Even more troubling was who in her very close circle of trusted confidants would have done this to her?
She reached for her ignition, started her vehicle. And it struck her—she had to go tell her dad. About her DNA and the child’s foot. If this was all going to blow up in the news, her father needed to prep himself. Reporters would hound him. The secret that he and her adoptive mother had been harboring all these years would be exposed to his friends, his colleagues at the university. He’d also have to find a way to protect her mom, who—in her schizophrenic-dementia state—could find it all terribly disturbing. Especially if reporters tried to get to her.
Angie rammed her car into gear and spun out of the parking lot, tires squealing as she hit the road. Shitshitshit. She smacked the wheel in hot frustration. What would this mean for her social media position now? Her probation? If it got out that she was the MVPD cop who’d been under IIO investigation. That it was her who’d emptied her clip into Spencer Addams’s face in some blackout rage. It wasn’t exactly the smiling face of an Officer Friendly on the social media desk.
Perhaps you even had a special language with your twin, Detective?
She punched a button on her console, connecting her phone via Bluetooth. She drew to a stop at a red traffic light, hit Alex Strauss’s number.
The instant her old psychologist friend and mentor answered, she said, “Alex, it’s me, Angie. I need you to put me under again—take me back in time with hypnosis. Tonight if you can, because I need to be in Vancouver early tomorrow morning.” She realized if she went past her father’s house now and spoke to him before going to meet Alex, she wouldn’t make it home in time to gather up her things and drive up the peninsula to catch the last ferry. She’d have to rise at 5:00 a.m. Saturday instead and catch the first ferry out. It would still give her time—just—to reach Hansen Correctional Centre by noon tomorrow.
“Are you certain, Angie?” Alex said.
“Dead certain.”
“It could be risky—you went into distress last time. I had to bring you out early, remember? And you did not come back easily.”
She smoothed her hand over her wet hair, recalling the terror of being in that dark place in her mind where Alex had taken her. Edginess nipped at her nerves. She had to do it. Everything she’d experienced, everything she’d felt and seen and remembered, now took on a different context with the bombshell that Tranquada, the IDRU woman, had dropped on her.
Come playum dum grove . . . Come down dem . . .
It could be her sister, calling from beyond a watery grave. For help—to come find her. In a special language only the two of them had used to communicate. Angie’s eyes filled with sharp emotion.
“I need to go back again, Alex. Deeper. And it’s not just for me—”
Now she was doing this for someone else—a little girl who was finally taking shape. It changed everything.
“It’s for my twin.”
CHAPTER 33
“Come on in,” Alex Strauss said, stepping back and holding the door open wide for Angie.
“Thank you for seeing me at such short notice,” she said, shucking off her uniform jacket as she entered. He took her wet jacket and hung it on a hook near the door while she sat on the mudroom bench and removed her boots.
“I confess you had me at twin,” he said. “Uniform looks good on you, Angie.” He nodded toward her gear.
“Yeah, right.” She came to her feet. “I’d have changed but had to go see my dad right away, tell him this story could break. He’s going to have to face friends and colleagues and prepare my mom somehow for when the story of my life goes public. Media will hound them both, and I don’t suspect reporters will go easy on either of them for having hidden my past from me.”
“How’d he handle the news of a possible sibling—the little foot?” Alex said, leading the way into his living room.
She followed him. Nerves nipped as she caught sight the big old wingback in which she’d sat for her previous hypnosis session with him. “It hit him hard.” She blew out a stream of breath and carefully seated herself in the chair. Alex had a wood fire burning, and his living room was warm. He dimmed the lights.
“It was bad enough with them pretending I was their dead kid, trying to insert me into their deceased toddler’s life. The fact I could have a dead biological double just drives it all in deeper and weirder. He wants answers, too, about that little foot.”
“Have you considered that media coverage might be advantageous? Someone might recall something, come forward.”
“It would also expose me as the cop who killed Spencer Addams should Grablowski make good on his threat. Nothing good can come of that. And it could also have an adverse effect in that it might tip off persons involved in the old crimes, send them further into hiding. I just want to move as quickly as possible with my own investigation to see how far I can get before all the shit hits the media fan and before the RCMP ties my hands and cuts off my access to potential sources.”
Alex motioned to the teapot on his table and the two cups beside it. “Tea?”
“No thanks.”
“Anything else before we get started?”
She shook her head, tension winding tighter. “I want to get right to it. I still need to pack for a trip to the mainland tomorrow.” And she wanted to go by Maddocks’s yacht. She needed to see him before she left the island for the weekend, tell him about the RCMP and IDRU visit and the floating foot DNA.
Alex seated himself opposite her. “Phone off?”
“Yes.”
“Comfy?”
She took a deep breath, rested her arms on the armrests, and wiggled her socked feet, relaxing her toes. The fire crackled, and rain drummed softly against the tin awning outside. She nodded.
Alex spoke softly, his voice deep, calm. “Close your eyes. You’re going to feel increasingly relaxed. All the tension of the day is draining out of your chest and funneling down into your arms.”
Angie shut her eyes and sighed deeply.
“You can feel the tension flowing down your arms. All the way down to your wrists. It’s in your hands now. In your palms. It’s leaving your body through the ends of your fingers. It’s washing from your pelvis down your legs, to your feet. It’s seeping out from beneath the soles of your feet into the carpet.”
Angie focused on the physical sensations in her body, following his cues. Her muscles, her mind, began to relax.
“You’re taking a deep, deep breath and releasing it all from your lungs. And again. Comfort is soft, like a warm blanket enveloping your shoulders . . .”
He continued speaking in a soft monotone. Angie concentrated on his words, the reactions in her body. She felt the tightness of the day begin to blur at the edges. Her mind opened up.
“Your brain is like a spring flower, blossoming, opening, turning its face to the warmth of sunlight. You’re drifting into the arms of that comfort, Angie. Deeper. Deeper. Into the past.”