Identity--A Tale of Murder, Mystery and Romance

by H. D. Thomson

  Those characteristics reminded Skye of another woman long since dead, but whose memory would always linger. Unlike all the other foster parents, Glenda had loved Skye for herself, not the money that came with fostering a child. But that was fifteen years ago, and those two years were far too brief...

  “Bless her heart,” Kathy said as she led the way down the hall and into a living area where a coffee table made from a large tree trunk and lacquered to a glassy sheen sat between a sofa and chair in deep earth tones. “Hypnosis is not one of Bev’s specialties, and she’ll be the first to tell you that, but she’s one of the best psychiatrists I know.”

  “Bev must have thought the same about you. She recommended you above anyone else in Vegas.” Skye crossed the parquet floor and sank down in the chair while Kathy turned on her stereo system. Within seconds, the sound of a running stream flowed through the speakers.

  Kathy turned away from the stereo to face Skye. A half-smile hovered on the other woman’s lips. “We go back years. More than I even like to admit! She’s a great lady, but you didn’t come here for me to reminisce.”

  “No.”

  “Hopefully, this time we’ll get past this block of yours, but I’m not promising miracles.”

  “At this point, anything will help.” Skye shifted in the overstuffed chair and struggled to control the nervous flutter in the pit of her stomach.

  Kathy walked over to the oak fireplace mantle and lit a votive candle beneath a glass sphere filled with a yellow, translucent liquid. She must have seen Skye’s questioning look, because she explained, “With this session, I thought a little boost with an essential oil might help. Juniper’s been proven to stimulate memory. I didn’t have any on hand for your first visit, but hopefully it will help when we get you in a hypnotic state.”

  Skye wiped her damp hands against her jean-clad legs, then clutched the arms of her chair. “If I get agitated while I’m under, I don’t want you to stop.”

  “I don’t think I would feel comfortable—”

  “Please. This not knowing is driving me crazy.”

  Kathy sighed heavily and bent down to light a thick, chocolate-colored candle in the center of the coffee table. “We’ll see. That’s all I’m going to promise.”

  Skye didn’t like her answer, but really, what choice did she have? She didn’t dare start going down a list of hypnotists on the internet for fear of word somehow getting out. Maybe a paranoid thought, but better irrational and alive than dead.

  Opposite from Skye, Kathy sat down on the edge of the sofa. “I want you to look at the candle on the table. Concentrate on the light. With each exhalation, you’ll find yourself relaxing further.”

  Skye forced her hands to loosen their grip on the leather armrests as she sank deeper into the cushions. Still, the flurry in her stomach continued.

  “Now I want you to focus on the light’s warmth,” Kathy instructed in a throaty, yet soothing voice, and for several minutes their breathing permeated the room until she urged gently, “Feel yourself being completely absorbed by this pure, white light with each breath you take. Let it flow through your fingers, arms, legs, and torso and enter each and every pore of your body. Your limbs are growing languid with its soothing power.”

  Skye closed her eyes and nodded, forcing her mind to go blank. She inhaled slowly, taking in the scent of juniper and allowing herself to escape the constraints of time and place. Unease seeped from her stomach as serenity flowed through her mind and body.

  “I want you to go back to that time, back to where you were before,” Kathy instructed in that low, calming voice, “but when you do this, you will remain relaxed. As you remember, the events will be as if you are observing them from a distance and not as if you are a participant. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  After a moment, Kathy asked, “What do you see?”

  Sounds and colors filtered into her mind’s eye. From above her head, a fluorescent light inside an opaque box shone from the ceiling while walls on both sides of her came into focus. “A hallway.”

  “What else?”

  “It’s just a hallway. There’s a door on either side of me, and the walls are sky blue.”

  “How about the doors? Can you open one and go inside.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m lying down on a bed of some type.” An inexplicable tension tightened around Skye’s shoulders and back. “I’m being rolled down the hall by someone.”

  “Are you in a hospital?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Do you see anything else? What about the person who must be pushing you?”

  Skye glanced around, but her head wouldn’t move from its position on the bed. Next, she tried to move her arms and legs but remained somehow bound to the bed as if they were restrained. Alarm meshed with the tension grinding into her muscles.

  “Skye. Pay attention. Who’s there with you?”

  Along with her peripheral vision, she became aware of a shadow. She sucked in a lungful of air. “There’s a person nearby. But I don’t know who.”

  “Relax. We have lots of time. Just concentrate on that person. It will come to you.”

  As Skye tried to focus on the person in shadow, an ominous feeling snatched at her insides. She didn’t want to see who it was, because if she did—

  “No.” Skye struggled to close her eyes but an invisible force kept them pried open. The stench of evil clung to the shadowy figure as it inched closer.

  “What is it?” Kathy asked.

  Ever closer...

  Raw panic caught against the back of her throat.

  Shadows ebbed. Unexpected light flooded the figure.

  My, God!

  That sick, green face. Lizard eyes, flashing yellow hatred peered down at her. The creature’s mouth yawned open and revealed incisors that glowed white. A shudder ripped through her body as those teeth snapped shut inches from her head. She struggled for breath, but the panic closed in tighter around her throat.

  Gasping, Skye twisted her face away. But its breath. The pungent, cloying smell wafted to her. Peppermints and cigarettes.

  A noise broke into Skye’s thoughts. Then she realized the high, keening was coming from her.

  “Okay, Skye. I don’t like this. You need to calm down. Take several slow, deep breaths. Relax. You are no longer in the hall, but in a safe place.”

  Skye took a couple of jagged breaths. She tried to latch onto Kathy’s soothing voice. But those eyes and teeth— Her heart thudded against her chest. A chill slithered over the sweat against her brow and back.

  “Skye. Concentrate on the light. Inhale. Feel the light flow into your lungs and spread through the rest of your body. With each breath, your body grows more languid, heavy, and relaxed.

  “The minutes are reversing to a safer place. They’re rewinding back until it’s the day before. Think of a clock’s hands moving backward, circling again, again. Midnight. Six. Now eight in the morning. You’re going back even further. One, then two days. A week. Whatever you saw will not be there. You’ll be completely safe. Now tell me where you are.”

  “I’m in a hallway.”

  “...the same one?”

  As she walked down the dark, grainy corridor, her nose twitched against the sting of antiseptic in the air. She crept forward, the tile cold against her bare feet. “No. This one’s different. It’s gray.” Dread feathered the back of her neck. “But I’ve been here before. It’s too familiar.”

  “Do you see anything?”

  Skye looked around. She wasn’t supposed to be in this part of the building. She knew it but she continued down the long corridor, mindful of the waiting silence. “There’re double doors at the end of the hall.”

  A cry slipped from one of the rooms. She froze. The sound grew in strength. Unable to halt the urge to uncover its cause, she edged nearer to the room.

  From the other side of the closed door, a moment of thick silence followed. T
hen a scream cut into the air. The sound went on and on, echoing inside her head. Then abruptly, it stopped.

  She stumbled back.

  Another scream broke through the room and into the hall, more strident than the last.

  The pain and terror from inside the room lashed at her. Her stomach twisted. A whimper rose up her throat along with the taste of bile. She struggled to swallow. Barely managed.

  “What’s going on?” Urgency hardened Karen’s voice.

  With a shaking hand, Skye clutched at her throat and stared at the door in horror. “It’s that other person.”

  “The one from before in our last session?”

  “Yes, but now they’re screaming. The pain. My God, they’re in such pain!”

  “Go to the door and open it. This time push yourself to see what’s happening inside.”

  Skye shook her head vehemently. Her toes curled against the chill floor, while the hospital gown around her body scraped against her skin as she took a trembling step backward.

  “Open the door,” Kathy ordered.

  Another step away from the door. Fear crawled like a mutated centipede along the flesh of Skye’s back. She already knew the person behind the screams, but by God, she didn’t want to be a witness to the sick happenings going on inside. “I can’t. I won’t. I’m too afraid.”

  “Then if you won’t go into that room, look around you. What do you see? Anything different?”

  “Just the file folder in a plastic bin beside the door. I can see the name on it from here.”

  “And the name?”

  “The same as every other time.” Frustration and despair thickened Skye’s voice.

  “Tell me anyway.”

  “David Bishop.”

  ~~*~~

  Friday afternoon and two days later, Skye pulled her pickup to a stop and eyed the wrought iron gates, banning the lower classes like herself from entering the neighborhood. She disliked being forced into meeting Bishop at his home, and she particularly disliked bossy men.

  Jay had tried to control her, mold her into a woman he expected a police officer’s wife should be. But no more. She’d gotten used to being her own boss and in charge of her life, not having some man tell her how to run it. Granted, her life was a mess at the moment, but it was her mess.

  It was far too soon to reveal anything about herself to Bishop. She needed to learn more about his personal background, his weaknesses, his strengths before she trusted him. His father seemed harmless enough, but an error in judgment on her part could jeopardize more than her own life. She had to think of her son. He was far more vulnerable.

  She just hoped Bishop held some answers. She eased down her window. A draft of hot air rushed into the cab. She blinked as the fierce heat burned against her face, her exposed skin and burrowed through her clothing, making her wish for the winter months and bearable temperatures. After checking the menu at the gate, she punched in Bishop’s number into the security’s keypad and waited.

  “Hello?”

  Despite the intercom’s static, she recognized Bishop’s deep, scratchy baritone.

  “It’s Skye.”

  “Just drive on through, turn at the first left and it’s the house at the end of the Cul-de-sac.”

  The black, arched gates eased open on silent hinges, and Skye drove into a subdivision filled with perfectly manicured bushes, trees, and lawns. The buzz of a weed-wacker and the scent of freshly mowed grass drifted through the air as she drove past a lawn maintenance truck and two workers sweating under the sun.

  When she reached the cul-de-sac, she stared at Bishop’s sprawling two-story mansion. Okay. Mansion might be stretching it, but the place probably would be the biggest house she’d ever step inside of.

  It was a little intimidating. She’d never lived in a perfect house or socialized with the perfect people inside them. Heck, the two-bedroom condo she’d owned with Jay would have fit inside this opulent home five times over.

  At least Skye knew Bishop wasn’t so perfect, but somehow she didn’t find the knowledge soothing as she guided her pickup around the gray stone, horseshoe driveway and parked in front a pair of massive, wooden double doors.

  She stepped out of the truck and walked around to the entrance where two very wet noses attacked her from both sides. The noses were attached to two friendly and furry golden retrievers.

  Okay. She’d exaggerated on the attacked part. More like investigated. Smiling, she scratched around the ears of both dogs, which sent their bottoms wiggling and their tails wagging that much more.

  “I hope they’re not bothering you.”

  Tensing, she looked up and found a man with gray-brown hair and a tall, lanky frame standing by the front door with a half-smile on his face. Seeing Gordon and not Bishop, she relaxed. A reprieve...for the moment.

  “Not at all. I love dogs. I just never had the opportunity to have one.” She met Gordon’s eyes, the same deep brown color as his son’s, but unlike Bishop, Gordon’s eyes held a softness, almost a sadness in their depths. “Nothing beats a pair of adoring brown eyes and unconditional love when a person walks in the front door after a hard day.”

  “The smaller of the two is Maggie, and Dozer’s our male and the one I’d watch out for. He may look furry and harmless, but that one’s no gentleman.” An ironic smile lifted one side of his mouth. “His name’s short for Bulldozer, because he’ll bulldoze his way through anything. Even knocked me on my butt a couple of times.”

  “I’ll remember that.” Skye grinned back, then followed Gordon and both dogs into the house’s blessed cool interior and across the empty, marble foyer. “You’re son’s expecting me, isn’t he?”

  “Oh, yeah. He’s in the green room. It’s out through that door.” He nodded to his left. “And on your right. Then you go down— I’ll just show you. It’ll be easier.”

  Skye stiffened, under the impression there’d be three of them the entire length of her visit. “Aren’t you going to join us?”

  “Maybe in a bit. I just came over to set up David’s new computer system—the boy has no head for electronics—but I’ll drop by in a bit with some iced tea.” Gordon paused in the hallway. “You should have brought your son. I love kids.”

  “He’s over at a friend’s house right now. I don’t want him missing out on making new friends.” She wasn’t about to tell the man that this would be the last place she’d bring Tyler. She didn’t trust Bishop, so why would she trust him in the same house with her son?

  “That’s a shame.” Gordon led them along an arched hallway and turned down another. “I don’t get much opportunity to be around children, what with David never getting around to making that a priority.”

  Skye didn’t have anything to say to that, but she could imagine Bishop’s lack of appreciation for having his laundry vocalized in front of strangers. “I can’t picture life without mine.”

  Gordon paused at an open doorway. “Same, except there have been times where I wanted to strangle the little turd.”

  A smile quivered on her lips. Somehow she couldn’t see the man strangling his much larger and younger son. Actually, she couldn’t see too many people getting the best of Bishop, but she liked the idea. She liked the idea even more if she were the person to do it, because maybe then she’d be able to get him to tell her the truth about his so-called magic.

  “What’s that, Dad?” Bishop called from what Skye guessed to be the green room

  “Nothing.” Gordon winked at Skye. “Just talking about the dogs.”

  They stepped into a room, and Skye now realized why Gordon had called it the green room. Philodendron, Ficus, Dracaena—too many plants for her to identify—flooded the room in a jungle of greens. Wicker furniture with pale yellow cushions added to the illusion of being in a mystical world.

  She stared, disconcerted at the tranquil, earthy atmosphere. From what little she’d gauged of Bishop, nothing about him was soothing.

  Three walls of glass revealed the outside worl
d, where a myriad of colored flowers framed a Pebble Tec pool, whirlpool and rock fountain. From the swimming area, a pristine lawn rolled across the rest of the yard. Mesmerized, she inhaled crisp, cool air into her lungs, feeling as if she were outside on a beautiful spring day when in truth it was the middle of the summer with sweltering temperatures.

  “My son may not have a head for electronics,” Gordon murmured from beside her, “but he does know his plants.”

  Then he slipped from the room with both dogs, leaving her alone with his son. She met Bishop’s questioning gaze. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Thanks.”

  Casually dressed in faded jeans and a white T-shirt, and even with his severely cropped hair, he looked somehow more approachable than the other times she’d faced him. Appearances didn’t necessarily mean the truth.

  “So.” He strode over and stopped a bare two feet away, pushing into her personal space. “Are you going to tell me the truth as to why you’ve been following me?”

  His entire presence flooded her senses, the breadth of his shoulders, the clean, musky scent of him. He towered over her, while his close proximity leeched her self-confidence. Somehow she managed to stop herself from stepping away to widen the distance between them.

  “Followed? I seem to remember you were the one following me.” She arched a brow, pleased at the confidence in her voice. “Is your ego that big?”

  “Skye, please. No games.” He rubbed a hand along the short stubble of his hair. “Are we talking blackmail?”

  Beneath the frustration and anger in his voice, she heard what she suspected might be fear.

  “Why would you think blackmail?” Skye asked, searching for that same fear in his eyes. “Unless you have something to hide?”

  Chapter 7

  Skye might have pushed Bishop too far.

  A pulse throbbed along the hard line of his jaw while his gaze narrowed. Even angry, Bishop’s angular features and tanned complexion added to an attractive face, but such a façade could hide a multitude of character flaws like her ex-husband. Rattled at the intensity of his gaze, she took in an unsteady breath.