by MJ Rodgers
She leaned over to nibble at his ear, brushing her breasts strategically against his chest. “Of course you can’t”
Michael let out a choked oath, then grabbed for the receiver and barked out an impatient hello.
“It’s Nate.”
“Nate, this isn’t a good time—”
“Michael, Sergeant Vierra is on my other line. She says she’s at the institute’s door. She’s been ringing the intercom for fifteen minutes, and no one’s answering.”
“For the very good reason that I disconnected the bell chime,” Michael said. “I could see Ayton’s process server waiting in the parking lot. I have no intention of letting Briana get served before I have all the evidence in hand.”
“Sergeant Vierra is not there about the civil matter, Michael.”
Michael didn’t like the sudden sound in his friend’s voice. He steeled himself, knowing bad news was on its way.
“What is it, Nate?”
“Gytha Ayton regained consciousness in the hospital two hours ago. She said she didn’t fall down the stairs. She said she was pushed.”
“Pushed?” Michael repeated.
“Yes. And she said it was her new daughter-in-law who pushed her. Sergeant Vierra has a warrant for Briana’s arrest, Michael. The charge is attempted murder.”
Chapter Twelve
“The statement that Gytha Ayton gave the police is pretty damning,” Keith said to Michael as they waited for Briana to be processed and released on bail. Michael saw the worried look on the swarthy face of his lawyer friend and knew that he wasn’t overstating his concern.
“Let’s hear it, Keith,” Michael said.
“Mrs. Ayton says that one of her wedding guests, a Carleton Quivert, had been a longtime friend of Markam Newcastle. Quivert also knew Natalie quite well. Yet when Quivert spoke to her at the reception, she didn’t recognize him. That puzzled Quivert. The more he watched the way Natalie moved, talked and behaved, the more he became convinced that she wasn’t Natalie. He went to Gytha Ayton and told her of his suspicions. Mrs. Ayton went to her new daughter-in-law’s room to confront her.”
“She accused Briana to her face of not being Natalie?”
“And of tricking Sheldon into marrying her. She said that Briana offered up no denial, no explanation, just stood there staring at her. Gytha stalked out of the room and headed for Sheldon’s. She fully intended to tell him that Natalie wasn’t Natalie. But she said as she passed by the landing at the top of the stairs, Briana came up behind her and pushed her down.”
Michael shook his head. “No way, Keith. I know Briana. Gytha Ayton is lying.”
‘The police contacted Carleton Quivert,” Keith said. “He’s given them a statement that corroborates Gytha Ayton’s story. He definitely talked to her about his suspicions concerning Briana not being Natalie.”
“So Gytha Ayton began to suspect Briana wasn’t Natalie. So she confronted her. That doesn’t prove Briana pushed her.”
“Sergeant Vierra has also found out about the convention three years ago. And the accident at the dress boutique. She’s figured out when Briana stopped being Briana and became Natalie Newcastle.”
“Great,” Michael said. “Now she believes her.”
“Only she thinks Briana regained her memory a long time ago and decided to remain Natalie in order to continue to have access to the woman’s money and the kind of society in which she could meet a rich man like Sheldon Ayton.”
“That’s nonsense. Vierra must know by now that Briana filed annulment papers from Ayton. If Vierra believes Briana’s aim to have been mercenary, how does she explain her actions to get out of the marriage?”
“She thinks Briana panicked and tried to cover her tracks after shoving Gytha Ayton down the stairs.”
“Let me get this straight. First, Briana is supposed to have shoved Gytha Ayton down the stairs to keep her from telling Sheldon she wasn’t Natalie so she could stay married to the man. Only then Briana immediately runs out and tells everyone she’s not Natalie and tries to get her marriage to Ayton annulled?”
“Michael, the police have Briana at the scene with motive, opportunity, and an eyewitness to the crime—the victim herself.”
Michael exhaled in exasperation.
“So, legally, what’s on our side?” he asked.
Keith rested his hand on Michael’s shoulder. “Straight from the hip, Michael. We haven’t got a thing. Unless Bnana can remember what happened and give us some plausible explanation, it’s going to be damn near impossible to win this one in court.”
MICHAEL FLEW BRIANA directly to the institute as soon as she was released on bail. The first thing she did was step into the shower to wash away the smells of the jail—and the feeling of being unclean that came with the kind of accusations that had been made against her.
She didn’t believe that she had done what Mrs. Ayton claimed. But if it wasn’t true, why would Mrs. Ayton say it was? There had to be some mistake. There just had to be.
Damn it, why couldn’t she remember what had happened that night? Why couldn’t she remember her time as Natalie?
She found Michael outside, waiting for her in a chaise longue by the pool. He gave her his chair and pulled up another one for himself.
“How do you feel, Briana?”
“About how Alice must have felt when the Queen of Hearts yelled, ‘Off with her head.’”
“You still remember nothing of the events of Christmas Eve prior to your awakening at the institute?”
His look, and his voice, were deep, gentle, loving. The psychiatrist shield was gone. She was looking at the man. And he looked wonderful. The worries that had been weighing her down for hours lifted from her shoulders. Somehow, she knew, everything was going to be all right.
“Outside of my dream, all I remember is my time with you.”
Michael’s hand rested on hers, strong, warm and reassuring. “Let’s delve into your dream memories, Briana, and get some answers.”
“I don’t remember the details of the dream anymore, Michael.”
“With time, dream images always fade. That’s why it’s so important to record your memories of them right after you awaken from a dream. We have your memories right here.”
Briana noticed then that Michael had brought out the tape machine. He held it in his hand.
“I want you to listen closely and try to recall what you were feeling during the dream images. We’re going to begin where we left off.”
“At the start of the second dream segment?” Briana asked.
“Yes. Ready?”
She nodded.
Michael leaned over to press the play button.
I was at the top of this awkwardly winding staircase with a deep red carpet, part of a procession, Briana’s taped voice said. On the walls to my left were all these old family portraits.
Briana listened carefully as her taped voice went on to describe the Ayton estate.
Were you in this procession or watching it, Briana? Michael’s taped voice asked.
I seemed to be behind it. Only I turned around and when I turned back, the bridesmaids and ushers were gone.
Were you still at the top of the stairs?
Yes, but the stairs were different, steeper, and it was the older woman who stood with her back to me, the one who had tried to give me the dress that smelled of lavender.
In your earlier dream?
Yes. She was dressed differently, not nearly so fine.
Go on.
The woman was cleaning the stairs with this old canisterstyle vacuum. The cord was looping around her ankles. She didn’t seem to be noticing.
What happened?
I called out to warn her. But she didn’t hear me because the vacuum was making so much noise. She tripped on the cord and began tumbling down the stairs.
What did you do?
I watched her fall to the bottom. I wanted to go down to her, but I was afraid. I tried to climb on the banister so that I could slide dow
n. But the banister was too high and I couldn’t reach it. I didn’t know what to do and I was so scared. I started screaming something.
What, Briana?
I don’t know. The dream ended It made no sense.
Michael turned off the recorder. “Tell me what you think of that dream now, Briana.”
“The moment Carlie mentioned Mrs. Ayton’s fall, I thought of this part of my dream. I believed that I might have seen it happen. And yet now that I’ve listened to the tape and my memories are refreshed, I don’t think I did.”
“Why not?”
Briana focused on the dream details in her mind. “Remember when we went over the first dream about my argument with the two women?”
“Yes. Go on.”
“Carlie related the parts of that argument just as I dreamed them. When I saw her, I knew she had been one of the women. And when I saw Mrs. Ayton on the Pettits’ videotape, I knew she had been the other. Then, when I walked into Carlie’s room at the Ayton estate, I recognized the furnishings that had come from the dream and knew the argument had taken place there.”
“So you’re saying that the events and images from the dream proved accurate.”
“Right. But this dream has distorted images that don’t fit what I know to have happened.”
“Tell me about those distortions, Briana.”
“The staircase, for one. At the first part of the dream it has a red carpet and the stairs go through several turns as they descend from the top floor. It is an exact duplicate of the staircase at the Ayton estate.”
“And later?” Michael prompted.
“Later, when I turn back toward the staircase to find the bridesmaids and ushers have disappeared, the staircase is now straight, and it doesn’t have a red carpet.”
“It’s a different staircase.”
“Yes. And it seems to loom larger and steeper in my mind’s eye—more menacing—as though it’s oversize.”
“Or perhaps you’re smaller in relation to it?”
“Smaller? What do you mean?”
“Think about your dream images, Briana. You see the woman falling to the bottom of the stairs. You want to go down to her, but you’re afraid of the steep stairs. You try to climb onto the banister, but it’s too high. What do these things tell you?”
“Of course! I feel like a child. A child would be afraid to go down a steep flight of stairs. And it’s only as a child that I would have been too small to reach the banister.”
“You realize this means you were dreaming of something that had happened to you a long time ago?”
“Then why was Mrs. Ayton in the dream?”
“You said the woman you saw fall was the older woman from your earlier dream argument, but not dressed so fine.”
“That’s right.”
“If she had her back to you and was dressed differently, how did you know that she was Mrs. Ayton?”
“Good question. I think it’s just one of those dream identifications you make by some vague pattern or sense that connects the dream image to someone you know.”
“I need to know why you made this identification, Briana.”
“I’ve told you everything I remember, Michael.”
“Then we’ll have to try a little daydreaming.”
“Daydreaming?” she said. “How will that help?”
“By releasing your conscious from its sentry duty and giving other parts of your mind a chance to come forward. Lie back. Close your eyes. That’s right. Let yourself go limp, loose, as you sink into the cushions. They feel so good, so soft, so comfortable.”
Briana listened intently to Michael’s voice, finding it deep, dreamy, melodic, mesmerizing.
“The winter sun is warm above, Briana. Bring it inside you. Let its soft light start at your toes and work its way up. That’s right. Its warmth soothes your muscles, relaxing them as it gently drifts through your feet, your calves, your knees, your thighs.”
Michael’s compelling voice and pleasant images continued, giving Briana the sensation of a warm light flowing inside her, working its way through her body. She could feel her breathing deepen, her muscles unwind, her nerves quiet.
“You are filled with the light now, Briana. You are calm, contented, and so very relaxed. You will stay that way as you listen to the last portion of the tape once again. You will concentrate on the scene with all your senses. You’ll see the woman on the stairs, hear the noise of the vacuum, feel the wood of the banister beneath your hand. You will be there.”
The tape began. Beneath Briana’s closed eyes, the images of the dream scene slowly played out, but this time everything did seem so much clearer. She was very small in relation to the woman who approached the stairs. Briana could see the scuff on the woman’s white tennis shoes. She looked up at her brown hair, wrapped in a turbanlike scarf. And then Briana caught a whiff of something—something at once both familiar and forbidding.
Briana’s heart began to pound. She could see the vacuum cord twisting around the woman’s ankles. She yelled. But the loud noise of the vacuum was blocking out her warning. The woman tripped.
“She’s falling!”
“Who is it, Briana?” Michael’s voice asked.
Briana could hear the little girl’s voice screaming the answer in her head, loud enough to reach across thirty years.
Mommy!
Briana opened her eyes and sat up. She was shaking all over. “My God, Michael, she was my mother! I saw my mother fall to her death!”
Michael wrapped his arms around Briana. “You’ve faced it, Briana. It’s over now.”
He held her close until the awful tremors racking her body subsided. Finally, she drew back out of his arms to see his face. His eyes were so very gentle. “Did you know it was my mother’s fall I had witnessed?”
“I only knew it had to be something traumatic that happened to you as a child. You buried the memory very deep, because it was so very painful. Now that it’s been released, you’ll start remembering other things.”
“I do. My mother wore a lavender scent, Michael. I smelled it just now when I relived the dreamed memory of her fall. That must be the reason I never liked that smell. That must also be why I confused her in my mind with Mrs. Ayton. The wedding dress that was Mrs. Ayton’s had been packed in lavender sachets.”
He kissed her forehead. “Perfectly logical connection.”
“Why did the childhood memory surface now, Michael?”
“Because you must have seen Mrs. Ayton fall down the staircase and it triggered what you had seen as a child. You responded as a child would, by running and hiding from the truth.”
“So that’s why I disappeared from the Ayton estate. How did I get to the institute?”
“I don’t know. But the shocks of that night had to have been what succeeded in restoring your memories as Briana Berry and caused you to forget your time as Natalie Newcastle.”
“Because if I remembered being Natalie, I would remember seeing Mrs. Ayton fall, and, by association, my mother’s fall?”
“Yes.”
“It’s incredible to believe that I forgot these things on purpose. And I didn’t even know I was doing it”
“The mind is an amazing thing, Briana. It possesses many levels of awareness and many levels of which we are not aware. A part of your mind has been protecting you from the painful memories of your mother’s death for thirty years. When you were in danger of remembering, it tricked you into forgetting all over again.”
“But the memories were in my dreams.”
“Because your dreams know you’re not a three-year-old anymore. They know you can handle the tragic event you couldn’t face then. Dreams are wise—often the wisest part of ourselves. We cannot ever really know who we are in the waking world until we understand who we are in the dreaming one.”
“‘Discover your dreams and discover yourself,’” Briana quoted, remembering the sign on the entrance to Michael’s wing at the institute.
“Briana,
you need to remember the specifics of Mrs. Ayton’s fall. We have to know exactly what happened.”
“But I didn’t dream about her fall, Michael. My dream was about my mother’s.”
“But it was triggered by Mrs. Ayton’s fall. They’re connected, like two sides of the same door in your mind. We’ve seen one of the sides—your mother’s fall. We need to open that door and get a look at the other side. Lie back. Let’s see if we can find those memories that are hiding from you.”
Briana reclined back in the chaise longue.
“Close your eyes, Briana. Let yourself feel the warmth of the winter sun flowing through your muscles, soothing them, warming them, relaxing them.”
Briana didn’t know whether it was because she had just done this, but she found it was even easier to see the white light passing through her and relaxing her from head to toe. She began to float, suspended in the magic of Michael’s hypnotic voice.
“You are at the Ayton estate, upstairs on the landing,” he said. “You can see the red-carpeted stairs that lead below. The pictures of the Ayton ancestors adorn the walls. The top of the banister is heavy and curved.”
Briana found it easy to bring the scene into her mind. Now that she’d seen it in both her dream life and her waking one, the elements were quite familiar.
“Mrs. Ayton is with you,” Michael’s voice said. “See her.”
Fuzzy images, mere flashes, flickered into Briana’s mind. Gytha Ayton’s face contorted in anger. Her mouth open, yelling. Briana strained to hear, but the words weren’t clear. There was another sound overpowering them.
Then Gytha Ayton turned from Briana and began to march away. The other sound was deafening in her ears. Briana looked down to see that a leash was in Mrs. Ayton’s hand. And on the other end of that leash was her dachshund Napoleon.
“Her dog is barking,” Briana said. “That’s why Mrs. Ayton doesn’t hear my warning. She’s tripping, falling down the stairs.”
Briana opened her eyes and sat up. “Michael, no one pushed Mrs. Ayton. It was the dog leash that tripped her. And the little dachshund fell down the stairs with her.”
“No wonder your witnessing Mrs. Ayton’s accident brought back the accident of your mother. A dachshund has much the same shape as an old-fashioned canister vacuum. The visual elements were remarkably similar.”
