“Be grateful she is. It makes it all the easier.” He glanced at his watch. “You’ve got just enough time to get dressed before we have to leave for your appointment.”
She looked down at her blue fleece robe that was tightly belted around her waist. “I can drive myself.”
“Sure you can, but think of it as my doing my job.”
Instead of giving him the argument he obviously was prepared for, she settled for a quick nod. She stopped just as she reached the doorway.
“Mac?”
He turned around.
She managed a brief smile. “When do you sleep?”
“I catch winks here and there. You don’t need to worry,” he assured her.
“Then I guess all I can say is thank you.”
He smiled. “Just to prove what a nice guy I can be, I’ll even do the dishes while you get dressed.”
Mac was grateful to have some time to himself.
Dana had looked haunted as she recounted her dream. Hell, that was no dream. That was some nightmare determined to scare the hell out of her. It sure scared the hell out of him.
What was the significance of her dreaming about an alternate Dana. It sounded like something out of X Files. His first thought was that maybe she did have a split personality and it was starting to assert itself in a dream.
Not all that many years ago, he would have looked at all of this in black and white and seen it for what it was. Not for what it could be. Now he knew better. Too many things weren’t what they appeared to be.
But Dana was what she appeared to be. It was someone else who wanted him to believe she wasn’t. Now all he had to do was find out who it was.
He shouldn’t have held her in his arms. Sure, she needed comfort, but he was definitely thinking about something other than comfort.
She’s a client. You don’t fool around with clients.
“It’s a good rule, McKenna. See if you can remember it for more than five seconds at a time,” he muttered, filling the sink with hot water. He squirted a healthy measure of dishwashing soap into the water, and continued muttering to himself as he washed the dishes and frying pan in a haphazard way that splashed water onto the counter.
He doubted his method of washing dishes would measure up to Dana’s standards, but hell, they were clean. He swiped them with a dish towel and put them away. He even attempted to mop up the water on the counter.
“You didn’t have to do the dishes,” Dana said, walking into the kitchen. She winced as she looked at the sodden dish towel tossed on the counter.
“Figured since I ate your food, I should do the dishes.” He was surprised she’d taken his advice. She’d dressed in jeans and a silky looking T-shirt the color of cantaloupe. She’d pulled her hair back into a neat braid and wore minimal makeup. “You ready to go?”
She grimaced. “As ready as I’ll ever be. Although I could have waited until my regular appointment.”
Mac shook his head. “Personally, I don’t think you should wait. Maybe Abby can give you some answers.”
Abby was in the outer office talking to her receptionist when Dana, Mac and Duffy walked in. Abby glanced pointedly at Duffy, then at Mac.
“He didn’t want to stay out in the truck,” Mac explained. “Besides, it’s not as if you’re in some big building.” He ordered Duffy to lay down. The dog ambled over to a corner and plopped back on his haunches. He gave Mac a doggie grin. Mac sighed. “There’s nothing worse than a smart-aleck dog.”
Abby shook her head. She turned to Dana. “There are times I think the dog is smarter than the owner. Come on back, Dana.” She turned toward the door leading to her private office.
Dana hung back.
The psychiatrist sensed her unease and smiled. “It’s all right.”
“My head knows it’s all right,” she admitted, following the doctor at a slower pace. “After all, it’s not as if this is my first visit. It’s the rest of me that’s not handling this very well.”
Mac picked up a magazine and chose the couch near Duffy, who was now lying down, a ball of fur. Mac offered Dana a look filled with encouragement.
Once inside Abby’s inner office, Dana took possession of the chair and settled back into the plump cushions, while Abby took the nearby chair and turned on the tape recorder for their session.
“I told Mac there was no reason to come in ahead of my regular appointment,” Dana told her. “It’s not as if what happened was going to suddenly disappear before then.”
“From what Mac told me, you had a nightmare that left you feeling unsettled,” she prompted.
“It was a nightmare that scared the hell out of me. It was so strong and clear that I think there was a message in it,” Dana confessed. “You can blame that on my taking Psych 101 in college.”
“Sometimes dreams have hidden messages because when you’re asleep your subconscious is more open and thoughts that you would keep hidden have a chance to surface,” Abby explained. “Did you feel any undue stress before you fell asleep? Drink any alcohol or perhaps take a new prescription drug?”
Dana shook her head. “Nothing out of the ordinary.” She didn’t see the need to mention the encounter with Gary Carter in the building’s parking garage. She couldn’t imagine any connection between her nightmare and Carter. Nor was she about to discuss what was going on between her and Mac. Not when she was still trying to figure it out for herself.
“Do you recall how you were feeling or what you were thinking when you went to sleep?” Abby asked in the low voice that Dana found soothing.
“All I seem to think about anymore is the turns my life has taken in the past few months,” she replied.
Abby tucked a dark curl behind her ear. Dana idly noticed the deep rose shade of the woman’s nail polish and how graceful her hands were.
“Why don’t you tell me how your dream began,” Abby suggested.
Dana could feel the tension building inside her. She took several deep breaths but still had trouble formulating her words.
“Look at the window,” Abby suggested. “It’s daylight and nothing can harm you now. What you’re doing is telling me a story.”
Dana looked out over the small fenced yard behind Abby’s office. A small flower garden with a bird bath set in the middle and a wooden bench nearby was clearly meant to relax its occupants. She started to feel her tension dissolve as she looked at the colorful scene.
“I was six and I was wearing my new blue dress…” she began.
Dana told her story in a slow, halting manner. With each word, she could feel the tension form a tight curl inside her body. Only by looking out the window and not thinking about what she was saying could she manage to tell the story a second time. By the time she finished, she collapsed exhausted against the back of the chair.
“What did you feel when you first woke up?” Abby asked.
“Frightened,” she said simply. “Afraid that my reflection was trying to take over my life.”
“And you’ve never had any portion of this dream before?”
“No.” Dana shook her head. “I was surprised that I’d even remember anything about my sixth birthday.”
“Why is that?”
“I had an accident around then. I fell and cut my head and was unconscious for a few days.”
“Were you wearing the blue dress then?”
Dana was silent for several minutes. “I honestly don’t remember. I didn’t even remember the accident after it happened. But now that I think about it, I don’t recall wearing the dress again.”
“An easy answer would be that you might have ruined the dress back then. Something happened that triggered the memory in your subconscious, but even now it was easier to blame it on someone else. Even if that other person looked just like you.”
“Or I do have a split personality and my dream was telling me what I’ve feared all along,” Dana commented.
“Or it was nothing more than a dream,” Abby suggested. “I know you won’t wan
t to hear this, but nothing is ever clear-cut. We won’t be able to come up with a definitive answer in just this one session. But we can make a start.”
“Right now, I’ll take anything I can get.”
When Dana finally left Abby’s office, she felt drained.
Mac immediately rose to his feet and walked toward her. He looked over her head toward Abby. “Is she all right?”
“You don’t have to talk about me as if I’m not here,” Dana grumbled.
“That’s up to Dana to tell you,” Abby replied. “Dana, I’ll see you next week.”
Dana nodded and pushed her way past Mac. He wasted no time in grabbing Duffy’s leash and following her out of the office.
“What happened?” He was pulled to a stop when Duffy paused to inspect a bush.
“I told her,” she said shortly. She stood by the Explorer’s passenger door. “I really need to get to my office.”
“I told Marti you’d be out for the day,” he reminded her as he unlocked her door. He didn’t move away. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
Dana didn’t mention she’d gotten a look at herself in a mirror when she left Abby’s inner office. There was no missing the haunted look in her eyes and the tension lines around her mouth.
She wanted to lie and tell him she was fine. But how could she tell him that when all he had to do was look at her and know differently?
She swallowed with difficulty. “I’m scared,” she whispered. “Really scared. I think of books and movies where a woman has herself made up to look like someone else in order to take over their life. What if there’s a woman out there who wants my life? What if that woman is really living inside me?”
Mac wrapped his arms around her and held her against his chest. She rested her cheek against his shirt front. The spicy scent of his skin tickled her nostrils.
For a man who likes to show the world his bad-boy image, he can make a woman feel very safe, she thought to herself as she curved her arms around his waist.
How long had it been since she’d felt this safe? What would she do when this was all over? Would she lose all her fears and go on as she had before? She doubted she could ever go back to the life she was living before. Nothing could ever be the same again. A good part of it was due to the mysterious goings-on in her life—but a large part of it was Mac.
She didn’t want to think about the day when she’d say goodbye. Instead, she held on to him tighter.
“Feel mad at the world?” he murmured.
“I feel mad at not being able to do anything about it,” she admitted.
He drew back. “Then let’s do something about it.” He studied her clothing. “First off, we need to stop by your house and have you change into something a lot more casual.”
“This is casual,” she argued.
“Not for what I have in mind.”
“And what is that?”
“The chance for you to fight your demons.”
Chapter 8
Dana dropped her arms to her sides. “I can’t do this.”
“Sure you can,” Mac told her. “Just do what I told you and you’ll do fine.”
She lowered her voice and looked around. “I feel silly.”
“No one is even looking,” he assured her. “Come on. Hit me.”
When he drove her back to her house and told her to change into a pair of shorts and T-shirt, she had no idea Mac meant to take her to a gym. He’d asked if he could leave Duffy in her backyard, and she’d agreed since Mac promised to clean up after the dog. She only hoped Duffy wouldn’t decide her flowers looked tasty. So now she was standing in the middle of the most depressing building she’d ever seen. And feeling more than a little foolish with the boxing gloves Mac had made her wear.
This wasn’t the kind of fitness club she was familiar with. There wasn’t any state-of-the-art exercise equipment available for its members, a swimming pool or even aerobics classes held every hour. This place was a real honest-to-God gym, complete with the sharp tang of sweat in the air that had her wondering if this was what men’s locker rooms smelled like. The stained brick walls were decorated with old posters advertising boxing matches that dated back to the early sixties. She stared at the practice boxing ring where two men were sparring. She winced as one man’s head whipped back when a blow was struck near his chin. Punching bags and free weights finished the sparse decor. The huge room was dimly lit, and she could tell the men who worked out in this place were serious about their bodies. She doubted a juice bar would ever find its way in here.
She was the only woman in the cavernous building and she’d never felt more out of place. Mac had carried a gym bag in with him and left her long enough to change into a pair of sweatpants that had been washed to fragile softness and a sweatshirt that stopped short of his midsection and had the sleeves torn off. He looked as if he belonged here among the men who dressed the same way. She knew the other men probably saw her navy bike shorts, tank top and hundred-dollar cross-trainers as proof that she didn’t belong here. She sensed if she hadn’t come in here with Mac, someone would have asked her politely to leave.
Mac took her over to one corner that boasted a padded floor, and proceeded to tape her hands then fit her with a small pair of boxing gloves. Afterwards, he did the same to himself.
With clinical precision, he showed her how to stand, how to keep her body relaxed. And then, standing behind her and with his arms around her, he demonstrated several punches and even taught her a couple of basic kick moves.
“I want you to punch me in the stomach,” he ordered.
She was appalled he would ask such a thing of her. “No!”
“Sweetheart, trust me, there’s no way you can hurt me. You’re not strong enough. I want you to just go ahead and punch me.” He patted his midsection, which looked hard as a rock.
Dana did as he instructed. Her gloved hand bounced off his abdomen.
Mac hooted with laughter. “Is that wimpy tap the best you can do?” he jeered. “Honey, a fly could hit me harder than you can. Come on, baby, show me what you’ve got. Show me what you’re feeling right now.”
She hit him again. This time hard enough to send a shock wave up her arm. He didn’t even flinch.
“You’ve got someone making your life a living hell, and all you can do is tap me.” Mac’s voice turned hard and cold as ice. His eyes were just as Arctic. “Don’t wimp out now. Do what you want to do to your enemy. Make her suffer the way she’s made you suffer. Dammit, do it!”
Dana wasn’t sure what happened, except that Mac’s taunts seemed to open a door inside her mind.
The disgusting things she’d found inside her house. The woman pretending to be her. Even the fear her mother wouldn’t recover this time. It all flooded through her like a tidal wave. Once started, it couldn’t be stopped.
She was blind to everything around her. She didn’t see Mac standing across from her. She saw her enemy. The little girl in the mirror shrieking at her.
Dana screamed just because it felt good and she went after Mac with the vengeance of a mythical harpy. She ducked her head and punched him in the stomach and kept on punching. She cursed him and kicked him. She flailed at him with her hands, awkward in the large gloves. By now it didn’t matter. She was fighting back and she wasn’t going to stop until her nemesis fell in a bloody heap. She was oblivious to everything but the fury that ran through her veins.
Dana had no idea how long her attack lasted. Only that she stopped because she couldn’t catch her breath, and sweat and tears stung her eyes. Her arms trembled violently and her legs felt as if they would give out on her. She started to take a step, and would have fallen if Mac hadn’t grabbed her. She clutched at him the way a drowning person clutched a life preserver. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she couldn’t have said a word if her life depended on it. She felt as if she’d shattered into a million pieces and had no hope of ever being put back together again.
“It’s okay, Dana.” His low voic
e rumbled in her ear. “Just let it all out. You’ll feel better for it. I promise.”
But it wasn’t okay, she wanted to scream at him. Instead, she just clung to him as she cried for all that had happened. For the loss of an innocence that had allowed her to think the world was a bright and wonderful place. For the realization that dark and ugly-minded people populated the same universe she did.
Dana had no choice when she hit that emotional wall. It was either let it all out or be so consumed by it that she’d never recover.
By the time the tears slowed, she felt exhaustion overtaking her.
“You did good,” Mac said into her ear as he continued to hold her.
She chanced a few glances around the large building. No one was looking her way. “I can’t believe no one saw me make a fool of myself.” She yanked up the hem of her tank top and used it to wipe her eyes and nose.
“Anyone who saw anything would have seen a brave woman fighting her demons.” He picked up one of her hands and untied the glove. He repeated the action with her other hand. Then he unwound the wrappings from her hands. She looked dully at his hands. She had no idea when he’d managed to take care of his own. Then she saw the beginning of a bruise on his midsection.
“I did that?” She was horrified that she’d actually hit him hard enough to damage the skin.
“Yeah, you should be proud of yourself.” He smiled at her.
“Proud that I hurt you?” She couldn’t believe she was hearing right.
“I didn’t think you could do it.” Mac pulled a dingy-looking towel out of his gym bag and wiped his face with it. “How do you feel now?”
Dana took a few minutes to perform an internal evaluation. Cleansed was the only word she could use to describe what she felt was going on inside her.
As they left the building, she noticed a few looks directed her way. If she wasn’t mistaken, each one held a hint of respect.
Perhaps she wasn’t the only one with an internal battle to fight.
Mac was stunned by the ferocity of Dana’s attack. He’d goaded her in hopes he’d get her to let loose with a couple of punches. He hadn’t expected she’d light into him like a wild animal. It had taken some fancy footwork and quick action to protect himself from her punches and kicks. With her emotions running so high, she hadn’t even seen him. Instead she’d seen whatever haunted her, and that was what she’d fought. Mac just happened to be in there. He winced as a couple areas of his body made themselves known. He’d have more than a few bruises in the morning. But they were worth it.
Mirror, Mirror Page 11
