Chapter 44
A chill slithered up Ivy's spine as the echo of the click clack of her heels on the parking lot pavement reached her ears.
The Seascape loomed behind her, a formidable building whose activity was winding down for the night.
Only a few cars remained in the space before her, and her blue-green eyes sought and found her own at the far-end of the lot, the dim light from a dying bulb casting it in eerie shadows.
She could hear the hushed pounding of the surf in the distance, and if she really strained her ears, she could still hear the laughter of the last tipsy stragglers pushing their luck inside the restaurant.
Amanda and Lauren had left under protest not even minutes ago, and Ivy regretted turning down their offer for a ride home.
But most of all, she realized as she felt the icy fingers of fear gripping the back of her neck in the unsettling darkness of the night, she regretted not having the young man bring her car to her.
Thirty feet away, and she was having difficulty squelching the unnatural urge to break into a panicked sprint to her car.
"This is ridiculous," she told herself.
She knew the Seascape had an excellent security staff, and the surveillance was top-notch.
That knowledge didn't stop her from digging through the contents of her purse and clenching the small can of Mace in her fist as she strode quickly toward her car. Gratitude welled within her at the remembrance of Sam's compulsive need to protect her.
The rapid tap of her heels on the pavement beat in time with her thudding heart as she pressed trembling fingers against the buttons of the tiny remote in her other hand, and she braved a glance over her shoulder when the tap of footsteps seemed to echo triple-time in her ears.
Light flooded the interior of the car, and Ivy stifled a sigh of relief when she heard the tell-tale whir of the locks unlocking.
The dim bulb above her sputtered, and Ivy's eyes flew skyward, widening as they saw a spray of orange sparks flying from the light as it flickered and finally died, plunging her into darkness.
And an unusual bone-chilling cold.
The fact that the heat, even in the day's waning hours, had still been sticky and uncomfortable just moments ago had Ivy's heart stopping like a stone in her chest.
She gasped, yanking her car door open and tossing her purse into the passenger seat.
The car's engine turned over but refused to start up, behaving like a naughty child, and Ivy jumped at the noise of the car's doors locking the outside world out.
She could see the faint flicker of lightning far out over the ocean, delineating the skyline from the waves as she frantically turned the key in the ignition, trying to get the car to crank.
Her breath was a white cloud hovering around her lips and floating, filtering through the car's interior.
She could hear the faint noise of her cell phone's insistent ringing within her purse, and her movements were frenzied as she fumbled with the bag, dumping the contents into the passenger seat in her haste.
Her compact and wallet and several other items rolled off the edge of the seat, falling into the floorboard, and Ivy felt around blindly for her cell phone.
It was so cold, so unnaturally cold, and her breath escaped her mouth in harsh pants as her fingers closed around the small device, jabbing at the talk button.
"Mom? Mom.are you there? C'mon. What's going on?"
Lauren's voice was teasing, lilting, and Ivy opened her mouth to speak, to say her name, but no words or sound would come out.
The chill invaded her heart and her body as she stared, open-mouthed at the reflection in the passenger window, and she slowly craned her neck around with dread.
Cold blue eyes laughed at her from a face that wasn't human, a face Ivy determined belonged to the dead after all.
The cell phone fell from her numb fingers, Lauren's voice dimly cutting through the roar of white noise in Ivy's ears as she watched a hideously disfigured hand reach out and grab the door handle.
The mechanical lock whirred as it was released, and Ivy clutched futilely at the door as she felt it being pulled open.
And she screamed.
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The music was loud.
Pulsing.
Chad could feel it vibrating through every inch of his body, feel it jarring his equilibrium as he scanned the club crowd for her.
Drinking a toast to their ultimate failure in finding out anything new had sounded good at the time, but as his dark eyes searched for Kay's elusive figure, Chad damned his annoying inability to say no to the girl lately.
Not to mention the newfound appreciation he was discovering for the girl's grit and determination and slender curves. He groaned as he spotted her in a sea of gyrating bodies, throwing herself into abandon and letting go of the dredged up pain of the day the best way she knew how at the moment.
He shouldered past the drunken masses, meeting her dark eyes as he closed the distance between him.
Her dark eyes were tortured.
Wild.
And her black hair was loose and damp against her neck.
He let her grab his hand and pull his body close to hers, following her lead and letting the music dictate his movements.
The crowd closed in around them, pushing them closer together, and he found himself unable to look away from her face as it loomed in front of him.
His eyes widened in surprise as she grasped his hands, planting them loosely on her hips.
The heat from their bodies lightly brushing against each other with each note of music was scorching, and the familiar tug of attraction blindsided him.
This was Kay.
Kay.whose dark, troubled eyes had him hypnotized.
Whose pain spoke to him of something he recognized to some degree within himself.
Whose mouth was slanting over his with brutal force and whose hands clutched at his shoulders desperately as she reached out for something to hold onto as the bottom dropped out of her whole world.
Kay.whose tears tasted of salt on his tongue.
And whose body shuddered with sobs as he hugged her tightly.
Anonymous in a sea of bodies.
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Pain jacknifed through Whitney's skull, and she cradled her head in trembling hands, a soft moan escaping her lips.
Her vision blurred as she sought out the bedside clock on her night stand, and she sighed as she realized it was nearing midnight.
And Ethan, no doubt, was still stretched uncomfortably on the small couch in the living room, after refusing to go home.
He'd said he had no home to go home to.
That was partly true.
But what Ethan didn't realize.
His life, his marriage seemed to be in a complete shambles right now, but he had one essential thing she no longer possessed.
Hope.
She sat up, shoving the covers from her body and swinging her legs over the side of the bed.
The floor was cool beneath her bare feet as she padded into the bathroom, leaving the door slightly ajar and letting a small sliver of light escape, zigzagging across Ethan's worried face.
Her reflection was haggard and old in the mirror, and she shut her eyes against the unwelcome image.
The medicine cabinet creaked as she opened it, and the pills in the brown bottle rattled as she emptied two into her palm.
The water from the tap was lukewarm, but it did its job, aiding the pills as they slipped down her throat.
She tipped the small glass over, watching the water swirl down the sink drain.
The bathroom light went off, and the apartment was filled once again with shadows and the brief flashes of light from the lightning still a fair distance away.
Whitney's bedroom door clicked shut.
Ethan's blue eyes stared blankly ahead long after she'd gone.
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Lightning lit up the sky in brilliant flashes of color, illuminating her way as she walked, trance-like, down the hallway.
It seemed endless, her path. Never-ending.
Branches scratched against a window pane somewhere in the old house by the sea, and thunder boomed, warning of an approaching storm.
Her feet carried her forward, forward, finally pausing outside the bathroom door.
Her hand rose unbidden, chilled fingers twisting the knob.
Water, cold and icy, crept forward, under her bare feet.
The porcelain tub was overflowing, pink bubbles carrying Andrew's bath toys forward on trickling waves.
Her mouth opened in a horrified scream, but the sound only echoed in her head as she knelt beside the tub, plunging her arms into the frigid water.
Searching.
Desperate to save him this time.
The water splashed around her as her hands dove in over and over again.
Reaching.
Grasping.
Tears warmed her cheeks but froze her heart as her fingers closed around something, and she saw its blurry image beneath the pink bubbles as she pulled her hand up, up through the water.
Her face crumpled when she heard its squeak.
Andrew's duck.
Her fingers came away covered in blood, still a deep crimson, and the duck tumbled from her hands, disappearing into the rising water.
Rivers of blood sprang from her palms, and her blue eyes slammed shut as flashes of a long-buried memory reverberated through her mind like the thunder outside.
I didn't mean to do it.
I didn't mean to kill him.
Her blue eyes opened, scanning the bathroom in its blue glow, a river of pale red surrounding her, and she saw her baby son, his dead brown eyes staring at her accusingly.
Mommy.
Mommy, why'd you let me die?
Mommy, why'd you leave me?
The waters rose and rose, and she felt them soaking her underwear, staining the gray pajama top a pale pink.
She had blood on her hands.
She'd always had blood on her hands in her dreams.
Was this a dream? Was this another one of her nightmares?
It seemed too frighteningly real.
That's because it is, Sheridan, she heard her father's mocking voice in her head. You're bad, Sheridan. Bad. You're bad.
"I'm not. I didn't mean to do it. I didn't mean to," she cried, shaking her head and covering her ears against his cruel, mocking laughter. "I didn't mean to," she screamed, thrashing her arms out as if to fend off the emotional blows.
Blue eyes jerked open when she felt warm hands grab her own, and she looked into a tearful mirror-image of her own eyes.
"What, Mom?" Danielle cried, kneeling before her on the hard tile floor.
Sheridan whipped her head around.
The water. The duck. The blood-on her hands, in the bubbles.
It was all gone.
Lightning cracked loudly against the black backdrop of the sky outside, making them both jump in surprise.
"Danielle," Sheridan's voice was rough with emotion as she wrapped her arms around her worried daughter and held on.
"Mommy?" Danielle pulled back to study her face to make sure she was telling the truth. "Are you okay? What did you mean when you said you didn't mean to?"
Sheridan sighed, combing her fingers through Danielle's tangled dark hair as she looked into her compassionate blue eyes. "I'm fine, Baby. Now that you're here. I didn't mean to wake you. That's all. I guess I was sleepwalking again."
Danielle bit her lip. "You haven't done that in a long time."
"No, I haven't," Sheridan agreed, pulling herself to her feet and holding out a hand for her daughter. "Not for a long time," she said, linking her fingers through Danielle's smaller ones and leading her out of the bathroom.
"Don't scare me like that again. Please, Mommy?" Danielle pleaded her with blue eyes shining. "Daddy's not here to watch you, and I don't want you to hurt yourself. What if you fall or walk outside and go to the beach or."
"Sweetie," Sheridan laughed lightly, hugging her daughter to her tightly and walking them both back into the bedroom at the end of the hall. "I'll lock the door if you makes you feel better. And put a chair in front of it."
"And you won't be able to get out?"
"I won't be able to get out," Sheridan assured her with a sparkle in her eyes. "That's too much work. I'll give it up and crawl back into bed with you."
"Mom," Danielle giggled, climbing into the bed and scooting over for her to join her. "You promise?" she asked, more seriously.
"I promise," Sheridan vowed.
Thunder boomed loudly, making the entire house shudder and a second later, hard rain starting pounding against the window panes.
Sheridan opened her arms and held her daughter close to her heart, waiting out the storm like they'd done thousands of times.
For once she was grateful for the fearful lightning, howling wind, and vivid flashes of light.
It took her mind off something else.
Something much more sinister.
Something that refused to let her go.
Some memories never let you go.
A chill slithered up Ivy's spine as the echo of the click clack of her heels on the parking lot pavement reached her ears.
The Seascape loomed behind her, a formidable building whose activity was winding down for the night.
Only a few cars remained in the space before her, and her blue-green eyes sought and found her own at the far-end of the lot, the dim light from a dying bulb casting it in eerie shadows.
She could hear the hushed pounding of the surf in the distance, and if she really strained her ears, she could still hear the laughter of the last tipsy stragglers pushing their luck inside the restaurant.
Amanda and Lauren had left under protest not even minutes ago, and Ivy regretted turning down their offer for a ride home.
But most of all, she realized as she felt the icy fingers of fear gripping the back of her neck in the unsettling darkness of the night, she regretted not having the young man bring her car to her.
Thirty feet away, and she was having difficulty squelching the unnatural urge to break into a panicked sprint to her car.
"This is ridiculous," she told herself.
She knew the Seascape had an excellent security staff, and the surveillance was top-notch.
That knowledge didn't stop her from digging through the contents of her purse and clenching the small can of Mace in her fist as she strode quickly toward her car. Gratitude welled within her at the remembrance of Sam's compulsive need to protect her.
The rapid tap of her heels on the pavement beat in time with her thudding heart as she pressed trembling fingers against the buttons of the tiny remote in her other hand, and she braved a glance over her shoulder when the tap of footsteps seemed to echo triple-time in her ears.
Light flooded the interior of the car, and Ivy stifled a sigh of relief when she heard the tell-tale whir of the locks unlocking.
The dim bulb above her sputtered, and Ivy's eyes flew skyward, widening as they saw a spray of orange sparks flying from the light as it flickered and finally died, plunging her into darkness.
And an unusual bone-chilling cold.
The fact that the heat, even in the day's waning hours, had still been sticky and uncomfortable just moments ago had Ivy's heart stopping like a stone in her chest.
She gasped, yanking her car door open and tossing her purse into the passenger seat.
The car's engine turned over but refused to start up, behaving like a naughty child, and Ivy jumped at the noise of the car's doors locking the outside world out.
She could see the faint flicker of lightning far out over the ocean, delineating the skyline from the waves as she frantically turned the key in the ignition, trying to get the car to crank.
Her breath was a white cloud hovering around her lips and floating, filtering through the car's interior.
She could hear the faint noise of her cell phone's insistent ringing within her purse, and her movements were frenzied as she fumbled with the bag, dumping the contents into the passenger seat in her haste.
Her compact and wallet and several other items rolled off the edge of the seat, falling into the floorboard, and Ivy felt around blindly for her cell phone.
It was so cold, so unnaturally cold, and her breath escaped her mouth in harsh pants as her fingers closed around the small device, jabbing at the talk button.
"Mom? Mom.are you there? C'mon. What's going on?"
Lauren's voice was teasing, lilting, and Ivy opened her mouth to speak, to say her name, but no words or sound would come out.
The chill invaded her heart and her body as she stared, open-mouthed at the reflection in the passenger window, and she slowly craned her neck around with dread.
Cold blue eyes laughed at her from a face that wasn't human, a face Ivy determined belonged to the dead after all.
The cell phone fell from her numb fingers, Lauren's voice dimly cutting through the roar of white noise in Ivy's ears as she watched a hideously disfigured hand reach out and grab the door handle.
The mechanical lock whirred as it was released, and Ivy clutched futilely at the door as she felt it being pulled open.
And she screamed.
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The music was loud.
Pulsing.
Chad could feel it vibrating through every inch of his body, feel it jarring his equilibrium as he scanned the club crowd for her.
Drinking a toast to their ultimate failure in finding out anything new had sounded good at the time, but as his dark eyes searched for Kay's elusive figure, Chad damned his annoying inability to say no to the girl lately.
Not to mention the newfound appreciation he was discovering for the girl's grit and determination and slender curves. He groaned as he spotted her in a sea of gyrating bodies, throwing herself into abandon and letting go of the dredged up pain of the day the best way she knew how at the moment.
He shouldered past the drunken masses, meeting her dark eyes as he closed the distance between him.
Her dark eyes were tortured.
Wild.
And her black hair was loose and damp against her neck.
He let her grab his hand and pull his body close to hers, following her lead and letting the music dictate his movements.
The crowd closed in around them, pushing them closer together, and he found himself unable to look away from her face as it loomed in front of him.
His eyes widened in surprise as she grasped his hands, planting them loosely on her hips.
The heat from their bodies lightly brushing against each other with each note of music was scorching, and the familiar tug of attraction blindsided him.
This was Kay.
Kay.whose dark, troubled eyes had him hypnotized.
Whose pain spoke to him of something he recognized to some degree within himself.
Whose mouth was slanting over his with brutal force and whose hands clutched at his shoulders desperately as she reached out for something to hold onto as the bottom dropped out of her whole world.
Kay.whose tears tasted of salt on his tongue.
And whose body shuddered with sobs as he hugged her tightly.
Anonymous in a sea of bodies.
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Pain jacknifed through Whitney's skull, and she cradled her head in trembling hands, a soft moan escaping her lips.
Her vision blurred as she sought out the bedside clock on her night stand, and she sighed as she realized it was nearing midnight.
And Ethan, no doubt, was still stretched uncomfortably on the small couch in the living room, after refusing to go home.
He'd said he had no home to go home to.
That was partly true.
But what Ethan didn't realize.
His life, his marriage seemed to be in a complete shambles right now, but he had one essential thing she no longer possessed.
Hope.
She sat up, shoving the covers from her body and swinging her legs over the side of the bed.
The floor was cool beneath her bare feet as she padded into the bathroom, leaving the door slightly ajar and letting a small sliver of light escape, zigzagging across Ethan's worried face.
Her reflection was haggard and old in the mirror, and she shut her eyes against the unwelcome image.
The medicine cabinet creaked as she opened it, and the pills in the brown bottle rattled as she emptied two into her palm.
The water from the tap was lukewarm, but it did its job, aiding the pills as they slipped down her throat.
She tipped the small glass over, watching the water swirl down the sink drain.
The bathroom light went off, and the apartment was filled once again with shadows and the brief flashes of light from the lightning still a fair distance away.
Whitney's bedroom door clicked shut.
Ethan's blue eyes stared blankly ahead long after she'd gone.
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Lightning lit up the sky in brilliant flashes of color, illuminating her way as she walked, trance-like, down the hallway.
It seemed endless, her path. Never-ending.
Branches scratched against a window pane somewhere in the old house by the sea, and thunder boomed, warning of an approaching storm.
Her feet carried her forward, forward, finally pausing outside the bathroom door.
Her hand rose unbidden, chilled fingers twisting the knob.
Water, cold and icy, crept forward, under her bare feet.
The porcelain tub was overflowing, pink bubbles carrying Andrew's bath toys forward on trickling waves.
Her mouth opened in a horrified scream, but the sound only echoed in her head as she knelt beside the tub, plunging her arms into the frigid water.
Searching.
Desperate to save him this time.
The water splashed around her as her hands dove in over and over again.
Reaching.
Grasping.
Tears warmed her cheeks but froze her heart as her fingers closed around something, and she saw its blurry image beneath the pink bubbles as she pulled her hand up, up through the water.
Her face crumpled when she heard its squeak.
Andrew's duck.
Her fingers came away covered in blood, still a deep crimson, and the duck tumbled from her hands, disappearing into the rising water.
Rivers of blood sprang from her palms, and her blue eyes slammed shut as flashes of a long-buried memory reverberated through her mind like the thunder outside.
I didn't mean to do it.
I didn't mean to kill him.
Her blue eyes opened, scanning the bathroom in its blue glow, a river of pale red surrounding her, and she saw her baby son, his dead brown eyes staring at her accusingly.
Mommy.
Mommy, why'd you let me die?
Mommy, why'd you leave me?
The waters rose and rose, and she felt them soaking her underwear, staining the gray pajama top a pale pink.
She had blood on her hands.
She'd always had blood on her hands in her dreams.
Was this a dream? Was this another one of her nightmares?
It seemed too frighteningly real.
That's because it is, Sheridan, she heard her father's mocking voice in her head. You're bad, Sheridan. Bad. You're bad.
"I'm not. I didn't mean to do it. I didn't mean to," she cried, shaking her head and covering her ears against his cruel, mocking laughter. "I didn't mean to," she screamed, thrashing her arms out as if to fend off the emotional blows.
Blue eyes jerked open when she felt warm hands grab her own, and she looked into a tearful mirror-image of her own eyes.
"What, Mom?" Danielle cried, kneeling before her on the hard tile floor.
Sheridan whipped her head around.
The water. The duck. The blood-on her hands, in the bubbles.
It was all gone.
Lightning cracked loudly against the black backdrop of the sky outside, making them both jump in surprise.
"Danielle," Sheridan's voice was rough with emotion as she wrapped her arms around her worried daughter and held on.
"Mommy?" Danielle pulled back to study her face to make sure she was telling the truth. "Are you okay? What did you mean when you said you didn't mean to?"
Sheridan sighed, combing her fingers through Danielle's tangled dark hair as she looked into her compassionate blue eyes. "I'm fine, Baby. Now that you're here. I didn't mean to wake you. That's all. I guess I was sleepwalking again."
Danielle bit her lip. "You haven't done that in a long time."
"No, I haven't," Sheridan agreed, pulling herself to her feet and holding out a hand for her daughter. "Not for a long time," she said, linking her fingers through Danielle's smaller ones and leading her out of the bathroom.
"Don't scare me like that again. Please, Mommy?" Danielle pleaded her with blue eyes shining. "Daddy's not here to watch you, and I don't want you to hurt yourself. What if you fall or walk outside and go to the beach or."
"Sweetie," Sheridan laughed lightly, hugging her daughter to her tightly and walking them both back into the bedroom at the end of the hall. "I'll lock the door if you makes you feel better. And put a chair in front of it."
"And you won't be able to get out?"
"I won't be able to get out," Sheridan assured her with a sparkle in her eyes. "That's too much work. I'll give it up and crawl back into bed with you."
"Mom," Danielle giggled, climbing into the bed and scooting over for her to join her. "You promise?" she asked, more seriously.
"I promise," Sheridan vowed.
Thunder boomed loudly, making the entire house shudder and a second later, hard rain starting pounding against the window panes.
Sheridan opened her arms and held her daughter close to her heart, waiting out the storm like they'd done thousands of times.
For once she was grateful for the fearful lightning, howling wind, and vivid flashes of light.
It took her mind off something else.
Something much more sinister.
Something that refused to let her go.
Some memories never let you go.