The Girl from Her Mirror (Mirrors Don't Lie Book 1) (11 page)

“Then you’re not here to cover NorthWind
or the Zaffinos or the mob connection,” he clarified.

“Nope. To be honest, I didn’t know there
was a connection, or an alleged connection, until I heard about it from Lisa.”

“So she actually told you something you
didn’t know? Scary thought.”

With a mischievous grin, Makenna jabbed
him in the arm with her elbow.

“Whoa, there, you really are learning a
thing or two from her!” he protested, grabbing her elbow. “Poor Bob. That man
must have a permanent bruise.”

The mention of bruising brought back to
mind Lisa’s allegations. Makenna shifted on the couch and casually tucked her
legs up under her, resettling into a position further away from him. If he
suspected the move was deliberate, he never let on.

“How’s your friend?” he asked suddenly.

“Who?”

“Your friend. The one in the hospital.”

“Oh, yes, she’s doing fine.” At least,
she hoped she was; she hadn’t talked to Kenzie today.

“Who did you say it was again?” He was
still munching on chips, and bit down into one as he spoke.

“We live in the same apartment
building,” she answered vaguely. Trying to sound casual, she toyed with the
ties on her pajama pants. “Actually, you’ll never believe what a small world it
is. My friend’s hospital roommate is from New Braunsfel.”

“Oh, yeah?”

She looked up so that she could watch
his reaction. “Yes, and she says she knows you. Her name is Cara Sims.”

Hardin frowned thoughtfully. “Hmm, the
name doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Are you sure? She seemed to know you
pretty well. Described you to a tee.”

“Cara Sims,” he repeated, trying the
name out. “No, I don’t think I know her. Maybe she works in one of the stores
around there. They all seem to know me quite well down at the lumberyard. Hey,
yeah, I think I do know her. We did a remodel… No, wait, that was a Karen
Simpson.” He shrugged, looking completely sincere in his denial. “Whoever she
is, I hope it’s not serious.”

Makenna’s heart was thudding loudly as
she tested the waters. “I think it was a case of domestic violence. Her- Her
boyfriend beat her up.”

“Scumbag!” he muttered in disgust. “I
don’t know how a man could ever do that to a woman, especially someone he
supposedly cares about. Not that a real man ever would.” 

 His adamant response left Makenna
more confused than ever. Why would Lisa tell her such a thing, if it weren’t
true? And why would Hardin pretend such disdain, if he were guilty of the same
lifestyle? She put her hand to her suddenly pounding head and rubbed.

“Headache?” he asked.

“Little bit.”

“Maybe we should call it a night. I
don’t know about you, but I’m beat.”

“I am, too.”

“Well, that’s my cue.” He was off the
couch and on his feet before Makenna could untangle her own legs from beneath
her. His abrupt departure took her by surprise.  

“Lock the door behind me,” he said
needlessly as she followed him that way.

“You don’t - You don’t think-”

Seeing the stricken look upon her face
and knowing exactly what she meant, he put a finger to her lips. “Shh. No, I
don’t think so. But it never hurts to use a little extra precaution.”

“Okay, good,” she breathed in relief.

“Is ten o’clock too late to get started
tomorrow?”

“Considering I plan to sleep ‘til 9:30,
it sounds perfect.”

“Good, then I’ll make a few laps in the
morning before we leave.” He paused at the door to pull her into an embrace. He
didn’t try to kiss her, simply to hold her close. Despite herself, Makenna
clung to him, needing the assurance of his strong, warm arms.

“Get some sleep,” he said, dropping a
chaste kiss upon her lips. “Goodnight.”

“‘Night.”

That night, Makenna slept fitfully,
dreaming of shrieking tires and flashing headlights and guns glistening in the
sunlight.

But the most disturbing dream of all
involved a pair of startling blue eyes and the cold, long blade of a knife.

Denver, Colorado

September, 1993

“Charlie? Do you have your bags all
packed?”

The little girl tugged at the
overflowing duffle bag, dragging it off the bed. It hit the floor with a thud.

“What on earth do you have in there?”
her mother frowned.

“I’m bringing some of my favorite rocks
with me, so I can remember this place. I like it here.” The little girl said
with sullen defiance.

“You’ll forget all about this place as
soon as you see our new home. You’re going to like it there, Charlie. Here in
Colorado, you can’t see very far because of all the mountains. But in Wyoming,
you can see for miles and miles at a time.”

“But I like mountains!” she whined.

“Wyoming has mountains, just not in the
town where we’ll live. But we’ll visit them sometimes, so that you can climb on
them and collect your rocks. Now, let’s get you changed. We’re through playing
this game where we pretend you’re a boy. You’re going to be a little girl
again.”

“I liked being a boy! They get to play
way cooler games than girls!”

“Yes, but it was just make-believe. You
know that. This new game is better. You get to be a little girl named Amy, and
you get to have your very own kitten.”

“A kitten?” She brightened immediately. She
had begged and begged her parents for a pet, but they always said no.

“I have some pretty new clothes for
you,” her mother said, pulling out a purple sweater and a pair of purple
corduroy pants. “But you have to wear them and call yourself Amy if you want to
keep your kitten.”

The little girl looked into the mirror.
Her mother hadn’t cut her hair lately, and it was just beginning to touch the
collar of her shirt. For a boy, it was a little long; for a girl, it was a
little short, but being a girl again might not be so hard.

The boy game had been fun and allowed
her to do fun things she couldn’t do as a girl, like play with bugs and pop
firecrackers and shoot BB guns and learn to burp the alphabet with her friend
Joey. But she always had to remember they couldn’t go into the bathroom
together and she couldn’t change clothes in front of him. She didn’t like to
use the men’s restroom in public, because they were always smelly and dirty and
had strange words and drawings all over the walls. And Joey’s older brother
sometimes showed them pictures of naked girls and told jokes that she didn’t
understand. Maybe it was time she stopped pretending to be a boy and started
being a girl again. And she really did like kittens.

Still, she would miss Charlie. He had been
a lot of fun.

Just before her mother stripped the
dinosaur tee shirt off her, the little girl touched the reflection in the
mirror one last time.

“I’ll never forget you,” she promised
the image in her mirror.

Further north of the resort towns, the
rugged beauty of New Hampshire was on full display. There was less tourism
here, and more of a rural flavor. Makenna had no problem finding the intended
path of NorthWind’s power lines; protest signs and banners were the only
distractions marring the natural beauty of the area. Obviously the landowners
and residents were against the power giant coming through their backyard.

They ate lunch at a small diner in one
of the little towns, where the noonday discussion was all about the power
company. Among the discord was a lone defendant of progress, a young college
professor who tried to argue with his older comrades about the merits of the
project; local jobs, modernization, green energy efforts, higher energy
capacity. He made some excellent points, and Makenna asked to interview him
after the debate waned. Kenzie’s assignment was for the visual story, but
Makenna wanted to tell her own version of the story with words. She was already
gathering the information to aide in the photography assignment, so why not
compile it and submit a freelance article to
Now
or some other magazine?
It couldn’t hurt, she told herself. And anything would help her dwindling bank
account and her slim employment prospects.

By early afternoon, they were heading
back toward their hotel. They stopped at a country store known for its
selection of cheese and locally canned jams and jellies, selecting several
varieties for souvenirs and sampling. They started a pile at the counter as
they moved through the narrow aisles.

As they lingered over a display of maple
candies and tried the array of samples offered, Hardin leaned in to steal a
kiss. When her response lacked the enthusiasm of the day before, he
straightened immediately and frowned. “Bad breath?” he queried. “Bad
technique?”

Makenna sighed, shaking her head. “Bad
night.” She downplayed her response to his kiss. “I hardly slept a wink, what
with all the cars racing through my dreams. Guess I’m more tired than I
thought.”

He touched her cheek with a gentle
finger. “I understand. I was a little restless, myself.”

“At least there’s no sign of either car
today.” She offered the thought with a smile.

“That is something to smile about,” he
agreed. He stood there for a moment longer, his intense blue eyes studying her.
“You sure you’re all right?”

“Just tired,” she said. “And I’ve got a
lot on my mind right now, thinking about that little meeting at the diner and
everything Simon Hanks had to say.”

“He was a knowledgeable young man,”
Hardin nodded. “Hey, I saw some locally bottled sodas in the back cooler. I’m
going to go check them out.”

“Okay, pick one out for me, too.”

“What flavor?”

“Surprise me.”

Makenna popped another candy sample into
her mouth and moved on along the display, looking for the corresponding
selections in full-size. She sensed someone behind her but didn’t bother to
turn. “Find any good flavors?” she asked as she perused a label.

Instead of Hardin’s pleasant tenor, she
heard a low, raspy voice with a definite Northern brogue. “I’ve got a message
for your father.”

Makenna whirled around, knocking three
packages of candy from the shelf with the sudden movement. One of the packages
came open, noisily spilling little hard maple candies all over the wooden
floor. A short man with swarthy skin and a dark ponytail stood directly behind
her, blocking her path. His right hand was poised in his jacket pocket, and
Makenna’s first thought was that he held a gun. She immediately forgot about
the candy scattered on the floor.

“I-I beg your p-p…” she finally managed
to sputter. Then, with the sharp bark of total surprise, “What?”

“Tell your old man we’re looking for
him.”

“My-? I’m afraid you me confused with
someone else.” When she started to turn back around, the man grabbed her arm
with his left hand and jerked her hard in his direction.

“I know exactly who you are, Miss
Reese
,”
he said in a dark, threatening tone. He sneered her last name. “Tell Joseph
Mandarino we’re looking for him.”

Makenna stared at him in total
confusion. Who was Joseph Mandarino? What did that have to do with Kenzie’s
father? And how was she supposed to know where the man was? Even Kenzie didn’t
keep track of him.

“Tell him we have unfinished business,”
the man continued.

“I-I have no idea what- what you’re talking
about,” Makenna stammered. “Or who you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about your old man!” he
snarled.

“So who’s Joseph Mandarino?” By now she
was more confused than frightened.

The man glared at her through narrowed
eyes. He stood with his feet planted a foot apart, his shoulders squared, his
mouth set in a grim line. It was a practiced pose that made grown men cower,
but Makenna only frowned, totally baffled.

“Just give him the message,” he growled.
He whirled and was gone, leaving Makenna to stare after him.

Hardin found her that way, standing
among the scattered candy, one bag still hanging limply in her hand as she
stared toward the door.

“How does Orange Cream sound? Or Old
Time Sassafras?” He was reading from the bottles in his hand and didn’t glance
up until he reached her. Seeing her pale face, he was immediately concerned.
“Kenzie? Kenzie, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“No, he-he was flesh and blood,” she
murmured.

“What are you talking about?”

“There-There was a man. He came up and
said he- he had a message for my father.”

“Your father?” he asked sharply.

“Yes. It-it still doesn’t make -”

He cut in without apology. “What did he
look like? Where did he go?”

“Short, dark, with a ponytail.” She
gestured toward the door. “He left.”

“Here, take this.” He shoved the bottles
into her hand and took off toward the door. Snapping out of her stupor, she
stepped over the candies and hurried after him, watching through the window as
he ran toward the road, searching for signs of the mysterious man.

“Ma’am, did you want that soda?” The
salesclerk called from behind the counter. “You can put it up here with the
rest of your things.”

“Oh, yes, sorry.” She looked down,
almost surprised to see the cold bottles of soda in her hands. “I’m ready to
check out now.”

It took forever for the woman to ring up
their selections. Hardin came to the door twice, impatiently checking on her
progress. By the time she came out, two bags in tow, he was behind the wheel
with the motor running. Makenna barely shut the truck’s door before he peeled
out.

“Did you get a look at what he was
driving?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No.”

“Tell me again what happened.”

Makenna replayed the scene in detail.
Hardin interrupted a few times with questions, then asked another when she was
finished. “And you aren’t familiar with the name Joseph Mandarino?”

“Never heard of it. I have no idea what
the man was talking about. If he hadn’t called me by name, I’d think he had me
totally confused with someone else.”
Actually
, she thought,
he does.
So do you.

 
Hardin banged a fist against the
steering wheel, muttering a few choice words. Makenna frowned, wondering where
the show of anger came from. She chose to remain silent, settling back into the
seat and resting her head. Confusion was giving way to another headache.

They traveled in silence on their way
back to the hotel. Despite the delightful scenery, they took little notice of
their surroundings. Makenna’s mind was whirling in a thousand directions, while
Hardin’s attention was devoted to the road.

A few miles from town, Hardin’s savage
oath jerked Makenna from her wanderings. “Oh, hell, no!”

She followed his gaze into the rear view
mirror. Sure enough, a familiar gray car appeared behind them. It was several paces
back, but when Hardin suddenly sped up, so did it.

“What is going on?” Makenna wailed
miserably. “I don’t understand why all this is happening!” Seeing Hardin’s hand
move beneath the seat and pull something out, she gasped. “What are you doing?
What is that? Is that a gun?!”

“Damn right it’s a gun,” he said, laying
the Glock in the seat beside him. “I’m tired of this game, but they want to
play, we’ll play.”

“Play?” she squeaked. “That’s a real
gun! There’s nothing play about that!”

He made no comment as he watched the
gray car in the mirror. It followed at a safe distance behind, making no
attempt to close the gap between them. Even when another vehicle pushed between
them, the gray car kept its steady pace in the distance.

“What, do they think we don’t see them?”
Makenna asked in irritation. Being tailed at a conservative distance was almost
as maddening as being followed at close range.

“They want us to know they’re there,”
Hardin said with certainty. “But we’re about to lose them. On the off chance
they don’t know where we’re staying, I’m not leading them straight to our door.
If they wanna find us, we’ll make ‘em work for it.”

Another half mile down the road, Hardin
found his opportunity. A vehicle still separated them from the gray car, and a
string of oncoming traffic was coming from town as they neared the outskirts of
the village. Without warning, Hardin took a sharp left across the other lane,
onto a side street. By the time the gray car could follow, the truck was
speeding down a twisting series of streets and lanes.

“Do you know where we even are?” Makenna
finally had to ask, holding on to the grab bar above her head as they took a
sharp curve.

“’Course,” he said, flashing her a grin.
To her amazement, he actually seemed to be enjoying the dizzy trail he led them
down.

“I’ve never seen these streets,” she
said. They were in a semi-residential area alongside the mountain, far removed
from the flashy facade of the resort town’s front roads.   

“I rode my bike here this morning. Our
hotel is just up ahead,” he assured her. Another turn, and they were on a bumpy
access road lined with trees and mountain. 

Sure enough, in just a few minutes he
pulled into the backside of their hotel’s parking lot. “Your hotel key will
unlock that back entrance,” he told her.

“Where will you park the truck?” she
asked.

“Off site,” was all he said. “If you can
take one of the bags, I’ll get the other.”

Makenna eyed the gun still lying out in
the open. “You know we need to talk,” she told him.

“Every thing’s going to be all right,
Kenzie,” he assured her. He caught her by the back of the neck and pulled her
in for a gentle kiss.

She leaned her forehead against his.
“What is going on? Why is this happening?”

“I don’t know, but I’m going to find
out. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

“Where are you going?” she asked in
alarm.

“I’m just going to look around, see what
I can see.”

“But -”

“Shh, I’ll be fine,” he assured her,
offering another quick kiss. “And I’ll be back in plenty of time for our dinner
date with the Lewises. Wouldn’t want to miss that, after all,” he grinned,
feigning enthusiasm.

“If you’re sure….”

“I am. Now scoot, so I can get this over
with and find a place to hide the truck.”

“Be careful.” She glanced dubiously at
the gun before gathering her paraphernalia and easing out the door.

“I’ll call you in a little while,” he
promised.

He waited for her to get safely inside
the hotel before gunning the motor and pulling out the back entrance.

Makenna deposited her things and
immediately called Kenzie. 

“What is going on here?” she demanded
the moment her friend answered. “What have you gotten me into this time?”

“And hello to you, too, my friend. Yes,
I’m fine, thanks for asking.”

“You don’t have to be sarcastic,”
Makenna grumbled. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask first. How are you?”

“Fine. Black and blue and yellow around
the edges, sore as all get out, but basically fine. I take it you’re not?”

“Hardly. Who is Joseph Mandarino?”

“Wasn’t he our Political Science
professor second semester?”

“That was Medeiros.”

“Oh, okay, then never heard of him.
Why?”

“What about Tamara Mandarino?” She
wasn’t sure why, but that name suddenly popped into her mind.

“Hmm, nope. Why, who is she? Is she the
woman with the irritating voice? Are they the couple from Texas?”

“No. But this afternoon some man gave me
a message for your father.”

“My father?” Kenzie squeaked, then grew
quiet.