He Kills Me, He Kills Me Not

by Willis, Becki

  “Ah, Miz Reynolds,” Brash said, setting the weeping woman away from him. “Did you think of anything else that would be helpful?”

  There was such desperation in his tone that Madison started to pretend she had recalled another tidbit of information, just to save him from the clinging widow. But her pride still stung from his earlier implied insult, and she had the distinct impression that Brash deCordova could handle himself in most any situation, particularly those that involved the fairer sex. Dashing his hopes of an escape, she shook her head. “No, I just thought I would let you know I’m heading home now.”

  “Are you- Are you her?” The simpering note in the other woman’s voice was so exaggerated that Madison almost rolled her eyes.

  Brash made the introductions, using the opportunity to move several feet away from the woman in pink. “Mrs. Gleason, this is Madison Reynolds. Madison, Ramona Gleason.”

  “I’m so sorry about your husband, Mrs. Gleason,” Madison said with utter sincerity.

  The blond sniffed delicately. “Thank you. I’m-I’m so sorry you had to find him like that. Oh, my poor Ronny!” Another wail of sorrow had her reaching for the chief’s arm again.

  An awkward moment stretched into two. Over the top of the crying woman’s head, Brash sent Madison a beseeching look, silently begging her, Do something! Madison shrugged helplessly, which earned her an exasperated stare from the officer. She finally gave into the urge and rolled her eyes, then reluctantly moved forward.

  Touching the other woman’s shoulder, her voice was compassionate as she asked, “Mrs. Gleason, is there anything I can do to help?”

  She pulled away from the broad shoulder she camped against. “Why, yes, yes there is,” Ramona said unexpectedly. “Would you continue to take care of the chicken houses for me?”

  Madison’s jaw fell open in dismay. It was the very last thing she wanted. “I, uh, I’m afraid I don’t know very much about them, ma’am.”

  “You were planning to work here for the week, weren’t you?” There was something almost challenging in the question.

  “Well, yes.”

  “Then I’ll expect you to honor your commitment.” For a grieving widow, her tone had the definite ring of business. “I trust that you and Ronny had some sort of contract?”

  “Yes,” Madison nodded reluctantly.

  “Then it’s settled. At least for the week, you’ll honor your agreement with … my husband.” Her voice crumpled on the last words.

  Brash must have anticipated the fresh round of tears that was coming, because he quickly moved away and out of her reach. He turned his attention to the activity stirring at the door of the chicken house, where the coroner was leading the way out for the stretcher carrying Ronny Gleason’s torn and battered body.

  This time when Ramona Gleason wailed out mournfully, there was no one there to hold her.

  To read more, please go to http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00TYV10GY

  When the Stars Fall, Book 2, available soon!

  Also Available Now:

  The Girl from Her Mirror -

  Book One – Mirrors Don’t Lie Series

  CHAPTER ONE

  San Antonio, TX

  June, 1991

  The little girl stared into the mirror, studying the reflection before her with wide, intelligent eyes. Even at the tender age of three, she knew there was something monumental about this moment. Something she needed to absorb, needed to remember.

  Her solemn gaze roamed over the image, taking in the tumble of wayward curls, tracing the outline of a chubby cheek, memorizing the light in the wide green eyes.

  “I’ll never forget you,” she whispered.

  Her mother stepped into the room, her body rigid. “It’s time,” she announced briskly.

  The little girl continued to gaze into the mirror. She put her tiny hand up, palm against palm.

  “I’ll never forget you,” she promised. “Never.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Austin, TX

  April, 2014

  Makenna Reagan rushed through the automatic doors of the Emergency Room, desperate to find her best friend. The message left on her voice mail had been sketchy, at best; there had been an accident, and she was listed as next of kin. If she hurried, she could make it before Miss Reese went into surgery.

  “I’m here to see Kenzie Reese,” she told the receptionist, pushing back an unruly lock of auburn curls. “She was admitted about an hour ago.”

  “Have a seat. Someone will be with you shortly.”

  Be with her? What did that mean? Makenna nibbled on her bottom lip as she took a seat in the hard plastic chair. Why didn’t they just take her straight back? Maybe Kenzie was more seriously injured than they said. Maybe…

  “Ma’am? You may see your sister now.” A nurse in blue scrubs motioned from the electronically controlled door she held open. Makenna scrambled to her feet, not bothering to correct the mistake. The two of them looked so much alike, everyone thought they were sisters. Being listed as next of kin only cemented the misconception.

  “How is she? Is she all right?”

  “Pretty banged up, but all and all, she’s very fortunate. The doctor will be in to speak with you before we take her up to OR. She’s been asking for you.” The nurse talked as she led the way through a maze of hallways and cubicles. “Here you go,” the nurse said, pulling back the curtain and revealing her very bruised and battered friend.

  “Oh, Kenzie! Kenzie, are you all right?” She rushed to her friend’s bedside, trying to note all her injuries at once. There was a wide bandage wrapped around her forehead, blood caked in her dark tangled hair, an angry red bruise encircling the point of her chin, scrapes and bruises and small cuts on both arms, and her left leg was heavily bandaged and elevated on a stack of pillows. Wires and tubes sprouted from her in all directions.

  “Makenna. You came.” This, groggily.

  “Of course I came! What on earth happened?”

  “Don’t know. One minute I’m driving home, the next thing I know there’s a car in my windshield. When I woke up, I was here. What time is it?”

  Makenna glanced around for a clock. “Uhm, just after noon.”

  “Good, there’s still time.” She sounded relieved.

  “Time for what?”

  “My flight. It leaves at 2:35.”

  “You aren’t going anywhere, my friend, except to the operating room.”

  “Not me. You.”

  Makenna frowned. Either she had taken a nasty knock to the head or the pain medication was making her loopy. “I’m not going with you, Kenzie. You were going on this trip by yourself. For work.”

  “I know. But I need you to go for me.”

  “Kenzie, I think you’re a little confused. Why don’t you just lie back and relax? Can I get you anything, do anything for you?”

  “Yes.”

  “What? You name it. Would you like some ice chips?”

  The young woman in the hospital bed shook her bed, wincing at the pain caused by the simple action. “I need you to do this for me.”

  “Okay, honey, what? What can I do for you?” She found a spot on her friend’s arm that wasn’t injured and patted it comfortingly.

  “Take my place. You get on that plane.”

  “What? What on earth are you talking about?” Makenna drew back, her brow furrowed.

  “I need you to do this for me, Makenna.” Focusing her eyes on her friend with obvious effort, the injured woman spoke in a clear, strong voice. “My career depends on it. Please, take my place. Pretend you’re me.”

  “I can’t do that!” Makenna cried. “I don’t know the first thing about taking pictures.”

  “Of course you do. Point and shoot. And you know how to do research.”

  “Kenzie, I think that bump on your head knocked something loose. Do you know what you’re asking?”

  Kenzie Reese took a deep breath, willing the pain away until she made her point. After she won the argument - which she
knew she would - she would reward herself with a nice, deep sleep. Medically induced, perhaps, but numbed to the pain that radiated throughout her body.

  “I’m asking you to save my shaky career. The trip is already paid for, but I maxed out my credit cards doing it. The magazine will pay me back, but only if I turn in the story. If I don’t make this assignment, I’m toast. Please, Makenna. I need you to do this.”

  “I can’t just up and leave at a moment’s notice!”

  “Why not? You don’t have a job.”

  True. As of two days ago, she was ‘relieved’ of her duties as reporter for the Austin Daily Newsprint. If Kenzie weren’t in her current condition, Makenna wouldn’t appreciate her blunt reminder of the situation.

  “Still, I can’t just hop on a plane and fly off to New England for a week!”

  “Why not? What’s keeping you here?” she asked pointedly.

  This time, she was polite enough not to remind Makenna of her new status as ‘single’. Seemed when it rained, it really did pour. Within five days, Makenna had lost her boyfriend and her job. Surprisingly, the first didn’t smart nearly as much as the latter.

  “You, for one thing. Who’s going to take care of you when you get out of here?”

  “There was something about cracked ribs and a bruised spleen, plus this leg. I’ll be in here a couple of days. You’ll be home before I am.” Her strength was fading. She closed her eyes and continued, “If not, I’ll call Marci or Linda.”

  “I couldn’t leave you at a time like this!”

  “You’ll be doing me a bigger favor, bigger service, by going.”

  “But the plane ticket is in your name . . .”

  “So take my driver’s license, I won’t need it. Pretend you’re me. We’ve done it before.” She opened her eyes long enough to summon an impish grin.

  “Fooling blind dates, job interviewers, and crazy old Professor Nolan is one thing; impersonating someone else to airport security is a federal offense!” Makenna protested. Nibbling her lip again, she added, “At least, I guess it is. Yes, I’m sure it must be. Why would you ask me to do something like that?”

  “Because I’m desperate. I have to make this assignment, Kenna. My job depends on it. My financial future depends on it.” She tried a new tactic. “Our apartment rent depends on it.”

  “But…”

  “I’m stuck here with a busted leg. I’ll be out of commission for who-knows-how-long. This piece can either make me or break me. Please, Kenna. The magazine will never know who gets on that plane, who takes those pictures. Please, do this for me.”

  Makenna hesitated, thinking of all that could go wrong with her friend’s scheme. Something always did.

  “Please, when have I ever asked anything of you?” At Makenna’s unbelieving snort, the bruised and battered woman changed her question. “Okay, so when have you ever turned me down? And why start now, when it’s so important? As your best friend, as your roommate, please, please, I’m begging you to do this for me.”

  Makenna shoved back a handful of curls as she leaned over the hospital bed to peer more closely at her friend. What if her wounds were more serious than she thought? Should she deny her something that was obviously so important to her? But could she leave her at such a crucial moment? Torn between wanting to go and needing to stay, she insisted, “Kenzie, it’s not that simple!”

  “Of course it is,” Kenzie argued. “You’ve been saying you’re stuck in a rut, that your life is too boring, too predictable. For once, do something spur-of-the-moment. Do this for both of us.”

  “But - But the plane leaves in two hours! I hardly have time to get to the airport, much less pack.”

  She was weakening, Kenzie thought with a smile. “Already done. Half your closet is in my suitcases anyway. You have just enough time to pack your own overnight bag, drop my bag with Linda to bring down here, and get to the airport.”

  Makenna paced the small confines of the cubicle. “But so many things could go wrong! I would have to check in with the magazine, wouldn’t I?”

  “By e-mail. You know my account.”

  “What if I need some sort of verification for something?”

  “Like what? You know all my information.”

  It was true. Kenzie was terrible at remembering passwords and numbers; her best back-up was Makenna’s uncanny memory for details. Still doubtful, she threw out a half dozen other scenarios, all of which her friend had an answer for.

  “Makenna!” Kenzie finally stopped her. “It’s already 12:30. If you don’t leave now, my career is over. Will you do this for me, or not?”

  Makenna hesitated another full thirty seconds, staring hard at her friend. She was torn between the duty to stay and the thrill of going. Kenzie was right; this was the perfect time, the perfect opportunity, to step out of her boring little box and do something completely spontaneous, all while helping her best friend. It seemed to be a win/win situation, so what did she have to lose?

  Before she could answer her own question, Makenna drew a deep breath and took a leap of faith. “I have a feeling I’m going to regret this, but … all right. I will take your place this week. I will pretend to be Kenzie Reese.”

  If she could have managed it, Kenzie would have squealed with delight. Instead, the best she could muster was a weary smile as she closed her eyes and sighed in relief. “Thank you. I can’t tell you what this means to me.”

  “I still feel terrible about leaving you at a time like this…”

  “Don’t. It’s what I want.” Kenzie took her hand and squeezed, her grip strong. “They put my purse on that shelf. Take my wallet. It’s got everything you’ll need, even cash. I stopped by the ATM just before the accident. Now get out of here, before you change your mind.”

  “I’ll call when I land. Please, please be fine.”

  “I’m already better, knowing you’re doing this for me.” They said their goodbyes, and Makenna grabbed her friend’s wallet from her purse before leaving. Just as she pulled open the curtain, Kenzie called groggily, “Oh, and I may have borrowed your new black boots.”

  With absolutely no time to spare, Makenna made it to the airport. Check-in went smoothly enough, but she feared hyperventilation at the security checkpoint. When she handed the TSA agent her ticket and photo ID, the woman looked first at Makenna, then at the license, then back at Makenna.

  “Says here you have black hair.”

  Makenna grabbed a curly auburn strand and stared at it, searching for a plausible excuse. Praying she wouldn’t get arrested, right then and there, she struggled to keep her voice light. “They did an amazing job, right? Who would guess this wasn’t my natural color?”

  The woman raised her eyebrows, still unconvinced. “Birth date?”

  Without hesitating, she rattled off her friend’s birth date. “2-21-88.”

  “Address?”

  Again, she supplied it without missing a beat.

  “Guess I need the name of your stylist,” the security officer muttered, handing Makenna back her license. “Have a good flight.”

  Makenna’s knees were weak as she made her way to screening. Her hands trembled as she tugged off her shoes, placed them in the plastic bin alongside her purse and Kenzie’s camera case, and waited her turn through the full-body scanner. As she feared, the camera case had to be searched, costing precious minutes before she was cleared. She started down the long corridors at a fast clipped pace that soon turned into an all-out sprint. She arrived at her gate, out of breath and practically frantic, just as the first passengers were called. Her borrowed ticket granted her select boarding privileges, so she went straight to the gate.

  Makenna stumbled through the boarding, hoping her breathlessness would be attributed to cutting her arrival so close. It was one of those seat-yourself flights, so she found the first empty row and plopped down by the window. As more passengers filed down the aisle, she found herself watching for someone in uniform. Any minute now, they would stop at her row and
demand she come with them.

  She looked at each passenger without really seeing them, scanning their faces for any sign of censure. A nun, a businessman, a grandmotherly type. Her gaze fell on one particularly nice looking man with vivid blue eyes. On some level, as their eyes met and held, her brain acknowledged how attractive he was, but she didn’t have time for chemistry right now. She looked past him, to the next person. So far, so good. No one in uniform appeared.

  Her line of vision was blocked as someone stopped to deposit their case into the overhead bin in front of her. She tried to see around the person, but all she could see was a torso wrapped in blue. Again, on a subconscious level, she appreciated the trim waist and well-toned abs, quite nicely defined beneath the clingy blue knit sports shirt; on a conscious level, she was slightly irritated at the man for obstructing her view.

  The man fluidly swiveled into one of the seats beside her, nearest the aisle. Even with an empty seat between them, Makenna was instantly aware of his presence. He had that sort of magnetism, the kind that demanded your attention and sharpened your awareness. This was a man not easily ignored. He oozed a sense of strength and confidence, an aura of control. Even the spice of his cologne did not hide the heady musk of the man. He was of average height and weight, had average coloring, average styled hair and clothes. He was, however, anything but average. His body was in excellent shape. His muscles were lean and well sculpted. His hair was a bit more blond than brown, and clipped close to his head. The neatly trimmed box beard and mustache that ran along the firm line of his jaw and framed the generous curve of his mouth were a few shades darker than his hair and emphasized the square, handsome chisel of his face. And his eyes. There was absolutely nothing average about the clear blue depths of his eyes.

  Those eyes were turned on her now, making observations of their own. Makenna smiled nervously, allowing her gaze to linger in appreciation for just a second more before she went back to scanning the aisle.