Page 127

The soundof the tape recorder made Claire grin.

“I remember you,” she said fondly to the device. It was how it all started. A simple recording of a hypnotherapy session.

“Please state your name for the record,” her court appointed attorney said without meeting her eyes.

This was the second time Claire sat across from the woman. The first time Claire had been in a hospital. She hadn’t been able to speak yet thanks to all the drugs they’d pumped her full of to stave off the pain.

Now she wasn’t so lucky. Hands restrained to her sides in what could only be described as a strait jacket, she was painkiller free and confined to her wheelchair.

A bit overkill since she wasn’t exactly a flight risk.

Several surgeries had saved her life, but not her legs. She stared at the bandaged stumps where her knees had once been. She was losing the battle with the phantom pains the doctors told her didn’t warrant medication.

She surveyed her surroundings. This was her first visit to one of the private rooms at the pretrial detention center reserved for attorney-client meetings.

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, doing nothing for the attorney’s pasty complexion. Claire knew hers didn’t look much better. Her pallor was as gray as the bare concrete floors and cinderblock walls in the windowless room.

“Please state your name,” her attorney repeated.

“Claire Townsend.”

“Can you tell me about your involvement in the Reaper killings?”

Claire cocked her head to the side, a feline grin splitting her face. “Are you sure you want to know?”

“Six people died,” the attorney said. “Max Durnin, Meredith Kincaid, Kylie Marx, Cash Holloway, Congressman Norton Hayes, and Dr. Roman Dvita. Two more were injured. Officers, Hartwell, and Lennox.”

“Yes,” Claire said dryly. “Is there a question?”

“My question is, what can you tell me about these murders?”

“I can tell you this story would’ve ended differently if seven people died.”

“How so?”

Claire smirked. “It’s a long story.”

“Then you better start from the beginning.”

“Are you sure you want to hear it?”

“Miss Townsend, my job is to establish if you’re mentally fit to stand trial. So yes, I’m here to listen to whatever you think the truth is.”

A giggle escaped Claire as she leaned closer to her attorney. “Do you want to know a secret?”

“Why not,” the woman said, folding her hands atop the case folder on the scarred Formica table.

“I knew it would end this way.”

“Because that’s how Dr. Dvita planned it?”

“Dvita!” A wry laugh escaped Claire. “He had no clue.”

“He was the brainchild of this Seven Sleepers suicide pact, was he not?”

Claire shrugged. “Was he?”

“You tell me? The general consensus is that he hypnotized you and the others to commit murder. Were you under his spell?”

“I don’t know. You have all the facts in front of you. What do you think?”

“My opinions are irrelevant. I’m here to find out what you think, Miss Townsend.”

“The truth?” Claire purred.

“Preferably.”

Claire sucked her teeth. “I don’t know if you can handle it.”

“Try me,” the woman said, her tone beyond bored.

It tickled Claire to think the woman across from her thought she understood. She hadn’t a clue. None of them did. But she would. They all would.

“Do you trust me?” Claire asked.

The woman huffed her annoyance.

“That’s a no.” Claire smirked. “Good. Smart. But I don’t need your trust.”

“You’re the one who needs to earn trust here, Miss Townsend. That starts by you telling the truth.”

“Truth is subjective,” Claire replied. “I’d rather tell you a story.”

“I’m listening.”

“It starts with my sister.” Claire could see the instant confusion as her attorney began flipping through the file in front of her. “Oh, you won’t find her there. No one knows about her. My parents made sure of that. They gave her up. Let a new family adopt her. They wanted us to forget. But I never did.”

The woman stopped flipping pages and looked at Claire. “Who is your sister?”

“Her name was Annabelle.”

The woman blanched.

“She fell in love with the wrong man. But we made a plan to pay him back for all the wrong he’d done, me and Annabelle.” Claire closed her eyes wistfully for a moment. When she opened them, she could see the fear in her attorney’s eyes.

“Are you talking about Annabelle Sorkin?”

Claire nodded. “Do you want to meet her?”

“Your sister?” the woman asked cautiously.

Claire nodded. “She’s here right now. She can tell you everything we planned.”

“How?”

“It’s simple. She’s waiting just on the other side. All you have to do is let her in. Count with me.”

Claire met the woman’s gaze and began counting down, her voice a whisper, “Ten.”

“Nine.”

“Eight.”

“Seven.”