his name, mixed with a pain deeper than anything he'd ever heard before. He stumbled to the hallway and saw two nurses standing in front of the door. Down the hall, an orderly pushed a bed onto an elevator, but no one looked for him. From there he listened, wondering, hoping he'd hear his name again. That Pam had jumped into one body. It was possible that she could jump into another. It had to be. No, that was wishful thinking. At Parson's lecture, he hadn't said anything about moving into two bodies. Had Pam come to the end of her time here? Did she have to move on? Or could she still be with him? Still he stood there, listening. "I can't believe she's alive." The nurse sounded excited, beaming with joy. "It's a miracle." The older nurse crossed herself then looked in his direction. "Two miracles in one day." He smiled, knowing the nurse spoke of Catherine. He didn't consider that a miracle, more like evil iron will or even a curse. If Pam made it back, that would be truly amazing, unlike the return of his wife. His wife. Oh shit, he had his wife back. 150


He didn't want to face that possibility lying in the next room. The idea of taking her home made his skin crawl. As he stood in the hallway, he knew that was what he'd have to do. She was technically his wife and short of divorce or murder he had to deal with her. Sure, he could admit she tried to kill him not once, but twice, but to what end? She would still be alive and Pam would still be gone. He looked to the wall, contemplating knocking some sense into himself at losing Pam not once, but twice. How could I have helped her stay? There has to be some way I can bring her back. He could call Parsons and see what he had to say, maybe he knew how to find another body for Pam, one that she could stay in this time. Or was it because of his own weakness that Pam couldn't stay? What could he have done to give her the strength to win the battle for that body? As he waited, he noticed there was no one calling his name. It had to have been his imagination, some part of him wanting his Pam back. He wouldn't get another chance with her. Somehow that knowledge made his life more empty than it had been before he'd found Pam. He'd been a man that had it all—now without, the loss crippled him. "Who was that she called for?" the younger nurse asked. "She'd said, 'Frank.' Don't know who that could be. I thought she didn't have anyone. The police didn't have any missing persons that fit her description. Her picture has been in all the newspapers but no one has come forward." "What?" Frank ran forward. "I'm sorry, did you say someone in the next room called for Frank?" 151


"Yes." The younger nurse smiled at him, then glanced in the next room. "We thought she wouldn't recover but when we went to unplug the machines, she woke up screaming 'Frank.' Amazing, isn't it?" Frank pushed by them. Inside that room was his love, his Pam. He knew it in his soul. Behind him, he heard the nurses, but paid them little attention as he shoved open the large door and stepped inside the room. The light shone in the window, machines surrounded the head of the bed, but the bed itself was empty. "She's not in there, now." The older nurse put a hand on his shoulder. "When she regained consciousness they took her immediately downstairs. You just missed her." "When? Where?" "For testing. They have to see if there's any brain damage. I doubt they'll even return her to this room." Frank felt dizzy and reached to the wall for support. She'd made it back. He knew it. He'd been so close. If only he'd gone into the hall the moment he'd heard his name instead of remaining in that room with Catherine, he would have found Pam. "Please. What was her name?" The nurses looked at each other. The younger one shook her head, then stepped into the hallway. The older nurse led Frank to a chair against the wall and sat him down. He resisted but only mildly. So much had happened the strength drained from his body.

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"She was listed as a Jane Doe. We won't know her name until she tells us. Even then, we can't divulge any private information." "What happened to her?" "All we know for certain is that she was pulled from the river with a bad head injury three months ago. I was working on this floor the night they brought her up. She'd been wearing sneakers, shorts, and a T-shirt like she'd been jogging. Everyone guessed she'd been mugged in the park and was either pushed or fell in the river." "Do you know where they'll take her?" "No. Sir, you have enough to worry about with your own wife. Go back into her room. I'm sure she wants to see you." She patted him on the shoulder. "So much wonderful news. It's a miracle." He rose, nodding slowly. "I'm sure she does need me. But, really, isn't there anything at all you can tell me about this woman? She called me. It has to be someone I know or who knew I was here. Maybe she was awake or out of the coma for a few minutes when we brought my wife in and saw me. Maybe you missed that quick moment she was awake." "I'm sorry Mr. White, the machines would have shown us she woke." He stopped, standing in the hallway, and looked back at the nurse. "Is there a way I could find out about Jane Doe's status later?" He realized how insane he sounded. That was no way to get information. "I mean, both miracles happening so close to each other. I just want to meet her." 153


"I'll check with the doctor. Patients are entitled to their privacy so I'm afraid ultimately the decision will be hers." "Of course." He entered Catherine's room, not because he wanted to, but for appearance's sake. He looked at the bed where a nurse checked Catherine, asking her questions, and writing down her answers. Probably checking for brain damage on her too. They didn't know she had something worse, a black heart. Frank had to wonder about Pam now. Did she remember him? Would she begin picking up memories from the new body she inhabited? She might have a husband, children. Being a Jane Doe, he doubted it. Family would've reported her missing. It didn't change the fact that she may not remember him or their time together. "Frank, come closer to the bed." He shook his head while standing near the door. "I don't want to get in the way." "I'm finished." The nurse smiled politely then left the bed, giving them time alone. He didn't know what to say. There was no telling how much this Catherine remembered either. Did she remember Pam? If so, he bet life would be interesting when Catherine returned home. "How are you feeling?" Frank's mouth felt numb, his tongue too large, but he still tried to speak. "Better now." She smiled. "What? Aren't you happy to see me? How about a kiss?" Her blue eyes glowed, bright, alive, and without a trace of green. 154


"No." His sighed heavily and thought about what he had to do. "I'm going to visit you every day. I am going to make sure you have everything you need, but also realize that we're getting a divorce." "What?" Her eyes grew wild. "I'm in the hospital and you tell me this." She grabbed at the remote, trying to fling it, but found it attached to the table. "You know what you've done. Don't make me bring this out in court. It won't be pretty. All the affairs, the murder attempts, this is over. It's been over for a long time." "I'll see you in hell first!" She tore the IV from her hand and leaned forward. "This isn't over you, bastard. I'll kill you before you leave me." "That's the problem." Frank turned and stepped to the door, finding a very shocked nurse standing there with her pitcher of water. There was nothing he could say, so he stepped around her and into the hallway. Once more, he stepped into the neighboring room. No nurses loitered outside this time. Had Pam been here? He didn't know for certain. He stepped to the bed, still unmade, and sat, splaying his hand on the sheet where she had lain. There was no way of knowing for certain, but he believed his Pam had returned. Now he had to find her. Down the hall, he heard female chatter. Some staff no doubt. He left the room and walked down the hall to the elevator. He had a lot to do to prepare for. If she had returned, he would find her. 155


Chapter Nineteen She tried to focus on the doctor, but the stainless steel objects in the room kept giving her glimpses into what she looked like and she wanted to see. It seemed strange, but she couldn't remember her face. For some reason she really wanted to know what color eyes she had. Logically it made no difference, but something inside, some strange panic she couldn't explain, made her lean toward the cabinet next to her for a glimpse. Then she saw it, a strange gray-green. "You're doing fine, you're doing really well, miss. I'd like you to keep your head straight and just follow my finger with your eyes." She did as he asked, catching a hint of red hair as she followed his finger to the next reflective surface. Red was a surprise. For a moment, she could've sworn she was a blonde. Red looked good though, it seemed to suit her. "So tell me, how are you feeling?" "Okay I guess. I little foggy, where am I?" "Mercy Hospital. Do you remember coming here?" She thought for a moment, nibbling on her lower lip while she thought back. There was something about a hospital, but she couldn't catch the fleeting thought. "No. Not really. Did I hit my head or something?" "I was hoping you could tell me. Could you tell me your name?"

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"My name?" Was it Catherine? No, that's not right. She hated the sound of that name. It's ... it's ... didn't the people who brought me in tell you?" "Why don't you rest for a bit and then we'll talk some more, how does that sound?" "Claudia ... my name is Claudia, I'm sure of it." A huge smile filled her face, and wave of relief washed over her. "That's good, Claudia. Do you remember your last name?" "Ummm, it's-it's.... I-I..." She shook her head, feeling a little defeated. "No problem, Claudia, you're doing really well." "Any chance you remember where you live or your phone number? Any family?" Deep in thought, she chewed her lower lip. "I wish I could help you, but I don't ... I just don't." "That's fine, Claudia. Why don't we get you settled in your room, and we can talk again later." "Sure, yeah. I'd like that." A nurse appeared and helped her into a wheelchair. Claudia wished they would let her walk. Her legs felt unused, but she had already learned not to argue with them. She waited like a good patient while the nurse spoke to the doctor. Finally, they started down the hall. The placed smelled funny, like disinfectant. She hated that smell. It reminded her of something, cleaning old floors in Montana. She shook her head trying to bring the memories back but the thought slid into a quiet house and eating on a deck. The smell changed too, becoming cologne, the scent of a man. 157


Claudia closed her eyes, not wanting to see the generic, tired-looking hospital, but the memories wouldn't come in clearly. She kept them closed as the nurse bumped and pushed her onto the elevator. The dings of the floors broke through her thoughts. Whatever was trapped in her mind might never come back. The nurse wheeled her off the elevator, and Claudia gave up trying to remember. She would simply take each day and see what happened. Maybe there was nothing in her old life worth remembering. "Your new room." The nurse grinned, opening the curtains and letting in the blazing sun. She acted like this was a suite in a hotel instead of a bed for just another messed-up person. The nurse even insisted on helping Claudia out of the wheelchair and into the bed. "Just push the buzzer if you need anything." "Thanks." Claudia kept the same glazed smile on her face, matching the nurse's, until the door closed and she had her privacy again. She waited for ten seconds then stretched, touching her toes, wiggling her fingers, anything to feel like a real person again. Moving was wonderful, like settling into her skin. That's an odd way to think about it. She got out of bed and touched her toes. The blood rush caused excruciating pain but she dealt with it long enough to make her leg muscles come alive. They hurt too, probably hadn't moved in a long time. Not long enough for complete 158


atrophy to set in but too long to be healthy. That was probably the reason they had her starting physical therapy tomorrow. She didn't feel that bad, though. If only they'd let her walk on her own, everything would be better. Claudia rubbed her thigh muscles, willing away the discomfort when the door to her room started opening. Odd that the doctor didn't knock, she could only guess that they were used to her being unconscious. Either way, she hurried back into bed, trying to act like the good patient, when the door stopped opening. She couldn't see much, but could make out the white lab coat her doctor wore. "Is that our Jane Doe?" "She's no Jane Doe now," came the voice of her doctor. "We have a first name and the good news all her tests come back with her being just fine. No permanent damage. I'm sure her memory will come back before too long." Claudia didn't recognize the other man's voice. It was nice, deep, with a little husky sound thrown into it. She also had to wonder whom her doctor would be discussing her medical results with. "Hope so, I'd like to see this case closed and whoever beat her up and tossed her into the river put behind bars." "Do you always get this involved in your cases?" "I'm a detective. I have a professional interest." His voice was stern, almost defensive, in his response. "Really? I've dealt with a few police officers and none of them ever visited a patient every single day out of professional interest." 159


Claudia listened, straining to hear what sounded like an embarrassed laugh from the stranger. She had no idea someone had visited her while she'd been written off as ready to die. This stranger was interesting. "Okay, you busted me. There is just something about her. Something different, special. So, can I see her?" "Give me a few minutes to check in. I don't need anyone traumatizing her at this point or forcing any memory back down again." "Understood." Someone visited me. Someone cared about me, Claudia Jameson. As the doctor walked into her room, she felt the smile spread across her lips. "I think I remember my last name!" "You do? What do you think it is?" The doctor moved to sit in the chair by her bed. "Jameson. My name is Claudia Jameson." Another flash, like a movie, played through her mind and more about her mysterious past came to light. "And I'm from Missoula, Montana." That was it. She could see the mountains out of the car window, could smell the pine trees. She remembered Montana. "Missoula, are you sure?" "Yes. Yes I am. I left home. I was tired of the cold and wet, and well, I wanted warmth and sunshine and moved down here." There was more. Someone died back in Montana and she had no one left there. She couldn't remember the name, but Grammy came to mind. 160


"Is there anyone you'd like us to call for you?" The doctor smiled, seeming as pleased with her bits of recollection as she was. "Umm, no, not right now. I don't have to, not now, do I?" "No. Just relax. You're going to be with us a bit longer and we'll cross that bridge when we come to it." "Okay. I don't suppose you would let me take a walk around the floor." She hoped, wanting to move, to live. "Not yet. You may have more dizzy spells. If everything looks okay tomorrow, then we'll see about getting you out and about." "But this place is boring. Do you at least have a book I could borrow?" "I'll see what I can do." **** Mike listened, taking notes. He hadn't thought about Claudia not having anything, no clothes, no books, nothing. At least she'd gained her identity. That was start. She would have a rough time ahead with no family or friends for support. Standing at the door, he listened to the doctor, then waited in the hallway for the doctor to grant permission for him to see Claudia. It seemed to take forever for their talk to end. Mike wished he could just go in or maybe Claudia would remember him. They say coma victims could hear people speaking. Maybe, just maybe she remembered him. Leaving her with a promise to bring some books by for her to read and bidding a soft goodnight, Dr. Lee exited the room. 161


Mike tried to not appear excited. The last thing he needed was for his boss to catch wind of his extracurricular activity of visiting the hospital. "Her memory is still a little fragile, and I'm concerned even the slightest thing could put her over the top again. I don't want her questioned today." The doctor slowed his words, measuring them. Mike hoped his disappointment didn't show that much. "She did tell me her last name was Jameson and she's from Montana. That should give you something." Not what he was looking for, but he tried to keep his visit official. "Understood. I'll give you a call tomorrow to see how it's going. I'll run her through NCIC, WPS, and MUPS tonight and see if we get a hit." Good. He could still keep the conversation official. He even found a reason to return. "Where?" "The wanted and missing person's systems." "I can see the missing, but wanted?" "Never know. Things happen. People do things and want to disappear so they pretend to lose their memory. They think it will keep the law from finding them. It can work for awhile." He knew Claudia wasn't wanted. He'd watched her lying in that hospital bed. She was pure and perfect, but this doctor didn't need any further clues on Mike's interest in Claudia. "But this Claudia was attacked." "She may have made it look that way. There wasn't a match on her prints, which doesn't mean anything because if someone never had their fingerprints taken there's nothing to compare them to. Now that we have a name, or at least a name she's given us, maybe we can find out a bit more." 162


"I'm sure you'll find she's really a sweet young woman who had something just awful happen to her." "We'll see. I'll check in tomorrow to see how she's doing." He hated sounding so tough but he couldn't risk the doctor assuming a personal interest. "Good evening, doctor." Mike thought she was a sweet young woman, too. Damn he wished he could talk to her, at least see her eyes open and awake. Every day, after work, he visited the hospital. He kept the guise of being on official business, but the police never devoted so many man-hours to a lovely lady in the hospital. He could wait until tomorrow. The doctor had Claudia's best interests at heart. No matter how much he wanted to rush inside the room just to make sure she had woken up, just to see it for his own eyes, he could wait. "Everything okay, officer?" He hadn't realized that he'd been standing in the hallway. Even now, he didn't want to leave this mysterious woman's side. Of course, he'd also created a spectacle out of himself in the process. "The Jane Doe, I mean Claudia, do you know what personal effects she has?" He shuffled his feet, trying to keep his tone business-like. "There are a few donations centers nearby and I thought I could stop in and get her clothes or whatnot that she might need." "That would be so nice of you. She has nothing. The clothes she wore have long since been thrown out. I'm afraid all we managed here were a toothbrush and a comb." "I'll see what I can do. Do you know what size she wears?" 163


The nurse smiled, a little too friendly. "I'll see. Just a second." Damn it all. Everybody looked at him like they knew he'd grown attached to Claudia. He had to stop being so obvious. He didn't need anyone questioning his motives. He didn't want anyone to tell him to stop coming. The nurse disappeared into Claudia's room. A few people came down the hall so Mike crossed his arms over his chest, trying to look agitated. No one wanted to mess with an annoyed cop. The ruse worked and no one spoke to him until the nurse reappeared, still grinning. She held up a small piece of paper and handed it to him. "Her sizes." "Thank you. I'll see if anyone has a few donations." "Sure thing." She winked at him as if she knew exactly what was on his mind. "What?" He looked at the nurse but she didn't answer, only walked away. That nurse knew a little more than she admitted to. That was okay. He doubted she would make an issue out of it. As for donations, no way Claudia was going home with the fleainfested, worn-out donated crap. He'd venture to the mall for her.

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Chapter Twenty Frank walked the newest construction job. The eight-story structure was downtown, which limited the size. Under the new codes, the historic area had a limit of five-story maximum building height. Because the owner had greased a few palms, a special grant for eight been approved. With the proper permits, Frank could now get his people out here. This would be a difficult task because they were close to the courthouse. There was lots of traffic, both vehicular and pedestrian. That made getting supplies in and out more cumbersome. It never failed, people would stare at work in progress, drawn to it like moths to a flame. They would get in the way and make drop-offs a strategic nightmare. The job was technically starting next week, but he needed a little time away from everyone. Catherine was coming home from the hospital today, so Frank had gone by his attorney's office this morning. His guy specialized in building codes and business legalities, but his partner handled family law. He wasn't even going to bring Catherine home from the hospital. Jim was handling the chore for him. Catherine wouldn't be pleased, but with a little luck, the papers would be delivered to her tonight. She might be out of his life by next week. He had visited Catherine in the hospital, mostly to find out about the person who had been in the neighboring room. The nurses wouldn't release any information about the woman who had called out his name. He'd left a note, but doubted 165


anyone had delivered it. If they had, the woman never responded. He had given his cell phone number, but it never rang. Even now, walking the site, he caught himself making eye contact with women, just to check for green eyes. Several of them had that color, but when he started talking to them, they practically ran away. His Pam was lost somewhere in this sea of people, if she had made it back into this world at all. The cell phone in his pocket vibrated, and he immediately pulled it out. He didn't recognize the number. Maybe, just maybe, it was the hospital. His Pam could have gotten the message. There was a chance she'd fought her way back and remembered him. "Please, please let it be Pam." He hit the send button. "Hello." "Just what in the hell do you think you're doing having Jim come here to get me?" Catherine's acid tone filled his ear. How in the world had he tolerated her for so long? "I'm tied up at work. Let him take you home. I have a big surprise for you tonight. It's extra special." "It better be after everything you've put me through." Her tone softened. Catherine was always a sucker for presents. "I promise. This will be the perfect gift." Frank ended the call. He'd fudged the paperwork just a bit, claiming that they'd been separated longer than they had. Of course, he included the time Pam had been with him. "What could I have done differently?" In the back of his mind, he couldn't help wondering if Pam inhabited a new body. She could be someone's wife, the 166


mother of children, a woman bound to something he had no business breaking. Please remember me, Pam. Remember me and be able to be with me. He knew his thoughts wouldn't magically carry to her. He couldn't pull her back into his life. Still, he concentrated, trying to reach her across whatever void separated them. It was foolhardy. He'd been offered the world in Pam and she slipped away, not once but twice. All of the bad in his life, every bit of it seemed to link to Catherine and so he would eliminate the first of his problems. He started giving up hope for his sweet Pam. Perhaps he would meet her again someday. Even if she didn't remember him, he would know her and he would win her. Parsons, the walk-in guy, had told him that if he never found her, then perhaps they weren't meant to be after all. All this was after a repeat visit in which Frank questioned the man until even Parsons' patience was at the breaking point. These things couldn't be forced. It was so hard not to try. Parsons. Interesting guy. If someone had told him two years ago, even a year ago, that he would believe in the supernatural, Frank would have thought it was a huge joke. Not so much now. Before Catherine tried to kill him, Frank was a total here-and-now type guy. He went to church, believed in a hereafter where good people went to heaven and bad ones went to hell. Now, while he wasn't sure it all really existed, that souls could come back and correct their mistakes and live new lives, it made sense and gave him comfort, at least where Catherine and Pam were concerned. A 167


part of him wanted to believe there was a way for Pam to be back in his life. He had made a private appointment with Parsons, and much to his surprise, the man hadn't charge him for the visit. Parsons had said that for all his research, he'd met only a few people he thought were walk-ins. They usually came in and were confused, but there was little going back and forth between the two souls. Usually the one left and went on its way. This was the first time he actually had something akin to proof. Pam clearly wanted to be alive, and Catherine, well, that was hard to say. It was like she was ready to move on if it would make Frank unhappy, but if it wouldn't, then she would stay. The case with Catherine, Pam, and Frank was truly unique to him. He really believed that Frank was dealing with a walkin coupled with unfinished karmic business. That in itself grew tricky. Catherine could be evil or a warped soul, too twisted to finish her task. Her core could be un-evolved, something like a bad toddler who knew no better. Because Catherine tried so hard to hold on, her true motivations would remain a mystery. Some people could be put on this planet just to torment others. Some may have dark business to complete in spite of how unpleasant it is. This left Frank with really no answers on Catherine. It seems "plain old bitch" was not a cosmic solution. Pam, however, was a different situation. It seemed Pam had never changed from the girl Frank knew in high school. She'd been a good person, one of those rare, truly good people then and despite her horrible marriage. How she'd 168


ended up with her husband, Charles Banner, Frank would never know. From what Frank had learned from reading back in the newspaper and police blotters, Banner was not only abusive to Pam, but had less than savory business practices. Fraud, grand theft, arson. The man was a walking penal code violation, yet he always seemed to manage to avoid prosecution. At least until he attacked Pam. That put him in prison with no hope of freedom. But the news didn't seem so good for Frank and Pam. Parsons really thought that Pam was gone. That she had done all she could do or had to do. There were no more lessons for her and nothing she could do to help someone else. For all Parsons' wild ideas, he found it doubtful that Pam would even find a second body to inhabit. Not that it was impossible, but Parsons thought it highly doubtful. "What about her right to love and be loved?" Frank had asked him. Parsons' answer was less than satisfying. "In the light she has nothing but love, true, unconditional, and unlimited love. You'll see her again, I promise you, you'll see her again." "When?" Frank wanted a date, time, and location. No more mumbo-jumbo. He wanted to know where to pick Pam up and take her home, but Parsons hadn't been very helpful there either. "When your time comes to join her." That sounded like death and the ever-after. Frank would almost do it for her, but to be honest, he wasn't good enough to find heaven or nirvana or whatever else people called it. With his luck, he would go straight to hell, which ironically 169


would be him married to Catherine. All he could do was make the best of his life now. That meant living and not simply getting by to honor a marriage vow to an adulterous bitch.

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Chapter Twenty-One For the next two weeks, Mike brought Claudia gifts. At first, she didn't know what to think about the officer with his odd questions one minute and puppy dog expressions the next, but she eventually found him enchanting. His first gift was a proper nightgown to sleep in along with a robe so she could walk the halls. He also brought her a bag full of books. It embarrassed him, but he purchased her panties and a bra. He obviously went beyond the line of duty. It didn't stop him from bringing her a couple of pairs of jeans and T-shirts. She loved his daily visits. They found out that before her injury she'd been staying at a hotel, one that had cleaned out the room she'd occupied. Whatever belongings she now possessed came from Mike. Her wallet had been found in a dumpster and had been turned into the lost and found at the Thirteenth precinct. Mike returned it to her, but only her driver's license remained. She didn't remember having credit cards anyway, only cash. Small details about her life returned. Tidbits but nothing substantial filled her mind. Oftentimes she wondered what was missing. It was like a word on the tip of her tongue but she couldn't find it. There was something important she'd forgotten. Oh well, if it were that important she would remember. In all the time, she'd been in the hospital, no one called. She wasn't sure whom she expected to call. She remembered that her grandmother had died and she'd fled Montana, 171


hoping to find something more than mountains and sadness. Still, somewhere deep down, she thought someone was supposed to call her. Or there was someone she was supposed to be with. There was the feeling of loving and being loved, but nothing she could wrap herself around. Mike was comfort, but he wasn't that once-in-a-lifetime love. Mike was handsome. He had dark brown hair, cut a little too short. His face was handsome in that classic way with a little cleft in his chin. He wasn't one of those doughy cops either. He looked strong with broad shoulders. He just didn't seem like the person she was supposed to be with. She kept thinking that she belonged with a different guy, one with rougher hands and more rugged features. His hair would be a touch longer, and he would wear jeans and flannel shirts. "I wish I could remember." The only thing about her memory loss that upset Mike was the fact that she couldn't describe her assailant. The only time she watched rage pour over Mike was when he thought about the attack and the fact that no one could be prosecuted for the crime. He was certainly protective. She didn't mind. After so much chaos, it was nice to have someone watching out for her. The day of her release finally came. Claudia looked down at the clothes he'd provided, the shoes, and even the small duffle bag he'd brought for her to pack her things. Only one thing was missing. She had nowhere to go. Over the last few days, she had tried to keep a positive attitude, had tried to think about her future as bright, but really, it wasn't. All the money she had taken with her had been stolen. She couldn't 172


take care of herself, or even pay the hospital bill that had to be enormous by now. She didn't even know how she would manage dinner. She closed her eyes, fighting back the tears of her uncertain life. For some reason she thought there was a purpose to her being here. That kept her spirits up most of the time, but waiting for her discharge papers with no place to go left her feeling sick. Now she waited for Mike's daily visit and the doctor's okay to go home. "Where do I go?" **** Mike listened at the door. The doctor had given him Claudia's discharge papers, but he hesitated going inside. She might decide to return to Montana. She didn't have anything or anyone here. That knowledge kept him pinned to the door, unwilling to face what could be his last few minutes with her. He tried to keep things professional. Despite his best intentions, he found himself attracted to the petite redhead with the gray-green eyes. He couldn't help but notice that with each of his visits she seemed to brighten a bit more. She was cute, funny—actually, she had a wicked sense of humor. He loved every moment he spent with her, although the feeling that something wasn't exactly right persisted. That was why he had offered to pick her up when he went off duty on the day of her release. That and his feeling there was so much more than met the eye, more than a woman with a lost memory from another state. 173


"Claudia, your chariot awaits," he said, pushing through the door. "Thank you, Sir Mike, that's so sweet of you." Her smile wasn't as bright today. Something dark passed through her beautiful eyes, pain or maybe sadness. It tore at him. Was she getting ready to tell him goodbye? He tried to push that thought from his mind. "So where to?" "Ummm. You know. I wish I knew." She sniffled hard and her cheeks looked a little pink, like she'd been crying. "I don't have a clue. Do you know of ... well, are there any decent boarding houses or the likes around here? Not too expensive because I ... well, the social worker got me some money, but until I find a job." Claudia wasn't leaving town. A warm feeling grew in his chest. This was the woman he wanted to take care of. Marriage wasn't in his plans. He hoped they would date, but every evening when he told her goodbye, he missed her. Maybe there was a way he wouldn't miss her so much. He opened his mouth to say it, then stopped. It wasn't proper and Mike had been raised to treat a lady with respect. This was an odd situation. He would go for it. "Actually, my roommate moved out about a month ago and I haven't had a chance to find anyone new so..." "No. Absolutely not!" Her stridency seemed to even surprise herself. "Ahh, geez, Mike, I'm sorry. I just not ready. We hardly know each other and ... and..." A small part of his mind knew he was looking at a future with this woman despite the louder voice saying no, not for a 174


long time yet. "Claudia, I know you are still getting your memory back. Heck, we don't know if you are involved with someone or anything like that. I was just thinking that I have this pretty good-sized place. I work weird hours, and it would be nice to have someone around. Blooper, my dog, he'd love to have someone around to spoil him, if you like dogs, anyway. And who safer than a cop as a roommate?" "I don't know." The little line in her forehead crinkled, and she nibbled her lower lip. "Try me. I'm not so bad." She smiled. He loved it when she smiled. Coming home to that smile instead of an empty house would be amazing. She had to say yes, no matter what, he had to convince her. "I can't pay much." "Not a problem. If and when you feel ready, take on the cleaning and cooking, and I'll take care of the bills." "That sounds awful domestic to me." It sounded very domestic to him too. For a guy with no intentions of getting a wife, he was certainly fitting her into that position. "Yeah, I know, but until you decide what you want to do ... well, at least think about it." "I will." They both sat staring ahead a few minutes. He didn't know what to say and feared anything would make her decline his invitation. She had to come home with him. He couldn't stand the idea of her being in one of those rundown shelters. He knew the kind of trouble that frequented those establishments. "I do like dogs. What kind of dog is Blooper?" 175


"Your basic Heinz 57. She's pretty sweet, and I can't figure why they named her Blooper at the pound, but that's her name." "Okay." "Okay?" He felt lighter all at once, a little dizzy but in a good way. "Yeah, I'll stay at your place, at least for tonight. I need to find a job. I need to figure out what I know how to do." "Great! Want to go right on over or want to do a little shopping first?" "Shopping?" "Yeah, groceries. I have food in the house, but, well, I don't know what you like and well, there may be some things you need that they didn't give you in that care package from the hospital, you know?" "I don't want to end up owing you a lot." She looked down at her clothes. "You won't. As soon as you see how a confirmed bachelor who works a lot of overtime really lives, I'll probably owe you. Besides, I like being able to help you." "Groceries it is." It seemed to him that she still wasn't comfortable with the idea, but one night was a start. He would make her feel at home. She would love it. It would only take her a day or two to settle in. "Great." He escorted her to the car, opening her door, and trying his best to remember all the rules his mother had taught him 176


on how to treat a lady. A smile was his reward for his efforts, and for some reason, that made everything worth it. They arrived at the grocery store on the corner and then things changed. A faraway look entered Claudia's eyes. She stared straight ahead but was somewhere else, as if she were remembering something. Her mouth moved, and at first, he couldn't tell what she said. "Do you think I'm crazy, Frank? I'm hearing voices." "What?" He grabbed her shoulders, hoping he heard wrong. "What did you say? Who's Frank?" "Nothing. I'm trying to remember something about a shopping trip. It's like I've done this before only with someone else." She blushed. "I'm sorry. It's hard not remembering things." "That's okay." Mike got out of the car and found Claudia already out and staring at the store. The glazed expression returned. He hoped she was okay. Another, more selfish, thought flooded him. He hoped she wasn't remembering another man. "I can't remember what you like." "I don't know what you like either. I guess we'll both learn." He scratched her head, wondering exactly what she meant by remember. He wouldn't make an issue of it. The rest of the shopping trip went without incident. She liked vegetables and fruit but didn't seem to be a vegetarian. He helped fill in a complete dinner, mostly because he couldn't live on fruit and vegetables alone. After the shopping trip, they started home. He pulled into the driveway of his little ranch house. It sat on the corner in a 177


respectable neighborhood. The area wasn't overly expensive. He had rented for two years, with an option to buy the place next year. He always thought this would be the perfect spot to settle, raise a family. He mentally shook himself. Mike had to stop before his fantasies got out of hand. This was too new with Claudia to imagine more than a friendship. They got out, Claudia turning in circles absorbing the neighborhood. She touched the large oak tree in front, letting her fingers glide over the bark, and then she looked at the house. All at once, he noticed the little things wrong with the place. The screen door had a tear in it. There was mud on the front porch from the last hard rains, and even some paint on the railing had peeled. Never had he been self-conscious before, but now he needed everything to be perfect. Mike looked at her face, trying to gauge her reaction. That lovely smile stayed in place and he let out a sigh of relief. More than anything, he wanted her to stay. Odd, considering he had no intentions of bringing her home this morning. "So here it is. Bloop may jump up on you, but she's really friendly." "No problem. I may not remember much, but I do know I like dogs." Cracking open the door, Mike stepped in to see where Blooper was. All paws and tongue, she flew out of nowhere, greeting her human before she caught sight of Claudia. Like a puppy finding a favorite toy, Blooper turned to Claudia and extended her the same warm greeting. When Claudia laughed in sheer delight, Mike was relieved to no end. 178


"I guess you two will get on just fine. When you are done, I'll show you your room." "I'm ready," she said still giggling and wiping doggy kisses off her cheek. "I've got two extra bedrooms, my room is in the front so I'll give you the back bedroom if that's okay. It overlooks the yard, which I barely manage to maintain." While Claudia unpacked, Mike unloaded the groceries and made a stab at cleaning up the kitchen, tossing two-week-old cartons of Chinese food out of the refrigerator along with a week-old pizza and some other science experiment he couldn't remember making. He pulled out a washbasin from under the sink to start soaking the dishes that had piled up over the past week or so. There was no way the dishwasher was going to remove the hardened food without a good soak first. By time Claudia found her way to the kitchen, he had it at least half way presentable. "So, Mike, you ready for my first home-cooked meal here?" "Have at it, babe." "When do you have to go back to work?" "I'm on RDOs for the next two days." "RDO?" "Regular day off. Sorry. One of the drawbacks of the job is you start to talk in police jargon rather than regular English. Just let me know when I do it." "No problem." "So if you want I can show you the neighborhood tomorrow, the park I take Blooper to and all. There's a dog 179


park as part of it, and she loves running with the other pooches." "Sounds good." After Claudia started dinner, Mike showed her around the rest of the house. His pride and joy was the large flat-screen television and entertainment system. He opened two side cabinets showing vast quantities of CDs and DVDs. Claudia indulged him but didn't look that impressed. He also showed off a few of his other gadgets. She listened to him but again, he didn't think she was as impressed as he was. They returned to the kitchen where he watched her as she finished preparing the meal. It was obvious to his trained eye that she knew her way around the kitchen. She also took care in setting the table, although he tried to help, she would have none of it. She even served him his dinner. "You really went all out." "My pleasure. I miss doing things. At least I think I do. I have flashes of making dinners, special dinners. I felt totally useless in the hospital, and then this morning when I realized there was no place for me to go, I can't tell you how terrible that is." She reached over and touched his hand making sweet tingles rush down his spine. "Thank you, Mike. You're my hero." "Thank you for keeping me company." They started dinner and Mike was pleasantly surprised to find the food tasted as good as it looked. Blooper also seemed to enjoy it, at least from what he could tell as Claudia slipped bits of meat to her under the table. She won an instant friend. Mike had to admit, he and his dog were enamored 180


with her.

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Chapter Twenty-Two The lights were on in the house. Frank was afraid of that. He had held the small hope that Catherine would get angry and leave. Apparently even serving the woman divorce papers wasn't enough to convince her to go away. Frank pulled in the driveway, while the sensation of lead filling his gut continued with every step he took toward that house. He would gather a few things and sleep in one of the construction trailers tonight where he kept Win until Catherine was gone. Surely she could get out by tomorrow. He reached the door, but couldn't find the strength to go inside his own home. Never in his life had he hated someone, much less had complete disgust in the way he had for Catherine. That she tried to kill him was bad enough, but then to make Pam leave. He couldn't wait for the day when the bitch was gone. The front door flew open, Catherine standing there in seethrough lingerie. "Aren't you coming inside, hubby dear?" "When are you leaving?" He pushed by her. The seduction was part of an act, one she pulled whenever she wanted to get her way. "Listen, I know we've had our differences, but I want to make amends. Let's forget about that silly divorce. I made you happy once. I can do it again." She batted her eyelashes. "You're my husband. I love you." Her nearly naked breasts rubbed against his arm. He walked into the bedroom, and she followed, probably 182


expecting a quick romp. Frank fooled her. He went to the closet and pulled out a suitcase. "You don't want to do that." Catherine lay on the bed, legs spread wide. She reached down with those painted fingernails, touched herself, and moaned. He'd liked that in the past. Now it just made her look like the cheap whore she was. Not the sweet innocent and pure love that was Pam. "Please find somewhere else to stay." He tried to stop the building nausea. "I'll sleep somewhere else for a few days, but you need to get out. This is my home." She stopped touching herself, grabbed the pillow behind her, and threw it at him. He knocked it away. He wouldn't need much. He tossed in a few days worth of clothes, then spotted one of Win's doggy toys in the floor. He packed that too. "This is as much my house as yours. I'm not going anywhere." "No. Go get yourself an attorney and then tell the person what all you've done to me. Tell your attorney how you tried to kill me, how many times you were unfaithful, how you've never worked a day in your life, and how you've spent my money. Tell this attorney everything because I guarantee it will come out in court. At the end of your confession, ask the attorney what you're entitled to. Oh, and while you're at it, let him also know that I plan to press charges. There's no statute of limitations on attempted murder."

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"Please don't treat me like this." She half crawled across the bed, displaying her full breasts, arching her back as if she wished to be touched. Frank reached down into that blonde hair around her lightly scarred face. Oh the surgeons had done remarkable work. He pulled her hair back, letting the bedroom light show into her eyes. No matter how much he willed those eyes to turn green, they wouldn't. "Get out of my house and my life. I will not bed with a whore again." He released her and closed the suitcase. Catherine flung herself at him, screaming loud like a rabid animal. She pummeled his back with her tiny fists, pulled at his hair. It was against his nature to hit a woman, so he pushed her back onto the bed. "I'll kill you before you can leave me! I won't be alone. It's your fault I'm scarred. You owe me." "You think maybe this time you'll succeed in killing me? Do you? This time the police won't take the robbery story. Think about that." He looked at her unable to remember why he had stayed for so long. "Goodnight, Catherine." She launched herself at him again, but he moved faster, sidestepping her and letting her fall to the floor. She looked up with tears in her eyes, makeup smeared down her face. It reminded him of a used-up hooker. "I'll kill you." She continued to rant as Frank walked out of the house. He imagined she would trash the place tonight. It also didn't 184


surprise him when she came to the door, throwing things at his truck as he got inside. He backed down the drive. He put up with so much during his marriage, never filed charges against her after she had tried to kill him. This time he wouldn't be so generous. If this were going to court, he'd prefer having some documentation to her behavior. Frank picked up the phone and called the Sheriff's Department. He couldn't prove an assault, but he was willing to bet that she would do something stupid when a deputy came to investigate.

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Chapter Twenty-Three That woman wanted him dead. She tried to stop her, and then the dog came at her throat. She wasn't afraid of him, only of the beast living in her body. She wanted her out, but how. It wasn't fair. Claudia fought to hold on, to stay, but the other was strong. They tumbled together, mixture of light and dark, eternity. The scene changed, and she saw the dog, mouth curled away from its fangs, it growled. She didn't know why only that a man had tried to kill her with a knife, then she picked up a gun. She was dying, bleeding, and a woman wouldn't let her stay. "No, I don't want to leave." Claudia woke screaming, at least she thought she had been screaming. She closed her mouth and listened but didn't hear anything. For a minute, she had no idea where she was or even her name. Blooper raised his head from the other side of the bed, then rolled onto his back. "Blooper?" She relaxed against the pillow. Claudia remembered going home with Mike. During the night, Blooper had opted to sleep with her, and somehow the dog decided that it was also okay to sleep on the bed, not that Claudia minded. Having the dog sleep with her was familiar, comforting. Not like something she had done her whole life, but something that she had done recently. A warm feeling, one of being loved and cared for 186


crept over her. A feeling that had nothing to do with Mike, but she couldn't place whom, where, or how. It just felt right. Being an independent woman had always been her goal. At least, she thought so. Yet, she had become someone's charity case. How could a grown woman have so little? She didn't even have solid memories to fall back on. All she had was a kind man she barely knew, but owed the world to. She had nothing to offer Mike, no way to make up for the trouble she had caused. "Blooper, how did I get in this mess?" Blooper responded in a half bark, then licked her across the face. "I guess that means it's time to get up and stop wallowing in pity." Another half bark followed. This time Blooper bounded from bed and ran across the floor. She lost a little traction, then scooted out the small opening in the door. She seemed tired of her whining too. She grabbed a quick shower. Trying to be quiet, she tiptoed into the kitchen and started making coffee and batter for pancakes. Something about the pancakes seemed familiar, a smiling face, telling her that the fresh strawberries she had added made them "scrumptious." The man said scrumptious and she laughed at the time because it seemed like such an odd work for a guy to use. Something about the guy was familiar, but she couldn't put her finger on what. When Mike woke a bit later, he seemed thrilled at having breakfast already made for him. "Boy this is a treat I could 187


get real used to. Claud, I hope you decide to stay 'cause this kind of breakfast alone makes it worth the rent!" "Thanks. I was hoping you wouldn't mind." "Nope, not at all. These are great." She liked watching him eat. She had a feeling of pride, especially when he ate every last bite. Things might not be so bad if she stayed here with Mike. Maybe she could help around here, offer something. Instead of being cared for, she could take care of Mike. That would make things better. She finished her breakfast, making sure to save a bite for Blooper. She must've sensed it was breakfast time because she ran inside the doggy door, sliding to a stop next to the kitchen table. Mike laughed at the droopy mutt, and she loved the sound. Breakfast and the dishes done, Mike showed Claudia a bit more of the house and then grabbing Blooper's leash they headed out for a walk so he could show her the park. Blooper clearly knew where they were going and tugged away on the leash, leading them down the sidewalk to a large gate. Inside was a long walking path, a small playground, and the object of Blooper's desires, a fenced-in doggie park. Once in the doggie section, Mike let her off the leash and Blooper quickly headed out to romp with the other dogs. The owners sat on benches watching their furry babies play. A rough-and-tumble couple of hours later Mike whistled for the dog and the threesome headed back toward the house. She enjoyed their day out and Mike was wonderful company. Even Blooper fit into the picture nicely. Maybe 188


things in her life were working out after all. This might be the life she had been looking for. They started to the sidewalk when her tummy growled loudly. Mike stopped and looked at her, further embarrassing her. She hated the growly sound but tried to laugh it off. "Hungry?" "Yeah, actually I am." She looked over at the hot dog vendor next to the road. "If I'm remembering correctly, I love hot dogs." "Hot dogs it is." **** Over the next few weeks, Claudia and Mike fell into a pattern. Or more like Claudia sat back and watched how Mike lived his life and began revolving hers around him. It just seemed easier that way. He was a nice guy. Actually, a really nice guy. Yeah, his hours were strange, but it felt all right. Somehow, it felt like she'd been with someone who didn't keep regular hours before, but not for something legit like Mike. She even found herself starting to adjust to his schedule. In the waking hours when he wasn't around, she tried to remember more about her past—who she was, people she know, what she did, but kept coming up blank. Different images would pass into her mind, but nothing definite. Even some of the things Blooper did seemed familiar, but she just couldn't put her finger on it. It was comfortable, easy, and having a dog seemed the most natural thing in the world for her. 189


After the first week or so, it did become obvious that Mike would have liked to be more than a friend. Nothing overt, just the heat in his eyes when he looked at her or the way his hand would linger when they both reached for a spoon at the same time. She knew he wouldn't push. Somehow she knew that just wasn't his style. Maybe it was her memory loss, maybe he was just a patient guy. Whatever it was, she felt an odd relief about his holding back. Mike was not only a good-looking guy. He was an absolute sweetheart, did the right things for the right reasons. But some how Claudia knew she just was never going to feel the same way he did. Like someone waiting for her, but who and where? It didn't feel like someone from where she had come from, but more like someone here, someone nearby. Mike was the only man she met since waking up. Only as sweet and kind as he was, he wasn't the one. No, there was someone else. Someone she had loved her whole life, she knew it. She just knew it. So why wasn't he looking for her? Why didn't he come to the hospital to see her? Why didn't he report her missing when she disappeared? Well, he wasn't here, if he even existed, and Mike was here. Mike was just about everything a woman could want. Granted, it had only been a few weeks. Once she woke up, he visited her in the hospital and one of the nurses told her he used to come while she was in the coma. And now she lived with him. Why not see if things worked out with him?

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Chapter Twenty-Four Win gave a low bark outside the trailer. Frank hated to tie him up, but they were too close to the road. He didn't want Win getting hurt, and there wasn't enough room in the trailer to make Win comfortable. It had been over two weeks and still Catherine hadn't left his house. Frank had done everything possible to push her along, finally getting one of his buddies at the courthouse to hurry through the ruling. True to form, Catherine tried her best to keep her hold in the house. After a special ruling, she was to be served her eviction papers today. Unfortunately, that still gave her a week to get out of the house. Frank looked out at the men, already starting work. He was wrung out. He'd been sleeping on the small worn couch in the same room as his desk. Construction trailers didn't have much to them, but at least this one had working plumbing. He had managed to get in a shower and look presentable by the time the first of his employees arrived. Most of them didn't know the boss man lived at the site. He stretched wide and stood from his desk, getting his third cup of coffee. The caffeine helped a little. Even though it was well into the afternoon, a groggy daze held over his mind. What brought him fully awake was when the door opened and that blonde harlot marched her happy ass inside, then sat on his couch like she belonged there. "Hi, sweetie." Catherine smiled wide. "What do you want?" 191


"Just wanted to give you one last chance to win me back." Her shoulders were back, showing again what she considered her greatest asset, her breasts. Frank wished her mind were half as good. "No, thank you. Now please leave." "I'll make your life hell if you divorce me." She snaked her tongue out of her mouth and wet her red lips. "I think you're losing this argument." She flipped her blonde hair, then unbuttoned another button on her top. The edge of her white lace bra showed. She always pulled crap like that, and Frank had finally started to notice she was all looks, no heart. Amazing it took him so long to realize it. "I bet you think that little trick with the deputy was cute, don't you?" "Not really, but it did help me make my case to get you out of the house faster. Thanks for acting that way. It really helped my case." According to Frank's attorney, he couldn't force Catherine out without a ruling in the divorce settlement or some sort of charges. He needed a cause to prove Catherine was destroying his property. Thankfully, he had just that. The night she had come home from the hospital and he had picked up his clothes, she'd gone off the deep end. More to the point, she continued to go crazy after Frank had left and called the sheriff's department. From what he had learned, Catherine had to spend the night in jail. The charges read from propositioning an officer to assault against an officer. It seemed when the deputy turned her down, she 192


started throwing things at him. She went as far as to break his windshield. Not good. Well, not for her at least. "I suggest you find a place to live. If you're not out in a week, that deputy will be back to escort you off the premises." "You'd like that wouldn't you?" Bill poked his head in the door, and his expression changed to disgust when he saw Catherine sitting there. "Boss, can I talk to you for a minute? We've got a little problem out here." "I'll be back," he gave Catherine a hard look. "Don't touch anything." Bill stood there, arms across over his chest. "Do you want me to call the law?" "I'll do it if she starts to make a fuss. I think I'll put a restraining order against her too." He looked around at the working men. "What's the trouble?" "It's over here." **** Catherine glanced outside and watched Frank step away from the building. This might be her only chance. She opened her purse and pulled out a vial of powder. Good old rat poison. She had no doubts that when the court date arrived, she wouldn't have any chance of alimony or anything else after all of her sins were brought to light. That made her future prospects for money slim. She pulled out the oversized carafe and dumped the powder into the coffee. She swirled it around, letting it mix. 193


Being divorced wouldn't pay a sloppy adulterer well, but being a widow would, especially with that insurance policy she took out on her dear husband. With that handled, she went around Frank's desk. She was running low on cash and hoped to get to the hair salon today. A few scars still lingered, so she had to make an extra effort to look nice. Besides, she should be husband shopping soon. This time she would find a nice business man. Maybe one with a pool and hot pool boy. "Just what in the hell are you doing?" Frank came in, looking so smug and annoyed. She'd show him. "Nothing. Just taking an interest in your business. Half of it will be mine soon." "The hell you say." She only smiled. She knew no judge in the country would award her much more than her clothes and maybe a small allowance to help her get on her feet. It was fun to torture Frank though. "Fine, fine." She looked at the coffee. "Let me make it up to you by pouring you a cup of coffee." "Make it up to me by leaving." He opened the door for her. "If that's what you want. How about an advance on all that money you'll be paying me? A lady has to look nice." "I would pay to see you look like a lady, but since that's not going to happen, leave. If you're hurting for cash, sell some of that jewelry I bought you." ****

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As soon as Frank saw Catherine pull away, he called his lawyer. Tomorrow a restraining order would be presented. He doubted that would keep her away from his place of business but he could at least have her locked up every time she visited. He sipped the last bit of coffee left in his mug and went to the carafe. One more cup should do the trick. He had paperwork to attack. He hated forms. He poured his mug full of coffee then returned to his desk. There was so much paperwork, and he hadn't started on the pile from the other worksite, much less the permits he would have to file for the downtown job. He needed a secretary. Frank raised the mug to his lips, tipped the black liquid toward him. He always enjoyed fresh hot coffee. The liquid came toward him, touched his lips, and spilled on his pants. Damn it all. That woman had him too shaken up to drink. He didn't want to look like a wreck today. Couldn't anything go his way? He walked toward the bathroom, pulling a hot section of cloth away from his skin. There were some good things about living where he worked. He didn't have to leave to change clothes. A minute later and he changed into fresh jeans. He hoped to have his paperwork finished so he could drop it off during his errands today. Frank slumped back behind his desk, looked at his coffee, then thought better of it. The caffeine wouldn't only wake him up but make him tense. His nerves were already strung too tight. 195


He hadn't really taken to drinking, especially this early in the day but Catherine had his nerves frazzled. If that whore thought she was getting a cent from him, she was sadly mistaken. He pulled a bottle of scotch from his desk. This would take away the edge. Actually it was the first drink he'd taken since leaving the hospital. Damn Catherine. She made a mockery of their marriage and then when she had the chance to finally do the right thing, to leave her body and let Pam have it, she went and turned even nastier than she had been before. From their wedding date he knew she was a selfish bitch, but this went beyond even that. She clearly calculated every action to make life a living hell for everyone. A few times he wondered what had made her such a cold, mean-spirited person, but it was meaningless to go there. She just was a cold-hearted bitch, and that was that. The woman could have had it all, instead she grasped at things that weren't going to make her happy. She had to have them because everyone else did. "She wanted me and I gave myself to her heart and soul. But she didn't really want me for myself. She wanted me because someone else had me. Pam had me. Not once but twice." He took a swallow of the amber liquid. Its bite was enticing and at the same time reminded him he hadn't eaten yet today. After putting the bottle back in the drawer, he stood and stretched. He'd do his paperwork first, then go out for a nice dinner. Drinking on the job was something he would not permit in other so he couldn't allow it in himself. 196


"Oh, hell, I'm thinking crazy. Pam wasn't inside Catherine. I just wanted to believe it was Pam inside her. That had to be what happened. And Catherine just had amnesia and forgot to be nasty. Yeah, that's what it had to be. I lost Pam years ago, and I'll never have her back." He couldn't forget those eyes though. Catherine's had been bright blue since she came out of the hospital. No hint of green. No amount of denial would change what he saw in her eyes. When they were green, she was a godsend. He reached for his jacket and found that same old hurt inching up again. Pam had been his best friend and he let her down. If she had found a way back, she wouldn't want him again. Even getting a second chance, he had failed her. Pam would be better off with someone else. "I don't know. I just don't know what I could have done to save her." For the next few hours, he finished the forms, caught up the books, then filed everything away. Thankfully, an accountant handled the payroll or he would never keep things straight. By three o'clock, he had everything handled and got ready to go to downtown. Frank picked up the radio on the desk. "Hey, Bill." "Yeah." "I'm heading out. The place is yours. Lock up when you're finished." "Sure thing." He put out the lights and headed toward his truck. His truck bounced and jostled him as he left the site, turning onto the main road. It wasn't a long drive to town but daytime 197


traffic was killer. By the time he had finished at the courthouse, his lawyers, and then the accountants, the day had gone. Driving along he contemplated dinner. Another dinner of canned or microwaved whatever, alone in his kitchen. Alone, without Pam. Her meals were good, darn good, but it was her company, her being there that made it all wonderful. "Pam". Abruptly he pulled into a parking lot and in front of a rustic-looking wooden building. For all the times he'd driven this road, stopping here had never occurred to him. Now the little restaurant housed in the quaint building drew him in. Aptly called "Trevi's," he vaguely remembered hearing some of the guys tell him it was a pretty good place. He got out, and as he approached the door, he saw a couple walking in just ahead of him. There was something refreshing about them, the tall good-looking man with the petite redhead. They had an ease about them, like a couple who had known each other awhile, but hadn't yet fallen in love, like friends who discovered they could be romantic too. The man held the door open for Frank, and the three exchanged smiles. There was something about the woman's smile that tugged at Frank's heart. Nothing he could put his finger on, but there was something special about it. Lucky guy. He didn't know why, but the man just seemed lucky to be with the redheaded woman. The restaurant was nice and he needed a change from the trailer. Staring at those walls was getting to him. Probably to Win, too. Frank would have to take him out for a run. Poor dog probably missed his backyard. 198


Frank opened the menu, finding a great variety of food to pick from. He looked around to see what other people were eating. He also noticed that the cute redhead sat across the room from him. He could eat and watch those little dimples in her cheeks. He mentally shook himself. His heart was mending from Pam. The last thing he needed was mending a broken nose from the cutie's boyfriend. Besides, looking at her only reminded him of Pam. "Can I take your order?" A waitress approached, rattling off the specials. Still he couldn't take his eyes off that other woman. Maybe he knew her from someplace or something. He couldn't remember being so enamored with anyone since Pam. For the next hour he ate and tried not to stare at the couple in front of him, although he did catch the lady looking his way a few times. The meal was everything Frank had heard it would be and then some. It had been years since he'd had real lasagna. And while he didn't usually eat dessert, when he saw the woman order some sort of fluffy thing, he ordered some too. The waitress told him it was tiramisu. As he savored each bite, Frank resolved to himself to enjoy life a bit more. His meal done, he paid his bill and grabbed the doggie bag to head home. Not that he couldn't finish the meal, but he wanted to bring a treat home for Win. The dog had been so stoic. His best friend probably missed Pam as much as he did. Frank slid into his truck when his cell phone went off. The hour was a little late for work, but it was Bill's number. He 199


answered it, wondering what new troubles had landed in his lap. A call this late had to mean something terrible had happened. "What's going on?" "Come to the hospital." "The hospital?" No one should be working at this hour. The men should've gone home hours ago. Frank started to say something about it when Bill stopped him. "It's bad. It's Jose. He's real sick."

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Chapter Twenty-Five During dinner, much to Mike's chagrin, Claudia seemed preoccupied with a tall, dark-haired man dining by himself. As her gaze went back to him over and over, Mike felt his plans for a romantic evening going by the wayside. "Is that someone you know, Claudia?" "Who?" "The guy you keep looking at." "No. I don't know him at all. There's just something so sad about him. He just seems so sad, you know?" Unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice, he prompted, "So do you want to go cheer him up?" Claudia stopped eating and looked at him. "Mike! I can't believe you just said that!" "Well, the way you keep looking over there..." "Mike." She put her hand on his. "I'm here with you. We're enjoying ourselves, and well, I don't know why, but I do feel he's sad for some reason. I'm not about to poke my nose into someone else's business. Okay? It's not like I'm flirting with him or something." "Yeah, Claud. I'm sorry. Sometimes," he threaded his fingers through his hair, "sometimes I want, I want..." "You want me to realize I'm crazy about you and that my past doesn't matter and that even if there was a guy in my past, I'd want you in my future." "For a woman with no memory of her past, you sure have a grip on your present." 201


"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" "Just an observation." "Okay, Mr. Observer, tell me about your day today." As Mike started to fill her in on his day, he noted she tried hard to concentrate on him and what he was saying. It was an effort. Clearly there was something about the other man held her attention. The idea bugged him for the rest of their meal. They both remained quiet on the drive home. Mike hated that. Usually they had no trouble having a conversation. He loved talking to her, listening to her opinions and how she'd sometimes wonder if they were long-standing or new ones or how she had occupied her time while he had been at work. Now, the silence in the car held physical weight, seemed to almost suffocate him. All this had to be in his head. He was just upset about that man. Claudia paid him too much attention and he had caught the stranger watching her, although more discretely than Claudia had been. It brought up the nagging sensation that Claudia wasn't really his. Like he was some damn placeholder, a temporary thing when what he wanted was Claudia forever. The awkward silence continued into their home. Something seemed to have shifted. Claudia must have sensed it too because she remained lost in thought, hardly watching the television. "I'm tired. I think I'll go to bed." He wasn't really all that tired, but he knew if he stayed up and around Claudia much 202


longer he'd do something stupid. With a quick "Night," he left her watching television. A few years in the military and working graveyard shifts in the police department gave him a sixth-sense type reaction to sound. He could be dead to the world asleep and the slightest sound would bring him instantly awake. He'd also taken to sleeping with his gun under the mattress, not so much because of the neighborhood he lived in, but by force of habit from his army days. The slight creak of his bedroom door had him instantly awake, gun in hand, he couldn't believe the sight that greeted him. Claudia stood just inches from his bed, the thin robe that barely reached halfway down her thighs parted to reveal the smooth skin beneath. Nothing could have prepared him for her slow, steady, and sure advance, nor for how he felt when she slipped between the sheets with him. "Claudia?" "I need you, Mike. I need to be with you." You all right? Did something scare you?" She shifted to roll half on her side, half on her belly, causing the robe to slip open. "Did you remember something?" "No, nothing like that, nothing bad, nothing scary." "You sure you're..." He took in a sharp breath as she placed her hand on his thigh and slid it upward coming to rest on his chest. "I just ... Mike, will you kiss me?" "If I do that, I don't know if it will stop at a kiss." 203


"Then it doesn't stop with a kiss. It takes us where we belong. Mike, I know it bothered you when we saw that man tonight. He seemed so sad and lonely. I don't want to be that kind of sad person, and I don't want you to be." "I'm not sad, babe." "No, I know you aren't sad and lonely, but I was feeling lonely all by myself." She slid her leg up along his body, causing Mike to take another quick, short breath. She nestled her knee just below his balls. Claudia sighed before continuing her journey just a bit more until she reached his cock. "Will you kiss me, Mike?" She leaned in to him, lightly feathering her lips along his. As their lips met, Mike wondered where she had gotten the courage to walk into his room and then to seduce him. Usually it seemed like she kept invisible walls, never wanting or needing human contact. Something in her had changed tonight. "Are you sure?" "More sure than I've ever been of anything in my life." He kissed her mouth again, long and deep, waiting for her to change her mind. She didn't though. Even as he rolled her onto her back and slid between her thighs, she didn't stop him. Mike had never been nervous about sex in his life but he was now. He'd wanted her from the moment he saw Claudia in that hospital bed. Now he was getting everything he ever wanted. He slipped along her thigh and eased into her moist folds. She trembled. This was his chance to claim her for his own, 204


and so he made love to her. He withheld until her soft moans released, and only then did he allow himself the same. When they were finished, he rolled to the side. He couldn't be certain in the darkness, but he though her eyes looked glassy, full of tears. He looked harder until he saw one escape and roll down her cheek. "Are you happy or sad?" he had to ask. "Happy," she replied, but he wasn't so sure. **** Waking slowly and probably more relaxed than he had been in a long, long time, Mike's eyelids lifted only slightly, just enough to take in the woman next to him. He wanted Claudia almost from the first time he saw her, even battered and bruised there was something special about her. When she woke and he started to get to know her, that special quality seemed even more pronounced. Never in his wildest dreams did he think that they would end up a couple. Oh, he wanted that, very much. But never thought it would happen. He was one of those guys that women usually called a "nice" guy, which meant no one wanted him. At least not for long. But here he was with Claudia, the woman he had long felt was "the one." Now, here she was, in his bed, lying half on top of him, her thigh thrown possessively over him, her right arm across his chest with her hand tucked beneath his shoulder. It was as if they had always slept like this. If Mike had anything to say about it, they would sleep like this forever. Before his thoughts, his hopes for a future with Claudia could start to fully take form he heard the insistent buzz of 205


his pager. Reaching to his nightstand, he picked it up and saw the "1019—911"—return to station, ASAP, emergency code.

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Chapter Twenty-Six It had been a long night in the ER. Frank sat next to Bill. As far as they knew Jose didn't have any family here and they weren't sure who to call. Jose was in no condition to tell them. They still weren't sure what had happened. "So Jose asked to leave early because his stomach hurts?" "The guy looked bad. Very pale. I thought I'd take him home so I let him sit in the air-conditioned trailer until I could leave. It was only thirty minutes until quitting time. I walked out and came back to find him on the toilet. He came out, told me he was shitting blood." Bill shook his head as if the shock still held over him. "I took him home, but the place was a dump. Nobody was there to take care of him, and he looked rough. I went to the store and picked up a few things for his stomach. When I got back, he was puking blood. That's when I decided to take him to the hospital." "Bill Dyer?" A man in a white lab coat came out of the swinging double doors. "Right here." "Please come with me." "Can he come to? He's the boss, the owner." "Sure." Frank thought it odd that they were led down the hall. They didn't stop at any of the curtained-off treatment sections with people hoping for a little help. He'd been to the emergency room a few times, but it never failed to give him the creeps. There was so much suffering, yet the nurses all 207


acted like it was just another day. He supposed nothing shocked them anymore. They were taken to a small corner office lined with books. In the center was a desk, a chart opened on the top. What caught Frank off-guard was the second man in the room. He looked familiar. He had dark hair, a set jaw, and hard eyes. A badge glinted from his belt, a Sig Sauer riding on his hip. Then he remembered that this was the guy with the redhead at the restaurant. "Detective Mike Malone," he introduced himself. "Will both of you have a seat?" He looked at the doctor. "You didn't tell me there were two people involved. I prefer to question people individually, but this time I'll make an exception." "I'm Frank White. This is Bill Dyer." Frank and Bill sat on the other side of the desk from him. A cop had arrived at the hospital and that told Frank that this was no flu Jose had. For a cop to be here, some serious shit was about to go down causing Frank to fidget in his seat. "Did Jose Torres have any enemies that you know of?" Frank shook his head and found Bill doing the same thing. Bill's face mimicked his own in the shocked expression. Jose was a good guy. He couldn't imagine anyone not liking him, much less wanting to hurt him. "Did he eat or drink anything before getting sick?" "Yes," Bill spoke up. "He came into the office and grabbed a cup of coffee just after Frank left." "Really? What's the address of the work site and the location of this coffee pot." 208


Bill gave him the address while Frank let the facts settle in his brain. An employee fell sick just after drinking the coffee. Coffee Catherine had offered him before she had left. He needed a few more facts. "Please, this man isn't just an employee, he's a friend, he is close to me, and I need to know what happened." "Who else was around a couple of hours before and right after?' "My crew," Frank told him. "How many men?" This Malone guy kept firing questions. "Eleven, no, twelve were on today." "I'll need their names, addresses, phone numbers—Jose get along with them?" "Jose got along with everyone," Frank stated with Bill nodding his head in concurrence. "Jose is a great guy, hard worker. He sends at least half of his paycheck home to his family in Mexico. He's active in his community. He's the last guy in the world anyone would want to hurt." The detective tapped his pen on the desk. "Will you allow a full search of the area without me going through the trouble of a search warrant?" "Of course. Please, search everything." "Doc, spell it out of them." Mike nodded to the doctor. The room was uncomfortably small and seemed to shrink as the doctor rose from his leaning spot in the corner. Something about that white coat gave him a presence, an authority that made Frank uncomfortable. "Gentlemen, your friend is bleeding to death. We've given him Vitamin K to stop it but so much damage has been done 209


that I'm not sure we can save him. We're giving him blood, thankfully he has a blood type that is in ready supply." "Was he injured? I don't understand." "The tests won't be back until tomorrow. Usually these tests take weeks, but this is an emergency. I personally suspect something along the lines of brodifacoum, talon, and maybe racumin in his body. It's some mix of anticoagulants. If the poison was old enough, there may even be some arsenic in it." "Layman's terms, please." "We think your friend got a giant dose of rat poison. We pumped his stomach, performed a gastric lavage, but didn't get much. From the hemorrhaging of the larynx, trachea, lungs, abdomen, and intestines, I'm guessing someone wanted him dead. I'm hoping too much damage hasn't happened to his circulatory system or they may still get their wish." Frank felt like his stomach had fallen into his shoes. Catherine had offered him coffee. The poison had to be in the coffee pot. That bitch was trying to kill him again. And not quickly or easily this time. This time she was out to poison him. "Bill, did you throw out today's coffee?" He scratched his head for a minute. "No. I turned off the pot though." "Detective, I know this is going to sound strange, but I'm willing to bet the coffee was poisoned." Mike leaned forward, a gleam in his eyes. "What would make you think that? Do you have a suspect in mind?" 210


"My soon-to-be ex-wife Catherine. It wouldn't be the first time." He looked at Bill whose eyes grew wide with understanding. "No? You and your wife have some problems?" "That would be an understatement. Look, I knew things with us weren't the best. Even Dr. Phil couldn't have helped our marriage. She ... well, she had affairs, she lied, cheated, just overall a really unpleasant person. I didn't know about them, the affairs, not for a long time. I found out she was screwing this guy, James. Right after this James died. It was a pure accident as I understand it. Anyway she up and decided to kill me not long after his death. Came after me one night with a gun and the only reason I'm alive today was because my dog went after her." "You file a police report?" "Well, yes and no. We ended up telling the police that it was an attempted robbery gone wrong. She was the only one hurt. From what I can tell, she got my gun and started to shoot me. My dog stopped her. The case would've been hard to prove anyway, and I couldn't believe Catherine would do something like that. You know? She was physically all messed up after. It wasn't like she asked for a divorce, which I would have given her. She just up and decided she was going to kill me. My dog messed up her face and eye. After it happened, pushing the matter seemed cruel. She was in the hospital, and underwent a face transplant—a new face, new eye and I just couldn't put her through a trial. I just couldn't tell anyone what she had tried to do." "So you filed a false police report?" 211


Frank threaded his fingers through his hair, blew out a long breath, and sat shaking his head. "Yeah. I did. I just couldn't believe she would do that, and I couldn't destroy what little she had left of her life. Well, I hoped our marriage would get better. That maybe there would be a chance for us." "So? She gets a new face, you go home, and things are good and she up and tries to kill you again?" "Listen," Bill broke in. "Frank stood by Catherine. The woman is a bitch, an out-and-out bitch. Sorry, Frank, if I'm speaking out of turn, but she is. The whole time she was in the hospital he went every day. He kept the reporters away from her. Did everything for her. We were all kind of surprised when Catherine went home from the hospital and things with Frank looked like they were going good." "They were. For the first time in our marriage she cooked, cleaned up, my dog even liked her. We had the kind of marriage I always thought we could have." "So if things were so good, why would she try to kill you now?" Frank shrugged. This was so complicated. "That's a bit harder to explain. She started to remember what she was like before. When she first came out of the surgery and when she first came home from the hospital, her memory was a bit off. But then, it was like she started to remember the Catherine I'd been married to for so long and reverted back to that person. "A few weeks ago, I decided I'd had enough. Told her I wanted her out of my house and I wanted a divorce. She 212


decided she didn't want one, and it seems she decided if I didn't want her she was going to make me pay big time" "So what happened today?" The cop kept his hard demeanor. Frank told his story about Catherine's earlier visit. He left out how he had almost drank from that pot of coffee, how his cup might still be sitting there with the poison inside it. Even thinking about it made him cold. "Do you know where I can find this Catherine ... Catherine?" "White. As far as I know she's still using her married name." Frank gave the detective his home address and a little background on Catherine's last run in with the law. The cop seemed surprised. Frank had to wonder what Mike would think if he knew the whole story about Catherine. "Detective, be careful. My ex is a little crazy." The detective gave him an odd look, like he was above some little woman and any trouble she might cause. Frank knew that look because he had shared the sentiment, not too long ago. Now he knew that dainty-looking ladies could pack a world of hurt. "I'm serious. You'd really be surprised." "Thank you, sir."

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Chapter Twenty-Seven Coming up from a sleep-induced haze, Claudia felt across the sheets, looking for something, someone, but not sure what it was. Sliding her hand across the smooth cotton, the last bit of warmth seems to ebb out as she connected with the pillow. Blinking her eyes open, Claudia was at first bemused. Where am I? Mike! I made love with Mike! She pulled his pillow toward her, burrowing close, inhaling his scent still lingering there ... a spicy cologne combined with the hint of sex still in the air. Where was he? After making love to her, why would he leave her in his bed without a word? "Mike?" She sat up, still holding the pillow to her breast. "Mike?" Starting to move to get up she spied a crookedly folded piece of paper on the nightstand closest to the side of the bed she was on. Reaching for it, at first she was afraid he had written to tell her that he was disgusted with her aggressiveness the night before and to leave. Relief swept over her as she read, Hey babe, got a page from work, be back before you know it. "I bet you will be, Detective Malone." Claudia leaned back against her pillow, absently touching Mike's, replaying in her mind what had happened the night before. She hadn't really planned to seduce Mike. In fact, sleeping with him had been the farthest thing from her mind. Part of her supposed she knew that eventually this would happen, that they would 214


make love. But another part of her felt that they could only be friends. Well, last night changed that. She thought back again to the man in the restaurant. It was more than just the sadness about him. It was like she knew him, but he didn't acknowledge her. If they were friends or coworkers or even past lovers, he would have at least acknowledged her. Oh, the guy looked her over, stared at her through part of dinner, but it wasn't like he recognized her. It was just like they seemed to have some sort of connection. But she wasn't about to check it out with Mike there. She had felt Mike tense whenever she looked at the man, and Mike had followed him with his eyes. But it didn't seem Mike knew him either. "Mike." His name felt strange on her lips. "Mike." A short while later Claudia dozed off again, wrapped around Mike's pillow as if she held on to a lover. **** Mike found her hugging her pillow when he returned. After quickly pulling off his shirt, shucking his socks and jeans, he approached the bed. He had been so rushed when the page came in, rather than make more noise than necessary, he had gone commando to the call. Now, climbing back between the sheets the scent of sex and a well-loved woman hit him, making him hard all over again. He began mentally debating whether to wake Claudia or just snuggling her until she woke when she came partially awake. "Mike." 215


"Hey, go back to sleep." Although sleep was the last thing on his mind. She reached for him, cuddling close. "I was dreaming about you." "Yeah?" "Yeah. I was dreaming you came into bed and kissed me." She smiled sleepily. "No dream, babe, no dream." "No?" "No." He lowered his head toward hers and greeted her with the kiss. She parted her thighs as Mike rolled her on to her back, her arms coming around him, massaging the smooth skin and hard muscles of his upper arms and shoulder blades. Her "mmm" sent shards of pure desire from her lips to his groin. Mike had never wanted for female companionship. He supposed the attraction was the "bad boy" look he often had when working undercover as a detective. Countless women tried to "save," "rescue" or "reform" him. He didn't need rescuing or reforming, he just needed someone solid in his life—someone who wanted him for himself and didn't feel a need to change him. Claudia was special. She accepted him for himself. He'd hoped their friendship would turn to romance. Now he hoped she wasn't in his bed out of gratitude, but because she really wanted him. He deepened the kiss, his hand covering her breast, kneading it while he rubbed his knee over her mons. The way she touched him seemed as if she knew each erogenous zone on his body, setting him on fire for her. 216


"I need you, babe, I need to be in you." "That's where I want you, Mike, up-close and personal." He slid into the warm wetness, the contact making him feel like he couldn't breathe for the pleasure. When she slid her hands to grasp his butt, squeezing each muscular cheek he wanted to tell her to stop, that if she didn't he would come there and then. Yet, somehow, he couldn't frame the words because it felt so good, so very good. "Claudia, Cl ... ahhhh." They lay entwined with each other a few minutes, Mike in a state of bliss before he realized he could be crushing her with his weight. "No, Mike, no, stay, stay inside me until you slide out naturally." "I don't want to crush you." "I need to feel you there, just a little longer." She squeezed his cock with her inner muscles, causing him to gasp again in pleasure. The action of her body, the vision of her half-lidded eyes, made him rise to the occasion a second time. He began again, taking his pleasure and giving hers at the same time. This time went slower. He memorized her face, her eyes, her mouth. No other woman had ever captivated him so, and he didn't want to stop. Deep inside he feared losing her, and he made love to her until he couldn't hold his feelings back any longer. Again their calls of ecstasy filled the room, his in time with hers. "You're wonderful, Claudia." 217


After a few moments, he slid out of the warm, wet cavern in which he'd been nestled. Rolling to the side, he pulled Claudia close to him, inhaling her delicious scent. Sleep called to his satiated body. Threading her fingers through the soft hairs on his chest, the languor of their lovemaking still in her voice, she asked, "Where did you go?" With a quick kiss to the top of her head, he told her, "The hospital." "Why? Are you all right?" She pulled out of his grasp to hover over him and study his face. "I'm fine, just a call." "At the hospital? What happened?" "Nothing much. Some guy ingested some poison, rat poison. They weren't sure if it was accidental or intentional." "Which was it?" "Can't discuss the case with you, babe. Don't want the evidence or possible witness tainting." "So it appears to be intentional." "I didn't say that." He opened his eyes a bit, wishing they weren't discussing work. "Don't have to." She giggled and pulled away from him. "Where are you going?" "Getting up. You need to sleep, and I have a funny feeling you won't get any with me here." "I won't get any with you gone, either. I like that warm spot where you sleep."

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"Fine." She snuggled right back down next to him, placing her head on his chest and in minutes was back to sleep herself. Mike lay there enjoying the feeling of Claudia wrapped around him, his mind drifting back to the events at the hospital. Frank and Bill seemed genuinely concerned that Jose had drunk the rat poison laced coffee. From what Frank had said about his ex-wife, and what Bill had confirmed, Catherine White was most definitely the prime suspect. True, he couldn't discuss an open case, but more than that, he didn't want Claudia knowing any more about Frank—who he recognized as the guy from the restaurant. She had said it was nothing and she only felt bad for him, but his gut told him there was something more. As much as he hadn't been looking for it, he was falling in love with Claudia. He knew it wasn't reasonable to think he was, at least not completely. After all, most of their relationship had been him sitting by her bedside while she was in the coma at the hospital. However, there was something about her. Something that affected him deep down inside, something that went to his very core. Something that made him want to hold onto her for the rest of his life. In fact, for the first time, he had met someone he wanted to marry and spend the rest of his life with. Come hell or high water, he was going to marry Claudia.

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Chapter Twenty-Eight Claudia had Blooper out for a run at the local park. No more memories came back, but she found herself comfortable and looking ahead to her life with Mike. She wasn't sure he was "the one" but she could do a lot worse for herself. She already had, she supposed. As Blooper ran back and forth chasing her ball Claudia enjoyed the fresh scents of fall. There was something about the scent in the air that felt somehow familiar, but if what Mike and the doctor said were true, she'd never been here in the fall. Suddenly Blooper let out a bark and took off running. In a second, Claudia was on her feet, running after her calling, "Blooper. Hey! Bloop! Get back here!" The dog pulled up short just as a big German Shepherd approached. "Oh no. Oh please no." Fear coursed through her that the bigger dog would harm Bloop. Instead, they began the doggie dance of smelling one another's butts and started to play. By the time Claudia caught up with the dogs, a man also appeared on the scene. "Win! Hey Win! Over here now." "I see your guy listens about as well as my girl here does." As Claudia drew nearer, she noticed something familiar about the man. Tall, dark haired, ruggedly good-looking. Where do I know him from? "No, he doesn't. But, they seem to be getting along." "Yeah, they do. Do you mind if they play a bit?" "Not at all." 220


Claudia noticed he seemed to be studying her. "Do I know you?" A slight frisson of fear. No, not fear, but something ... something ... a flash of memory, except it wasn't like a memory of her own. It was like looking at someone else's memory. He studied her for a few moments before replying, "I don't think so, but I'll admit there's something familiar about you. Do you work around here?" "No, I, uh, I don't work. We live a couple of blocks away." Then she realized he was the man from the restaurant, but couldn't very well admit to seeing him there. It wouldn't be right. How would it look if she told this total stranger she'd been watching him while she was out with another man? A man she happened to be living with. "Hmmm, did you grow up around here?" "No. I'm originally from Montana. You ever been there?" "No, to be honest I've never been farther west than the Mississippi." "Pardon me, my name is Claudia." "Frank, Frank White. Good to meet you, Claudia." "You, too." He motioned to a bench near them. He led the way and she couldn't help watching his body. There was something more to him, not just the restaurant, but another time. She couldn't wrap her mind around it. But the feeling was comfortable. More than comfortable. It was like coming home, and then the feeling passed. They sat in companionable silence watching the dogs run and play, chatting lightly about the dogs' antics, but 221


otherwise not saying much. Claudia felt Frank's gaze on her more than once. There was nothing threatening. It actually felt kind of good, which made her wonder just what kind of person she was if she was sleeping with Mike and otherwise enjoying this man's company. As the dogs wound down and loped over to them Claudia stood. "Well, I guess we should be heading home. Nice to meet you, Frank, maybe we'll see you and Win again some time." "That would be great. Maybe arrange another ... what is it folks with kids call it? A play date, soon." "I'm sure Bloop would like that." They stood there, staring at each other a moment. She didn't really want to leave. His hesitation must've meant the same thing but staying any longer would be inappropriate. For a split second, she wished he would hug her, hold her like someone used to. Quick flashes went through her mind but nothing stuck. She led Bloop back down the sidewalk. She couldn't actually know the man from the park. He would've recognized her and said something. He must remind her of someone else, someone from her past who she couldn't remember. Arriving home, Claudia thought back on the afternoon. There was something familiar and comfortable about Frank White, but nothing she could put her finger on. Not just the little time she had watched him in the restaurant. It was something more. Something longer, more enduring. Whatever it was, something told her not to mention anything to Mike. He wasn't really possessive—protective, yes, but not possessive like... 222


"Oh damn! Damn, damn, damn!" "Claud?" "Mike! You're home!" "Yeah, but what are you damning about?" She walked into his arms and hugged him tight. "I had a memory, a glimpse of something, but it passed. I lost it as fast as I saw it." "You'll remember sweetheart, you'll remember. I just know it." Mike's words held an edge, like maybe he really didn't want her to remember. She squared her shoulders and looked him in the eyes. "I will remember. One day I'll be able to put all this together."

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Chapter Twenty-Nine Mike looked over the test results, the variety of chemical compounds that had coursed through Jose's body. It had indeed been rat poison. The doctor at the hospital had called it correctly and in time to save Jose's life. Now he had decisions to make. He brought in Catherine White and interviewed her. No doubt that she was a crazy bitch and probably capable of poisoning; however, there was no hard evidence connecting her to the incident. She was one of a hundred people that had access to the coffee and could not have been guaranteed a chance to add poison. Even prints on the coffee pot proved only that Catherine had a cup of coffee. His instincts screamed that she was guilty but the DA wouldn't touch the case as is. He needed more. A search of the residence had turned up nothing except a woman that hadn't packed to leave yet, although, according to the owner of the home, she was supposed to be out by tomorrow morning. Part of the problem wasn't just that Catherine was an excellent liar, from what Frank and one of the doctors at the hospital said she was more likely than not a sociopath. To add to his troubles, Mike found his focus divided. His mind kept drifting back to Claudia. His Claudia had been going out more, taking Blooper to the park two, sometimes three times a day. He had followed her yesterday and knew exactly where she had gone. No one met her either, but the way she continually 224


looked around, she had hoped to see someone there. Yeah, she could be having memories or flashbacks, except she usually told him when she had one. He didn't think she had cheated on him. A worse possibility came to mind. She might be reestablishing her old life, finding old ties. His fear was that she looked for an old love, someone that she missed. Damn it all, he was not going to lose Claudia now. Claudia never showed any standard signs of being involved with another. They made love, she was attentive to him, but a distance felt more than seen stayed between them like a chasm, and if he didn't find a way to breach it, he might lose Claudia forever. Mike balled his hand into a fist. He knew the adage about setting love free, but he had never been a fan of clichés. He had been there for Claudia, he had helped her when she left the hospital. It might be more noble to let a good deed be enough but it wasn't. He wanted Claudia. Had to have her. Losing her now wouldn't be fair. He was stating to sound like that crazy chick, Catherine White. During their interview, she had ranted a few times that Frank was her husband, no matter what a paper said. At first, Mike thought her intense statements were due to some religious influence. She might consider divorce a sin. As their interview had continued, he found not a religious bone in her body, just a need to own, even people. Ending up like her was unthinkable. Yet, he understood the desire. He wanted Claudia more than anything in the world, but part of him knew she belonged to someone else. She 225


might love him, but she was in love with a man she couldn't remember. Back to the case. He had to focus on this because at the moment the only way he could imagine arresting Catherine would be to catch her in the act. That could mean hoping to catch her attempting murder before she accomplished the deed. He didn't like those odds and was completely against risking innocent life. There were few options at this point. He might give that Frank White guy a call. If Mike couldn't have Catherine arrested, Frank needed at least a heads-up about the situation. Since Frank had been cleared of any suspicion, it would be best to have him keep his eyes open for any dangerous situations. Mike pulled out Frank's business card with his cell number written on the back. It was pretty late in the afternoon, so hopefully Frank would have a few minutes to talk. He might even shed some new insights into a way to catch Catherine. He dialed the number and waited. Soon Frank picked up, but it didn't sound like he was at a construction site. There were dogs barking and traffic noise. It almost sounded like the park Mike took Blooper to. "This is Frank. Talk to me." For a minute, Mike couldn't say a word. He waited, listening, wondering if he would hear Claudia's voice in the background. The assumption was illogical. His head was screwed up, that was all. "This is Detective Malone. Just wanted to bring you up to date with the case." 226


"Yes." "We don't have enough to make an arrest. I am a bit concerned that if you were the target of the last murder attempt, Catherine White might try it again. Isn't she supposed to be out of the house Monday?" "She supposed to be out this weekend. I've asked a deputy to go out there Monday if she hasn't vacated yet. That's all I know to do." "Good choice. Best to keep away from her." In the background came a woman's voice. For a second he could've sworn it was Claudia, but that was absurd. She wouldn't be there with Frank. They didn't even know each other. Now he was just being paranoid. "Is there anything else I can help you with?" "Not unless you know where Catherine might keep a bag or box of rat poison with her fingerprints all over it." "Sorry, sure don't." "Keep your eyes open then. Let me know if anything unusual happens." "Will do. Thanks." Frank White seemed like a nice guy. Mike had pulled his complete history. The only trouble he had with the law was when a permit had not been properly filed and one of his jobs had to be shut down. Everything else about him was by the book. Catherine White was a different story all together. She had been arrested for public intoxication in Vegas. She had a slew of speeding tickets and a few minor complaints about verbally abusing the officers. The biggest shocker was her arrest at 227


Frank's home. She had a good chance of serving jail time for that one. "I know you're violent. I know you're angry that Frank left you. What are you going to do about it next?" He closed his eyes and tried to imagine himself in her position. The only thing that came to mind would be an accident at one of the sites. It would be the only safe way for her to have an alibi and Catherine would arrange a good alibi after the rat poison fiasco. Frank had too many sites and kept odd hours. Mike couldn't watch him, and the department wouldn't spare the man hours on this. Too many couples threatened, even beat each other, only to turn around and get back together before the court date. It made serious crimes harder to prosecute. "I'll get you, Catherine." He spoke to the report with the chemicals listed, ones she had to have put in the coffee. "I will get you." First, though, Mike wanted to get his own house in order. It was getting late and he wanted to take Claudia out to dinner. A little romance and hopefully she wouldn't worry so much about her past. He picked up the phone and called home. It rang five times before the answering machine picked up. Claudia wasn't home again. He had a strange feeling she was with Blooper at the dog park. **** Claudia anxiously waited while Frank finished his phone call. She tried to concentrate on the dogs and not the 228


curiosity over who was on the phone. Frank never mentioned having a girlfriend, but he was handsome. It was hard to believe he wasn't dating someone. Every day Claudia anxiously awaited seeing Frank. There were times she made several trips to the park, hoping that he would be there. She told herself she should feel guilty for stepping out on Mike, although they'd never spoken of a commitment. She felt guilty, like she was cheating on Frank. When Frank started mentioning times when he would be bringing Win by, it should've made things easier, but she found herself going crazy trying to find the perfect thing to wear, trying to fix her hair just right. It wasn't like they were dating or anything but she loved seeing him. It was like he had become her instant best friend. It wasn't like she was sneaking around that was something ... something ... she knew someone who snuck around on her husband. Who was it? Someone she knew well or had been close to. But who? The memory lingered at the fringes of her consciousness. Almost like she had been the one to cheat, but she wasn't married and had no memory of anyone but Mike and until now. No, this wasn't cheating. She and Mike didn't have a commitment. Yeah, Mike wanted one, but with the person, the parts of the person she was now. The person who was basically born just a couple of months ago. It sort of bothered her that he wasn't willing to wait, give her a chance to figure out who she was. Somewhere, deep inside, was a memory of Frank. Frank. 229


If Frank thought it odd that she always met him at the park, he didn't let on. It seemed like it was their place. Something about a park, not this one, but one almost like it. And while it couldn't be possible, the memories were of happy times with Frank. Frank in another place and time, secret giggles, plans made, dreams broken. Frank finished his phone call and clipped the phone to his belt. He looked at her a moment and suddenly slapped his thigh. "I know where I know you from." "You do?" Claudia felt hope swelling in her chest. "Yup. A little over a month ago, at this little Italian restaurant. I saw you there with some guy ... your boyfriend?" She wished he knew her from some other place. "Yes! I remember that. Yes, I was there with Mike." She didn't want to say boyfriend. "Well, Mike's my roommate." She knew Mike would be upset if he heard her call him only a roommate, especially since they no longer slept in separate rooms, but for some reason, she needed Frank to believe she was single and available. He was at least ten years older than her, but there was something about him, something so special and the last thing she wanted to do was lose him. "Well I'm glad we figured that out. That guy, Mike, he's just your roommate?" Frank emphasized the word "just". "Yeah." She felt low for lying, but she couldn't tell Frank the truth. Frank looked at her and appeared to be deep in thought. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it. For a moment, she thought he may have a secret he was also 230


hiding. That wouldn't be though. She was the one with questionable morals here. "Frank, this is going to sound really odd, but..." "Yeah?" "I feel like we've done this before, like we've known each other for years. Like we were best friends." Something about that phrase hung with her, bringing a heaviness in her heart. She watched an indefinable emotion cross his features, as if he knew something and then it faded. "I got to admit, I feel that way too. I've felt like we've known each other for years, a lifetime. But it can't be, you're a lot younger than I am and grew up in another state. Unless..." "What?" "Oh, it's crazy, never mind." He sulked a bit and looked toward the sky as if searching for a sign. "No, tell me." "It's heebee-jeebee stuff." "Like I'm possessed or something?" She couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up. "Well, if I am, she sure is a decent person. I've remembered some things, growing up things, so I guess my memory is coming back, slowly, but coming back." "That's good. A person should know who they are." Her sentiments exactly. She only wished Mike shared them. Whenever she tried to remember things, he would distract her, try to start a conversation, anything to keep her mind focused on him. "So how has the rest of your week gone?" 231


"All right. We've gotten a few new jobs, and I'll tell you, keeping up with the paperwork has had me working fourteen, fifteen hour days seven days a week. It's fine because, well, I'm going to sound pathetic, but it's not like I have anything else to do." "Oh, Frank, I'm sorry. Maybe if you had something else to do the work part wouldn't take as long?" "Nice thought, but with the volume of working coming in it's hard to keep up. I guess that's good news, but I do need to deal with it as it comes." He ran his fingers through his hair, and Claudia wished she could to that. She would love to touch him, just once. "I have an idea!" "Yeah?" "How about I come to work for you? I'm sure that I know something about receivables and payables. How hard can it be to answer the phone? What do you think?" Frank smiled, and the sight warmed her heart. "You sure you want to go to work? I thought you and this Mike fella had an arrangement." She rolled her eyes. Mike had the arrangement. He arranged to keep her under lock and key. "I am dying to get back to work." "For me?" "Especially for you." She couldn't think of any better way to spend her day. "What do you think? I mean if you don't want me to, I won't. I wasn't trying to be pushy." "Claudia, I think you have solved the problem. It's a great idea. When can you start?" 232


"Monday?" "Monday it is. Do you need me to pick you up or—" "No, no, I can get a ride. I don't want to take you out of your way or add to the things you need to do." She looked around and felt so guilty. What in the world would Mike say? "All right, but if you ever need a ride, just let me know." Claudia glanced at her watch. Mike might be home early. He'd been popping in during the day, and once she could have sworn Mike had followed her to the park. It seemed silly but with him she could never be certain. He'd been slowly growing more possessive. "I need to go. Will you be here tomorrow?" "Sure." He looked over at the dogs. "I can't wait for Monday to get here, though." "Me, either. Come on, Blooper." Claudia hooked the leash onto her collar and started down the sidewalk. She wasn't sure how Mike would take the news about her job. She honestly didn't care. Being cooped up all day in his house drove her crazy, but she couldn't spend all her time at the park. She also didn't like the idea of being supported. She wanted her own money and an identity not associated with Mike. Not that being a couple with him was bad. She just needed to be her own person. A small headache started, just like it did every time she would start to remember things. Only they were conflicting things, or things that didn't add up. She would see herself with red hair and gray eyes playing in the snow. It was like she was watching someone else's life. Then suddenly her hair was blonde, her eyes would be green, 233


and she was some how taller. As the blonde, she'd see an older man, rougher. It felt it was like there were two different people. Then, she would get glimpses of Frank. Frank walking down the hall, like in the hospital. Frank walking into the park. When she'd see snips of starting to kiss Frank, the headache would grow worse and the memory would fade. Odd, there were no memories of Mike. Oh, yeah, she remembered him from the hospital—waking up and seeing him, his voice. But while she felt she'd known Frank a lifetime or more, there was none of that with Mike. Mike was new. He was falling hard for her, and a part of her was falling for Frank. She wondered if that was one of the reasons she was so drawn to Frank. Mike's obsessive behavior drove her away. Every day he would start that stuff, trying to keep her locked behind closed doors, keep her from remembering her past. She doubted he really cared about her at all and only wanted a doll around the house, something he could control and take care of. With Frank, everything was different. She was complete with him, comfortable. She couldn't blame her attraction on Mike's behavior. At the end of the day, she was responsible for her actions, and all her actions seem to bring her closer to Frank. "My best friend." She smiled as Blooper led her down the sidewalk. She reached their house when Mike pulled in the driveway in front of her. He looked at the dog, then at her. Instead of 234


being happy to see them, he looked angry and hurt. She didn't understand why. "You're home." She reached down and took the leash off of Blooper, who jumped up on Mike, licking his face. "I thought I would take you out to dinner tonight." "That sounds great. We can celebrate." His anger melted, but she wasn't sure for how long. The best way to approach this would be to show him how happy she was and hope he could be happy for her too. Somehow, she doubted he could be. "Celebrate what?" She wanted this so much. It was hard but she decided to tell him everything. Most of it anyway. Her story consisted of her meeting a friend at the park and listening to a need for a job. She had volunteered and now she would be a gainfully employed member of society. She could start paying him back. Mike did not seem amused as they walked inside the house. "You did what?" "I took a job." Her smile faded with the edge in his voice. "Claudia, you don't need to work. I can support us just fine." "Mike, I do need to work. I need to feel like I'm pulling my own weight, that I'm putting something in." "You have a job. Here. You keep house, you cook." She tried to hide how stunned she was not so much at his words, which were archaic at best, but at his tone, at the possessiveness coming through, at the evident anger flashing 235


in his eyes. This was not the Mike she had come to know. Again, on the fringe was a memory, a man trying to control her, telling her what to do, not like a parent, but like he owned her or thought he did. Hands around her neck, a knife coming at her, a tree ahead, cold rushing water, standing looking at her body ... another woman, a sad woman who just couldn't do it anymore. "What? Claudia, are you all right? Sweetheart?" Mike's tone gentled, his hands warm and supportive on her shoulders. "Come, sit down. Do I need to call the doctor? Do you want some water?" He guided her to a chair, his tone worried and contrite. "I'm fine. I just..." She debated how much to tell him, and something told her not to tell him about the flashes of memory. He was already upset enough as it was. Why run the risk of making it worse? "I just need to eat I think." Claudia decided she needed to get the job thing settled once and for all. "Mike, I know you want to be the provider and all, but we aren't married, we don't even have a commitment, and I need to do this, for me." "I think it's too soon, and I am committed to you. I waited a long time to meet someone, or rather it took a long time for me to find someone that I felt I could commit to. Someone I might want to spend the rest of my life with. You don't know what it's been like." Almost as if she didn't hear his softly spoken comments, her own need took precedence for the first time. "Too soon. I've been out of the hospital for a few months now. Who knows, maybe going to work will trigger some memories. I 236


need to remember. I don't feel like a complete person." Some part of her wondered if he wasn't trying to keep her locked up. Make sure she didn't owe him for the rest of her life. "Why don't you want me to remember?" He looked sad, so sad. "Yeah, you could remember a husband or someone who could take you away from me. Claudia, I've fallen in love with you. I think I did when you were still in the hospital. I don't know. All I know is from the day I met you, I felt something I never have before." "That's sweet, Mike, and I know you care, but think about it. You have only seen who I am since I woke. We don't know anything about me before. Not much anyway. What happens when my full memory comes back and I'm not the kind of person you want to be with?" "What if it does and you are exactly the kind of person I want to be with? What if you never get your memory back?" "You'd like that, wouldn't you? To never have my memory come back." He threaded his fingers through his hair, clearly trying to calm down. As he stood and paced, Claudia became aware that this was a side of him she had never seen before and certainly didn't want to see again. Another memory filtered through ... a man angry because she wouldn't do what he wanted, but that man had light brown hair and was shorter than Mike. "Mike?" "Yeah, babe?"

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"Mike, we didn't know each other before the accident, did we? We only met in the hospital, when you came to investigate my case, right?" "Yes. Why?" She took in his puzzled expression. His confusion made sense because the change of subject seemed sudden. "I just wondered. I wondered if maybe I just had a thing for guys who were domineering." "You think I'm domineering? Claudia, I want us to be equal partners, a couple. I don't want to boss you around, and yeah, I'll admit, sometimes I do get worried that you will remember something about a man you want to be with and leave me. But, honey, I don't want you to stay lost not knowing who you are. I want us to have a future, and I hope some day we may get married, you know, do the whole family thing." He paused, stress clenching the muscles in his face. "Claudia, what would you do if you found out you were married to someone else?" "I don't know. Mike, if I was, he would have come forward, there would have been some record, right? Listen, there's no need for either of us to get all riled up, you know? Let's just keep taking it one day at a time." "You're right. But, are you sure about the job?" "Yeah. My boss is a decent sort, Blooper plays with his dog in the park." She could give him that and actually thought a few more details might help. It didn't. His face twisted more, and a vein started pulsing in his forehead. Without warning, he stomped out of the room and didn't speak to her the rest of the night. 238


Chapter Thirty Frank hung up the cell phone and pulled back onto the road. His fears were confirmed. The woman he had heard calling his name had been released from the hospital weeks ago and left no message for anyone named Frank. He didn't even know if she had received his note. She had never called him. Here he was grasping at straws, again. There was no way of knowing if the woman in the hospital had really called his name or if it were possible for Pam to find another body to inhabit. The concept still seemed foreign, more than his mind could take. And Parsons was pretty sure it couldn't happen again. There was more. He had been raised as a tough guy with old-fashioned values. A man took care of his woman, managed the house. He failed in all respects. His Pam was lost years ago when he slept with Catherine the first time. When Pam returned to him, instead of finding a man that could take care of her, she became lost again. Even if Pam returned, she would find a more suitable mate. It was time for him to let go. He stopped at the next red light and looked at the car stopped next to him. Although he had given up, he couldn't help checking for green eyes. It had become an unconscious habit. Thankfully, the woman next to him had brown eyes. Every time he found green, he had to talk to the woman. That no one had him arrested yet amazed him. 239


At the next light, he turned right, then followed a series of road into the country. According to the court documents, Catherine was supposed to have vacated the house today. He had requested a deputy go out there but they weren't able to do anything until Monday. For curiosity's sake, Frank drove toward his house, hoping that woman was gone. He was willing to let her keep her car, her jewelry, all the things he had bought for her. He also had given her three thousand dollars toward finding other accommodations. All this was more than she deserved, but Frank knew he could be compassionate to a fault. He also wanted her out of his life. Claudia would be starting work on Monday, and he didn't want her to find out that he lived in that trailer. Her opinion of him meant everything. Living at work, worrying over his ex while trying to find a long-lost love made him sound pathetic. He did not want to appear pathetic. As he made his way around the next curve, he saw his house with the lights on and Catherine's car in the driveway. She had not yet left. He had the legal power to have her removed, but not before Monday. Frank pulled into the driveway, then backed out, trying for a quick turnaround. Catherine spotted him, though. She came running out of his house wearing jeans and a bra, nothing else. Her arms waved wildly as he pulled back onto the road, oblivious to the fact that Jim and Mary might be home, watching the display. Knowing Mary, she'd probably start praying for Catherine. Wouldn't that be a hoot? He rolled down his window enough to hear her shouts. "I'm not leaving, asshole. You'll have to carry me out." 240


The deputy would handle that Monday. Frank sped up, leaving her half-dressed in the middle of the road. Monday he would go home again, although he bet there would be many nights of calling the police until Catherine had hooked another sucker. That brought his thoughts back to Claudia. She would see his things in the trailer Monday. He might stash them Sunday night in his truck. If Catherine was evicted early enough, Claudia might not know about his current situation. He often wondered about Claudia's living arrangement. Something romantic was happening in her home. She tried to play it off as her roommate, but Frank suspected more. Claudia wasn't a tramp, though. There were genuine qualities, a goodness to her. She and her live-in couldn't be very serious if she was willing to see so much of him down at the dog park. Unless she only thought of Frank as a friend. That was possible. They hadn't kissed or dated. In fact, all they really did was talk about general things, nothing serious. He felt such a connection to her that he could only think of her in a romantic light. That was a strange thought considering he wasn't completely over Pam. Claudia pricked something deep in his heart. "Forgive me, Pam." Odd, he'd want Pam's forgiveness and could care less about his wife's. Not that Catherine was in a position to forgive anything. It was too soon to start anything with Claudia, especially with her living with another man, a man who was a cop and investigating Catherine. This was crazy. He looked forward to 241


her company though. It would be nice to have her at work, talk to her all day. When he first met Claudia, he checked her eyes, hoping against all odds that they would be green. They were, but not the same way Pam's had been. Hers were mixed with gray, a very sexy combination. He kept driving, thinking more about Claudia. They could have lunch together. He hoped she would let him take her out. Win seemed to like her too. That meant a lot to him. He decided that from this point forward all women he dated would have to pass the "Win test." If his dog liked her, then they could date. The idea of dating made him a little sick. He'd never really done it. Marrying right out of high school killed that. Now he didn't want to think about it, only Claudia. With any luck, maybe her live-in was gay. Then again, he'd seen her with Mike, the detective. The guy was a walking vat of testosterone. He was not gay, no how, no way. Still, Claudia didn't talk much about him, called Mike her roommate, and there was no ring, nothing to indicate that they were more than just friends. The last thing he wanted to be was a home wrecker. Being married to a cheat was bad enough. He certainly wasn't going to follow down that road.

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Chapter Thirty-One Monday morning, after a pleasant and quiet weekend with Mike, Claudia showed up at the construction site bright and early. She was not surprised when Frank's smile went right to her core. A genuine, warm, welcoming smile and butterflies filled her stomach. "You're really here." Frank started to hug her then took a step back, offering his hand. As his hand slipped into hers, electricity shot through to her core. Mike was sweet and she owed him a lot but not once had she felt such a strong connection with him. This fact might make her a terrible person. Guilt had lodged itself in her core since she had accepted the job. Still, she had to acknowledge that Mike was not the man for her. "Did you think I would miss my first day at work?" "No, well ... maybe. I wasn't sure how your friend, your, ahh, roommate, would feel about you taking a job." He hadn't liked it and had pouted all weekend. During Sunday night dinner, he had barely eaten, although she had made his favorite pot roast with roasted potatoes. The conversation also lagged. He'd stopped by the house five times on Saturday when he was supposed to be working and even followed her to the bathroom a couple of times. "No one owns me, Frank." Frank showed her around the office and introduced her to a few of the men as he took her around the site. She quickly found herself feeling very much at home there. Everyone was 243


polite and she found the job easy to handle. Frank was a wonder with records. His system didn't take longer than a couple hours to learn. The best part of her job was the view. She loved watching Frank work. He was ruggedly good looking. His hands were work-hardened. On the rare occasion when they touched hers, she discovered that she found them very sexy. When he looked her way, his eyes held a warm glow. Before she knew it, the work day was finished, and thankfully, Frank had been busy at a different location when Mike came to pick her up from work. It was foolish, but she didn't want those two to meet. Her blessings were doubled when Mike informed her that he couldn't take her to work the next day. She was sure he wanted to ruin her chances of keeping the job. He had a smug grin when he told her that it wouldn't be possible for him to bring her any longer. One phone call and her transportation worries were over. Frank began picking her up and bringing her home. Amazingly, they never ran into Mike. Mike's work kept him busy, and he was hardly ever at home, which suited Claudia fine. It was almost like Mike had started distancing himself from her. She often ate dinner alone, and Mike didn't come home until midnight or later. Cooking for herself seemed silly. She didn't even know how to make single portions, which was another clue into her life. What it meant, though, she didn't know. Another sandwich did nothing to help her appetite. Toward the end of the day several weeks after she had started working for Frank, deciding it was time to treat herself, Claudia opened 244


the phone book to the restaurant section. She didn't remember ever eating many places in the area and hoped might find a place with some good take-out. "What are you doing?" "Just finding someplace to eat." "What about your boy—roommate?" She caught his slip but didn't correct it. They'd had this discussion before and she didn't like the doubts it raised in her. Besides, she couldn't move out yet. She didn't have enough money to rent a place of her own. She had also remained in Mike's bed. Nothing much happened there, not since she had started working for Frank, but she feared going back to her old room would make Mike more jealous. "He's been working late." She looked back at the long list of restaurants. "How are things with your wife?" "Ex, the separation is final, now I'm waiting on a court date over the divorce." "Really?" She ran her fingers over the listings, but didn't really pay them any attention. "Word around here is that there's more to the two of you than you admit. That Catherine has quite a reputation." He cocked his head to the side and looked at her. "Have dinner with me and I'll give you some true confessions, deal?" She tried to hide the smile spreading across her face. "Deal." Frank glanced at the clock and started turning off the lights in the trailer. They usually worked later than this, but with dinner plans, Frank had stopped being such a 245


workaholic. Claudia took the hint and filed away the last of her papers. "Ready?" "Ready." Frank walked with her outside, but she noticed that he checked the construction site several times. His easygoing demeanor changed every time they left the office. Even now with the last of the men heading home for the day, he watched the traffic, then turned around. "Something wrong?" "We'll talk about it at dinner." At last, he got in the truck and double clicked the locks. His nervousness seemed worse tonight. There were times when he'd taken her home that he passed her house and circled, as if he feared being followed. They went to the little Italian place where they had first seen each other, Claudia remembering the sad look in Frank's eyes that night, a look that had seemed to fade as she spent more time with him. Their meals ordered, Claudia dug right in. "So, tell me about you and Cathy?" "Catherine, she was never a Cathy. Anyway, the short story is we met in high school, had hot sex a couple of times, and thought it was love. We ended up getting married, and after a few months, I realized I didn't know the woman I married. Things went downhill from there. She was a grabby, cold, mean-spirited piece of work. I know you aren't supposed to say things like that about your wife, but that's the truth. She started having affairs not so long after our first 246


anniversary. I knew, but I didn't know. Does that make sense?" Claudia nodded. "I guess I just didn't want to know. I didn't want to think about how I was unlovable. After all, why else would you have an affair if your partner was otherwise all right. So I ignored the signs, hoped she'd start to feel something for me, something besides disdain and dislike. But she didn't. I had a call at a site one afternoon, some remodeling work, and as I arrived I saw Catherine getting into an elevator with some guy. There was no doubt it was her. I looked over the job and waited for her to leave. It was her and it was obvious what had been going on. Suddenly her afternoons out, late nights, it was clear, she was having an affair. "At that point, I moved into the den and got Win. Somehow, and I know this sounds crazy, I felt like I needed him to protect me. Turns out I did." Claudia watched as he swallowed, a distant look coming into those kind eyes of his. "Claudia, I've never told anyone this before. Not the police, not my best friend. But, somehow, I feel like I can tell you. I had to finally tell the police, but so far, they haven't been able to prove anything. And, well, I felt so, so, I don't know, confused after the first attempt I couldn't do anything." "I'm listening." "She tried to kill me. My wife actually tried to kill me." "What? You're kidding, right?" Claudia stopped and grabbed the table with both hands. Dizziness overcame her, and for a minute, she felt like she 247


was falling, but not on the floor. Blackness surrounded her, and she could hear a voice, a cold hard voice replaying as part of a memory. "Are you okay?" "Yes. Just keep talking. Please." "I told you, she is cold. It seems one night she decided that she didn't want to be married, didn't want a divorce, she wanted me dead. From what I could put together, I was sleeping in the den, she came in, went to shoot me and Win saw what was going on and went after her. He shredded, literally shredded, her face. The gun did go off, that's what I think woke me, not Win growling or anything. When the police came I told them that someone tried to break in and she saved me by shooting at him. I lied because I just couldn't admit to anyone that Catherine could do that to me. That I was that undesirable that my own wife wanted to kill me." Undesirable, was he kidding? This was the most wonderful man she'd ever met. "Frank, that is horrible. I'm so sorry." "This may scare you, big time, but I figure it's better to get it out. I'm sure you heard about Jose. The police can't directly connect her to his poisoning, but I believe Catherine did it." "Scare me? You think she may come after me?" Claudia swallowed hard, fear rising within her. "No, she could care less if I date anyone. I mean ... not date, but you know, spend time with a woman friend or employee. I just don't want a bystander accidentally getting hurt. All this sounds too weird." 248


"Hey, I'm coma woman, can't be any weirder than that." "Coma?" His eyes grew bigger and she found him staring at her more intently. "Relax. I don't remember any bright lights. None of that fun stuff you hear about on television. I remember very little actually. One day I'm in Montana, and the next I wake up here. Mike, my roommate, took me in when I woke. I had no family, no friends, nothing. I'm Mike's charity case." He studied her again, almost as if he searched for something in her eyes. "Okay, let me ask you first. Do you remember anything from when you were in the coma? Seeing or hearing anyone? Maybe calling out for Frank?" "No." And it was pretty strange that he thought she would call for him. Maybe he was being funny. "It was like suddenly there I was. Awake in the hospital room." "Well, now I'm not saying I believe this, okay? Just this is what seemed to happen." At her nod he continued. "Catherine had a face transplant. Not just a skin graft or anything like that, we're talking almost a whole new face, including a new eye. Catherine had blue eyes, cold blue eyes. It was like looking in a glacier when you looked in them. The eye they got her was green like a bottle. Well, she was always stuck on her looks, how pretty she was. With the scars, she wasn't so beautiful anymore. So one night she tried to kill herself. Took an overdose of pills." He stared at Claudia for a moment probably gauging her reaction. She wouldn't mock him and nodded for him to continue. "While they were trying to bring her back all the electronic equipment in the room went crazy, and here's the 249


part that ... well, I don't know if I want it to be or it really was, but there was like a gush of wind, like someone passed through me. When Catherine woke up, she was different, warm, compassionate, caring. She was very much like a friend of mine from high school. My best friend actually and the woman I was really in love with. The woman I wanted to spend my life with." "Why didn't you?" "I married Catherine. Pam, her name was Pam, was everything Catherine wasn't. She moved away toward the end of high school, before I married Catherine. I know now that I was in love with her. That she was my soul mate." "Why don't you find her, tell her?" "I did." His gaze grew distant. "And?" "Claudia, this is where it gets dicey. She-she, ah ... she died." Claudia's hand went to her mouth. For some reason, his story made her heart hurt. It was sweet and romantic, but pulled at something deeper in her. His loss ebbed through him and seemed to find a home in her. "Oh Frank, I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry." "But she didn't just die. Man, this is going to sound so crazy. Like I said, I haven't told anyone, except this psychic whoo-whoo guy named Parsons, the whole story, but I feel like I can tell you and you won't go running and screaming away." "Go on. I'm listening." 250


"Pam died the night Catherine tried to shoot me. She was in a bad car accident. They brought her to the hospital same hospital Catherine had been taken to. Pam was the donor for Catherine's transplant work. When Catherine woke up she started reminding me of Pam, and she would go back and forth between being like Catherine and Pam. One of my neighbors told me about this thing called a walk-in." "A walk-in?" "Yeah. I went to a talk about it, to find out more about them. Apparently, if a soul is too tired or doesn't want to go on, if there's another soul that is willing, they can walk into the other one's both. They agree to finish out the lessons and mission of the one that walks out. Pam walked into Catherine's body." "Okay. So, if your wife is Pam, why are you getting a divorce?" "She's not Pam. It's Catherine." "I'm confused." "I'm sort of guessing here, but I think Catherine decided she didn't want to die and she fought Pam to get her body back. She managed to get Pam out of the body. I don't know where Pam is. I hoped, at one point, that she would find another body. Not that I wish anyone to die or a soul to get tired of trying, but I wanted her to find a body and come back to me. In fact, the night they fought for control, I was in the hospital and I swore I heard her call my name. I went to look but there was no one in the room." "Oh, Frank. That is such a sad story. I'm so sorry for you and Pam!" The things he said sounded too incredible to 251


believe, but some part of Claudia knew that he spoke the truth. There was no questioning it. "Thanks. That means a lot, you know? That someone genuinely cares." "So if she found a body, how would you know?" "I don't know. I wouldn't even know how to find her or find out." They sat in silence for a few minutes. Again, something tickled at the back of Claudia's mind. Something she felt she should know. "Don't laugh. What about a séance?" "A séance?" "Yeah, see if you can reach her, find out where she is." "A séance. Where would I find someone to do one of those?" Frank looked like the biggest skeptic in the world. A very odd change considering what he'd just told her. "Hmmm, well, I can check around tomorrow. What do you think?" He considered it a few minutes before finally answering. "It's better than anything else I've come up with. A séance it is." The rest of dinner went well with their conversation revealing they enjoyed the same books and movies. She even learned about his family and the few people that he truly considered friends. It seems his ex-wife even destroyed many of his friendships. He was a strong man to put up with so much, but she didn't dare to tell him so. At the end of the night, Frank took her home, dropping her off at the corner as she requested, instead of in front of her 252


house. It was silly. Mike had to know where she had been, but she didn't want to aggravate him. She walked up the street and followed the walkway to the porch. All the lights were off. Mike's car wasn't in the drive. Relief filled her. At least tonight he wouldn't play twenty questions with her. It wasn't like she was cheating on him ... right? She and Frank had just had dinner and some conversation. There was no commitment, and she had told him that absent her memory returning she just didn't see any commitment happening. Glad that he wasn't there, she settled down with a cup of tea and mulled over what Frank had told her. Mostly she had listened to his story, but much of what he said made complete sense to her. She had wrestled with telling him about her own experience. Not just some of the things she "saw" while in the coma, but right before she woke up and the snatches of memories that seemed so disjointed. I couldn't have had two bad relationships, could I? I couldn't be that stupid, could I? Maybe after Frank went to a psychic or did a séance. There was something so heart-wrenching about that Pam woman he talked about. Weird, I almost feel a connection to her except I couldn't. At least I don't think so. I can't remember or have any feelings about having a friend die. Yeah, maybe after that I can talk to him about my own experience and that kind of ghost-like thing that happened right before I woke up.

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Chapter Thirty-Two "So that was his game." Catherine watched Frank drop off the floozy he had hired for the office. That woman had to be the reason Frank hadn't taken her back. He had found something younger and tighter to spend his time with. Figures. He threw her in the street for a pretty face. The sheriff's department finally removed her from the house a couple of weeks before. She had dodged them for a week, but eventually they removed her things and when she came out protesting, they also removed her. Now she had her car loaded with her few personal possessions. To add insult to injury, she heard one of the deputies call Frank, telling him that he could move out of the trailer. His house had been cleared. Cleared! Like she was some pest, nothing more than a roach to be removed. Frank had married her, exchanged vows with her. Now she wasn't even going to get a house of the deal. When Frank finished with her, there would be nothing left for her. She wouldn't get alimony, much less half of anything. That old codger from next door told her that he would be going to court, would be telling the judge all about her antics. There was no way Catherine would end up in a trailer park or back at her mother's. She hadn't even spoken to her mother in ten years. She would not let that whore know what had happened. 254


Catherine watched the redheaded trollop walk up the sidewalk. Running her over would be easy. There were hitand-runs every day, usually by criminals. No one would suspect her. Of course, all she had was this car, and she didn't need to tear it up or get taken back to the station for questioning. Her real trouble was with Frank. All his money would be inaccessible to her if this made it to court. She couldn't let that happen. For now, she would leave the trollop alone and focus her energies on Frank. She doubted he would be at the job site tonight. Out of all his jobsites, Frank spent most of his time at that location where the tramp worked. There had to be something there she could use to her advantage. A little creativity was all it would take and, as her previous boyfriends would agree, she could be very creative. She turned the car around and started back toward Frank's main office. By this time tomorrow, she could play the grieving widow, move back in, and wait to collect his money. She didn't know how to run a construction business. None of the men she dated was worthy of a business, they hadn't even offered her a place to stay. She would have to sell that. Maybe take a cruise somewhere exotic where she could find a man worthy of her. Catherine looked into the rearview mirror. She had to apply her makeup heavier with the scarring, but she could pull off finding another man. All she had to do was get them to the bedroom, and they would want her for the rest of their lives. 255


She sped along the road, finding energy in her purpose. A few turns and she was staring at the construction site. Big flood lamps lit the area to discourage thieves who loved to steal expensive equipment to feed whatever drug habits they clung to. The good lighting helped. There were concrete columns in place where the road would be directed over the new bridge Frank's men were building. Rebar stuck out like strange hair in some sections. Catherine knew little about construction. Her husband's business never interested her. She had a good eye though and when she saw the crane, she knew there would be plenty of ways to mess that up. Frank had several peculiar habits. If something important or seriously dangerous was happening at a site, he had to be there. He often thought of his men like family. Family! The idea disgusted her. There was plenty that could go wrong with a crane but she needed something fool-proof, something that was sure to kill Frank no matter where he stood. Guaranteeing something heavy fell on him would be impossible, unless she could operate the crane. That would be fun. Squish the bastard liker a spider. She loved the idea. It wasn't feasible though. With machines, she didn't know much. Most of what she had learned came from boyfriends she had paid attention to while they tried to impress her. One guy told her how to build a pipe bomb. He wasn't a terrorist but one of those ATF guys. He could talk all day about work, fires, and basic explosives. His tedious conversations made their affair a short two weeks. 256


She had listened during the bomb part though, considering it another way out of the marriage. The thing about pipe bombs was that most were delivered by mail and very traceable even by the smallest remaining fragments. Something at a construction site, with the ingredients kept at the site, might be much harder to trace. Catherine slipped on the gloves she'd brought for the occasion. Now for the ingredients. She would never find a timer here but she might be able to rig something. The guys had to blow a chunk out of the mountain to start this project and that meant explosives and some sort of firing mechanism. Most sites had electrical igniters. All she had to do was wire the bomb into the ignition of the crane. Boom. While Frank stood there watching them lift another column into place, he would die. It would be beautiful. Too bad she wouldn't be able to watch the demolition firsthand. The restraining order kept her from that. She would read about it in the newspapers though. She might save the clippings, sort of build a scrapbook for her new life, starting with the ending of the old one. And the news! That would be on television. And when it came out, she was the grieving widow they would show her, she would wear a hat with a veil. Very dramatic. Everyone would feel sorry for her, would reach out to her. Yes, that would be excellent! She felt a tingle that even caused her nipples to pebble as she decided she would plan her "mourning wardrobe" after she got back to her hotel tonight. Catherine roamed around the site. She hated construction. It was so dirty. To think she married a man who enjoyed this. 257


Yuck. She would find someone far more suitable the next round. She found a large storage shed marked with a variety of warnings and a pad lock. She ignored the warnings. She wanted dangerous. She picked up an ax and started chopping at the lock. Nothing happened. The damn thing moved too much for a clean hit. She found a pry bar though and that did the trick. The lock fell away and she pulled open the door. Not once had Frank mentioned a security system. Apparently explosives were handled better than even the tools. A digital pad in the building flashed. She didn't know the disarm code. She darted inside, grabbing a box that looked like explosives then ran from the building as the alarm started sounding. "Minor problem," she kept repeating to herself as she ran through the site, across the street, and then climbed into her car. She couldn't let anyone see her tag numbers so she took off, hoping she wouldn't happen across any police on the way. Catherine stopped at the nearest gas station and went inside. There she would wait, drink some coffee in the parking lot. She wanted this over tonight. Some dumb-ass cops would go out there, check the scene, then go home. She would have the rest of the night to make her surprise for Frank. "I hope you watch those guys good and close tomorrow. When that crane starts, you're history." **** Frank thought he had walked into hell. His home was trashed. Even Win looked disturbed over the scene. When she 258


had first left, the place looked okay. Of course, the police had escorted her away. All had been quiet for two weeks. His dear wife must've made a return trip here today. It looked like Catherine had gone crazy, throwing furniture, breaking dishes. Worse, it seemed she had tried to take a saw to the front and back porches. He had never seen so much destruction. It would take him several days to put this back together. He slumped onto the couch and started to turn on the television when he saw one of Catherine's shoes stuck halfway in the glass screen. At least he was home and not staying in the trailer. Win put his head in Frank's lap as if to agree. He didn't trust Catherine though. She could very well come back to the house tonight and try to kill him. He certainly didn't believe the mess with her was over with this one temper tantrum. The cell phone in his pocket started ringing. This late at night, the news couldn't be good. He clicked send and waited to hear the new troubles laying on him. Somehow, he thought they would be related to Catherine. "This is Frank, talk to me." Frank opened his mouth, then closed it as the police officer went over a triggered alarm at his construction site. His mind froze as the officer told him the only building that had been tampered with was marked as "dangerous/explosives." "I'll be right there." Frank stood, wondering how far Catherine would go this time. Had she been at the site and stolen explosives? Would she put a bomb in his home? He supposed anything was 259


possible with her. He also doubted this nightmare would ever be finished. Frank opened his cell phone again and dialed Bill. His foreman needed to be aware of the situation. He also wanted Bill to watch out. There was no telling what Catherine would do with her plan foiled. Frank didn't give Bill time to say hello when he answered. "Bill, you'll never guess what happened." "Someone has broken into the explosives shed. This may mean big trouble. We may even get our license pulled to do blast jobs." "Shit. Could it be Catherine?" Odd how everyone seemed to have the same opinion. "I'm willing to bet on it. She's trashed the house sometime today. She probably decided to blow it up instead of give it up. Anyway, I'm heading down to the site. It will be a late night, so don't be surprised if I'm a little late tomorrow." "I'll handle everything. Don't worry, boss." "I know you will. I want to be there when they put that column in though. It could be tricky." **** Catherine stayed at the gas station. It stood on a small hill, giving her a view of the site and the flashing lights below. There were so many police officers, even a fire truck had arrived. All that fuss over one little break-in, and she wasn't finished yet. Frank had also arrived for the occasion. She wondered if he'd been staying at her house, propping his feet up, probably wondering what new trouble he could bring into her life. 260


"Bastard." She finished her second cup of coffee, at almost two bucks a cup she hoped she didn't feel the need for a third. It was strange. She had thought committing the crime would give her a rush. What little it had provided left quickly. She grew bored easily, apparently and inclination didn't limit itself to men. Around four in the morning, she saw the first police car leave the scene. Thirty minutes later, everyone had gone including Frank. She sat in her car, waiting, wondering if this were some sort of trap. She couldn't sit there all night though. Time was running out. There were days when the guys arrived for work at six. She started her car and headed for the road. At first she drove by the site and looked for cop cars. There was none. Down the road, she turned around, stopping well before the entrance. The site had a wonderful design. Everything Frank did was the epitome of efficiency. Here, the risk of theft was reduced by large ditch that ran the length of the site from the street side. The only way to remove equipment was through the well-lit entrance. The idea was simple, also like Frank, for a thief to steal anything big, they'd have to hotwire it in full view of the street, then drive it onto the main road. That wasn't a risk a good thief would take. Occasionally tools and such were stolen but nothing that would break Frank's bank account to replace. Of course, the site wasn't designed to keep anyone from putting anything inside. 261


Catherine gathered her explosives, putting as much as she could carry in her purse, and made her way along the ditch. That part was disgusting. A recent rain had made a muddy puddle in the bottom that sucked at her shoes with every step. Finally she reached the big crane, the massive mix of metal that would create a deadly barrage of shrapnel. She felt all tingly from the thought. This was it. She would have her revenge. She approached the massive machine, painted in worn yellow. For an instant, she touched it, feeling the cold steel. She never imagined construction equipment would be her salvation. "Too bad there's no one here to fuck me on this thing." Then Catherine started to work. Tomorrow, when they started the crane, Frank would die.

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Chapter Thirty-Three Frank walked into the trailer, exhaustion slowing his steps. Between the theft and the long time he'd spent talking with the investigating officers, he had only slept a couple of hours. He thought about not going into work. That would've meant Claudia not going in and the variety of questions that might raise. Bill could've handled it all, down to the explanations, but Frank didn't want to put too much on him. Bill was a good employee. Besides, today they were raising the center column. The crane operator could handle it, but there was a danger whenever moving around columns of concrete. He wanted to make sure his men were safe. As Frank closed the door, he noticed Claudia sitting there, the phone stuck to her ear. She wasn't the type to stay on the phone long, which Frank appreciated. Something had her attention though. She nodded intently, then gave him a little wave when she noticed him. Claudia hung up the phone as he approached the desk. "I found someone." "Thought you had someone." He smiled and was pleasantly surprised to see her blush. "I meant someone for you." "I have someone." He wanted to grab her, touch her, something. "A psychic, Frank, a psychic. I made an appointment for you tomorrow night." 263


"Claudia, I don't know. Those people, they ask you questions to try to get you to tell them something and then they watch you while they make up some crazy story." To be honest, psychics gave him the creeps. The fake ones angered him, and the idea that one could be real, well, he didn't need someone telling him how many ways he'd already screwed up his life. "Well, I didn't tell her anything except I had a friend who needed some help, and besides, I'll go with you." That bit of knowledge perked up his mood. Any excuse to be with her, even visiting a quack in a turban was worth it. He might talk her into another dinner. "You tell her my name?" "Nope, didn't tell her mine either. Just that I had a friend who needed a psychic." "Well, maybe." Although Frank knew he would agree to fly to the moon for Claudia. "What's her name?" "Sapphire Moon." "Sapph ... What the hell kind of name is that?" "It's her craft name." She grinned at him. "Her—" "Humor me, Frank. She may just have the answers you need." "Fine. Sapphire Moon. I'm the one that's going loony. Maybe she can tell me who broke into the site last night." "What?" "Someone broke in. Bill is going to double-check the records this afternoon, but I'm pretty sure explosives were stolen." 264


"That's why you look so tired and stressed. I noticed but didn't want to say anything." "I'm fine. Just a late night dealing with it all." Claudia stiffened, her eyes wide. He hadn't wanted to frighten her. It was a compulsion with him, to tell her everything or almost anything on his mind. It was like they were best friends. "Do you think Catherine could've done it?" Frank shrugged, tried to play it nonchalant, but he feared the same thing. Not too many people would risk a smashand-grab with the alarms going full blast. He didn't think he would feel comfortable going staying at home after all. He didn't want to live in the construction trailer again. "Nothing for you to worry about." He leaned forward, almost gave her a kiss on the cheek when he caught himself. He had no right to kiss her, but it had seemed so natural. He must be more tired than he had realized. Maybe he would knock off work early. The door to the trailer opened. "Frank, we're getting ready to lift it." He saw the men approaching the mammoth crane. This worried him, more than usual but he didn't know why. He nodded at Bill and started out of the door, walking toward the monster of metal. A new guy slid into the driver's seat. He had worked with them for a month. His lack of seniority on the job said nothing about his skill. The man had been hired because he was the best. Frank wanted the best on this. Bringing in enough concrete had been a nightmare. Because of the design, sections were 265


pre-molded but much of it had been constructed using piped in concrete. Not easy when taken into consideration how fast the stuff can harden. Frank's work boots crunched on the gravel in the lot. He was less than ten feet from the crane, watching the new guy. He was taking too long, talking to Bill. Frank wanted this over with quickly. As he walked back out to the job site, it occurred to him how well he and Claudia fit together. He smiled, looking at Bill and the new guy but thinking about Claudia. Frank reached the crane, then signaled for them to start it up. They should've already had it going and the lines checked, but everyone had waited for him. "Frank," shouted Claudia from the office. "Phone call. It's about the break-in last night." He turned, annoyed with another delay or maybe just tired. One look at Claudia, standing halfway out the door, and he started at a half trot toward the trailer. She always managed to change his mood, just like that. She was wonderful. Behind him, the crane cranked, sparked. He heard Bill saying something to the operator as Frank reached the door of the trailer. A boom followed, the ground shook. Something hit the trailer, followed by the sounds of smaller pelts. Frank stood there in a half crouch, nearly driven to the ground by the force. Something hit his back and he went forward despite his grip on the door. His mind raced as he tumbled into the trailer. They weren't blowing into the mountainside today. An explosion, the explosives. He caught 266


a glimpse of Claudia as she turned white. Frank turned around and saw into hell. There was nothing left of the crane but a twisted metal square where the frame had been. The actual crane had been launched like a missile across the yard. It stuck like some bizarre antenna from the bank near the last column. "Get an ambulance." He said the words although Claudia was already on the phone. For the men near the crane, no help could come in time. As he approached, he wasn't even sure what was Bill and what had been the new guy. A cold sweat broke over his arms He'd lost his friend and an innocent employee. Deep inside, he knew he had been the target. Good men died because of one crazy-ass bitch. She knew how he oversaw the job. She knew.

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Chapter Thirty-Four Frank spent the day talking with police, going over every detail. They weren't finished until well into the night. An inspector found his records and handling of the explosions up to code. No permits were being revoked, but that provided little solace when he had lost two men and had five others injured. He cancelled work for the rest of the week, leaving him a lone witness to the empty site, the twisted carnage. He returned there this morning and stared at the charred ground, the bits of metal. Yellow police tape marked off the area, making strange little flapping sounds in the wind. He had never really feared Catherine, and even now anger burned brighter than anything else. People went to work to earn a living, not to die. The police hadn't found her yet. There was no telling where she'd hidden, waiting for another opportunity to try to hurt him. He stared at the scene, lost in thought when he heard a car pull in behind him. He turned, seeing a taxi and his Claudia get out of the back. She saw him then paid the cabbie who took off onto the main road. "What are you doing here? I told you that we weren't working this week." "I know but I also knew you would be here." It was wrong and inappropriate, but he pulled Claudia into his arms and gave her a hug. She felt so good there, so right, and no other woman knew him as well. She took away some 268


of the sting that Catherine had created. She even numbed a bit of the pain from losing his men. "Thank you." He kept her there, in his arms, letting the pain ebb away. Claudia felt like a lifeline, the only thing going right in his world, but she didn't belong to him. That fact helped him release her, but he turned back toward the trailer instead of the yellow police tape. He moved toward the trailer, but he didn't feel real, more like a mannequin. How did things get so fucked up? Then Claudia was at his side, opening the door. The world slowly mended, as if color returned to a black and white world. Catherine couldn't hurt him, not with Claudia at his side. Even the sting from Pam faded. "I almost forgot. We have to go to visit the gem chick today." He laughed and realized how bitter it sounded. "Sapphire Moon." Claudia quickly corrected him. "It might be good for you." It would be good for him. If he knew what had happened to Pam, he could find her or end that chapter of his life. If a psychic could be credible, that is. There was no point in aimlessly drifting by, hoping for a miracle. He'd done that for too long with Catherine. "What time?" "Tonight." He could think of a hundred things that needed to be done, but he would prefer to take Claudia out on a real date. He shouldn't. Here he was going to a psychic about an old love when maybe he found love right here. Maybe it was him. 269


Maybe he was forever to be doomed never to have and hold one true, unconditional love. No. That was more foolishness. He hadn't felt this way since Pam, and she hadn't been gone that long. He must be transposing his emotions for Pam to Claudia. Besides, she didn't feel the same way. "I guess I can get to work on the forms." He slumped to the seat behind the desk. The two of them worked silently, sitting across the desk from each other. Occasionally their hands would bump or they would look up at the same time. Claudia would giggle a little when they made eye contact. It was a sweet sound, full of life. Time always flew by in the office, at least since Claudia had started working. She glanced at the clock and stood. That lovely body strode across the floor as she started turning off lights in the trailer. "Are you ready for our big date?" Date? "Sure, where are we going?" His mouth grew dry just looking at her. "To Sapphire Moon's." "Oh. I almost forgot." Frank drove himself and Claudia to Sapphire Moon's. He still couldn't believe he was going to what had to be some sort of hippie woman's house. She'd probably have really smelly incense and dress in a caftan and wear a turban on her head. Or maybe she'd be in some weird-ass gypsy clothing. 270


He was surprised when they pulled up to what appeared to be an ordinary storefront with a perfectly respectable entrance. Oh yeah, there was a scent in the air, but a pleasant one, like peppermint. There were books that, from where he stood, looked like books on the occult, candles in odd shapes and a multitude of colors, a couple of brooms that looked smaller than regular brooms, some crystals including a rather large crystal ball and an array of tarot cards for sale. Oh my God, she's brought me to a witch's store. The woman is a witch! "Good evening," a dark-haired woman of average height greeted them. She looked to be in her mid-forties, was dressed professionally from her well-tailored pant suite down to the pale pink nail polish and her smile seemed to warm up the room. "I'm Sapphire Moon, and you are ... hmmm, Claudia, yes, Claudia and her friend. Welcome and come in to my reading room." Frank gestured for Claudia to precede him, wondering if he did so because he was afraid or because it was the gentlemanly thing to do. She showed them into a cozy room, lit mainly by a multitude of white candles. An array of mismatched, but comfortable-looking, furniture formed a circle of the room with a sturdy oak table as the centerpiece. Snuggled on one of the overstuffed couches was a big gray cat, its green eyes half open as it took in every move the humans made. Seeing Frank studying the cat, Sapphire told him, "That's Miss Ginny, my familiar. She likes to watch and sometimes help with readings. 271


"Right. Familiar." What the hell has Claudia gotten me into? "Well, Ms. Moon..." "Sapphire, please." "Sapphire. This is my friend and he has a problem he needs some help with." The dark-haired woman turned to study Frank. After a few moments she gestured to the table and turned to choose a crystal ball from a collection on a bookcase. Placing it on the table, she turned again to Frank. "Fred, no, Frank, is it?" At his stunned nod, she continued, "You are looking for your soul mate, your true love. Why do you think she is on the other side?" That gave Frank a chill down to his toes and suddenly he wasn't so sure he wanted Claudia in the room. Not because he thought there was any danger, but with his feelings growing day by day for her, he wasn't so sure finding Pam, dead or alive, would be for the best. "She's not dead, Frank, right?" "She ... how do you know my name?" "I wouldn't be much of a psychic if I didn't pick up things like that." Her smile was warm and welcoming, surprisingly putting Frank at ease. "No, guess not, but..." "How do I know you are looking for a woman that is special to you? Someone who was a very, very close friend? And that she is not dead?" "Yeah." 272


"My guides. But come, sit down and let me see what I can tell you." After they settled themselves at the table, Sapphire explained, "I'm not certain I need the crystal, I feel enough energy without it. In and of itself, it's not magical. It's mainly to focus my attention. Psychics have different skills. We don't all have the same. My specialty or strength is as a medium. I'm able to communicate with those that have crossed the rainbow bridge." "The rain—you mean dead people?" **** She was with him again. Mike sat in his car across the street from the white and glass building with "Psychic Readings" written in purple over the door. Claudia had been at work with him all day. She didn't know he was investigating the case, or that he had interviewed Frank White twice. Mike shouldn't be jealous. Claudia had made it clear several times that she wasn't ready to give him a commitment, but for some reason, that made things worse. He was certain that once she agreed to be his, she would never cheat on him or lie. Maybe that's what ate at him. She wouldn't even offer one of those white lies and say that she loved him. In fact, he was surprised she hadn't moved out of his bedroom. They'd stopped making love, but at least she would lie there and let him hold her. "Damn!" 273


He punched the steering wheel twice, causing the horn to yelp at the second hit. He had to calm down. There was a case, and people had died. That had to take precedence over his emotions. Separating the two was hard, though. Never before had his personal life interfered with work, but Claudia had him torn. The glass began to fog. Mike leaned forward, trying to make out the details of the shop they'd entered. It had to be some psychic stuff. Frank didn't seem like the type, and neither did Claudia. It had to be Frank that dragged her there. Maybe he was contacting his recently dead employees. A chill went over Mike. He wiped the glass with his sleeve and kept staring ahead, waiting. He didn't know what he waited for. He had told his supervisor that he was going to watch Frank White in case Catherine tried something new. That had been a lie. Odds were that Catherine had fled the state. They had quite a case against her. His interviews revealed several occasions when she'd threatened his life. He couldn't connect the poisoning yet, but they found a broken red fingernail tip at the scene where the explosives were taken. There were also several strands of hair, but DNA tests would take time. The final touch was the perfect thumbprint lifted from a metal scrap that remained of the crane. She had wired the detonator to the battery, a job not easily done with gloves. To help tie her to the scene at the right time, they found surveillance footage of a convenience store not far from the construction site. She was seen entering the store just 274


after the theft. Her car remained in the parking lot, probably until the cops had left the crime scene. In a way, he wished he could pin this thing on Frank. That would get him away from Claudia. How lame was it to offer a down-and-out girl a job? But she wasn't down and out. Mike was providing for her, taking care of her, wanting to ... yes, wanting to marry her. In the back of his mind, his guilt nagged at him. He had done worse. He had been generous but only because he hoped she would fall in love with him. That she hadn't wasn't her fault. He was sick of acting childish, but Mike didn't know how to stop. He wanted something he couldn't have, something that wasn't his. He felt like throwing a temper tantrum, beating Frank—or at least the steering wheel—until he could have what he wanted. None of that would work and no matter how sweet it would be to send Frank to jail, even for the night, it would be wrong. He was an officer, not some idiot out to blame the world for his own shortcomings. He could watch a bit longer. There was a chance he was wrong, that Claudia hadn't fallen for Frank. They could be friends. He had female friends where nothing sexual occurred. Claudia could be the same way with Frank. She could still love him. "Claudia loves me," he said aloud, trying to will it true. "She loves me."

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Chapter Thirty-Five Frank listened intently as Sapphire explained about guides and what she did. "As a medium, I have the ability to hear, in a manner of speaking, from those who have gone on. It's akin to having a conversation with you right here, but they move at a higher vibration so I have to sense more than anything what they want to convey. Do you understand?" "I think so. So, would you know if someone is a walk-in?" "I might pick up if they were the one who walked out. Walk-ins are a little bit difficult. I don't know how much you know." "I've been to one talk." "Hmm, well depending on who gave it you may or may not have gotten a lot of information. It's not one of the more popular metaphysical fields. With a walk-in, at first, they are a bit confused, feel kind of conflicted about where they are. They pick up memories of the body they have walked into. It's almost like they a looking back at someone else's life. As time goes on, their own personality begins to emerge again, and rather than deal with explaining things to the people they are there with, often they move away." "So how do you know if you are one?" Claudia asked. "Hypnosis could tell you, or relying on different memories. But before we get too far into this, let's see if I can get a read on Frank's friend." They got comfortable, and Sapphire closed her eyes, breathing deeply. "I see a woman with blonde hair, laughing, 276


joking with a younger Frank. It's not the woman you are looking for, my guide is showing me a memory, her memory. My guide is showing me an image of Frank under some ... steps? Ah, bleachers, like at a high school and you having sex. Your love is watching. The woman—Pat? P-Penny? ... Pam. it's Pam—sees you, and she is devastated when she sees what is going on. She always thought she would marry you. My guide is showing me that she is running away, far away." "Oh my God. That's why she left! That's why she moved away. Oh, Pam, I'm so sorry. I'm so very sorry." "It's all right, Frank. It was part of our lesson." It was Pam's voice, but it came from Claudia. "Pam? Is that you?" He turned to Sapphire. "Is she possessed? Oh God, tell me I didn't call in Pam to possess Claudia!" Sapphire's voice was calm, controlled. "Is that you Pam? Pam?" When there was no answer, they sat in silence before Claudia asked, "If there is something to show me, to show Frank, please let us know now." The gray cat, surprisingly graceful for her size, climbed up on to Sapphire's lap almost as if giving a signal that there was more to see. After a few moments Sapphire, spoke again, "I am seeing someone going after Pam, a short, squat man, he's hit her many times. He's coming after her with a knife, and she knows she is going to die. She runs in fear for her life. Pam knocks him down and car to drive away. She's so scared, 277


so worried, and hurt badly. She loses control of the car and crashes into a tree." "Is Pam showing you this?" "No, not Pam. She's not on the other side, or if she is, she's not where she can be reached. This is only what my guide is showing me." "How do they do that?" "They know. Time and space on the other side aren't what we think of here. It's different. There is no time there but there is a knowing. He's showing me that Pam did in fact walk in ... into the blonde woman's body—the woman from the bleachers. And she was happy, very happy for a time. The walk-in process was almost complete, but she left again and..." Sapphire grew silent, looking into space as if dazed. "She's not on the other side. I can tell you that much. Someone else is there, on the fringes and she is telling me that Pam gave her the greatest gift. She was tired of struggling, tired of trying to go on and she walked out so Pam could walk in." "Where is she? Pam found a body? Where is she?" "I don't know. Once someone is in body, you can't communicate with them like you would if they were a spirit. From what I'm hearing she found a body." "But where? How do I find her?" Sapphire watched as Miss Ginny climbed from her lap to pace over to Claudia. The cat's green eyes seemed to move to a deeper shade of green as she studied Claudia. Finally, the cat raised her paw and laid it on Claudia's cheek, a comforting gesture, one a human would make. Leaving the paw on 278


Claudia's cheek, Miss Ginny looked over her shoulder to Sapphire and opened her mouth to give a very soft meow, just before she began to purr very loudly. With that, Ginny took her paw from Claudia and padded back to Sapphire. Frank told himself it wasn't real, but it seemed the cat conveyed some sort of message to Sapphire. "So Sapphire, can I find Pam?" "I'm not sure you can. If she remembers her life as Pam, she may find you, but otherwise, enjoy what you had and know she loved you. And who knows, maybe you will be together in another life." The reading ended, and they said their goodbyes. Frank didn't feel like he'd learned anything new. The fears he'd kept hidden inside surfaced, were made more real by what the psychic had told him. He had thanked Sapphire Moon and asked if it would be all right for him to call her again in the future, if he found he had more questions. Frank and Claudia drove off in silence, each with his or her own thoughts. "Would you like to get a bite, Claudia?" "Sure. I think I'd like to talk a little about what happened in there." "Yeah. Me too. Part of me wants to say she'd a nut job, but another part of me ... man, she was so right on target about things ... things I haven't told you. No offense about that, you know." "I do. Frank, we're not just employer and employee. We're friends. In fact, you are probably the best friend I have. But I know we haven't even begun to tell each other about 279


ourselves. That's what friendship is about, you know, getting to know and enjoy each other." "I'm glad you feel that way." "So are you okay that we didn't ... well that you didn't find her?" "If that woman is to be believed, Pam is alive, somewhere." "So are you going to try to find her?" Claudia looked a little sad at the idea and touched her cheek where the cat had. "What about what the cat did? When Miss Ginny touched me." "I don't know. No idea and I'm not sure I want to go down that road. Claudia was ready to honor that, for now. "No. I don't think so. For too long I lived with a false hope with Catherine. Hoping that our marriage would get better. It never did. In a way, I held on to Pam, but if she wanted to be with me, if she really loved me, I think she would remember. I need to get on with my life and just enjoy it for what it is." "Do you think you'll fall in love again?" "You probably don't want to hear this, but I think I am or that I have." "Really?" Claudia looked at him carefully and he knew that she was judging his words. "Yeah." "Well, who? Where did you meet her?" He watched in silence as she studied him again, the light of realizing dawning. "Oh, Frank."

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Chapter Thirty-Six It was around ten when Frank dropped Claudia off at home. She didn't want to leave him, especially after the things he'd said. They hadn't shared a single kiss, but she knew in her heart that she wanted him. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. Frank wanted her safe and told her to go home where Catherine couldn't hurt her. Catherine. Claudia hated the name, hated the way it sounded when Frank said it. She was a curse, a plague, something awful. She wasn't afraid of Catherine. She would enjoy telling that woman how horrible she was, the terrible things she'd done to Frank. Frank only worried for her safety though. The situation put Claudia in a foul mood. She stomped up the sidewalk and into the house, Mike's house. There he was, looking like a hurt puppy, staring at her from his favorite chair in front of the television. She didn't want to cause him pain. "Where have you been?" he asked with that tone, that jealous, hateful tone that raked her nerves. "I went to a psychic reading with my boss and then we went out to dinner. I didn't know you were going to be home or I would've come home earlier." She sat on the couch, wondering how to tell him, knowing he should know the truth. Her guilt came from one fixation— she owed him. He had taken care of her when she had no one to turn to, but did that mean she was forever indebted? 281


"I want to start paying you back for everything you've done. I don't know how much you spent. You'll have to tell me." "You don't have to do that. I wanted to take care of you, still do." She swallowed hard, willing the words to come to her mouth, but they wouldn't. She couldn't hurt this man. Spending her life with him wouldn't work either. Damn it all. Things were so hard. "Mike, you and I don't have a commitment. You and I have had this discussion a hundred times, and I know you want one. I think things would be better if I moved out." She heard herself, hadn't thought about what she would say. She didn't have savings, hadn't been on the job long enough. Frank hadn't asked her to move in, so what in the hell was she doing? Claudia took a deep breath. She knew. She was being honest with a man who deserved it. She could find a cheap apartment or something, but living off Mike wasn't right. "You're moving to the spare room?" His jaw clenched, shoulders tensed, and his face started turning pink. "No." Tears came to her eyes. She hadn't expected that. "I'm sorry, Mike. I'm moving all the way out. It isn't right for me to stay here. I will pay you back for everything." "You're moving in with him, aren't you!" "Who?" "Frank White." A drop of spit flew from his lips as he spoke the words like some curse. 282


"How do you know his name?" She put up a hand. "No, no, don't bother. It doesn't matter." I'm not moving in with him. Nothing has happened between us physically, but ... I know I can't stay here with you." "Why the hell not?" "I don't love you, Mike, not in the way you want. I love your strong spirit, your mind, but I'm not in love with you. Please forgive me." "You might've been if not for that man." Mike crossed the room in two strides, both hands balled into fists. For a minute, Claudia thought he would strike her, or stab her. His eyes were wide, glistening in emotion. He started trembling with rage. Memories of another man hitting her surfaced—a man with a knife, a car careening out of control, standing at the foot of a bed, looking at a woman in bandages. Like short blasts they came, one right after the other. Then they stopped, but not before she managed, "Please don't hurt me." "I wouldn't hurt you." He grabbed her by the shoulders. "I've done everything for you and here you go, leaving me." "I'm sorry. I don't love you." "You would've in time. You're mine, damn it. You belong to me." The words cut through her. It didn't come down to him missing her or worrying for her. She'd become a possession, bought and paid for by a roof over her head. She wasn't sure when it had happened, maybe in the hospital. Somehow, Mike thought he owned her. "I belong to no one. I am a person, not an object." 283


She went to the bedroom and realized she didn't have anything to pack. Everything she owned had been given to her by Mike. He could keep it too. If she could walk out of here naked, she would leave the clothes on her back as well. Claudia went to the bathroom and grabbed a few toiletries, throwing them into her purse. She would mail back everything once she had bought replacements. She would not be an owned woman. "You're not leaving me." Mike came in behind Claudia. It frightened her, reminded her of another time. He could hurt her, could kill her. Knowing this made her knees weak, but she raised her gaze to meet his. She wouldn't back down. For some reason, she thought she should, maybe before her accident she would've. Not anymore. "Get out of my way, Mike. You know this isn't right." He only stood there. She had to pass by him to get to the door and that's exactly what she did, pushing past. For a minute, she thought he would chase after her. Again, images of a man hurting her entered her mind, but she kept going, through the front door, and into the fresh air. She was free. She plodded down the sidewalk, reaching the park before she knew what to do. She had a hundred fifty bucks in her purse, not much to start a new life. Claudia kept walking and found a street with cabs. She hated wasting money, but she needed to get away from there, and the buses didn't run at night. A big yellow taxi stopped and the heavily accented driver took her to the road she requested, one not far from the 284


construction site. At least it would be easy getting to work. From there, they drove until she spotted a lit hotel sign. Claudia couldn't remember checking into a hotel before. This one looked cheap but safe, so it would do. Thirty-five bucks a night and a key, now she wouldn't have to listen to Mike complain. Tomorrow morning she would start looking for an apartment. The little sign by the phone promised free local calls. The only person she could think to talk to was Frank. He would make her feel better, take away the bitter taste Mike had left in her soul. "Hello?" Frank answered and she could hear Win barking in the background. "I moved out." She didn't know what else to say. "I left him." "Claudia?" She had never lied to Frank but hadn't exactly told him everything. She did that now, told him through tears how Mike had taken care of her and how she had betrayed him because she didn't fall in love. Considering everything Frank had shared with her about his past, she thought he would be upset with her. He wasn't. "That must've been hard for you." There he was, being her confidant, gentle, un-judging ear. She loved him all the more for it. She even confided that she had hoped to fall in love with Mike, if only to ease the guilt. This too Frank understood. "May I come over?" he asked when she'd finished. "Or would you prefer to be alone?" 285


"I don't ever want to be alone again." "Then I'm on my way." Claudia laid her head on the pillow, breathing in the foreign scents of soap, cleansers, and that unmistakable hotel wet smell. There was a big mirror above the dresser. She kept staring at it. Because of its size, the mirror appeared more like a doorway, and she thought maybe it was. She could almost see light, see a face when she stared at it. The smells brought something else back, this wasn't the first time she'd been in a hotel room. She relaxed and closed her eyes. All this was nothing more than fatigue. It would take Frank a while to get here. She could rest until then. The world might make sense when she opened her eyes. "It's my body," she mumbled as sleep overtook her. "You can't have it." **** Mike watched from the parking lot, his car hidden in the shadows. It hadn't been difficult following Claudia. The timing had worked out perfectly. He managed to be in his car, looking for her when he saw her get into a cab. She'd been too upset to look back and see him. When the cab dropped her off at this hotel, Mike went past, circled the block, and then pulled into the lot. Claudia had already checked into her room. All Mike had to do was inquire at the desk, show his badge, and he'd know what room she had checked into. He couldn't help himself even though it would cost him his job if anyone found out. 286


This hotel had the rooms opening to the parking lot. That made surveillance easier, although Mike wasn't sure what he would do next. Burst in on her and beg her forgiveness? That didn't sound right. He wasn't sorry. Anger tore through his body—Claudia was supposed to be his, not Frank White's. Frank grew to be a thorn in his side. He shouldn't have Claudia anywhere near him, not with that crazy ex-wife of his on the rampage. He should be watching Frank, waiting for Catherine to strike. It wouldn't be so bad using him as bait. Mike couldn't do that though. In his current state of mind, he might let Catherine do her worst, not save Frank at all. Those were dark thoughts, below his moral code, but they entered his mind, clinging there like a secret wish. All men were privy to dark desires, but he couldn't imagine taking the step beyond the fantasy into making it happen. That's what people like Catherine did. Headlights filled the lot, circled the building, then came back to park near Claudia's hotel room door. Mike knew that truck. Frank had arrived to claim Claudia, came to be with the woman that should belong to him. "Damn him to hell." Mike watched Frank open the door to his truck and step out into the parking lot. He looked around, probably checking for Catherine. His observation skills weren't so keen. The guy never noticed Mike. At least Mike didn't believe he had. Frank went to the door and knocked. A moment later, Claudia appeared. Mike couldn't tell for certain from his car, but he thought Claudia had been crying. Maybe she would break up with Frank, come running home to him. 287


Claudia threw her arms around Frank. They stayed like that, displayed in the doorway. It didn't appear that lustful or passionate, more like old lovers who missed each other so desperately they couldn't stand another minute apart. After a full two minutes—Mike was watching the clock—the two went inside the hotel room, closing the door. Not seeing them proved worse than watching them. Mike had no idea what they were doing. His imagination went into overdrive, creating situations with them naked, in intimate positions. Another set of headlights appeared. They didn't pull in right away. Mike realized the car was sitting in the alley across from the hotel. He had no idea how long it had been there, but he saw the headlights come on, and the car creep through the intersection. Once in the parking lot, the headlights cut off again. The driver parked at the far side of the lot. He couldn't be certain with the lack of streetlights on that side, but it seemed to be the same model as Catherine's vehicle. He waited, watching for his chance to nab Catherine. The person exited the vehicle but didn't look like Catherine. This person looked more like an adolescent boy with a ball cap and those oversized clothes the teenagers think are cool. Probably some kid trying to rent a room for a party. He hated those. Underage drinking started, then came the vandalism, and, of course, sex. He wondered how many girls ended up pregnant at a party like that. That left him back with his original predicament. Should he go confront the two of them or wait it out? Logically, he should just go home and lick his wounds. Something wouldn't 288


let him turn the ignition. Before the night was out, he would have to talk to Frank, see what his intentions were. More than anything, he didn't want Claudia getting hurt. He might be mad with jealousy but in the end he could accept her decision if it made her happy. "I still hate you, Frank."

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Chapter Thirty-Seven "I can't believe you came." Claudia and Frank sat on the bed, his arms around her while her head rested on his chest. She'd wanted this, wanted him. Everything about tomorrow was uncertain, but this one moment made everything good again. If Frank were in that tomorrow, it would be a good one. The best ever. "I would do anything for you." His hand slid under her chin and lifted her face toward his. She knew what was going to happen and closed her eyes. His lips brushed against hers in a touch so gentle, so soft, she wasn't sure if she'd imagined it or not. Then his lips pressed harder, his tongue following, urging her mouth opened. Their breath mingled in the space between them, starting a new kiss each time the old one ended. Frank reached the hem of her shirt, sliding his hand beneath. She loved the sensation of his flesh touching hers, those slightly rough hands gliding across her abdomen. He went higher, touching the edge of her bra. Electricity shot through her, arousal, and something more, remembrance. She had loved this man before. She knew him. Before his hand could touch her breast, the hotel room door flung open, knocking hard against the back wall. At first, Claudia thought a teenager had gotten the wrong room. Then she saw the eyes, those cold blue eyes. "I know you." 290


Claudia stood as Catherine raised the pistol at Claudia's head. Frank grabbed Claudia as the gun went off, and Frank shouted in pain. He had put himself between her and Catherine. Blood spread through his shirt, bright, life draining from him. **** Mike jerked from his bout of pity. He could've sworn he heard a gunshot. He'd been sitting there with his head lowered on the steering wheel. His every thought nothing but self-absorbed foolishness, but thoughts he couldn't deny. Now he looked up and saw a perfect rectangle of light. The door to the hotel room was wide open. He could see movement inside but no detail. Surely those two hadn't started making love with the door open. They might know he was there, wanted him to see them. He reached for the key, ready to start the car and go home when he heard a second shot. That was definitely a gun, not backfire, not a tire. Someone was shooting inside that hotel room. His Claudia was in danger. Mike picked up his cell and frantically dialed 911. "This is Detective Mike Malone, I'm at the Biltmore Hotel, 5th and Parkings Street, shots fired, repeat shots fired." He listened a moment while the dispatcher entered the call and her partner put it out to the beat units. "I'm in a red Ford truck. You'd better roll an ambulance as well, have them stage at..." he looked around before telling them an address three doors down. "Suggest beat units come in rolling silent. Affirm, shots fired, two so far. Sounds like a 291


pistol. Be advised there is a swimming pool to the left of the room, two cars in front. And I have no doubt Catherine White is the suspect. Never mind how I know." As the first unit approached, he signaled them to the left of the room as he approached the room itself. On the bed lay Frank. The guy wasn't in good shape, but he tried to stand, tried to get to the two women wrestling in the middle of the hotel room floor. They were too close for Mike to get a single shot off. On the floor lay another pistol, probably the one used to shoot Frank. A bullet hole, probably the second shot, marred the sheetrock. Concern for his safety retreated to the background, not caring if there was a second gun, as he watched Claudia try to gain control. "Freeze, this is the police." No one looked up. Both women, consumed in their personal battle, paid him no attention. He started forward, ready to pry the two women apart when the shouts caught his attention, stopped him in his tracks. "I remember who I am," shouted Claudia. "I told you I'd be back for him." "Pam!" Catherine shrieked as she tried to punch her in the face. Frank dropped to his knees, also seemingly shocked at Claudia's statement. His face grew pale, too pale. If help didn't arrive soon, he wouldn't make it. Damn it all. He would have to save the bastard. "Pam?" he whispered, barely audible above the fighting duo. 292


The two rolled, Claudia head-butted Catherine, sending a red torrent from her nose. She came back again with a punch. Claudia nailed Catherine again, landing two solid strikes against the other woman's jaw. The shock of hearing Claudia's statements wore off, and ready to separate the women, Mike started forward again. He hadn't realized the two had rolled to the wall where the pistol lay. With nightmare-like precision, Catherine straddled Claudia while aiming the gun at her face. "I think I'll shoot out those fucking eyes of yours." Claudia had both hands up, trying to grab the pistol. The two were still too close for Mike to shoot and he wasn't sure if the shot would cause Catherine to pull the trigger anyway. He aimed his pistol. "Don't do it, Catherine." Mike had never believed in anything supernatural. Even Claudia's strange revelation didn't offer him anything beyond a weird situation. Maybe Pam was her middle name. He wasn't sure. When the temperature of the room started dropping, Mike thought it was the air conditioner, but that was before she appeared. At first, he barely glimpsed an image in the mirror. It wasn't enough to break his gaze of Claudia on the floor, tangled with Catherine. As the room's temperature grew colder, the air itself changed, grew static, fuzzy. Both women stopped for a moment, as if they knew something was about to happen. A face appeared in the mirror, Claudia's face, although she lay pinned on the floor. They eyes were Claudia's, but with no 293


trace of green only glowing bright gray. It grew brighter as the outline of her features changed into light. Mike gasped as the head grew more defined, then took on a three-dimensional shape as it pulled free from the silvery glass of the mirror. The image looked exactly like Claudia, but held a ghostlike quality. Its flesh wasn't fully formed, transparent in places with a slight glow. The image spoke but the voice sounded distant. "She set me free." The woman reached down, grew brighter, and grabbed both of Catherine's arms before she could take a single shot. The ghostlike form whirled Catherine around and tossed her against the opposite wall. "Now we're even." The ghost smiled at the flesh and blood Claudia on the floor. Like smoke, she vanished, growing dimmer until nothing remained. "Thank you, Claudia." His Claudia spoke from where she lay on the floor. "No!" Catherine stood and charged at Claudia. Mike reacted quickly, grabbing Catherine and forcing her to the floor as sirens screeched through the night. Help was on the way. Mike started reading Catherine her rights while she cursed beneath him. "Frank," cried Claudia. She went toward the heap of a man on the floor. "Please don't die, Frank. I crossed back over for you!"

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Epilogue Orange. Catherine hated the bright orange jumpsuit they forced her to wear. Her brown roots were showing, a good two inches before her dyed blonde hair began. Her nails were plain. They didn't let her paint her nails here. They didn't let her do anything. "Hey, move it." A large butch-looking woman shoved Catherine forward in the lunch line at Barston Federal Women's Correctional Facility. Catherine went forward, her tray being filled with some brown goop the attendant claimed was Salisbury steak. She'd been sentenced yesterday. Today was the first day of the rest of her life behind bars. This would be her food, the butch woman behind her, another face she'd have to look at for life. Well, the sentence was two consecutive life sentences. "I wish I were dead." "That can be arranged if you don't move your boney ass." The woman behind her gave her a hard slap on that butt. "Maybe I'll visit you later, and we'll discuss that ass." **** "You look beautiful," said Mike. He walked through the reception hall lined with lilies and ribbons. A few women stood in the corner dabbing their eyes with tissue, but Mike couldn't take his eyes off of Claudia. "You make a perfect bride, Claudia." 295


She stood there, smiling in her white lace dress. Tears filled her eyes, but these were happy tears. Mike knew that. This was truly the happiest day of her life, at least so far. He hoped she had many more. Claudia was a wonderful person who deserved all the good life could offer. "Thank you for everything." Frank held out his hand and shook Mike's. "You're a good man." "You two belong together. I'm glad everything worked out." He gave one last glance at Claudia. "I am happy for you." Mike moved down the line, leaving the happy bride and groom. He stepped out to the garden of the Royal Oaks where the reception was being held. Everything had turned out for the best. He still hurt a little, but Claudia was happy. He couldn't ask for more. He had made his peace with Claudia in the hospital while waiting for Frank to recover. She told him a wild story, something his logical "facts only" mind couldn't comprehend. Knowing he hadn't lost Claudia to another man made him feel better. Frank had almost lost his true love to Mike. "Hi, there. I guess you couldn't stand the crowd in there either." Mike looked up to find a woman wearing a long blue dress. She was beautiful, with a smile that struck his heart and made him forget to breathe. A strange fluttering started in his stomach, and for a minute, he thought he heard violins. Of course, that was music from the reception. "I'm Mike. It's a pleasure to meet you." 296


"I'm Melanie. Friend of the groom. I work at the courthouse." "Tell me, Melanie, you haven't had amnesia or any bad accidents lately? No head trauma or dreams of a past life?" "No. And now I think you're very strange." Melanie started to walk away, giving him a sideways glance as she looked for a safe place away from this odd man. He couldn't blame her for that. That wasn't exactly a good opening line. "Forgive me. I'm a detective, not a weirdo off the street. I guess I've just ran into too many odd people." She giggled and the sound was like music. Her eyes sparkled with a deep brown. Her expression seemed thankfully forgiving. He hoped he still had a chance. "Forgiven. Just don't pull out any foil hats or start looking for UFOs or I'm out of here." "Would you like to take a walk?" He offered her his arm. "I promise to behave and stop acting so weird." "I would love to." She slid her hand onto his arm. It felt good there, right. Mike wasn't sure if he believed in past lives or ghosts or anything Claudia had tried to explain to him after the hotel incident. He had started believing in love at first sight. Sure, he had fallen for Claudia hard, but more for the idea of this injured woman who needed him. Melanie, now she was something totally different. THE END

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About the Authors Jennifer Cloud was born in Asheville, North Carolina where she met her husband who encouraged her to write after finding a partial manuscript. She now resides in Florida with her husband and two daughters. She writes suspense, paranormal works, and some fantasy. **** From earliest childhood Regan was an avid reader, and upon discovering Alexander Dumas and Charles Dickens she was hooked on books that carried the reader away to a different time and place. Preferring the quiet of her room and a good book to spending time with people she traveled far beyond those four walls. Her first foray into writing, aside from tedious English assignments in high school and college, were two non-fictions intended to be of assistance to people with disabilities. Both were a struggle and convinced Regan she was most certainly not a writer. She did continue reading anything and everything she could get her hands on and in 2003 "discovered" reviewing with Love Romances reviews. From her first reviews she became involved in interviewing various authors as part of the site's interview feature. When her "day" job with a local police department in Northern California became far too burdensome due to internal management, rather than escape into her reading, 298


she began to write. Much to Regan's surprise, the words flowed and eventually led to Spell Across Time: The Pentacle, followed by The True Story of the Wicked Witch, Miranda's Heart, Treasures Antique Store: The Photograph and Indentured Bride. Her current title, Her Eyes, was written with close friend, critique partner and best selling author Jennifer Cloud. Regan is a member of the San Francisco Chapter of Romance Writers of America and a contributor to their upcoming "how-to" book.

If you are connected to the Internet, take a moment to rate this eBook by going back to your bookshelf at www.fictionwise.com.

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Her Eyes

Her Eyes

Heaven In Her Eyes

Her Father's Eyes

Through Her Eyes

For Her Eyes Only

For Her Eyes Only

Through Her Eyes

In Her Lover's Eyes

Her Father's Eyes

In Her Lover's Eyes

Through Her Eyes

Through Her Eyes

Baker, Kage - Her Father's Eyes

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The Light in Her Eyes

Baker, Kage - Her Father's Eyes

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A Hero in Her Eyes

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Taken- Before Her Very Eyes

Taken- Before Her Very Eyes

Pale Stars In Her Eyes

A Hero in Her Eyes

Eyes

And Her Eyes Sewn Shut with Unicorn Hair

Her Eyes

Her Eyes

Heaven In Her Eyes

Her Father's Eyes

Through Her Eyes

For Her Eyes Only

For Her Eyes Only

Through Her Eyes

In Her Lover's Eyes

Her Father's Eyes

In Her Lover's Eyes

Through Her Eyes

Through Her Eyes

Baker, Kage - Her Father's Eyes

Pale Stars in Her Eyes

Kage Baker - Her Father's Eyes

Pale Stars in Her Eyes

Pale Stars in Her Eyes

The Light in Her Eyes

Baker, Kage - Her Father's Eyes

The Light in Her Eyes

A Hero in Her Eyes

Pale Stars in Her Eyes

Pale Stars In Her Eyes

Taken- Before Her Very Eyes

Taken- Before Her Very Eyes

Pale Stars In Her Eyes

A Hero in Her Eyes

Eyes

And Her Eyes Sewn Shut with Unicorn Hair

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