by Kay Hooper
At no time was he even slightly rude or condescending toward Amber, yet he managed to subtly demonstrate to the girl that she was out of her depth with both him and Joanna by launching a rather lively discussion on the current state of American politics. He and Joanna disagreed on a few points, which led to some spirited debate, and by the time they reached the hotel lobby, Amber wore an expression somewhere between stricken and frustrated.
“See you later, Amber,” Cain said, polite but unmistakably indifferent. “Joanna, how you can say that new bill is even remotely necessary—”
“Bye, Amber. Well, of course it’s necessary, Cain. The states can’t agree how to handle it, there must be a million different laws and all of them confusing. Without some kind of accord on the issue, we’re just going to have more of these ridiculous court cases dragging on for years ….” Joanna looked past him and added dryly, “She’s gone.”
He sighed. “I hated to do that. Holly says hearts break easily at eighteen.”
“They do,” Joanna agreed. “But rarely into a million pieces, and they tend to heal as easily as they break. God, she’s so young”
“Even for eighteen, I know. Thanks, Joanna. That’s the second time the kid’s turned up at my place. The first time I was inside and just didn’t answer the door when she knocked.”
Joanna couldn’t help but smile. “I was glad to help. How much longer are she and her parents staying here, do you know?”
“Another week or so, I think. If this was summer, there’d be at least a few more kids her age staying here. But it’s October, she’s bored stiff, and she’s got it in her head—”
“Yes, I know, artists are such romantic figures,” Joanna finished with a soulful expression.
“The bane of our existence,” he confessed with a sad look.
“Yeah, right, I’m sure the burden is unbearably heavy,” she told him with spurious sympathy. “I’ll leave you to bear it alone, shall I? It was nice meeting you, Cain.”
“The pleasure,” he said, “was all mine, Joanna.”
She lifted a hand in farewell and headed across the lobby toward the elevators, thinking it was no wonder both Holly and Amber found the artist fascinating; he had charm to spare. But what she still didn’t know was why one of his paintings appeared in her dream, and what his relationship with Caroline had been. Friend? Or lover?
It was Saturday afternoon when Griffin found Joanna sitting on a bench in Cliffside’s town park with a cocker spaniel puppy asleep in her lap. There was a canvas tote bag on the ground beside the bench, a bat, a dirty softball, and three ragged baseball gloves piled on the ground nearby, and she had one raised foot propped on a huge pumpkin.
“Don’t tell me you bought him,” Griffin said, sitting down beside her.
“No, I’m only puppy-sitting,” Joanna replied gravely. “It seems that the regularly scheduled activities of the Cliff-side softball-playing, kite-flying, and pumpkin-carving club were interrupted by commerce. Mr. Webster stopped by with an offer of five dollars to the group if they wanted to rake his yard, and everyone decided to go. Since Travis here was deemed too young to attend, I offered to sit with him.”
Griffin, recognizing an apt description of the small group of children usually to be found in the park on Saturday afternoons, shook his head slightly. “The pumpkin isn’t carved,” he observed.
“Apparently, they were going to carve it—in practice for Halloween—until it was discovered nobody had access to a knife. Mothers being what they are. And nobody had a kite, hence the need for five dollars.”
“Ah. And how did you get involved?”
“I just stopped by to feed the birds and got drafted to be umpire. Has anybody paid attention to Jason Riordan’s pitching, by the way? That kid’s got quite an arm.”
“If I know Jason’s father, and I do,” he said casually, “Jason’s pitching will definitely be encouraged.”
She smiled faintly and looked down at Travis in her lap, idly toying with the sleeping puppy’s long, silky ears. “I like this town,” she said, not at all sure she did at the moment, but saying the expected thing.
“Not bored yet?”
“Not at all. I told you I generally lead a pretty quiet life even if I do live in a big city; this suits me very well.”
“Especially while the shopping is good? I hear you gathered a few more souvenirs yesterday.”
“And every one a gem,” she said lightly, wondering what his reaction would be if she described in detail her unnerving morning. Then again, he no doubt already knew.
“Including the doorstop?” He made his voice mildly curious. “I suppose every home needs a good doorstop, but I would have thought a foot-high cast-iron beaver would be hell to get on a plane.”
“I thought I’d ship it,” she murmured. Yeah, he definitely knows.
Griffin nodded with hardly a trace of a smile. “I suppose it goes with your decor back in Atlanta?”
“Absolutely.”
He would have kept up his assault on her dignity, but Cliffside’s kite-flying and pumpkin-carving club returned just then to reclaim their property, and it was some time before it could be decided who would carry the heavy pumpkin home. Griffin finally settled the matter himself by promising to see to it the future jack-o’-lantern was transported safely to their school on Monday morning, there to be carved under the supervision of a teacher.
“Very diplomatic,” Joanna commended him when the children had collected their belongings—including a still-sleeping puppy—and rushed off. “Will you deliver the pumpkin yourself?”
“Probably,” he said.
Joanna chuckled, getting to her feet and picking up the canvas tote bag she seemed to be carrying in lieu of a purse. “And you’ll leave it here until then?”
“Might as well,” Griffin said, walking beside her as they headed toward Main Street. “Where are you off to, more shopping?”
“Not exactly. I’m heading to the hardware store to return that box of nails.”
“Wrong size?” he asked politely.
“Oh, I thought a box of washers would do just as well.”
“Do for what?”
She gave him an innocent look. “For the same reason I got the nails.”
Griffin found himself torn between a sigh and a laugh. “Joanna—”
“Are you on duty today?” she asked.
“On call, not on duty. Why? Need help picking out the washers?”
“No, I was just curious to know if the sheriff worked weekends.”
“Only when he has to.” Griffin looked at her, wondering why it was that jeans and a big sweater looked so good on her when the same outfit had made Caroline look childlike. It was the strangest thing. And strange how her eyes were so expressive when Caroline’s had been dark and quiet. In fact, he was beginning to believe the resemblance he and others had seen was not nearly as powerful as they had first imagined.
“My God, it is you!”
They had reached Main Street’s sidewalk, and both turned in surprise to see a man somewhere in his thirties, of medium height, with pleasant features and reddish blond hair walking toward them quickly. His eyes were fixed on Joanna, and it was clear he was startled.
Griffin looked at Joanna just as she sent him a quick glance, and something tightened inside him. There was recognition in her golden eyes, and guilt.
“I thought it had to be you,” Dylan York said as he reached them. “When I got back home this morning, and everybody was talking about you, said you were Southern—”
“Have you two met?” Griffin asked with stony control.
“Not exactly,” Joanna murmured.
Dylan stuck out his hand and introduced himself, adding to Griffin, “I saw her in Atlanta, Griff. Lyssa and I both saw her within a week. And both of us called out Caroline’s name without thinking—it was such a shock, you know? Of course, we got hold of ourselves pretty quick, but it was really unnerving. Nice to meet you, Joanna, believe me; I had half co
nvinced myself you were a figment of my imagination.”
“I’m … glad to be real,” she told him with one of her brief smiles.
“It can’t be an accident you’re in Cliffside, Joanna,” he said, finally releasing her hand. “Do you mind if I call you Joanna?”
“Of course not.” She had not looked at him, Griffin realized, since that first guilty glance.
“Good, I’m Dylan. Lyssa’s not going to believe this. We both work for Scott McKenna, you know.”
“So I heard,” Joanna said. “As for why I’m here … let’s just say I was curious.”
He frowned. “I’ll buy that, but how did you know where to go? I mean, neither Lyssa nor I told you Caroline’s last name or mentioned this town at all. And you didn’t know who we were, since we didn’t bother to introduce ourselves. Neither of us said much to you beyond Caroline’s name before we bolted. So how did you know to come to Cliffside?”
That’s the best question I’ve heard lately. Griffin waited for her to answer it, and he wasn’t surprised when she managed to avoid doing so.
“Don’t you believe in fate, Dylan? I’m beginning to.” She smiled.
Obviously charmed by the smile, Dylan said, “I’ve never really thought about it, but—”
“Sometimes the place you end up in by accident is the very place you were meant to visit,” she said lightly. “I have a friend who claims there are patterns in life, and that sometimes we get caught up in them. I guess that’s what I’m doing here.”
“Okay,” Dylan said, clearly baffled. “But how did you—”
He hadn’t intended to say anything to get her off the hook, but Griffin heard himself ask, “Dylan, is that your car parked across two spaces? What’s wrong with you?”
“Hell, Griff, I saw Joanna and—”
“Joanna isn’t leaving Cliffside today, you know; you can talk to her later. But if one of my people drives by and sees you parked illegally—”
“Okay, okay. I do want to talk to you later, Joanna.”
“Anytime,” she said.
Griffin watched the other man lift a hand and head back toward his car. Then, not particularly giving a damn what anyone thought, he put his hands on Joanna’s shoulders, turned her to face him fully, and said, “Let’s have it, Joanna.” He knew his voice was harsh, and he probably looked mad as hell, but he didn’t give a damn about that, either. Right now, all he cared about was getting a few answers.
She shook her head slightly with a rueful look. “You know, I knew it made sense that the two people who called me Caroline in Atlanta had to be from Cliffside. Had to live here. Must have known her. And just happened to be in Atlanta for some reason. It made sense. In fact, it was the only thing that made sense. And that meant, of course, that eventually they’d have to come home. I was just sort of hoping it wouldn’t be quite this soon.”
Griffin shook her, and he didn’t try to be gentle about it. “Goddammit, Joanna, I want to know what you’re doing here!”
“I told you what I’m doing here. I’m on vacation and I’m finding out about Caroline.” Her voice was steady, and her gaze met his calmly. “Want to call the library where I work and ask them if I’m on vacation? I’ll give you my boss’s name.”
He didn’t let her distract him. “You came here deliberately, didn’t you? You came here knowing you looked like a dead woman.”
She hesitated, but finally nodded. “Yes, I knew I looked like Caroline after Dylan and Lyssa mistook me for her. And—I found out she’d been killed. That’s one of the reasons I came.”
He stared down at her, trying to understand this. “How did you know who Caroline was, where she was from? How did you find out she’d been killed?”
Joanna glanced around as if she felt the weight of watching eyes, then looked back at him. She didn’t seem so calm now. She seemed uneasy, guarded. “I … found out.”
“How?”
“Newspapers, public records.”
“Joanna, if all you knew was the name Caroline, how in hell could you find out anything more?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” she said.
“Try me.”
Joanna lifted her chin. “All right, dammit. I started having the same dream, over and over. And in that dream, I saw a signpost, and the sign said Cliffside. And when I finally managed to track down Cliffside, I saw her picture in a newspaper and Caroline’s obituary. That’s when I decided to come here.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked slowly, not at all sure he was believing any of this.
“Tell you what? That I came three thousand miles to find out all I could about a dead woman because we looked alike and because—”
“Because?”
She drew a breath. “Because, as near as I can figure, Caroline and I died on the same day. But I was luckier than she was. They brought me back. And that night, I had the first dream about Cliffside.”
THE SAT BACK in the visitor’s chair in his office and said, “What’s everybody going to think? That you’re arresting me?” Not that she really cared, and she doubted he did.
“It was the closest private place I could think of,” he said, repeating what he’d told her when he had marched her in here nearly fifteen minutes ago. The door was closed, and so far they hadn’t been disturbed by deputies or anyone else.
“You’ve just started a new round of gossip,” she told him. I’ll bet nobody talks to me after this. “You looked very fierce out there.”
“I think I had a damned good reason to look mad as hell.” His voice was still harsh.
“And I’ve said I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you all the truth before now, but I just didn’t want to sound like a lunatic.” She eyed him thoughtfully, frowning. “And since I think you’re still reserving judgment on that question, I was probably right to keep quiet.”
“I don’t know what I think.” Griffin shook his head without smiling. “It’s the wildest thing I’ve ever heard, Joanna. Just the incredible coincidence of you and Caroline looking so much alike and being involved in car accidents three thousand miles apart at roughly the same time—”
“Exactly the same time,” Joanna insisted firmly. “You say the doctor couldn’t determine the exact time Caroline died, that it was somewhere between noon and one o’clock that day. I was wearing a watch when that power line hit the car, and my watch—like my heart—stopped at three thirty-five. That’s twelve thirty-five Pacific time.” She would have said more, but stopped because of the look of surprise on his face. “What?”
Griffin cleared his throat. “Caroline was wearing a watch. There were no signs of damage from the accident, so we couldn’t use it for time of death, but … it had stopped at twelve thirty-five.”
Joanna laced her fingers together in her lap and looked down at them for a moment, then returned her gaze to Griffin’s face. It wasn’t so unexpected, yet she still felt shock at having it verified. She and Caroline really bad died at the same moment. “I couldn’t have known that,” she pointed out carefully. “It wasn’t in any of the newspaper articles.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
She nodded. “So. Caroline and I looked alike, we were born three days apart, and twenty-nine years later we both had a car accident the same day. I survived my accident without a scratch—but a power line damaged in the crash fell on the car, and I was electrocuted at three thirty-five. Very possibly the exact moment of Caroline’s death. The paramedics brought me back. Caroline wasn’t so lucky.”
“And you started having the dream that night?”
Joanna had already described the dream to him, and so nodded again. “That night. By the time it had been going on for weeks, I had to do something about it.” She hadn’t mentioned her strange compulsion about coming to this place, the overwhelming urgency, and didn’t now. Griffin already thought she was off her rocker; there was no need to confirm that. “It was when I was trying to find Cliffside that for the second time in Atlanta, someone�
��Lyssa Maitland, I assume—called out Caroline’s name when she saw me. After that, I found Caroline’s obituary, and…”
“And decided to come out here. Because of a dream.”
“Because of everything.”
“Do you honestly believe Caroline is communicating with you from beyond death?”
Despite her own uncertainties on that score, Joanna felt her teeth grind together at the open skepticism in his voice. “I don’t know what’s beyond death. Maybe there’s nothing. Before July first, that’s what I thought, that death was just the end. I didn’t believe there was anything, any kind of existence after death. I don’t know what I believe now, not about that. Maybe it isn’t even about that. Maybe … maybe there was just some kind of weird resonance between her and me, a connection because of all the similarities. Maybe each of us does have a double in the world, and maybe we’re joined to those doubles in some way we’ll never understand. I don’t know. All I know is that on July first, I made it back from something we call death, and she didn’t. And I know that if we weren’t connected before that day, we somehow touched each other that day. In that moment. And I can’t explain any of this any better than that, Sheriff.”
If the cold dislike in her voice bothered him, he didn’t show it. “But you think she wanted something of you?”
“I think she was afraid. I think she was in a lot of pain a long time before that car went over the cliffs. I think there’s something wrong here in your pretty little town.” Joanna drew a breath. “And I can’t show you a shred of evidence proving any of that, either.”
Griffin shook his head, but said, still with open skepticism, “Say you’re right. Say Caroline was afraid of something, that she was unhappy. She’s gone, Joanna. Nothing that you or I could do is going to bring her back. So what do you hope to accomplish by trying to find out about her now?”
“Something’s wrong here,” she repeated deliberately. “I don’t know what it is. I don’t know who it involves. I don’t know why I can’t just pack my bags and walk away from it. All I do know is that I have to be here, and I have to try to understand who Caroline was, what her life was. I don’t have a choice about that.”
