Breaking Chains, Part 4

Breaking Chains

Part 4

by Rooks

Disclaimers and warnings: See Part 1.

Chapter 9

Faith shifted uncomfortably in the chair across from Ms. Joyce. Gabrielle watched her nervously from on top of the trunk of clothes. Ms. Joyce spread out the piece of black felt and placed the small white stone on top of it.

"All right," Ms. Joyce said seriously. "Ms Dickinson, I want you to take a look at the stone on the table. Focus on it."

Faith bit her lip. "Um...I’m not sure I want to do this."

"Ms Dickinson, if you aren’t completely willing then the hypnotism will never work."

Faith hedged. "All right, but I’ll admit I’m a little nervous." She turned to Gabrielle. "What is this going to tell us that we don’t already know?"

"Please Faith," Gabrielle said. "It’s the only way we’ll be able to figure out what’s really going on. Or what really happened. You can’t deny you’re involved in this somehow after what you said this afternoon."

No, Faith guessed she couldn’t. She sighed. "All right." If it was enough to patch things up between Gabrielle and her, she’d do it.

"Very well." Ms. Joyce took a sip of water. "Now. Please stare at the stone on the table, Ms Dickinson," she said smoothly. "And listen to my voice. Don’t see or feel anything else around you. Imagine yourself slipping into warm water. Your entire body is becoming...very relaxed..."

Faith concentrated on Ms. Joyce’s voice, and easily blocked out all other distractions. It became very difficult to feel her body, and soon she even had to close her eyes, they felt so heavy.

The monotone voice was her only anchor, and she clung to it. It wasn’t difficult. The voice guided her, in a corridor of darkness. She was surrounded by water. It slid in and out of her lungs like honey. She was floating. All her senses were focused on sound, sound that created sights. Sights that she knew. Sights from her mind. The voice showed her where to go. She could speak, but when she did, her own voice sounded far off, and distant. Not hers, someone else’s. The world was a blur of black and gray. Pervasive memories, from long ago.

"Now remember," the voice echoed. "You are not an observer here. You are a direct participant. I want you to think of a memory. Go back..."

"It was...the night...the play opened..." she heard herself say. Images began to form.

They coalesced before her. A staircase. Steps disappearing beneath her feet.

"When was this?"

"November tenth...nineteen fifty..."

It was an apartment building. Downtown Los Angeles. She knew the building. It was where their apartment was. Going up the stairs to their apartment...

"Do you know who you are?"

A long corridor. She stopped in front of the apartment door and jiggled with the keys in the lock. It opened. The apartment was dark inside.

"Ms Dickinson! Do you know who you are?"

"No...I...I can’t see..."

A kitchen table. A typewriter. Crumpled up papers with crossed out passages from a play in progress. An armchair with an empty glass resting on one arm.

She turned her eyes to the bedroom. She was looking for someone.

"What else do you see?"

"I...I don’t know. I’m...I’m going to a doorway. It’s the doorway to a bedroom..."

There was thunder outside. A dressing table. Boxes...makeup, scissors, a brush. A mirror.

"Wait! Ms. Dickinson. The mirror. Look in the mirror! Can you see yourself?"

Her image in the mirror. A curving form beneath a theater gown.

"Yes."

A lissome waist...

"What do you see?"

Wavy golden hair. Sea-blue eyes, dark with tension.

"I see...myself!"

"Do you know your name?"

"Yes!"

Dawson. Blythe Dawson.

"Well? What is it?"

This had gone on too long.

"...T-This...this has gone on...t-too long..."

This had gone on too long. She had to set things right. She should have told Nadia no from the start. She should have been more firm.

"Oh..."

"Oh Jo..."

On the brink of tears, she flopped back onto the bed. She draped her arm across her face, and closed her eyes.

The phone rang, jarringly, startling her. She sat up, legs dangling off the side of the bed, and answered it. It was Nadia Wilson.

"Blythe...I’m sorry for what happened with Josephina at the theater...she should never have stormed off like that..."

"Nadia, I don’t want you to call me. I don’t want to talk to you anymore."

"But Blythe..."

"No Nadia. I love Josephina. And I don’t want you to hurt her anymore. I have nothing left to talk to you about. Goodbye!"

She slammed the phone down on the nightstand and sat silently, thinking.

Then the back of her neck began to prickle. The air in the room had changed. Charged. Lightning flashed outside.

Something was wrong. She looked over. There was a figure standing in the doorway. Thunder rumbled.

"Jo!"

Faith gasped, and her eyes flew open. Gabrielle and Ms. Joyce were staring at her anxiously. She saw them relax a little as she came out of hypnosis.

"Well," Ms. Joyce said seriously. "I think we’ve heard what we needed to hear. You were definitely there too."

Faith’s mind reeled with what had been revealed to her – who she had been. "Wait. There’s more you need to know. Gabrielle...you don’t have to be afraid of me. You’ve got it all wrong. We’ve all had it wrong from the start."

The curtain covering the doorway slid to one side and Simon emerged. "Hello?"

"Simon!" Faith’s head was filled with daze. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought I’d find the two of you here," Simon turned to Gabrielle. "Christ, what happened to your face?"

Faith looked at her hands. Gabrielle explained. "We got attacked and I got hit. I’m ok now."

Simon shifted in concern. "Are you sure?"

"She’s fine Simon!" Faith said anxiously. "What are you doing here?"

Simon still looked doubtful, but he went on. "Ah ok. I’ve got something for you...Tracy."

Gabrielle stared at him blankly. "What?"

"Your name! Tracy Stratton." Simon handed her a purse. "There’s ID in there. You live downtown on Hampton drive in the old Chester building. Your neighbours saw the article in the weekend edition, and when they couldn’t get in touch with Faith, they called the paper."

When Simon received a definite lack of enthusiasm for his revelation, he looked around. Gabrielle was staring at her ID in concentration, Ms. Joyce was looking at her in concern, and Faith’s face was filled with confusion.

Faith was still trying to piece together everything she had seen in the vision with everything she already knew. She shook her head, needing to take some action, get some direction. "Come on Gabrielle," she said rising. "Let’s take you home."

Gabrielle looked at her nervously. "Faith...I...I don’t..."

Faith’s head was spinning and the room felt airless. "You don’t want to come with me." How could she explain everything? She wasn’t sure she believed it herself. The past and the present were blending together. Dreams and reality, attackers and scissors... and.... and it was time to run.

"I have to get out of here," Faith said in a panicky voice. "This is too much..."

"Faith!" Gabrielle rose as Faith dashed out of the room. "I’m sorry! Come back!" But she was already gone.

"All right, what the hell is going on?" Simon demanded.

Ms. Joyce looked at him with concern. "I’m not sure any of us understand that completely. Only that it’s something that is beginning to sound very dangerous."

"Dangerous? Dangerous how?"

Gabrielle clenched her purse in her hands. "It’s too complicated Simon." She sighed, and gazed towards where Faith had rushed out the doorway.

"Maybe it’s better the two of you spend some time apart," Ms. Joyce ventured tentatively. "I think circumstances have become a bit extreme."

"I don’t know," Gabrielle whispered. "I just don’t know."

"Come child. Let’s take you home. You’ll feel safer there, I’m sure. Perhaps it will trigger some memory for you as well." Ms. Joyce looked up at the bewildered Simon. "Mr....uh..."

"Woodside."

"Yes, Mr. Woodside. Can we take your car? I’d like to have a talk with these neighbours myself. See if there is still any sort of...compensation possible for ah...trying to retrieve Gabrielle’s memory."

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stephany took a deep breath. "All right. Let’s just see if I’m understanding this correctly. Because the whole thing sounds pretty crazy."

Crazy was an understatement, but for some reason Stephany had expected something incredible. When Faith had entered her office, her face had been white as a sheet. Stephany had never seen her friend so shaken up. She had managed to calm the tall woman down, and get the story out of her. And what a story it was.

Stephany pointed to the newspaper clipping that Faith had unfolded on the desk. "So, in your past life...you were this woman, Blythe Dawson?"

Faith nodded grimly.

"And Gabrielle... she was this woman, Josephina Wright."

"That’s right."

"And fifty years ago, she killed you." Josephina sat back, mulling. "And now she’s back."

Faith spread her hands. "Stephany...I’m at a complete dead end."

Stephany looked at her closely. "Do you think she’s going to try to kill you again?"

Faith shook her head violently. "No. She never would. Gabrielle’s not like that. Besides, how could she? She’s too... scared of me."

Stephany noticed that this last part was said with profound hurt. She turned her attention back to the picture.

"Well, I’m not sure Faith. From this picture, I’d say you look more like Josephina than Blythe. But then again, that doesn’t make a difference when it comes to past lives. You remember what I told you about everything happening in chains. It doesn’t matter what you look like. You might even be a man in a past life. Or a future life for that matter. It’s all karma."

"I thought you said that karma was a way of getting revenge on someone for something they did to you in a past life."

Stephany shrugged. "It can be."

"Does that...does that mean that...that I might hurt Gabrielle? Because of what she did to me?" Faith asked desperately.

Stephany patted her hand. "Shhh. Calm down. Nothing is for sure. Let’s just stick to what we know, ok?"

"I wish she could understand Stephany. I can’t bear the thought of her thinking I might want to hurt her. She’s confused. She thinks that I was Josephina. She doesn’t know the truth."

Stephany shook her head. "Still...we’re talking about fate here. Who knows what could happen? We don’t know if the chain will continue or if it will be broken. Either way, one of you could get hurt."

Faith’s brow furrowed in deep concentration. "I...I don’t know. In the vision I had I never saw Josephina try to kill me. I was startled when I saw her at the door. But I didn’t see her try to kill me. But maybe Josephina didn’t kill Blythe."

Stephany gripped Faith’s shoulder. "Faith. Listen to yourself. You’re rationalizing. You and I both know that Josephina killed Blythe." Stephany pointed at the article titled "Wright Gets Death". "It says here that Josephina caught Blythe on the telephone with Wilson and went crazy. It was a crime of passion."

"I didn’t see her kill Blythe!"

"This isn’t healthy Faith," Stephany said grimly. "You need time to adjust."

Faith held her head in her hands. She wanted to go to Gabrielle so much it hurt. She already missed her. Just to have Gabrielle give her a kiss again...maybe under her ear where Gabrielle loved to kiss...would be enough to last her a whole lifetime right now.

"Stephany...I don’t know what to do."

"You want honesty?" Stephany said hesitantly, "I think this is all too much for you, Faith. You’re not emotionally ready to deal with something this intense. And look, you don’t have to see her again, do you?" Stephany bit her lip, "I think you should try to forget her."

"I can’t forget her," Faith said softly. "I think I’ve fallen in love with her."

"Oh man," Stephany covered her mouth. "You have! You’ve really fallen hard, haven’t you?"

Faith nodded miserably. Now that she had admitted it to someone she almost felt worse. Gabrielle was terrified of her. The blonde probably never wanted to see her again.

Her beeper went off.

"Shit," Faith cursed. "Just what I need."

"You and I always seem to get interrupted, don’t we?" Stephany asked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Yeah," Faith picked up the phone and listened. Her eyes widened.

"I’ve gotta go," Faith said, throwing down the phone and practically running out of the office.

"Faith wait! What’s going on?!"

"It’s Nadia Wilson. She wants to meet me."

"Nadia Wilson?" Stephany did a double take. "You mean Nadia Wilson Nadia Wilson? Gossip writer Nadia Wilson?"

"Yeah." Faith paused at the doorway. She said quietly, "I can’t let this go Stephany. I have to do this. I have to see Gabrielle again. Now that I’ve been with her...I can’t go back to the way I was before. Not now."

Stephany nodded. "I understand. Just... be careful, ok?"

Faith nodded expressionlessly. Then turned and ran to her car.

Chapter 10

"I live here?" Gabrielle stared around the room in bewilderment. "But...but I don’t recognize anything."

Gabrielle’s apartment was on the top floor of the building, at the end of the hallway, near the stairwell that led up to the roof.

The apartment was small and bright, and neatly disorganized. A line of string hung overtop of the kitchen table and several black and white photographs were clipped to it with clothespins. Photographs covered half the table too, along with two developer’s trays. In the corner of the living room, behind a comfy-looking easy chair, was a tripod, and two black and silver cases of camera equipment.

"Well, I think you can guess what it is that you do for a living," Simon smirked. "and that’s probably why no one noticed you were gone for a while. Photographers lead a pretty scattered life."

"Don’t worry, my dear," Ms. Joyce said. "You’ll remember everything in time."

Gabrielle continued to walk slowly around the room, taking everything in. There was a window in the living room that opened onto a fire escape. The walls were painted white. She looked at the photos on the kitchen table. "This one actually does look sort of familiar." She held up a picture of a large building, in the city.

"That’s the old theater, down town," Simon said. He cleared his throat, "Um listen, I have to leave to go back to work. Are you going to be ok here by yourself?"

Ms. Joyce nodded. "Actually, I don’t feel very comfortable leaving you all alone without some sort of protection either. What if Ms Dickinson tries to meet you again?"

Gabrielle shook her head. "Faith isn’t going to..." she lost her smile. She wasn’t sure what to think anymore.

"Who cares if Faith comes and sees her? What’s going on?"

"Mr. Woodside, I really don’t think it’s a good idea for the two of them to see each other right now. You weren’t there; you didn’t hear the things that we heard."

"What, you mean that past life stuff? Gabrielle, do you really believe that?"

Gabrielle looked away, uneasily.

"Faith doesn’t believe that stuff does she?" Simon asked, perplexed.

"It really doesn’t matter if she believes it at all," Ms. Joyce said. "This is karma Mr. Woodside. Everything happens in chains." She turned to Gabrielle. "No I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Ms Dickinson comes up those stairs to find you tonight. Just the way Josephina climbed their stairs to find Blythe in nineteen-fifty."

"Faith doesn’t want to hurt me," Gabrielle said. "She... cares about me."

"I’m not saying she wants to hurt you at all my dear," Ms. Joyce touched Gabrielle’s arm gently. "But this is fate. Things will happen, and without her even meaning them to. Can you imagine what her guilt would be like if she did inadvertently hurt you? Do you really want to take a chance like that with your safety? Tracy, Blythe was murdered."

"I know," Gabrielle shook her head and stared at her feet. "I know."

Ms. Joyce looked at Simon. She widened her eyes at him meaningfully. "You’d better give it to me, Mr. Woodside. You did bring it, didn’t you?"

Simon looked extraordinarily uncomfortable. "Yeah. But I really don’t feel good about this." He reached into his pocket and took out a small pistol. He handed it to the hypnotist, who in turn handed it towards Gabrielle.

Gabrielle looked from the gun, to Ms. Joyce, to Simon. "I can’t take that."

"Hey, don’t look at me. That thing’s been in my glove box for years."

"I really do suggest you take it, Gabrielle. What else do you have to protect yourself with?"

"I can’t fire a gun!"

"Then don’t fire it. But at least use it to scare her away."

Gabrielle looked doubtful.

"If she does come here tonight, will you believe me then?" Ms. Joyce asked.

"She won’t."

"But if she does. Look, we’re just going to leave it here," Ms. Joyce walked over and set the gun on the kitchen counter. "If she comes, use it to make her leave. Tell her to meet you at a coffee shop. Somewhere public. During the daytime."

"I can’t believe this," Simon mumbled. "This is Faith we’re talking about. She’s not a murderer."

"It isn’t just Faith," Ms. Joyce told him, "There is the past at work here too. These two have a history of hurting one another. One that goes back quite a while."

Gabrielle shivered. She had never felt so completely pulled in two directions. She wanted to see Faith again. No...she needed to see her again. But at the same time, she had to admit Ms. Joyce was right. There was a grain of fear that was planted deep inside her. Would Faith hurt her? Was this healthy?

Ms. Joyce smiled at her sympathetically. "I’m afraid we should leave you alone now dear. If nothing else, I think it important you start to familiarize yourself with your home. It will help your remembering process."

Gabrielle nodded resignedly, not very enthusiastic about the prospect of being left alone, but knowing it would have to happen sooner or later.

She let Ms. Joyce and Simon out the door and closed it behind them. She leaned her back against the door and surveyed the apartment. There was a lean wooden bookcase along one wall. She figured that would be as good a place as any to start.

The gun on the counter caught her eye as she crossed the room. Gabrielle swallowed, and her thoughts turned to Faith. She suddenly realized she had no idea where Faith was in the city. For all she knew, Faith could just be downstairs. Waiting for her.

Gabrielle turned back to the door, and closed the deadbolt.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

‘The Blue Gardens" was a retirement home way the hell over in Pasadena. It was a small square building in a quiet neighbourhood. Not many people lived there. The steps up to the entrance were dirty. The sign above the door was flecking with chipped, blue paint.

Faith arrived at sunset and greeted the nurse in the waiting room.

"You’re Faith Dickinson? She’s waiting for you."

The nurse led her down a sterile white hallway to one of the many plain doorways. Faith stood before the door for a few seconds before going in. Her stomach was burning with anticipation.

Inside, the room was dim, lit only by a bedside lamp with a dirty shade. The air smelled mediciney. The bed was unmade.

Nadia Wilson was sitting in a wheelchair, staring out the window. Her back was to Faith, but she had obviously heard Faith enter. Her head was cocked to one side. Faith approached cautiously, not exactly sure how to explain why she was here.

"I’ve been waiting fifty years to meet you, Ms. Dickinson," Nadia said.

Nadia spoke slowly, measured her words. Her voice was leathery, a voice that had tasted one too many glasses of scotch. It was older, but definitely the voice Faith had heard on the phone in her vision. It was eerie, hearing it.

Faith stood beside her and for the first time saw Nadia Wilson’s face. She had silver white hair. It was long now, not short like it had been in nineteen fifty, and pulled back in a bun. Her face was lined with wrinkles, around her mouth and eyes. They crinkled when she smiled. Nadia’s smile was genuine, but in her eyes Faith noticed a sparkle of intelligence.

"Please, have a seat," Nadia said quietly, gesturing a bony hand towards a chair in the corner. Faith pulled it up next to the wheelchair.

"What do you mean you’ve been waiting fifty years to meet me?" Faith asked suspiciously, not sure whether to be assertive or accommodating. After all, this was an eighty year old woman. Hardly a threat.

"You told me that Josephina wanted to know if writing gossip still pays the bills," Nadia looked at her, eyes sparkling, and gestured around the small, unkempt room. "Well? What do you think?"

Faith snorted.

"The point is that it’s been fifty years since someone mentioned her name. I had almost begun to believe it was truly over." She sniffed derisively. "I should have known."

Faith cleared her throat. "Ms. Wilson, I’m...not sure I know what you’re talking about."

Nadia sighed and stared out the window. "She said it was only the beginning."

Faith frowned. "Who?"

"Josephina. That’s what she said to me, when I went to visit her on death row."

"That it was just the beginning?" Faith’s mind flew. What did that mean? Had Josephina somehow known what was going to happen?

Nadia nodded seriously. "Yes. And when she said it, something told me she was right. I knew I hadn’t heard the last of her."

Faith leaned forward, her forearms on her knees. "Ms. Wilson, what exactly was it between..."

"Wait a minute Faith, may I call you Faith? I’d like you to answer a question for me first. How is it that you know about Josephina Wright? Do you know someone who knew her?"

Faith hesitated. "I uh...I know someone who ah...who was her. Like in a...ah...past life?"

Faith was expecting Nadia to rebuff her immediately. But instead, the old woman just nodded at her thoughtfully.

Then she turned back to the window. "Like I said. I was expecting pretty much anything."

"Ms Wilson, what exactly was it between you and Blythe Dawson?"

Nadia smirked. "You know, I’m not sure I even know the answer to that myself."

"Were you in love with her?"

"I just might have been. But I wasn’t the only one. Everyone loved her. She was the golden child of nineteen fifty."

"I ah...I read a book," Faith dug into her coat and pulled out her copy of ‘The Soul’s Life’. "Well, just skimmed it actually. It was written by the guard in Josephina’s cell on death row."

Nadia smiled when she saw it. "I remember him. He was cutting her hair. Shorter than yours is now even. God I was so nervous. It was a very intimidating situation."

Faith felt nervous herself, but for completely different reasons. "In here it says that you asked Josephina whether or not she really killed Blythe Dawson. The guard saw Josephina lean down and whisper the answer in your ear." Faith paused. "What did she say?"

Nadia studied her for a long while. Her eyes sparkled.

"Why is this so important to you?"

"Ms. Wilson, please! I can’t explain. Just tell me what Josephina said to you!"

Nadia leaned forward slowly, and reached out to touch Faith’s hand. Her eyes stabbed into Faith’s face, studying her carefully.

Then Nadia’s eyes widened. She smiled, and leaned back with a look of amused wonder on her face. Faith wasn’t sure what to say.

Nadia turned back to look out the window and said, "She didn’t say anything to me."

"You’re lying! The guard saw you..."

Nadia held up her hand. "Just listen to me! I’m telling you what happened. I remember it very clearly. I asked her ..."

"Did you really kill her?" Nadia asked suddenly, realizing that after all the columns she had written, she had never asked the prisoner that question.

Josephina smiled secretly...perhaps sadly. The guard unlocked the door and stood in the hallway.

"Time to go Wright."

Josephina nodded, but turned back to Nadia, still seated in the tiny chair. The guard watched as the prisoner slowly bent and brought her face close to Nadia’s ear. His eyes narrowed.

Josephina whispered something that made Nadia’s eyes widen.

"She kissed me."

Faith arched an eyebrow. "She what?"

"She didn’t say anything. She just kissed me." Nadia shook her head. "Right here, under my ear. Does that mean anything to you?"

Under her ear. Faith shook her head slowly. "Maybe."

Nadia shrugged. "It must have been her idea of one last joke. She was so smug when she left. She wasn’t afraid to die." Nadia sighed. "And I only wrote one other story about her after that."

"One other...? What did you write?" Simon hadn’t been able to find any other articles after the execution.

"It was her last request to me. I figured it was the least I could do. She told me that she wanted me to write that she was in love with Blythe Dawson. And that she would be in love with her forever. I had covered the entire trial from start to finish, but after I wrote that last piece, I just couldn’t bring myself to write anything more. Not after that."

Faith shook her head. "Ms Wilson...did Josephina kill Blythe?"

Nadia paused.

"No."

Faith closed her eyes. Thank God. She let out a long breath.

"At least, I don’t believe so. Although when I went to visit her on death row, I was sure she did. It took me years until I realized I was wrong."

"Why?"

"They said she lost control when she caught Blythe on the phone with me. But Blythe didn’t say anything that would have caused that. She told me to leave her alone. Besides, Josephina could never have lost control enough to kill her." Nadia glanced at Faith. "They were in love. Believe me when I tell you that Ms. Dickinson. It took me a long time to realize it, but I have never seen two people more in love than they were. I was a fool."

"So...so who killed her?"

Nadia shook her head, and let out a slow breath. "I don’t know," she whispered.

Faith rolled her eyes. Her heart sank. "Great."

Nadia held up a finger. "But, if anyone would know, it would be Josephina’s neighbour. Linda."

Faith’s hope’s rose. "Linda? The costume designer?"

"That’s right. She was Josephina’s only other real friend."

"Is she still alive?"

"I don’t know if she’s dead or not. She might still be alive. She was my age."

Faith took out her notebook. "Maybe I can find her. Do you know what her last name was?"

Nadia cocked her head. "I think I remember. Oh yes." She nodded in recollection. "It was Joyce."

Joyce.

Faith dropped her pen.

"What did you say?"

"That’s right. Linda Joyce. The last I heard, she and her daughter had opened up...some kind of used clothing shop. With all the old costumes from the theater."

Faith’s heart leaped in her chest. "She and the daughter..."

"The shop was called...Surrender....Surrender something."

Oh my God.

"Gabrielle..." Faith whispered, and bolted from her chair, sending it toppling over backwards. An explosion of panic went off in her gut. She tore out of the room without saying another word to Nadia Wilson.

Outside, Faith leaped into her convertible, over the door and squealed out of the parking lot, hoping against hope that Linda Joyce...and maybe even her daughter...would be at Surrender Dorothy when she got there.

Chapter 11

The sun had set by the time Faith got back to the costume shop. The street lamps had come on outside, and there was a ‘closed’ sign hanging in the store window. All the lights were off inside the store.

Remembering vaguely that there was a whole upstairs to the store that she and Gabrielle had never seen, Faith gently pushed the doorknob. It was an old door, with an old lock. With a sharp jab to the deadbolt the frame splintered and Faith slipped quietly inside. A quick inspection of the street told that the whole thing hadn’t drawn any attention, and Faith figured if things turned out the way she was expecting, it wouldn’t matter.

The shop was creepy with the lights out. The piles of clothing and the drapes over the back room looked like dark figures standing, waiting. They watched over her, silently.

Faith crept quietly around the cashier’s counter and looked up the staircase. The smell of dust and mothballs seemed to be stronger in the dark. Faith saw a dim light at the top of the stairs.

She crept up slowly, keeping absolutely silent. She kept away from the center of the stairs, trying to keep them from creaking. She didn’t know who was up there. She didn’t know what to expect.

At the top of the stairs the door was open a crack. Faith listened, but the room inside was silent. But a light was on. Quietly, she pushed the door open and looked inside. And saw Linda Joyce.

Apparently the old woman hadn’t heard anything yet. She was sitting in a large chair, reading. The light in the room was coming from a small lamp on a table next to her. There were books on the table, and a small jewelry box.

Her hair was gray; the colour of smoke. A map of wrinkles covered her face. Faith hadn’t been quite correct when she had guessed Ms. Joyce’s mother was one hundred...she was only eighty. But she looked older.

"Hello Linda," Faith said, stepping into the room.

Linda looked up and gasped with a shock. "Who are you? Where’s Lizzie?"

Faith wondered what exactly Ms. Joyce had told her mother. She decided to bluff. "I think you know who I am quite well, don’t you?"

Linda studied her, then finally nodded, and closed the book in her lap. "Yes," she whispered.

Faith’s stomach tightened. "I want the truth Linda. I want to know why you killed Blythe Dawson."

Linda looked up at her sadly. "I didn’t kill anyone."

"Come on. Don’t you think you’ve been hiding this for too long?"

"You don’t know what you’re talking about! I would never have killed Blythe Dawson. Josephina was in love with her and..."

Faith suddenly understood. "And you were in love with Josephina. Is that it?"

Linda nodded. She looked up at Faith with heavy eyes. Eyes that had seen and carried far too much for one lifetime. "You’d better sit down."

Faith sat on a stool in front of the large armchair.

Linda sighed. "I never even knew I was in love with Josephina. I mean, I had a daughter. I had been married, until my husband died. It wasn’t until I saw Josephina and Blythe go upstairs for their first night together, and Blythe gave that candy to Lizzie that I realized how jealous I was, and that I was in love with Josephina too."

"Linda, tell me about the night Blythe died. What happened if you didn’t kill her?"

Linda nodded, breathing out in profound release. Faith realized that she had probably been wanting to tell someone the truth for years.

"I knew everything that was happening between Josephina and Blythe that final week. And I was there when Josephina saw Blythe and Nadia together at the theater. I couldn’t believe how awfully Blythe had treated Josephina. After Josephina had run off, I asked her..."

"What did you do?" Linda asked the actress softly, with a faint trace of reproach.

"Nothing...I..." Blythe’s head was spinning with the rapid shift of events. "Jo!" She started to go after her, but Nadia Wilson caught her arm.

"Let her go, Blythe. Don’t make her lose her temper again."

Blythe jerked her arm away, heedless of the cameras flashing around her. "Let me go! This is all your fault Nadia. You know that?"

She ran a few paces, then stopped, realizing she didn’t know where Josephina had gone.

"What are you going to do, Ms Dawson?" Linda asked.

"I have to get out of here," Blythe said, almost to herself. "I have to find her."

"But you don’t know where she is."

Blythe looked at Linda, then glanced at Nadia. "Then I’ll just have to wait for her at home. She has to come back sometime."

Nadia shook her head. "Blythe, I..."

Blythe held up her hand. "You’ve done enough Nadia. That’s enough!"

Then she turned, and pushed her way through the crowd.

But Linda had an idea where Josephina had gone. There was a diner just a short ways away from the theater that she and Josephina had used to go to talk, years ago, before the tall writer and the actress had ever met. After Blythe had run back to Josephina’s apartment to wait for her, Linda slipped out of the theater and headed down the street. The air was warm and thick with an approaching thunderstorm. She could hear distant thunder rumbling.

Sure enough, Josephina was there, sitting in a dark corner, her head resting in her hands.

"Josephina?"

"What?— Oh Linda..." Josephina wiped her eyes. She had been crying.

Linda sat down opposite her. "Josephina...I’m so sorry for everything that happened."

"I feel just awful for storming out on her like that. What have I done?"

Linda was a kind woman, but she figured it was finally time to tell her tall friend her feelings.

"Josephina...she’s treated you terribly. I’ve watched it all and I can’t believe how insensitive she’s been."

"No. I’m the one who’s been insensitive."

"Josephina, I hate to see you hurting like this." Then Linda blurted her one hope, "Let’s you and I leave this city and go somewhere. Take Lizzie. Just the three of us."

Josephina looked surprised. "What? No, I can’t leave right now."

"But I love you."

"Oh Linda," Josephina’s hand rested gently on hers, "you do? Why didn’t you ever say anything?"

"I don’t know. I don’t think I knew it until now. I’m sorry. I just had to tell you. Will you come with me?"

"No...I’m sorry Linda. My...my heart is not for you."

Linda was crushed. It was then that she realized just how much Josephina loved Blythe. And how much the whole ordeal of the past few days must have been weighing on her.

Linda was close to tears. "Then...then you should go to her. She’s waiting for you at your apartment."

Josephina stood and pulled Linda into an embrace. "Come on. I’ll give you a ride back to the building."

In the hallway in their building, Josephina smiled sweetly at Linda before entering her apartment and lightly shutting the door. Linda continued down the hall to her own apartment, but something made her stop. She couldn’t bear the thought of Blythe saying something cruel to Josephina. She turned around and stopped in front of Josephina’s door. She opened it just a crack... enough to peer inside.

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Josephina strode to the bedroom door and paused there. Blythe was talking on the phone.

"Nadia, I don’t want you to call me. I don’t want to talk to you anymore...No Nadia. I love Josephina. And I don’t want you to hurt her anymore. I have nothing left to talk to you about. Goodbye!"

She slammed the phone down on the nightstand and sat silently, thinking. Then she detected someone else in the room. Blythe whipped her head around.

"Jo!"

Josephina took an uncertain step into the bedroom.

Blythe stood "You scared me." She looked again. "Jo? Are you all right?"

"I...I’m sorry." Josephina whispered. "forgive me I..."

Blythe smiled. "There is nothing to forgive." she took Josephina’s hands. "I know all this has been hard for you. And I know I haven’t made things any easier for you lately..."

"No, it’s my fault. I just...I overreacted about Nadia Wilson."

"But I should have told her to stop from the get go. Because of me everyone thinks terrible things about you. People are beginning to think that you might even lose your temper and hurt me."

Josephina shook her head. "I would never hurt you Blythe."

"I know. And I’m so sorry. I just..." Blythe dropped her eyes.

"What is it...?" Jo reached out and caressed her arms.

"I was just worried... you were so upset about everyone finding out about us. I thought that you were...ashamed of me. Ashamed of our relationship."

Josephina was aghast. "Blythe...how could you think that?"

Blythe looked up with glistening, hope-filled eyes. "You aren’t unhappy with me?"

"Unhappy with you?" Josephina cupped the actress’ face. "Blythe...I love you."

Blythe closed her eyes. A single tear dropped onto her cheek. Josephina bent down and kissed her gently, then pulled away.

"I love you so much..." Blythe whispered. "so much..."

Josephina’s face turned serious. She leaned in to kiss again. A long passionate kiss that caused them to sink slowly to their knees. Blythe tangled her hands in ebony hair, and Josephina stroked the perfect body under Blythe’s silk nightgown. It was all Josephina could do to nudge the bedroom door closed before they fell to the floor in an endless embrace.

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Linda shut the door silently, and walked slowly back to her own apartment, tears in her eyes. Inside, she dismissed the bewildered nanny, and found Lizzie still awake in her room.

"Hi Mama. Mama? Are you ok?"

"I’m...I’m fine Lizzie."

"Are we going to be leaving? Going on that trip? Did Josephina finally admit she loves you too?"

Linda smiled through her tears and lowered herself onto Lizzie’s bed. "No darling. Josephina is going to...stay with Ms Dawson."

"Miss Dawson," Lizzie said flatly. "But she’s so mean. That’s so unfair."

"Lizzie, we should be happy for Josephina. She’s in love with Miss Dawson. They need each other."

"But you said that Miss Dawson was treating Josephina badly," Lizzie said, confused.

"No. They were just having a fight. They’ve made up now."

Lizzie’s face was serious. "I think that if Miss Dawson left, Josephina would forget all about her and realize that she loves you."

Linda shook her head sadly. "No honey. Miss Dawson isn’t going to leave. Please try to understand...they belong together."

Lizzie reached up and hugged her mother then. And Linda didn’t see the impassive, cold look on Lizzie’s face.

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"Your performance was extraordinary tonight, Blythe," Josephina whispered into Blythe’s ear. They were lying on the bed, in a tangle of bare limbs, after having had the greatest make-up sex in history.

"Why thank you. You weren’t so bad yourself."

Josephina chuckled. "That’s not what I meant. I’m talking about the play."

"Did you really like it?"

"Yup. I cried."

"You cried?" Blythe twisted around in Josephina’s arms so they were nose to nose. "Serious?"

"Well, I didn’t let anyone else see. But when you were pounding on that girl’s chest? Amazing. If I get anyone that’s half as good as you for my play it will be a sure fire success. That is, of course, if I ever get it done."

"You know I’ll act in your play Jo."

Jo kissed the tip of her nose. "You’re amazing. You’re my hero, Blythe."

"Let’s just hope the critics are as generous as all that."

"I’m sure they will be. How could they not?" Josephina glanced at the clock on the nightstand. "The early edition should be delivered downstairs by now. Do you want me to run down and grab a copy? We can read the review of your show together."

Blythe nodded. Josephina got up and put on her robe. She paused at the doorway. "Don’t go anywhere."

"Never."

With the flash of a smile, Josephina was gone. Blythe heard the outer door shut, and then a rumble of thunder.

She slid her nightgown over her head and pulled the covers up snugly, a huge smile plastered over her face. She closed her eyes, content.

A sound made her open her eyes. That was fast, she thought.

But Josephina didn’t enter. She must have imagined it. Blythe closed her eyes again.

Something else made her sit up. Just outside the bedroom door, something unseen seemed to leap back. Lightning flashed outside, followed almost immediately by a clap of thunder. The storm was getting closer.

Angry at scaring herself, Blythe rolled over on her side, away from the doorway, and closed her eyes tightly.

But something was wrong. The hairs on the back of her neck were prickling.

A sudden feeling that someone was in the room made her turn.

Lizzie was standing next to the bed.

"Lizzie! What are you...?" words failed her. She was slightly drowsy, and only half-noticed the girl’s face in a tight frown.

Lizzie raised her fist above her head. Blythe saw the scissors clenched in Lizzie’s hand. Light gleamed off the point wickedly.

"This is for you!"

Then she brought them stabbing down...down...down.... Blythe was so surprised she didn’t even have time to react. Then she felt the point enter her throat with a burning, cutting pain. She jerked and screamed in agony, but the sound came out half a gurgle. She could taste the copper tang of blood at the back of her mouth. Lizzie pulled the scissors out, and Blythe felt something run down her neck. In a panic she flung up her arms and smacked the girl away. Lizzie fell to the side with a cry, the scissors scattering. Blythe tried to take a breath and began to choke.

Lizzie was back up and stabbed her in the stomach. "And this is for you!" The girl was on top of her. Straddling her legs. A small hand slapped Blythe’s face. "This is for you!" Another terrible pain pierced her shoulder. Blythe’s hands scraped at Lizzie’s eyes. Her fingers were painted red. Lightning froze an image of Lizzie drawn back, a look of malice twisting her face. The scissors came down again...and again...

Blythe’s strength was rapidly leaving her. Lizzie felt so heavy. Her own arms were heavy and the pain was unbearable. With one last push, she shoved the girl off of her and rolled off the bed. The world spun around her. Her legs gave out and she thudded to the floor. It hurt so much. She tried desperately to cry for help, but had no voice. She could barely move on the floor, flat on her back.

Lizzie hove into view, fist poised, and stabbed her in the chest, just above her right breast, and left the scissors sticking out of her. Blythe’s vision was blurry. She could barely see the blood-covered girl above her. Everything was dimming. She couldn’t lift her arms.

Lizzie leaned over her and reached around her neck. And with a sharp tug, ripped free Blythe’s necklace, the hoop that had been her birthday present from Josephina. The girl stood over her for a moment, and Blythe thought she saw her smile. Then she was gone.

Blythe felt very cold. Her shoulders and neck. Her lungs could hardly lift for breath. Her legs were completely numb. Lightning flashed, and it was very, very bright. Blythe realized she couldn’t hear the thunder. The stabs barely hurt at all anymore. She was slipping away, and she knew it.

She thought of Josephina.

The lightning flashed once again. Then she died, staring at the ceiling, the sound of rain driving on the dark window pane.

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When Josephina entered the apartment, she knew something was wrong right away. Maybe it was the smell. All of her senses were suddenly pricked to awareness.

She dropped the paper to the floor. "Blythe?" Her walk quickened to a frantic run towards the bedroom. Her subconscious might have noticed a small shadow flit out of a corner, or hear the door quietly open and close behind her.

Her nightmare unfolded at the bedroom door. Blood was everywhere. It pooled on the bed, spotted the sheet and the wall behind the pillows.

She saw Blythe’s body and screamed. The sight was horrible. She slid to her knees next to her lover. Blythe was soaked red, her nightgown clinging and sticky. Her face was smeared with red smudges of blood up from her neck. Her eyes were round and white. Her face was expressionless. A small trickle of blood ran out of her mouth and down her cheek. Josephina’s barber scissors stuck out of her shoulder.

"No..." Josephina touched her, terrified, disbelieving. She took the scissors and pulled them free. Stared at them in her hand. Then dropped them and touched Blythe’s face. "Blythe..." She clutched Blythe’s shoulders. "Blythe!"

She gasped and pulled Blythe to her heart, not caring about the blood that stained her robe and skin. Tears fell out of her eyes. "No!" Blythe’s head dangled lifelessly. Her arms hung limp against Josephina’s lap.

Josephina threw back her head, a mournful howl ripping from her throat.

"Oh God Please No!!!"

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"I didn’t know what was happening," Linda said, "...until it was all over. But when Lizzie came back covered in Blythe’s blood, I knew immediately what she had done."

Faith released the breath that she had been holding. God.

"I never should have told her how I felt about Josephina. But even with everything that had happened, I still wanted her to have a normal life. So I didn’t come forward. I couldn’t. Even...even when they found Josephina guilty."

"It’s just as much your fault as it was your daughter’s," Faith said scornfully.

"I’ve had to live with that guilt for fifty years, Ms Dickinson." Linda shook her head. "I’ll never understand it though. Josephina didn’t even testify. She just sat there, emotionless. It was like her soul was gone."

"Two halves of the same person," Faith murmured quietly.

"When she was twenty," Linda said slowly, "Lizzie began to study psychiatry. She learned hypnosis, and her professor taught her about past lives, and fate. And ever since then, she was convinced that one day, Blythe would return to kill her. So when she saw your article in the paper, she knew it was time. And first...she tried to do it without getting involved herself..."

Faith’s eyes widened. "Those men? Your daughter hired those men to take Gabrielle away from me?" Faith could feel that familiar burn of anger beginning in her chest again.

Linda nodded gravely. Faith rose.

"I’ve got to go to her. Good God, I left Gabrielle alone with her!"

"Wait!" Linda halted her with one word. Her weathered hand reached slowly to the jewelry box on the table. She took something out and pressed it into Faith’s hand.

"I took this away from Lizzie when I found her with it. I’ve been carrying it around with me too long."

It was a silver and gold hoop on a chain, with nine tiny sapphires, and an inscription on the back.

Faith’s face hardened. She took one last look at Linda Joyce. Then tucked the necklace into an inner pocket of her leather coat and ran down the stairs.

•••

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