In Shadows (25 page)

IERCE HAD LAIN PERFECTLY STILL
when his mother climbed out of bed, waiting to see if she’d just gone to the bathroom. But when she didn’t return immediately he arose stealthily, craning his head like an antenna, trying to locate the strange sensation that had been keeping him awake, tugging at him like gravity. He couldn’t get the idea out of his head that there was something in the house that he needed to find. But he had no idea what it might be.

Even if his mother hadn’t told him, he would have known they were sleeping in Pam and Ernie’s bed. The clean sheets couldn’t disguise the smell of Ernie’s aftershave or the peculiar odor his body gave off, and the aroma of Pam’s favorite perfume was equally evident to the boy’s hypersensitive nose.

He placed his hand very lightly against the wall, exploring the dry powdery feel of the old wallpaper. When his fingers glided across the cool glass of a windowpane he jerked them back, afraid to sense something on the other side, looking in.

Shaking off his fear, he began again to search for the cause of the sensation that would not let him rest. He made it out the door and into the hallway, instinctively turning left, bumping into a side table. He didn’t know how much noise he might have made, but he could feel something on the table doing a pirouette. He gently slid his fingers across the lace-covered top and caught a large porcelain lamp. He slipped his hand up toward the space where the lightbulb should be, but the glass there was cool. When he brought his hand back he smelled kerosene. An unlit oil lamp.

After that he was more cautious, waving his left hand slowly back and forth, testing with his toes, running the fingers of his other hand along the flaking surface of the old wallpaper. His hand slipped across the panels of a door, finding the knob. He sniffed his fingers, smelling Barbara’s eau de cologne, and he stood for a moment, waiting for the tugging to give him direction again. Then he moved on. When he reached the next doorway he touched the knob, and a jolt shot through him.

It was in there.

Ever so slowly he pressed his shoulder against the door, feeling for the telltale shiver in the wood that would give him away to anyone who could hear. But he was sure he wasn’t making a sound now. He figured he could be the world’s first blind cat burglar.

When the door was open just wide enough for him to enter, he slipped inside and began easing along the wall again. He just missed bumping into a bureau that was lower than his outstretched hand, and he slid his fingers along the drawers of the low chest, sidling around to discover the size of the piece. Gently he began to explore the top. A perfume bottle. He’d never smelled the scent before. Maybe it had belonged to Pam’s mother. He knew she had lived in the house before Pam and Ernie.

Suddenly strong hands dropped onto his shoulders, and he twisted instinctively. His back hit the sharp edge of the bureau top, and he winced, thinking of the deep, dark emptiness, the long fall down the stairs. The dresser quivered, but nothing crashed. He sniffed the air, catching a whiff of soap and shampoo, and he relaxed.

It was his mother.

She took his hand and signed rapidly.
What are you doing here?

Looking for something.

For what? This is Jake’s room.

Where’s Jake?

Downstairs.

He nodded to himself as he caught the faintest whiff of Jake’s deodorant and the peculiar musky scent of Cramer’s aftershave. He slid his free hand across the bureau top again. His fingers rested on a faceted object—a jewel, maybe—the size of a small radio dial. On one end of the jewel a chain had been attached. But Pierce knew instinctively that this was not one of Pam’s necklaces. The chain was heavy and bold, like something a man might wear. And the jewel tingled in his hand.

Mandi spelled to him.
Put that back.

But he didn’t want to let it go. The stone felt as though it were glued to his palm, and it had a peculiar feeling, almost as if it were some kind of electronic machine. But the internal workings were a mystery to him, and he felt his consciousness sinking down into the gem, searching.

AKE STOOD IN THE DOORWAY
, staring at Mandi and Pierce’s backs. “Mandi?” he whispered.

“I’m sorry,” she said, turning. “Pierce woke up and wandered in here, and now I can’t get him to leave. He won’t give up this necklace.”

Jake struck a match, lighting the oil lamp on the bureau and peering at the jewel. “How’d he find that?”

Mandi shrugged. “He says he
had
to come in here and get it. He’s not making any sense. It doesn’t look like something Pam would wear.”

Jake shook his head. “It isn’t. I took it off Jimmy Torrio’s brother, José, in Galveston. I don’t really know why I kept it.”

He stroked Pierce’s face, and Pierce sniffed his hand and reached for it.

Jake finger-spelled,
What’s up?

Pierce reluctantly set the necklace down on the bureau but kept his body close to it.

This
, spelled Pierce, tapping the stone.

Jake frowned.
How did you know the necklace would be here?

I wasn’t looking for a necklace.

What then?

Pierce shook his head.
I don’t know.

The boy’s frustration at not being able to explain himself was apparent. His eyes watered, and his hands fisted and then unclenched. He reached for the jewel again, but Mandi caught his hand.

“Let him take it, if he wants,” said Jake.

She shook her head. “It isn’t his. And now that you’ve told me where it came from, I don’t think I want him to have it.”

“He looks pretty upset. Will he be all right if you insist?” asked Jake, shrugging.

Mandi signed forcefully into Pierce’s palm, and eventually he nodded. But it was clear he still wanted the gem. He kept angling his head almost as though he was
listening
for it.

“I can get him back to bed, I think,” she said, nudging a very reluctant Pierce back into the hall.

Jake watched them until Mandi closed the door behind them. He held the necklace in his hand, feeling the same strange tingling he had the day José was killed. What power did the amulet have? Where had José gotten it? What drew Pierce to it?

He lifted the blood-red jewel up to the lantern light, staring into the facets, but there was nothing to be seen but fractured images of his own reflection. He laid the bauble back down on the dresser and blew out the lantern. Then he tramped over to the bed and lay down atop the sheets.

Picturing Mandi, walking away down the hall in Pam’s short robe, he felt a stirring, and he let it warm him, remembering what it was like making love to her. He could still feel the heat of her body against his, hear her panting, remember the clean, hot smell of her sweat. It had always seemed so
right being with her, and he’d known from the beginning that they were going to be together forever. Only it hadn’t turned out that way. And every time he’d thought of her over the past fourteen years he was carried back to that final night in the old house. But he could never quite get that last twenty-four hours with her back into focus. It was all a wash of fear, rage, frustration, sorrow, and pain.

He rubbed his fingertips across his palm, still feeling Pierce’s touch. A question that had been playing at the back of his mind finally sounded like a knell, as he mentally ticked off the years. It was possible. Pierce didn’t look anything like Rich. He didn’t have the beady eyes or the curly brown hair. He was dark-eyed and dark-complected, like a Crowley. And he was too intelligent to be Rich’s kid.

The whole night was itching at Jake. The thing was on his mind; so were Pierce, Mandi, and now the oddness of the boy’s
having
to find the necklace. He tiptoed down the hallway to Mandi’s room, raised his knuckles to knock, and stopped. The house was deadly silent.

He dropped his hand to his side and stared at the door, picturing Pierce. But what was he going to say if she denied it?

All the Crowley men go crazy.

Was that why Mandi had never told anyone that Pierce was his child? Because in her heart she still believed the old stories, regardless of what she said?

It might be. Mandi knew the history of the Crowleys as well as anyone. But he couldn’t rid himself of the overwhelming urge to find out if Pierce was his, and if he was, to tell the boy the truth. Pierce was tough enough to deal with it. But was Mandi? What would she think about him bursting in right now like a klutz? He started slowly back to his room, then whirled back to the door again.

To hell with that. If he’s my son then let’s get it out in the open right now.

He raised his hand to knock on the door, and stopped again.

Calm down. Think about what you’re going to say.

Hi, Mandi, I was just wondering if Pierce is my kid.

Smooth.

I’ve been noticing that Pierce looks a lot like me.

Better. But it still sucks. You were right the first time. Why not just try the straight skinny?

Mandi, is Pierce my son?

Oh, shit. Yes, that’s good. And when she gives you the look that says you really have gone crazy, how do you back out of that one?

The way she looked at him, the way she’d felt in his arms tonight . . . he was sure she still cared, and maybe she would be willing to try to work things out. He knew in his heart that if he knocked on her door and simply opened his arms, more than likely things would progress from there. But that was a different issue. Being together again was more than he had ever hoped for when he’d climbed on the plane in Houston. But now there was Pierce. Was he or wasn’t he? The question was going to have to be asked and answered, and soon.

But did it have to be this minute?

When the door jerked open and Mandi stood there staring at him, Jake found himself tongue-tied.

She nodded, gazing into his eyes. “I keep catching you looking at me like you want to ask something, Jake. What is it?”

At that moment he wanted to hold her, not talk to her. But she was waiting. Was he going to make a fool of himself? Would she think he was a jerk for asking such a stupid question? He knew if he didn’t say something quick he was going to start babbling.

“Tell me what you remember about that night,” he said. “Our last night up at the old house.”

“That’s what you came down here to ask me?”

“Please tell me,” he repeated quietly.

She shook her head. “You must remember as well as I do.”

“I recall sneaking to the old house when everyone thought we were at the dance. I remember going inside, lighting candles. I remember the furniture covered with sheets and all the dust. Whenever I’ve smelled dust for the past fourteen years I’ve thought of that night.”

“It was dusty, all right.”

“I remember wishing we hadn’t gone there.”

She frowned. “Is that what happened to you? Did you hear that thing? I always wondered why you acted so crazy the next morning.”

Jake steeled himself for something else he had to say. “Mandi . . . I tried to kill you.”

“What?” she said, stunned.

“I went crazy. Just like I was always afraid I would. Just like all the Crowleys do, sooner or later—”

“That never happened, Jake. You never hurt me. Ever. I promise you that.”

He shook his head. “A lot of that night is a haze to me. But I remember that all too clearly. How can you
not
remember it?”

“Because it never happened, Jake.”

“Then tell me what
you
remember. Give me details.”

“You want details?”

He frowned. “Not those kind of details. Tell me what we did. What we talked about. Before.”

“You started reminiscing about your mother. It made you sad. I kissed you, and we didn’t really talk much after that. Jake, we were very young, and we had a whole house to ourselves for the night.”

“It doesn’t make sense that what I remember feels so real.”

“Then tell me what else you think you remember.”

“I remember thinking that the inside of the house had always looked bigger to me before.”

“But you hadn’t been back in years.”

“I seem to recall starting a fire in the fireplace.”

Mandi slipped into the hall and drew the door almost closed behind her. “We carried a mattress from the downstairs bedroom to lay in front of the fire.”

Jake nodded. “And then we lay down on the mattress . . .”

Mandi smiled again. “You forgot that we took our clothes off first.”

“I remember lying there with you, and the next thing I knew I heard the whispering, and I was terrified, because I recognized it. I remembered it. I turned to you, and all of a sudden it was like there was someone else inside my head, controlling me. I had my fingers around your throat. I could feel your pulse slowing, then stopping. I could see the terror and the . . . surprise . . . and hurt in your eyes, and there was nothing I could do about it. Then I guess I blacked out. I woke up in the morning, and you were alive, sleeping there beside me. I couldn’t understand . . . It had been so real. Too real to be a dream. And I knew then what had happened to my mother. Or at least I thought I did.”

“That’s why you left,” she whispered. “All this time . . . If I’d just known . . . If you’d just told me . . . But none of that happened. We made love. Right there in front of the fire. And then I went to sleep in your arms. I’ve never forgotten it.”

The way she said it left no doubt that he should definitely feel guilty that
he
had. And he did. He’d much rather have remembered
that.

“And later?” he asked.

“When I woke up early the next morning you were already dressed, and acting real strange. Now I understand why.”

“Strange how?”

“Just weird. Like you didn’t know where you were. You kept pacing around, shaking your head, mumbling to yourself. You scared me a little then. But I wasn’t so much afraid of you as I
was for
you. I thought you might be sick or something. That’s when you told me you were leaving. I didn’t believe you. But I guess I should have.”

“I remember you crying.”

“Of course I was crying. I thought we were always going to be together. I’d just spent my first whole night sleeping in your arms. And then I wake up, and you tell me you’re leaving forever. That
thing
drove us apart, Jake. You shouldn’t have let it. You should have trusted yourself, and me, more than that. You aren’t crazy. You never were.”

She was right. Running away had been the worst decision he’d ever made, and it had solved nothing. It had only cost them fourteen years of happiness that they could never get back. He was through running, though. Whatever it was that had tortured him and his family was going to end, one way or the other, before this storm was over. He was tired of hiding, tired of being alone.

She surprised him by slipping into his arms and resting her head against his chest. He could barely breathe. The smell of her, the feel of her, the warmth of her was overpowering.

“Are you back for good?” she whispered.

“If you want me to be,” he said with a sigh.

She pressed harder against him, and he kissed her on the lips, and for an instant it was as though the intervening years had never been. He wanted her so badly he felt as though he were on fire. But at the same time the memory kept hammering, and he feared his own hands as they gently stroked her back through the thin cotton gown.

A cough from the end of the hallway shocked him, and Jake turned to see Cramer, holding up both hands.

“Sorry,” said Cramer, looking sheepish. “You two should really get a room.”

Mandi chuckled, pushing herself out of Jake’s arms and backing into her bedroom.

“We’ll talk later, Jake,” she promised.

He nodded, staring into her eyes until the door closed.