Eye of the Storm Read online

  Strange. Why would anyone use a flashlight when the electricity was on at the resort?

  But if it was Gerard, he wouldn’t know about the circular dimmer switches. He must be looking for her. “Thank you, Jesus,” she whispered, then, more loudly, called, “Hello? I’m down here.”

  The light disappeared. She turned to look behind her. Perhaps the light had been a reflection? But she saw no one.

  She stopped for a moment and listened. She couldn’t just wait here all night. She’d given the keys to Gerard, so he, and probably Megan, must be up in the main building. It had to be them. No one else would have reason to be there. The electricity must be off again. They’d had trouble with that last year, and she’d planned to bring in an electrician to repair everything at once.

  “Megan?” she called. “Gerard? It’s me, Kirstie. Hold on a minute, would you?”

  The light that had been burning steadily a moment ago was nowhere to be seen.

  “Hey, guys! Gerard, Megan? We’re down here, cats and all. Wait for us!”

  She tripped over one of the cats in her rush to reach them. Obviously her voice wasn’t carrying up the hill. Despite the pain in her feet, she picked herself up and ran, recalling Lynley’s assurance to the others that her mother would not rest long enough to allow her feet to heal quickly.

  Well, of course not.

  Grasping branches and tree trunks, searching with her toes for the softest places on the forest floor, she made her way up the rocky slope, using memory to help her avoid some of the boulders she knew were nearby. She ignored the pain in her feet. She’d fostered this form of intentional ignorance in the past four months. Ignoring the burden of the diagnosis made by a doctor who wouldn’t even attempt to discuss other options with her, she had rejected his opinion, and the second opinion of his respected colleague.

  Doing so had helped lately. When she had control of her mind, she had excellent overall control. The only things she could not remember were what happened during her memory lapses. And so when she recovered from one, she simply reconnected with the activities she’d been involved in before the lapse.

  How many times had she told anyone who would listen that this was not Alzheimer’s?

  Did she have sundowner’s syndrome right now? No. She’d successfully found her bearings. In the dark, no less. She had worked with Alzheimer’s patients when she still had her nursing job at the clinic, and she knew the signs.

  Sure, she had memory lapses. It was what happened to women her age. They got wiser and more alluring but they forgot things. At her annual pajama weekend with Nora, Carmen and others, she’d noticed how, each year, they had to help each other more often to think of a particular word.

  Okay, maybe she did have a little more trouble with memory than Rosie or Linda…and maybe even Nora…but Cathy fought the battle just as hard. Carmen wasn’t there yet, but she hadn’t even begun menopause.

  Thank goodness for Megan and Gerard.

  Kirstie was about to release another branch and step forward when a whisper of confusion sifted through the air around her. She stopped and closed her eyes. No. Not now. Not again so soon!

  Always, the confusion.

  She took the step, and a wisp of a limb slapped her in the face. She gasped and stumbled backward, suddenly afraid.

  First the confusion, and then the fear. It was a familiar fear, and she only recognized it when it hit her again…danger in Jolly Mill. She was convinced of it.

  Danger for her? Maybe for others? But why? The ring…

  That was it. A ring. She could close her eyes and see that ring, and it was familiar. She could also see the hand that wore it, big and strong—a little too heavy. It was a man’s ring, and she knew the man. She saw his face. He’d been gone a long time. She had to try to remember this. Had to remember.

  It was Eaton Thompson. She caught a flash of his face—a young face, sixteen, but he was big even then. She dated him when he first came to town their junior year of high school, but after two dates with him he expected payment for the dinners and movies. She’d given him forty dollars and told him not to come around again.

  The memory faded and Kirstie’s next thought went to Lynley. Fear trounced on her in earnest.

  She shook her head, trying to retain her focus this time. Kirstie had to get home and contact Lynley. No time to give in to this black spirit.

  “Megan Bradley, don’t leave me out here in the dark!” she cried toward the resort. “Megan!” Her cry turned to a scream.

  The circle of darkness continued its deliberate march until she had forgotten again. All was gone except for the fear, and she ran up the hill, stumbled on some stones and felt herself falling.

  Someone caught her. Warm hands, soft voices. More than one. Something about those voices calmed her fear. She stopped trying to run and allowed those gentle hands to direct her. She felt caught in a dream. The darkness tried to take the voices from her with its roaring sound of thunder, but she fought it back and sought the sound of those voices. Even if she couldn’t see them, as long as she heard them she would be okay.

  Megan helped Lynley ease Kirstie’s pliable form onto a mossy boulder and then pulled out her cell phone, pushing Data’s inquisitive nose away. “I’m calling Gerard.”

  “Just help me first.” Lynley held the flashlight out to Megan. “Hold this.” She placed her hands on Kirstie’s cheeks. “Mom? Mom, listen to me!” She looked up at Megan. “This is crazy. So soon after the last one? What if she’s having strokes of some kind?”

  “Nothing on the CT scan. I read it myself and I had two of my best radiologists read it. Clean.”

  Lynley patted her mother’s face again, tenderly brushing the hair from her forehead. “What I don’t get is why she was calling your name.”

  “I thought you were in class tonight. I’m sure she did too.”

  “It’s a good thing I wasn’t or I’d still be an hour away.”

  “Why did you come home?” Megan watched her friend’s grim expression in the glow of the flashlight.

  “I called the house.”

  “Just to check?”

  Lynley nodded. “No one answered. Mom always answers. She never leaves it for the machine.”

  Megan looked up the hill. All was dark now. “I thought I saw some kind of light flashing up at the resort a few minutes ago. I thought maybe Kirstie had decided to make a quick check to ensure Gerard got a good impression when he saw it.”

  “I didn’t see any light. When the lights at the lodge are on they’re like beacons.”

  “It was more like a flashlight.”

  “I need to call Gerard. Now.” Megan punched Gerard’s speed dial.

  “She’s wandering somewhere,” Lynley said.

  Megan realized Kirstie was staring as if mesmerized straight into the glow of the flashlight, and she aimed it away as Gerard answered.

  “You left me sleeping in your bed?” came his deep voice almost immediately. “Are you nuts? What if someone had come to visit? What kind of a reputation do you think that would have given—”

  “Yes, Mother. Listen, Kirstie’s having one of her episodes right now and we need your help”

  “How’s she behaving?”

  Megan studied Kirstie’s pretty, wide-open eyes, her fidgeting hands, the fear that flashed into her expression whenever she looked at Lynley. “I don’t know, but she’s wide-awake, she’s just not here with us.”

  “Mom, what’s going on right now?” Lynley asked softly.

  “How can I find you?” Gerard asked.

  “Just downhill from the resort, out on the open hillside.”

  “I’m pulling up to Kirstie’s house. Can I drive there?”

  “You can get here faster by foot. The main entranc
e is on the other side of the section and the gates to the side roads have been bolted shut to keep out trespassers. Do you have a flashlight? You’re going to need it. Even with it you can get lost.”

  “Have a little faith. I’ve seen it from the road in the daylight.”

  “There may be someone up at the lodge.”

  “Be there in a few.” He disconnected.

  “I’m glad it’s not raining,” Lynley said. “Help me get her up. Let’s try to lead her back to the house. Did you notice how she keeps looking toward you?”

  “Nope.” Megan reached down and grasped Kirstie’s arm. “Kirstie, let’s get home. I bet your feet are hurting.”

  Kirstie blinked and made eye contact with Megan for a fraction of a second, then nodded.

  “See that?” Lynley said. “She’ll look at you. It’s like she’s scared to even look at me. When she hears you talking she calms down. I think I’m just making her more nervous. What’s up with that?”

  “It’s called a mother’s love. Would you relax? Our main focus needs to be keeping her calm. We both need to keep talking.”

  “You talk,” Lynley snapped. “She gets more agitated with me.”

  “You’re the one who’s agitated. Calm yourself.” Megan tugged gently on Kirstie’s arm, and she got up. “Let’s go back to the house, okay, Kirstie?”

  Megan glanced at Lynley, who watched her with an expression that was all too familiar, though it had been many years since Megan had seen it or even thought about it. Jealousy.

  Megan and Lynley had been best friends since kindergarten, enjoying sleepovers at both their homes at least once a week. During sixth grade, however, Megan spent less and less time at home and started going home with Lynley more often after school. Barry was never home, anyway, so it was just the three of them.

  Kirstie had always accepted her with warmth and laughter and attention, and Megan soaked it in like a flower bathed in spring sunshine. Those were the times Megan picked up on Lynley’s withdrawal. But they were children then. Why was Lynley behaving like a child again?

  “Let’s take it slowly.” Megan shone the light at the ground.

  “Is Gerard on the way?” Lynley asked.

  “He should be here any time.” Megan took Kirstie’s hand. “Kirstie, can you hear me? Do you know where we are?”

  Kirstie looked at Megan and stumbled.

  “Would you be careful?” Lynley glared at her through the dim light. “You know, you never have given anybody a good enough explanation for leaving your job in Texas.”

  “Not now, please. We have more important things to consider.”

  “Three months left, and you risk all kinds of grief so you can run back home and take care of Mom? Almost as if she’s your own mother, and I don’t have what it takes to help her.”

  “I came to help you too, idiot. Kirstie hated to think you would turn your back on the career of your heart to do a job anyone could do just as easily.”

  “Someone like you?”

  “That’s not what I—”

  “You were closer to her than to your own mom.” Lynley’s narrowed gaze sliced across Megan’s face, and Megan saw pain in her eyes. Once again, the result of lifelong emotional abandonment by her father.

  “I wasn’t closer to her than you were,” Megan reminded her friend. “Kirstie was good at mothering others, but you were her own beloved child. Nothing came before that. Nothing comes before that now. Believe me. I have no doubt of that.”

  Lynley’s gaze shifted away, and Megan stopped breathing for a moment at the latent resentment resting there. The pain of it plunged deeply.

  “I’m not trying to interfere in your relationship with Kirstie,” Megan said. “You should know me better than that.”

  “I asked why you came back,” Lynley said. “Here. To my mother instead of yours. It’s like you’ve shut me out these past three weeks.”

  Oh, Lynley. No. “I thought you understood about my relationship with my mother.”

  “But here you are, all grown up, and you still can’t get along with her?”

  “I choose not to accept the verbal jabs.” There’d been too many already. “The best memories I have are of those six weeks when Dad went overseas for work and she went with him.”

  “I remember. They left you with us.” There was a darkness in Lynley’s voice, an edge that cut through Megan. This wasn’t real. “You were always ‘poor little Megan. That precious child. So smart. So good at everything, and no one is taking the time to teach her things she needs to know.’”

  Megan swallowed, glancing down at Kirstie’s hands, which Kirstie had begun to wring in obvious agitation. “Lynley, would you keep your voice down? What’s wrong with you? This isn’t like you at all.”

  “Stop telling me what to do.”

  Megan focused on controlling her own irritation. She leaned closer to Kirstie. “Time to come with us now, Kirstie. Can you answer us?”

  “I’m trying,” Kirstie’s reply startled Megan. “But there’s danger. Such danger. I didn’t know. Couldn’t know. We can’t tell, Megan. Remember, nothing. Shh.”

  Lynley gasped. “Megan mustn’t tell?” She released her mother and took a step back. “What’s this about?”

  Megan put her fingers to her lips. “She may be coming around.”

  “Good, then maybe she can tell me why you two have been keeping secrets from me.”

  Megan wanted to slap her hand across Lynley’s mouth to shut her up. And yet there was something going on with her. “Lynley, stop and think about what you’re saying. This isn’t you talking. Something’s going on.”

  “Just because your boyfriend’s a cop doesn’t mean you suddenly earned the right to control all our lives.”

  “I have no intention of coming between you and Kirstie.”

  “And yet you have.”

  “No, I haven’t. You aren’t seeing things as they really are right now.” Megan glanced down the hill. Where was Gerard? “You’re the most important person in the world to her. You’re the sister I never had.”

  “But you still can’t trust me with your secrets?”

  “You don’t understand, and right now isn’t the time—”

  “Who are you to tell me what is and isn’t the time to know why my mother is having these spells? You suspect something else?” Lynley studied her mother’s face once more, stepped over to her and pressed fingers gently against Kirstie’s shoulders. “You suspect…” She turned and stalked back to Megan, face inches away. “You suspect me?” Her voice rose in outrage.

  “Of course not, Lynley. You’re really losing control.”

  Lynley’s eyes widened. She raised her hand and drew back.

  Megan winced even as she watched the tears form in her friend’s eyes and the hand draw away. She might as well have followed through with the slap. Megan felt as if the world was cracking apart, as if the sisterhood she’d always shared with Lynley was the jealous, harsh, ugly kind of sibling rivalry and had carried into adulthood.

  Megan knew better, yet she felt her own emotions subverting her logic.

  How could Lynley talk to her like this? Yes, she most likely had a sociopath for a father, but her mother had overcompensated to make up for that, had at times smothered Lynley with her desire to protect and encourage. And if some of that tendency had encompassed Megan, who’d needed that warmth so badly, why did Lynley feel as if she, alone, should have received every drop? Wasn’t the abundant love of her own flesh-and-blood mother enough for her?

  “I’m sorry.” Megan fought her own anger at the battle she saw taking place in Lynley’s eyes. “Sorry I ever visited you, ate at your family’s table, helped your mother clean the kitchen, do the dishes. I’m so sorry that while you sat in y
our room and read and talked on the phone to your other friends—all your other friends—that I stayed and helped your mother with chores you didn’t want to do. So we had a friendship. So what? Couldn’t you even allow me that?”

  Lynley turned away. “I never wanted a sister. I wanted a father. Did it ever occur to you that my father went out at night because he didn’t like company around all the time?”

  Megan bit her lip. Lynley’s bitterness was so contagious. “You know what? Kirstie needs us. If you want to have a slap fight, I’ll be glad to schedule a time for it later, but right now start thinking about someone besides yourself.”

  “Stop it.” The voice, deep and trembling, came from Kirstie, as if forced through deep water.

  Megan and Lynley turned to her. Lynley grasped her mother’s hands. “Mom?”

  TWELVE

  For a moment, Kirstie couldn’t move. It was as if she had to fight her way from beneath a hot tub of sand. She could almost convince herself the argument that dragged her back to reality was part of the blackout, but she knew better. Why were her girls fighting?

  She blinked up at Megan and Lynley, surrounded by darkness, and then as suddenly, as if she had never gone to that other place of terror and darkness, she saw their faces clearly in the glow of the flashlight. She’d been thrust into the role of referee. How long had it been since she’d had to do that? Since they were eight?

  “What are you girls fighting about?”

  “Mom, where did you go?” Lynley asked. “Why were you so—”

  Kirstie clasped Lynley’s hands and squeezed gently, kissed her daughter’s fingertips as she had when Megan and Lynley were little, and patted her face. “Sweetheart, nothing for you to worry about.”

  “But Megan knows.”

  “How can she? I don’t even know.”

  Lynley pulled away from Kirstie’s touch. “That’s all I needed to hear.” She shot a look at Megan that was a few degrees colder than outer space, then pivoted away and strode down the dark hillside, her slender shoulders stiff.