Before I Wake (28 page)

“You erased me. You bleached me from your memory. I’m not sure it’s up to me to tell you who I am. Or more to the point, who I was to you.”

From the beginning, there had always been the implied relationship. She’d felt she knew him from somewhere. The scent of him was familiar. Even the feel of his hands on her arms. His voice. His irritatingly calm demeanor.

“We were FBI partners, Arden.”

That didn’t surprise her.

“You forgot me,” Fury said. “And you forgot that you murdered your parents.”

Things were finally making sense, if you could call it that. “I want to ask you one thing,” she said.

He waited.

He was a patient man.

She remembered the gun she was holding, and realized her hand was both sweating and trembling. “You were in Project TAKE, weren’t you? You’ve been in the tank.” She’d seen the fear in his eyes the day she’d fallen and hit her head.

“Yes.”

Her heart thudded in her chest.
Jesus, Jesus, Jesus
. “That’s what I thought.”

The smell of her mother’s perfume was getting stronger by the second. It filled her head. She wet her lips with her tongue and could taste the flowery scent.

The man in front of her was full of lies and deceptions. Lies and deceptions he may have thought were truth. How did a person deal with that? How did you handle that kind of thinking? It was like trying to wake up from an intensely real dream.

Sometimes it couldn’t be done.

Was she in the float tank now?

She closed her eyes.

A lot of times, before she fell asleep and when she awoke with a jolt in the middle of the night, she would think she was there, in the tank. She couldn’t escape it, not even in New Mexico. She always went back to the tank. To the water.

Those moments filled her with heart-pounding terror. Now, for the second time in a matter of hours, she actually hoped she was in the tank. Now, with her eyes closed, she tried to re-create that feeling, to make it happen.

All things bad become good.

She felt the Glock slide from her fingers and opened her eyes to see Fury taking it away. He checked the safety, then slipped it back in his shoulder holster.

Was he right? Had she killed her family?

“Is there any other possibility?” She looked at Fury and sensed that he disliked the idea of her being the killer as much as she did. “There has to be another possibility.” Had she murdered Eli? “I would remember killing Eli.”

But what if she’d been brainwashed not to remember the innocent people she’d killed? She put a hand to her forehead and rubbed hard.

In her mind, she pictured herself going down the hillside to the barn. The door was open and Eli was bent over the red plastic jug.

How had she gotten out of the house without being noticed? Oh, it could be done. She’d done it often growing up.

“Fire doesn’t fit French’s MO,” she said in a monotone voice, still staring at the vision in her head. “If I were a copycat, why the fire?”

“That part was pure opportunity. You know how opportunity works when it comes to killers.”

Yes, often there was an element in these scenarios that didn’t fit.

She set him on fire. She cut his throat.

Not me. Somebody else. Somebody in my head
. “You are wrong,” she insisted. “You are so wrong.”

He watched her in somber silence. “I want you to think about it. I want you to consider what I’ve said.”

Heavy footsteps sounded downstairs. “Everything okay?” Harley shouted up at them.

Like a dreamer falling into bed as she awakened, Arden jumped.

How long had they been standing there? Hours? Days? Years?

“All clear,” Fury shouted back while continuing to focus on Arden in a way that reminded her of someone caught up in a movie.

“I can’t accept your theory,” she told him. “I won’t accept it.”

Every one of them was screwed up. Everybody except for Daniel, and he was screwed up in a different way. Traumatized by murder and abandonment.

All along, she’d held Fury in a position of superiority and logic. Somebody who could stand on the periphery in order to sort out the chaos and make sense of it. But now the bullshit he’d just spouted told her he didn’t know anything. He didn’t know any more than she did. Now he was telling her he was just as fucked up as she was. Because it was bullshit. What he’d just told her was total, total bullshit.

She had to believe that.

Arden watched as Daniel put more wood in the stove, trying to recharge the fire that had burned down to a few red embers.

He’d always been good at building fires. Hadn’t he earned a merit badge in it? she wondered. Yes. With her help, he’d practiced for weeks, until he was finally able to start a fire without matches.

If only the world operated according to
The Boy Scout Handbook
.

Candles of various shapes and sizes had been arranged on a tray in the middle of the coffee table, the flames flickering wildly in response to any movement or gust of wind that found its way around the storm windows.

Everyone watched Daniel in silence.

Once he had a good flame going and the stove door was shut, they hunched closer. Bundled in their coats, they sat staring at the fire.

The harder Arden thought about the situation, the more she tried to make sense of it, the more confused she became. Her mind was spiraling into a black hole.

Had she ever really kissed Harley in the cemetery? And if that hadn’t happened, had he really called her on the phone in New Mexico? Did the Hill and the project even exist, or was she tangled up in a straitjacket in some institution, staring at gray walls and imagining a movie screen that signified her life?

If she followed that line of thinking, then maybe her parents were still alive. Maybe the whole thing was a false reality fabricated by Harris. A cruel mind tease.

In a situation like this, maybe it was better not to think. Or at least not to think too deeply. But she’d been taught to solve problems, to find solutions to puzzles, and she couldn’t stop herself from trying.

In the end, the only answer was to follow the reality she knew. That was all she could do. All anybody could do.

Fury pulled his cell phone from his coat pocket.

“Won’t work here,” Daniel said.

Fury punched in three numbers: 911. He waited. He looked at the phone. He gave up and jammed it back in his coat pocket.

They should tear down the house, Arden thought. If any of them survived, the place should be demolished. It hurt to think about destroying their childhood home, but it shouldn’t be here. No one should ever live in it again.

“A little over a mile from here,” Daniel said, “on Roller Coaster Road, you can get a fairly decent signal.”

“On a clear day,” Arden pointed out.

A mile didn’t seem like much under normal conditions. A mile in a blizzard would seem like ten.

Franny spoke for the first time since they’d returned to the house. Her voice was monotone, robotic. “Someone would have to go outside.” Avoiding eye contact, she shook her head. “Nobody should go outside.”

Arden didn’t want to look at Fury. Even a glance would give credence to his supposition, but she couldn’t help herself. She looked.

He was watching her; he still suspected her.

“I’ll go,” Daniel said. “It’s a straight road. Hilly as hell, but straight. I won’t get lost.”

Franny came to life. “You can’t go out there. Nobody can go out there!”

“Franny’s right,” Fury said. “We should all stay here.”

“Eli is dead,” Daniel stated firmly. “I’m going.”

Arden’s stomach dropped. She wanted Daniel to stay here where it was safe. Safer. Not as dangerous. “I’ll do it,” she said.

Harley stiffened and shot her a look of concern. For a moment, she thought he was going to protest, but Daniel spoke up instead.

“Sorry, Sis. I’m in a little better physical shape than you.”

It was true. A few days ago, when food was still a part of her existence, she would have been more qualified for the challenge, but she hadn’t exactly treated her body as a temple lately. She hadn’t exactly treated it as a temple for several months.

“You shouldn’t go alone,” she said. He’d been a Scout. He’d have to understand the importance of the buddy system.

Harley stepped forward. “I’ll go with him.”

Everyone stared, but nobody wanted to say what they were thinking—that having Harley tag along could actually be a hindrance.

“I’ll do it,” Fury said. It was obvious he wasn’t thrilled with the direction the plans had taken, but he was really their only choice.

And when they were out there, when they were alone, he would tell Daniel about her. He would tell Daniel his suspicions, and Daniel would hate her all over again.

They found warm clothes for Fury.

Long underwear, wool socks. A pair of insulated boots that had once belonged to Daniel, topped off with more layers. A wool sweater. A sweatshirt. An ancient down jacket with a three-corner tear Daniel repaired with silver tape.

“Duct tape,” he said, smoothing down the last piece. “Wonder of the modern world.”

When the outfit was complete, Arden almost laughed.

Lack of sleep, lack of food, that’s what it was. But Fury, who normally reflected quiet dignity, looked hilarious in the torn jacket and pilled stocking cap, leaving a waft of feathers behind as he walked to the door.

Daniel, dressed in insulated Carhartt overalls, followed with the LED flashlight.

Arden experienced a renewed attack of anxiety.

She wanted to join Franny in her earlier plea.
Don’t go out there. Stay here, where it’s safe
.

But it wasn’t safe here.

Somebody had to go.

People, especially farmers, spent their lives fighting nature. Nature controlled their future, their livelihood. Nature was always there, waiting in the wings to creep in for the big finale, the twist ending. It liked to kill lambs and calves. It liked to carry off grandmothers and babies and homes.

Nature had always been the enemy.

Things were different now. There was a bigger enemy.

She grabbed Daniel by the jacket sleeve. “I’ll do it. I can do it.”

She thought about how hard it had been to reach the barn, what a physical struggle to get through the snow.

Daniel looked up from the hand on his arm. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”

She stared at him, unable to hide her fear. She wasn’t afraid to die. In fact, dying sometimes seemed the only way out. But Daniel… She didn’t want Daniel to die. Not her little brother. Someone she’d looked out for, someone she’d read to and taught to ride a bike. Someone she loved.

“It’ll be okay,” he repeated with a soft smile.

He was waiting for her to release her grip on his coat. She let go and stepped back.

Franny ran from the room, then reappeared with her cell phone. “Take this as a backup.” She handed it to Daniel.

Fury opened the front door. Wind gusted in, sending snow swirling around the living room. Candles flickered and went out.

“Try not to use the flashlight until you’re down the road,” Arden said.

It seemed hard to believe that someone could be out there watching them in this violent weather, but madmen didn’t think like everybody else.

And what if nobody was out there? What if Fury was right?

They left.

Swallowed by the night. The storm.

Leaving Arden shaking, feeling sick to her stomach.

Franny relit the candles with a metal lighter, then disappeared into the spare bedroom, closing the door behind her.

Harley put one arm around Arden, giving her a hug. “They’ll be okay.”

He didn’t know that. And if Fury really believed she was the killer, would he have left her alone with Harley and Franny? Arden wondered.

Harley went into the kitchen and began puttering around. Thank God somebody was interested in meal preparation. If Harley hadn’t been doing the cooking, nobody would have eaten.

Arden’s gaze dropped to Fury’s briefcase, which he’d deposited on the floor in the dining room near the kitchen door. Without hesitation, she crossed the room and snatched the case, grabbed the flashlight Daniel had left on the dining room table, then headed for the stairs.