He angled toward her and gathered her hands in his. “What truth is that, Alex?”
“What really happened twenty-five years ago. To my brother. To me. Why my mother took me away and did her best to expunge my memory of the first five years of my life. What they’ve told me so far is a lie.”
Tim frowned. “What’ve they told you?”
“That my mother had been seducing the teenage sons of her and Harlan’s friends. It was a club, she publicly initiated them into sex. Then they all-”
She bit the last back.
“Then they what, Alex?”
She looked at him defiantly. “Took turns fucking her.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Who told you that?”
“Wayne Reed. He and his wife were my mother and stepfather’s best friends. His oldest son was one of the boys.” She cleared her throat. “After Dylan’s abduction, he confessed it all to his father. Wayne Reed went to the other fathers, they confronted her and ran her out of town.”
“And he just shared this out of the blue?”
“No. I was asking around about her ring, the one I found in her trunk.”
“With the vines and snake motif?”
She nodded and he frowned. “I thought maybe it’d been from my father. Turned out she’d had it designed for herself. Her initiates got a tattoo of the same motif.”
“And one of those ‘initiates’ turned up dead?”
She nodded. “They were afraid their secret would get out. They hadn’t even told the boys’ mothers. Or Harlan, he’d already lost so much. Plus, they didn’t want it all dredged up for the boys.”
“Nice and neat,” Tim murmured. He tapped the list. “Except for all this. Why’s it happening?”
A rhetorical question, she knew. Reed’s words jumped into her head again. “Whatever’s happening, you’re a part of it.”
Tim returned his gaze to hers. “Describe your wine cave experiences. Physically, how did they make you feel?”
“Both times, it was like having a panic attack. My heartbeat accelerated. My breathing. Palms began to sweat.
“Then the hallucination thing happened, though the two episodes were very different.” She clasped her hands together. “The first time, I smelled incense and heard a group of people… I thought there was a group having a party. I called out, but no one answered.”
Alex cleared her throat, remembering. “Some of the sounds coming from the group were… strange. Bestial. I lost it and screamed, though I had no recollection of doing it.
“My date found me,” she went on. “I was so certain there were people partying in there, we searched together. But the cave was empty.”
“I don’t think this is about your mother, Alex.”
She swallowed hard. “No?”
“No.” He covered her hands with his. “Who’s the sacrificial lamb?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“The slaughtered animal left under your sink was an actual lamb. The mutilated baby doll is its metaphorical parallel. Who in this story is the lamb?”
The one unfairly blamed for the acts of another. The one killed to further a cause.
“Dylan’s the obvious choice,” she whispered. “He’s the faceless baby of my visions. Screaming. Children are often called lambs.”
“Maybe. Who else?”
“My mother.”
“Maybe the baby is you?”
She stared at him, heart thundering. “No. I would know it.” At his expression, she added, “How could that be? I’m there in my vision. I’m the one seeing him scream.”
“In dream interpretation, everything in a dream represents an aspect of the self.”
“But these aren’t dreams. I’m awake, Tim.”
He tightened his fingers over hers. “Honey, this is about you. You’re the sacrificial lamb.”
She shook her head, not wanting to believe it. He pressed on. “Something happened to you, probably in the wine caves. And whatever it was, it was traumatic.” He searched her gaze. “And either somebody else knows about it and is tormenting you. Or your subconscious is doing its damnedest-”
“To get me to remember,” she whispered.
“Yes.”
She didn’t want to believe it, but it rang true. She started to shake. “That’s why it was so easy for me to forget.”
“I think so.”
“I’m like her, aren’t I? It’s happened.”
“No, Alex. You were a little girl and you were hurt. You’re not unbalanced.”
She laughed, tears filling her eyes. “Wow, that’s not the way it feels.”
“There’s still so much we don’t know, Alex. What’s the rest of the story? How does your brother’s abduction fit in? Or does it at all? What about your mother, that story about her? What about your father?”
She blinked, surprised. “My father? What could he have to do with any of this?”
“I don’t know. Maybe that’s the point.” He lowered his voice. “I think it’s time for you to come home.”
Home, she thought. Away from all this craziness.
But how could she escape the craziness inside her?
“I can’t run away,” she said. “And I’m not afraid.”
“I sure as hell am, Alex. Afraid for you.” He leaned toward her. “Look, babe, whoever’s doing this isn’t screwing around. Somebody’s dead. A house has been burned to the ground.”
“I can’t run away,” she said. “You know I can’t. If I don’t stay to find the truth, the truth will find me.”
His lips lifted. “Ever heard of therapy? A nice safe couch, a boring but intuitive counselor, two or three visits a week-”
“No. I’m not going.”
“Think about it. Please?”
She opened her mouth to refuse, then shut it as a series of images filled her head: the mutilated doll, the blood of the lamb, Max Cragan’s gentle countenance distorted in death.
She should be afraid. Terrified.
Why wasn’t she?
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll think about it.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
Monday, March 15
7:40 P.M.
Alex and Tim sat at a window table at the girl & the fig. She had slept most of the afternoon. For part of the time, he’d laid with her, holding her. He’d made her feel safe.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Drained.”
“I’m glad you slept. You needed it.”
“Thanks for watching over me.” Emotion tightened her chest. “I’m a total screwup, aren’t I? A real head case.”
“Don’t say that, it’s not true. We’ll figure this out.”
“Alex?”
She looked up to find Rachel crossing to them. She got to her feet and hugged her. “This is Tim Clarkson. My ex-husband. Tim, my stepsister, Rachel.”
He stood and held out his hand. Rachel took it. “Tim of the chopsticks,” she said.
He glanced at Alex in question. “She admired the chopsticks you gave me.”
“Oh.” He smiled. “And you’re Rachel of the really red lipstick.”
“I guess I am. Although I prefer to think of myself as Rachel of the really wonderful red wine.”
“That’s right,” he murmured. “You’re one of the Sommer family.”
“Would you like to join us?” Alex asked. “Please do.”
“I’d love to, but I’ve got a date.” She motioned to a striking, silver-haired man at the bar. “It’s a first date, you know how tricky those can be. Nice meeting you, Tim. Call me,” she said to Alex. “We’ll have lunch.”
They returned to their seats. Although Tim didn’t comment, Alex could tell he hadn’t liked Rachel. She told him so.
“It was that obvious?”
“To me.”
He reached across the table and covered her hand with his. “You know me a little too well.”
“That I do.” She squeezed his hand, then slid hers away and reached for her glass of wine. “Why didn’t you like her?”
He pursed his lips. “Too pushy.”
“She is not. I asked her to join us, remember? Not the other way around.”