Echo (The Butterfly Series Book 3)

by Isabella Redwood

  Echo

  Isabella Redwood

  Echo Copyright © 2015 Isabella Redwood.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be re-producedor transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including copying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system without express permission of the author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Cover art design and copyright © by Isabella Redwood.

  To my beautiful daughter Alannah Leigh, always remember to dream.

  “Do not touch me and keep your soul out of your fingertips... Die into me or don't come to me at all.”

  - Oriah Mountain Dreamer.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Dedication

  1 The Return

  2 Shattered Images

  3 Signs

  4 Going Home

  5 Home

  6 The Web We Weave

  7 The Ring

  8 The Calm Before The Storm

  9 Trying Times

  10 Shower

  11 Venice

  12 I Do

  13 Illusions

  14 Assumptions

  15 Enlightenment

  16 Dreams Come True

  17 Finally

  18 Celebrations

  19 A Saviour Is Born

  20 The Truth Be Told

  About The Author

  ONE

  THE RETURN

  I stared at the face I saw reflected back in the mirror every day. The face that was as much mine as it was hers.

  It had been five years since I saw my sister and lying here now, it felt like yesterday.

  ‘I am here, Caitlan. You’re safe; everything is going to be okay.’ I stroked the hair off her face and watched for any signs of movement. She was breathing, but unconscious.

  I placed my jacket over the wound that had been pulsing with velvet red blood, pouring relentlessly from her head wound. Having fully checked the rest of her, that and the shallow stab wound Larissa had managed to inflict on her before I had shot her were the main injuries I was most concerned about. Her eyes both swollen and black from beatings made my stomach turn in anguish. What had that evil, psychopath done to her?

  I turned to the left to see Larissa slumped against the bottom step, a pool of black all around her. I hoped she was in hell for everything she had done to us all, but part of me felt the need to go and check if she was still breathing.

  Carefully placing my sister’s hand down, I checked her vitals. She was so cold to the touch, yet her face still reflected the pure hatred that permeated through her every cell. I could see her chest labouring, but it was definitely rising and falling with every attempt her body made to continue on.

  Returning to my sister, I looked at my watch. Where was the ambulance?

  The sounds of sirens blared in the distance, louder, louder until I could see the flashing lights.

  ‘They are coming, Caitlan, just hold on for me,’ I pleaded, watching as two men and one woman ran towards the stained glass door, with two police officers guiding them forward in a protective stance.

  ‘Mam, is there everyone else in the building?’ the officer questioned, pointing his gun upwards as though staking out the place.

  ‘I don’t think so. Please help my sister,’ I shouted, the sirens still blaring as more emergency vehicles poured into the once abandoned car park.

  ‘What is her name?’ the female paramedic asked, checking her vitals with the array of equipment they carried and assessing her condition. She looked poised, so calm as though this was an everyday occurrence and sadly, maybe it was.

  ‘Caitlan, please, is she going to be okay?’ I cried, desperately, the adrenaline pooling and I suddenly felt like I was going to pass out.

  ‘We will do everything we can,’ she reassured, her eyes meeting mine briefly, full of honesty.

  I knew she would do, but after having lost her once, I was not losing her again without a fight.

  I watched as they carried her out on a stretcher to the ambulance and climbed aboard the rig surrounded by machines that kept people alive.

  The ambulance zoomed away at top speed and my stomach lurched. The travel sickness mixed with the intense feeling of terror was making it impossible to not throw up.

  I gripped onto Caitlan’s hand, just trying to reassure her as best I could and hope this journey would end quickly.

  One of the paramedics opened the back door as we arrived at the hospital. The doctors and nurses on standby at the entrance, rushed over to hear my sister’s condition and assessment. I was ushered into the waiting room and sat down on the plastic blue chair that was the only thing stopping me from keeling over onto the floor.

  I turned my hands over and realising I was covered in blood, pulled myself to a standing position, albeit wobbly, and proceeded to the nearest bathroom. My feet were moving, but my mind was closed off. Just waiting for news of my sister and not hearing or seeing anything else.

  Rinsing my hands under the faucet, I watched the water change from white to red and nausea got the better of me.

  After vanquishing my body of everything it held, I started back to the waiting room, desperate for any information. I was completely in a daze; I did not see the room was occupied until I sat down.

  Two men and a boy turned to look at me and for a split second, the whole world stopped. I stared at the boy, my mind generating flashes of the past, the first time I held him, his first smile, step and word, mama.

  ‘JC,’ I mouthed, barely audible and my eyes locked with his, a mirror image of mine.

  ‘Jesus Christ.’ One of the men shouted and I turned to meet his eyes. His blond hair tousled and his face unshaven. He looked like he had been under the worst possible torture emotionally, yet those sapphire eyes that were looking into mine, full of shock, confusion, and utter turmoil. I reflexively turned to the other man who was holding my son’s hand.

  ‘Daddy, who is that?’ JC asked, confused, looking at me as though I was a complete stranger and I realised I still had the red wig and baseball cap on. Yanking them both off, I fell to my knees, tears now clouding my vision and reached out to him.

  ‘Hi, sweetie, I’m…’

  The door opened and two doctors entered the room.

  ‘My name is Doctor Roberts and I have been assessing your sister,’ he explained, straightening the stethoscope that was crooked around his neck. I stood up immediately and wiping my eyes, prepared myself for the news.

  ‘Is she going to be okay?’ My voice was unsteady and raw with all the emotions trying to drown me.

  ‘She is in a critical, but stable condition. We are monitoring them closely. A nurse will come to take you to see her shortly.’ He removed the pager that had started beeping as he was talking and checked it. ‘I have to get this, but she is in good hands and so are the babies.’

  Babies, I could see she was visibly pregnant, but more than one. My musing was interrupted by the sound of his voice. A voice I recognised from long ago, the velvet tone permeating the fog and filling my body with joy.

  ‘Can I see them now? I am the father.’ His voice was authoritative but filled with so much uncertainty.

  I turned and met his eyes, the sapphire blue the same as his brother, but a halo of dark hair offset them. He too had not shaved in days and the black circles under his eyes made my heart ache.

  The realisation of what he had said to the doctor slowly percolati
ng in my brain. The father, he and Caitlan were together. I turned to my son and was about to step forward when he was scooped into the man he had called his daddy, arms.

  ‘Of course, the nurse will take you in soon,’ the doctor confirmed, smiling reassuringly and closed the door behind him.

  ‘I’m Nicholi Veneto and this is Cross. Or I guess you would know him as Lucas.’ He spoke but did not look at me. Above me, behind me, anywhere, but at me.

  ‘I’m Lexi Thomas, Caitlan’s sister.’ My eyes wandered to my son who was looking between his father, me and Cross, incredulous and completely confused.

  ‘She looks just like Sophia,’ JC whispered to his father, and I turned to meet his eyes, for the first time. He did not turn away.

  ‘Sophia. Yes, sorry. Sophia is my sister. That was her favourite doll’s name when we were really little,’ I explained, moving closer to JC who was still clinging tightly to Nicholi’s neck. I watched as his little face tried to make sense of everything. The desire to pull him into my arms and hold him tightly was unbearable and on reflex, my arms reached out.

  ‘I, we need to talk,’ Nicholi began. But it was more a warning, as though I was overstepping some kind of invisible boundary. I looked at him closely, trying to breach his mind and figure out what he was thinking when I felt someone touch my arm.

  ‘Hi, I’m Cross. Lucas,’ he stuttered. ‘Great to meet you.’ He spoke gently, his eyes so full of desperation and fear. I felt like I was suffocating.

  ‘Great to meet you too,’ I replied, more out of politeness than sincerity. All I wanted right now was my son in my arms and my sister awake and well.

  ‘Cross, could you take Jacob to get a drink while I speak to Lexi for a moment please,’ Nicholi requested, his voice ragged, but assured and I flinched at the sound of my name on his lips.

  ‘Sure. Come on, Jake. We can get some snacks for Sophia too,’ he suggested. His smile penetrating his eyes glistening under the artificial lights. My son’s eyes brightened at the sound of her name and my heart ripped in two. He was leaving.

  ‘I would prefer to go with Jacob,’ my voice cracked in desperation. Not appreciating the situation, the desire to be with my son so intense, nothing else mattered.

  ‘It will only take a moment,’ he advised, nodding at Cross. He tentatively smiled, taking JC by the hand and led him out of the room.

  ‘I don’t even know where to start?’ Nicholi brushed his hand through his hair and shook his head. The neon strip lights were glowing down upon him, emphasising the copper tones in his dark hair and I felt my breath catch.

  ‘You just turn up out of the blue as though it was yesterday. It has been five years. Where the hell have you been?’ He was getting more exasperated by the second and my lack of a response in a timely manner was clearly making things worse.

  ‘You seriously have nothing to say?’ He stared at me and shrugged noncommittally as though reflecting back the response he thought I was making by remaining silent.

  I took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eyes.

  ‘My son is alive and I just saw him for the first time in five years. I am sorry if my sheer joy and incredulity are causing you to be angry, but quite frankly I don’t give a damn what you think.’

  It came out far more hostile than I intended and I watched as he processed every word I had said.

  ‘How did you know where Caitlan was?’ It was more an accusation than a question and I could feel the fire in my cheeks reaching an explosive level, melting the uncomfortable blue plastic chairs that surrounded me in its wake.

  Trying to calm myself, I imagined JC as a baby. This was the man who had taken care of him, nurtured him; saved his life. I needed to keep that at the forefront of my mind now, despite the venomous looks he was throwing my way mercilessly.

  ‘Look, I don’t want to argue with you or cast ridiculous accusations at each other. I found out two days okay that my son and sister were alive. I’m sorry if my explanations are not forthcoming, but we just met. Granted I knew you, as a teenager, but that was so long ago and trusting people is not my forte. I just want to get through the next few hours and then we can talk. Okay?’ I was as authoritative under the circumstances as I could be and I watched as he calculated his response.

  ‘You can explain later, but I’m warning you. Mess with that kid’s head and you will wish you had never returned. Understand?’ He enunciated every word and I felt my lip tremble.

  Here was the guy I had dreamt of since the day we had met. My saviour as it turned out and he was looking at me as if I was some despicable woman who abandons her son willingly.

  I lowered my eyes, finding the strength inside that I had collected over the years of being alone and powerless. Raising my eyes to meet his, I paused momentarily. A small sarcastic smile slowly etched across my face, lingering as I formed the words I had longed to say.

  ‘He is my son. I am not going anywhere without him. Understand?’ I repeated his word and watched as he recoiled briefly before opening his mouth to speak.

  The door opening and the police entering the room ended the conversation and I could not have been more grateful.

  This was not at all how, if I knew he was the man who saved my child, I would have expected the conversation to go. I swallowed the tears away, turning my attention to the officers stood before me.

  ‘My name is Detective Henderson and this is Detective Rodriguez. We have a few questions about the incident at Second and Fifth Plaza.’ Clutching his notebook in his hand. My relief at their interruption slowly diminishing.

  I managed to nod and sat down on the plastic chair. This was not how I imagined this day to go at all.

  ‘At 14:00 you made a telephone call to emergency services requesting an ambulance and the police for your sister who you claimed had been stabbed and knocked unconscious. Is that accurate?’ he questioned, a small smile echoing his recollection of events.

  ‘That is correct,’ I replied, clutching the seam of my coat tightly, my eyes drifting to Nicholi who had also sat down opposite and was listening intently.

  ‘Did your sister contact you, a call for help?’ His partner was making notes and my eyes wandered to the posters overhead. Advertisements for vitamins, haemorrhoid cream, and teeth whitening catching my attention. Anything than talk about this.

  ‘No, she did not.’ I kept any elaboration to the minimum, though I feared that would be over soon. His posture tensing at my lack of forthcomingness.

  ‘How did you know she was there? I would appreciate your candour.’ He pushed, and I gathered up all the energy I had left to answer. My hands shaking as I closed them into fists.

  ‘I found out two days ago that my sister was alive,’ I began and he turned a shade darker so I quickly continued. ‘I saw her picture in an interior design magazine for a project she had been working on. I was told she had died with the rest of my family in a shooting five years ago.’ My voice was wavering as the memories I kept securely locked away under house guard were slowly being excavated like old bones, splintered and broken from the digging.

  ‘I have read the file, Miss Thomas. I am very sorry for your loss. I must ask you to focus on my questions at this time, specifically how you knew where to find your sister,’ he reiterated, his voice now gentler, but unyielding.

  ‘We have had a connection since being very little. Caitlan could always feel my pain. Mine was weaker, until two days ago. I had just read the article and was going to bed, after packing for my flight to find her. I dreamt of my brother’s building where we often went as kids. Caitlan was screaming for my help and I immediately woke up checking every news station for any reports of a missing woman.’ My eyes once again turned to Nicholi. This time, he did not look away.

  The sudden blast of emotion and strength generated from his gaze gave me the energy to continue on.

  ‘Can you please explain what happened once you arrived at the Plaza?’ He was ensuring I could not just glaze over the answer. I had to get th
is over with. Closing my eyes, I began.

  ‘The place was deserted, falling down and vandalised. I could not believe how much it had changed since the last time I saw it. Dilapidated beyond recovery. Opening the side entrance, I could hear someone running down the stairs, I peered inside and it was then that I saw my sister for the first time. She was so focused. She had not seen or heard me enter. I was just about to shout out to her when the door to the left opened.’

  I wiped the tear that had inched forward from its emotional prison away and cleared my voice. ‘She turned to my sister who stopped dead on the stairs, her expression immediately changing to petrified as the woman started ranting at her.’

  ‘Did you recognise the woman?’ The other detective spoke for the first time and my head immediately turned.

  ‘I could not see her face, but I knew the voice instantly. I could not move and I watched helplessly as she lunged for my sister. I did not see the knife until it was too late I swear,’ I shouted, turning to Nicholi wanting so much for him to understand. ‘I was completely frozen with fear until I saw the blood and then I snapped back to life.’ My voice was dwindling to virtually nothing.

  ‘What happened then?’ The detective asked and I stared at my shoes, the laces of my trainers, the etching on the seams. Anything to not have to focus on that moment.

  ‘I shot her,’ I confessed. The relief I had felt at the time I pulled the trigger, terrifying me, but now all I felt was cold and empty.

  ‘Did you know this woman?’ Detective Rodriguez asked, scrutinising my face for any sign of information to be gleaned. All I could do was nod wordlessly.

  ‘Can you explain how?’ Detective Henderson pushed, gently. The tears cascading down my face without regard. Swallowing, I felt my body shudder and the pain of the memories gripped me.