CHAPTER 20
CARLOS
Five Years Ago
August 15
Los Gatos, California
Several weeks after Aimee showed up in Mexico and Imelda told me what she knew of my situation and the role she played, I received a package in the mail from Thomas. An iPhone. Aimee had downloaded James’s contacts, music, and photos from his iCloud account when Thomas got word to her the phone was for me. Just in case I found use for it.
I hadn’t, until now.
I’d brought the phone with me and charged it while I showered. Natalya brewed coffee and when the phone could be powered on, she scrolled through James’s contacts. Then she looked through his photos.
“There are a lot of pictures of you and Aimee,” she said, her tone flat, giving me the phone after I’d dressed. She twisted her hair, her attention drifting to my phone on the desk where there were plenty of snapshots of us.
“Hey,” I murmured. My hand cupped her face. I skimmed my thumb over her freckled cheek, the skin as smooth as expensive bedsheets. “I love you.” I kissed her gently, then rested my forehead against hers. “You.”
She nodded. “I know. It’s just . . .”
“You don’t have to come with me.”
“Yes, I do. Someone has to protect you so you aren’t knocked over the head again.”
We both laughed uneasily.
“Have you looked through the pictures?”
I shook my head. Seeing James’s life through his pictures was a gamble with my mind I didn’t want to take.
She moved away from me and grabbed her purse. “I found the address where you lived. We should go.”
We now sat in the car Natalya had rented, parked one house down from the one I owned, or had owned. Two boys played catch on the lawn, and the woman sitting on the porch was not Aimee.
“She must have moved,” Natalya surmised.
I’d told her on the way over that Aimee and Ian had recently married. That part of my conversation with Thomas I did remember.
A dull ache burned across my forehead. I scooped out the two aspirin I’d brought with me from my front pocket and dry-swallowed them.
Natalya passed over a bottled water. “How many have you had since I woke you up?”
I chugged half the bottle. “Six, I think.” I screwed on the cap and returned the bottle to the center console’s cup holder. “They aren’t helping.”
“Maybe we should go to the hospital.”
“No. No doctors. I don’t want anyone else messing with my head. I don’t want to forget my sons.” I grasped her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist. “Or you.”
“God, you’re stubborn. No doctors, unless your headache gets worse. Promise?”
I leaned across the front seat and kissed her. “Promise.”
She turned on the ignition “Where to next? The café?”
The dash clock read 5:56 p.m. “We don’t have time. The café closes at six.”
“So, what’s the plan?”
I rubbed my forehead and closed my eyes against a wave of light-headedness. “I was thinking Aimee’s parents’ house. They can tell us where she’s living. But I need to eat something.”
She shifted into gear and pulled from the curb. “Let’s call it a day, then.”
“What a waste of time,” I complained, grinding the heel of my palm against my head.
Natalya shot me a concerned look. “We’ll visit the Tierneys tomorrow. Tonight, I’m buying dinner. Then I’m giving you a back rub.”
“Just the back?”
She snorted and playfully knocked my shoulder. “Let’s get some food in that belly of yours, then we’ll see what happens.”
It was midmorning when I rang the Tierneys’ doorbell. Natalya stood beside me, our shoulders brushing. I tightly grasped her hand. She rubbed my forearm. I loosened my grip.
“I’m as nervous as you.” She pressed closer.
Light footsteps approached the door and after a moment’s hesitation, the lock flipped and the door opened. A smaller, older version of Aimee greeted us. Blue eyes, bright and wide under a head of chicly spiked salt-and-pepper hair, darted from me to Natalya, then back to me. She stared, blinked several times, then fell back a step and gasped. Her hands cupped her mouth and nose, and her eyes sheened.
“Mrs. Tierney?” I asked.
She lifted her hands away from her face. “James?”
Natalya’s nails dug into my hand. I glanced at her. She’d gone pale.
“Carlos.” I offered my hand.
“Yes, of course . . . Carlos.” She gripped my hand with both of hers. “Carlos,” she repeated, chewing on the name. “You look different than . . . I never thought.” She pressed her lips, her chin quivering, and released my hand. She touched her hair, pushed down the silver cuff she wore on her wrist, and glanced over her shoulder into the depths of the house. She discreetly swiped her tears.
“Oh my,” she murmured. “I’m a bit overwhelmed.”
I imagined finding me on her doorstep was like seeing a ghost. They’d attended James’s funeral and the burial afterward.
Natalya tugged my arm.
“This is Natalya Hayes, my—”
“I’m his sister-in-law,” she said, looking at me. I frowned and she shook her head, then extended her arm. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Catherine.” Mrs. Tierney looked a bit dazed.
“May we come in?” I asked.
“My goodness, where are my manners? Come in, come in.” She opened the door wider.
Natalya went first, and I hesitated. Panic sliced through me. What if I recognize the rooms? What if there are pictures of Aimee and me? What if I suddenly forget who I am and remember everything I was?
Natalya glanced at me over her shoulder and squeezed my hand so I’d know to read her lips. It’s okay, she silently told me. I moved into the entryway and turned a full circle. Aside from an oil painting of an old railroad track I recognized as James’s—it was his artistic style and signature in the corner—I didn’t see anything familiar. I exhaled and smiled reassuringly at Natalya.
Catherine closed the front door, watching us. The way Natalya stood beside me, our hands clasped. The secret glances at each other, which apparently weren’t so secret.
“She’s more than a sister-in-law.”
“I love her.”
Catherine’s mouth curved downward. She nodded. “I can’t imagine what life must be like for you with most of it missing. Everything your family did to you . . .” Her chin quivered. “You’re still welcome here. You’ll always be family to us.” She turned to Natalya. “I’m glad he has you.”
Natalya adjusted the purse strap on her shoulder with a trembling hand. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“I’m happy you aren’t alone,” Catherine said to me. Tears flooded her eyes, fell in ribbons over weathered cheeks. Her shoulders shook; then she broke into a full-on cry.
“Oh!” Natalya exclaimed. She hugged Catherine as the older woman sobbed on her shoulder.
“Cathy?” A voice boomed through the house.
“In here, Hugh.” Her voice broke through her tears.
Heavy footsteps echoed through the house. A large man appeared around the corner. “Why are you crying?” Hugh asked his wife. I watched with distorted amusement as his expression changed from confusion to shock when he saw me. “Jesus Christ.”
“Not quite, but I guess you could say we’ve both risen from the dead.”
Natalya smacked my chest. “Carlos.”
Catherine grasped my wrist. “Will you stay for Sunday lunch?”
“Cathy, I don’t think—”
“Lunch?” I asked, then noticed the dining room table set for four right before the front door burst open.
“Hello! We’re—here.” Aimee’s voice dropped midsentence, the last word coming out as a thin whisper. She stopped abruptly in the doorway, her blue eyes as deep as the sea, and brunette curls that flowed over her shoulders like a waterfall. She made an odd noise in the back of her throat. “Carlos.”
Ian appeared behind her. “Move aside, honey, or I’m going to drop—” His gaze caught mine. Where Aimee’s face had paled, Ian’s went hard and red. A flash of fear darkened his eyes.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m still Carlos.”