“You’re in deep thought.”
“Yeah,” she answered. “It may be from obsessing about her disappearance. I just . . . well . . . not important.”
Jack’s eyes flickered off the road to the photo. “We’ve spent so much time and energy looking for information. You can’t help feeling like you know her. I’ve looked at that grainy image of her in the yearbook so many times, I’m surprised it doesn’t just hop out of the book.”
“I guess.” Sam shrugged.
“But you’re not convinced?” He reached over and placed his hand on top of hers.
“No, you’re right.” She smiled. With the touch of his hand, he conveyed warmth and stability. “What’s your take on Bill’s comment about seeing Jewel?”
“Weird, huh? I guess it’s possible she got away. Could have been a daughter . . . granddaughter?”
“If I’d been her, I’d run as far from here as I could get. Would she have stayed in the area?”
“I doubt it.”
“I’m anxious to read through those files when we get to the house. When do you need to be at work? Do you have a few minutes to stop by and go through them with me?”
“Absolutely! Don’t even think about reading them without me!”
By the time they stopped along the way, grabbed a burger, and arrived at the house, it was close to one o’clock. Sam carried the folder to the door while Jack juggled the food and drinks.
“Why don’t you head on back to my office—I’m going to grab a few extra napkins from the kitchen.”
Sam stood in the foyer a few seconds longer drinking in that musty scent she loved so well about this house. As she wound her way through the maze of rooms, the boards squeaked beneath her feet. She took her time, trailing her finger along the wall as she enjoyed the textured molding. When she reached his study, Sam tossed her purse on the couch and set the packet aside.
Suddenly something caught her eye. “Jack . . . you need to see this!”
“What? I can’t hear you.” He called from the other room.
“Jack, come quick!” The answer was staring her right in the face. “I think I know where Jewel is!”
Chapter 39
1967
My pulse hammered in my throat. I lay huddled on the barn floor as my mind struggled to absorb the reality of what had occurred. Instinctively, I encircled the sweet swelling at my middle, breathing in a sigh of relief before opening my eyes. Safe. I blinked. The sight of Hilda sprawled beside me through a haze of gun smoke gave the moment a surreal quality. The acrid-scented air stung my nose and eyes. Slowly the blood ebbed into my frozen muscles.
A hand, gentle and warm, rested on my shoulder. “Are you all right?” I jerked away despite the kindness, scrambling backward like a crab before I realized it was Dr. Greyson. He still held the gun in his lap. “You’re safe now. It’s over.” His outstretched palm extended toward me. “Let me help you. You’re bleeding.” The flames of the lantern’s light danced across his cheek.
“You . . . saved . . . me.” My eyes flickered from him to the motionless form of Hilda. The golden clumps of hay grew darker beneath her body. A thick, cloying scent of blood nauseated me. “How did you know?”
“I watched you leave from my study window. When you left the house, I feared for your safety, so I followed you.”
I gave a slight nod, acknowledging his concern. It was only natural he’d be alarmed seeing me leave by myself. How foolish I’d been to traipse off alone in the dark. Thank God, he’d followed me. A jolt passed through me when I considered the consequences if he hadn’t. My arms and legs trembled with weakness. My chin jerked as I tried not to melt into a puddle.
Dr. Greyson reached over and pulled me into his lap with surprising strength. “There, there . . . let it all out, my dear. You’re safe now. I’ll take care of you . . . I’ll always take care of you.” He patted my back much as he would a child’s.
For a moment, I allowed my muscles to grow lax, needing the comfort of being safe and protected—protected!
Aiden!
How could I have left Aiden? I pushed away from Dr. Greyson’s chest, scrambling out of the chair, and raced to Aiden’s still-unconscious body. The agitated mare snorted, her eyes bulged at my approach. “Easy, girl.” I slipped my hands beneath Aiden’s arm and tugged with all my strength. His dead weight moved a mere inch. Not about to give up, I braced myself again, this time dragging him half-outside the stall.
The horse’s powerful muscles reflected sleek and glossy in the dim glow. I shuddered to think of the power behind one swift kick. She reared, bumping the lantern. Light careened around the barn.
“It’s okay,” I crooned. “Easy.” I closed my eyes and focused. One more tug ought to free him. I landed on my rump from the sheer effort, but I cleared Aiden from the reach of the dangerous hooves.
“Bravo, my girl.” Dr. Greyson wheeled himself closer, reached over, and checked Aiden’s pulse.
I pushed to my feet, holding my breath until he gave me an affirming nod. “He’ll have a nasty headache, but otherwise he’ll be fine. We need to see about you, my child.”
I looked at my injured arm, surprised my sleeve was stiff and stained dark.
“Here, allow me.” He whipped out a knife before I had time to protest, sliced off the edge of my tunic blouse, and with expert hands tied it around my arm to stay the blood. “It will have to suffice for the moment.”
I watched his deft fingers at work. The warmth of gratitude flooded my body. “Thank you.”
“How does it feel?”
“Not bad,” I lied. “It could have been much worse if . . . if you hadn’t . . .”
“There, there. No need to say more.”
Tears formed in the back of my throat. I swallowed fighting the befuddling emotions that assaulted me. “Nothing Hilda said makes any sense. Why did she hate me?”
“Hilda has always been a troubled woman. I believe she saw you as a threat.”
“Threat? To Aiden? I don’t understand . . .”
“It isn’t Aiden she was trying to keep you from. She resented my feelings for you.”
I drew in a sharp breath. The cadence of crickets grew louder as an uncomfortable silence fell between us. “B-but that’s crazy. I care for you—your kindness,” I hurried to say. “Why would she be jealous?”
“I’m afraid she recognized you, and she feared it would jeopardize her position.”
It didn’t make any sense. How could I threaten her security? “Are you saying she was in love with you?” I ventured.
“It appeared so. Although the attraction was always one sided, I assure you.”
“Wait a minute. You said she recognized me. Does that mean you both know who I am?”
“Of course, my dear. You don’t think I made it to my position and power by bringing in strays off the street, do you? When Aiden came home with the bizarre tale of rescuing someone out of the river, I found the whole thing preposterous, especially the amnesia bit. He seemed so taken with you. I had to see you for myself. I thought you were a gold digger. Imagine my surprise when you walked in the door.”
“You’ve known all this time . . . and led me to believe you didn’t!” Shock and indignation battled inside me. All those meetings in his office feigning concern . . . pretending to help me figure out my identity . . . it was nothing but a ruse? “Why would you do that?”
“You needn’t be upset. In the beginning, I admit, I was doubtful. I thought perhaps you’d invented the whole loss of memory to con my grandson. So I decided to play along. To my astonishment, your amnesia seemed genuine.”
“So you had me attend those sessions so you could trip me up?”
“Exactly! I wanted to see just what sort of treachery you were up to this time. But Hilda somehow figured out who you were. She’s the one who sent the notes and threatened you. My guess . . . she trapped you and Aiden in the cabin this afternoon as well. She must have gone through my personal things and found evidence of
your identity. There are items I could never seem to part with. Call me a sentimental old fool. At any rate, your inability for recall worked to my advantage. Although, I’m not entirely convinced.”
“Dr. Greyson, if you know who I am, please tell me.”
A slow smile crept across his features. “Come, come, my dear, we both know I’m not Dr. Greyson. Certainly you recognize me and we can drop this charade.” A thinning lock of hair slipped down to dangle crossways against his forehead.
I swallowed, fighting a strange sense of panic. “Dr. Greyson . . . p-please . . . you’re scaring me. I have no idea what you’re talking about.” My mind reeled.
“Don’t you?”
I took a step backward, shook my head, and tried to breathe. The room tilted to the side. I tried to clear my vision.
“That’s far enough.” His voice sounded brittle, like glass shattering. He picked up the gun resting in his lap and pointed it at me. “Where are you going? I thought you wanted to know the truth?”
I eyed Aiden’s unconscious body. Willing him to awaken . . . or maybe he was a part of this madness. What had I stumbled into? “P-please . . .”
“Please what? Tell you . . . don’t tell you, which is it? I’ll fill you in on who you are, if you explain how you did it.”
I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think. The transformation in his face terrified me.
“How did you do it, Jewel? How did you manage not to age all these years? What manner of sorcery is this? Did you sell your soul to that devil Jack? Surely you haven’t forgotten your so-called man from the future. You’re still my wife, and now you’d take my grandson?”
I sucked in a mouthful of air. The statement forced me to double over as if he’d struck me. The rough texture of the stall bit into my arm as I fell against it. Reaching out, I clawed for support. His face swam in and out of focus. I teetered on the verge of consciousness. Wife? Grandson? Man from the future? He was insane! He had me confused with someone else. I shook my head in disbelief. It wasn’t possible.
Chapter 40
1967
Dr. Greyson, or whomever he claimed to be, let out a sigh and looked at me as if dealing with a simple child. “Very well . . . if you wish to play the game a little longer, I’ll indulge you this one last thing.” He rested his shoulders against the back of his chair. “Where would you like me to begin? Shall I start from when I dropped you into the river? Are you certain you are able to stand it? You’re looking pale and still losing blood . . . that’s almost fifty years to cover.”
“Fifty years . . .” Dear Lord! I braced myself against the cubicle, fingering the coarse grain with the tips of my fingers—anything to keep conscious. The mention of the river propelled my thoughts back to the bone-jarring chill of the water Aiden had pulled me from months earlier. “You’re not making sense. Why would you throw me—uh . . . your wife . . . anyone into a river?” My head pounded.
“Why indeed! Need I remind you of the plot you hatched to abandon our marriage? Perhaps your mysterious friend Jack will jog your memory. The letters I found detailing your betrayal—are you going to tell me you don’t remember him?”
I shrank against the wall, bewildered. His eyes flamed with the passion of conviction. What caused this steadfast belief that I was his wife? From the determined set of his jaw, I saw there would be no persuading him otherwise. His matter-of-fact explanations were quite convincing . . . except I knew none of it was true. Things like that were impossible.
“Under no circumstances would I ever allow you to leave. I’d sooner see you dead than allow that to happen. Despite your infidelity, we might have started over. I wanted to get you away from him, away from that house where he held his spell over you.” He took a breath and squared his shoulders. “But you chose to run. I recognized then I’d never convince you to come willingly with me, so I resorted to the only alternative left for me. I tossed you over the bridge to make it appear a suicide. Perhaps I wouldn’t have you, but by God, neither would he.”
I gasped, his admission mind-numbing. He’d just confessed to murder. Not mine, but someone’s. He was delusional. Guilt? Had remorse over killing his wife tormented him all this time?
“You seem dazed, my dear. Any of this jogging your memory?” He lifted a shoulder. “I can’t say what happened to you during the subsequent years, but as for me, I joined the war in Europe. For reasons I’m sure you understand, I couldn’t remain in the states. The army turned out to be most agreeable. They are a rather regimented group, and that suited my taste better than I supposed. You’ll remember from our chat, I met Hilda around this time. You’ve already heard most of the story . . . I did leave out a few of the more gory details. Were you aware she bashed in a man’s head with a rock?”
I covered my mouth, bile churning in my stomach.
“Yes, I’m afraid the atrocities of war and the effects it had on the young Hilda were quite deep. A very unstable woman, but quite loyal, I must say. I stumbled upon her rather grisly scene and recognized it for what it was: an opportunity to be free of my old life and begin anew as someone else. A rebirth, if you will. It was simple to switch the identification tags so it appeared as if I was the one with the fatal head injury. That’s how I became Dr. Richard Greyson, although I can’t say I relished the name. It has served its purpose. The doctor and I looked so much alike no one ever questioned it. Perhaps, I may have done things differently had I foresaw the obsession Hilda would develop for me. She wasn’t at all thrilled when I started courting and later married my second wife.”
“Wait,” I cried, slapping my hands over my ears. “You’re throwing too much information at me. You’re telling me you switched identities, remarried, and convinced Hilda to remain quiet about it all these years! Do you hear how this sounds?” My head ached, arm throbbed, and my legs felt weighted to the ground. I wanted to collapse. It was too much. “I’m not this person you say I am!”
“No? Still don’t believe me?”
“How can I? Are you aware how implausible this would be? You just said you murdered me, threw my body into a river . . . did you kill your second wife, too?”
He laughed, and his eyes flashed. “No. I suspect Hilda took care of that . . . not long after our daughter, Eugenia, was born. Can’t say I was sorry.” There was an edge to his voice. His steely eyes narrowed, his brow furrowed, and his lip curled to reveal contempt. “The woman gave birth to a sniveling female about as worthless as she was. Neither of them was able to produce the heir I wanted.”
He must have noticed my confused expression as I looked at Aiden. “Aiden is not my grandson. . . least-ways not biological. Eugenia was never able to have children, so she wound up adopting him when he was just a baby. Fine, handsome boy with dark hair . . . like yours. I always imagined he was the son we might have had.”
Beneath his indifference, I sensed a loneliness, a vulnerability that hadn’t been there seconds ago. The mere mention of Aiden transformed to his features. The man clearly held a soft spot in his heart for his grandson. Perhaps I could distract him by keeping him talking.
“It must have been a blessing when Aiden came to live with you.”
He nodded, his gaze drifting as he appeared to look through me. “Yes . . . a chance to make up for the way my father reared me.” A tender, almost misty expression crossed his face. “I’m proud of that boy. He might be the only good thing I ever accomplished.”
As crazy as it sounded, in that instant I was able to move beyond the present circumstance and manage compassion for the man holding me at gun point. He was senile—of course. Obviously delusional, but if I could placate him, perhaps he'd put down the gun. “Yes, you’ve done a wonderful job raising him. He’s kind . . . compassionate. Aiden’s a good man.” The moment I spoke the words, it was like tossing down a match.
His cold blue eyes snapped back at me. “Yes, and you would ruin him as you ruined me. You would twist his mind and draw him into your evil spell. I won’t allow you to infect his soul the wa
y you have mine.”
My resolve crumbled. Weak, tired, and shaking, I wasn’t sure I’d hold out much longer. I may not need to, I noted. Aiden stirred. I prayed he would see what was happening and grab the gun before his grandfather could react.
“Grandfather?” Aiden attempted to sit up. He raised a palm to his head, drew his hand away, and stared at the congealed darkness in disbelief. His eyes swept over the scene: Hilda, me, and his grandfather holding the gun. Nothing registered. “What’s going on?”
“Aiden, my boy! Thank God, you’re okay. I was afraid I’d lost you.”
Aiden shook his head as if trying to clear it. He raised dull, questioning eyes to his grandfather. “What? Grandfather, are you pointing a gun at Janie?” He appeared to see Hilda’s body sprawled in the hay for the first time. “Is that . . .”
“I’m afraid so. That may well have been you, if I hadn’t intercepted your friend here.” He indicated me with a wave of the pistol. “I know you thought you could trust her, son. It seems this woman, whoever she is, lured you both out here. She could kill us all. I found her hovering over your body . . . I assumed the worst.”
“Janie?” He turned questioning eyes to me. “What’s he talking about?”
“Don’t believe him, Aiden. I came out to the stables because I received a note asking me to meet you here. When I reached the barn, I discovered you slumped in that stall. Hilda grabbed me from behind and tried to kill me. Your grandfather shot her.”
“Don’t listen to her, Aiden—she’s trying to confuse you.”
“Grandfather, put the gun away. You’re not making any sense. Why would Janie try to harm me?”
“She’s no good, boy. Don’t you see . . . she’s using you?”
Aiden gripped his grandfather’s chair and pulled himself up. His legs wobbled and he staggered a few steps before regaining his balance. “This is crazy. She doesn’t even have a weapon. Give me the gun before someone else gets hurt.” Aiden stretched out his palm to take it from his grandfather’s grasp. “Come on. We’ll go back to the house and call the police. Let them sort it out.”
Timeless Moments Page 29
