Tuesday, March 31, 1998

Tommy turned off the TV, frowning as he crossed the motel room to look out the window at the highway. He thought, Is this how it all ends?

The national news had been sending out confusing reports over the last few days. Peeled bodies were turning up all over the state of Texas, and the pattern of deaths had spread, accelerating at a frightening rate. Predictions were made on when the problem would spread to other states, and rumors about what caused the deaths were plentiful.

Tommy put stock in nothing he heard, but nothing in his experience was capable of the gruesome violence that was becoming more common. Tommy wanted to believe that the human religious cults had gotten carried away, but the bodies being peeled so completely seemed extreme even for the devoted witch hunters.

He thought of Matilda and Kevin, alone at home while Tommy stayed with Jenny in a motel room in Duncan Arizona, waiting for one of Jenny’s acquaintances to arrive.

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Sunday, March 29, 1998

Jenny knew that she was being foolish, and that she should have sat on the opposite side of the table from Tommy. No chastisement could keep her from sitting beside him, her chair scooted close to allow her to brush her arm against his.

Tommy wasn’t able to think clearly either, and each time she leaned over to touch him, he brushed the back of his hand over hers.

Jenny couldn’t look at anyone but Tommy. She tried looking up at Susan, but she couldn’t stand the woman’s bright red blush, or her efforts to hide her ear to ear grin behind her hand.

Roland watched her with newfound bemusement, like he was examining her under a microscope and had discovered some new fact about her.

When Tommy excused himself to go back into the house to look for the bathroom, Jenny couldn’t look up at Roland. She knew he would be watching her with suspicion.

But when he cleared his throat and she looked up, he wore a smile. She dropped her gaze, able to see the color rising on her own cheeks.

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Sunday, March 29, 1998

Jenny paced in her bedroom fast, making the bottom of her flimsy red dress twirl around her body each time she spun on her toes. Tommy was coming, and she’d dressed in the skimpy garment for him, along with a red silk slip. The matching high-heels she wore prevented her from stomping, but she stalked the room, her hands closing and opening in front of her while she sought to dispel her anxiety.

Her nerves were still fraying as she thought of what she would say when Tommy arrived. She already knew what he was planning. She didn’t know how to feel about him giving up, especially when she was so close to pulling the job off and making Roland into a true believer.

She felt frustrated because she’d done her part to get Matilda’s money, and now Tommy was the one having a change of heart.

It wasn’t that he had found his conscience and felt bad over tricking Roland. Tommy was miserable over Jenny being hurt, and he wanted to return everything he’d taken from Roland to prove that she was more important to him than money.

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Friday, March 27, 1998

Tampico was the final destination, requiring a few hours to navigate Rio Pánuco, the waterway that served as a port of call to many larger cruisers and yachts. At the port, more of Roland’s people were already on the dock to lead the way to a rented car. They’d traveled ahead by chartered plane and made arrangements for everything.

The chasm of distance between Jenny and Roland was no longer so wide as they rode in the black limousine. Roland spoke of his plans to take in a few of the local attractions. He wanted to take her to the Historic Center, and then to the Plaza de Armas. Then he would take her to see the Cathedral of Tampico.

She let him rattle off locations, nodding when he suggested a name for a café to stop at for lunch. When he wound himself down, Jenny said, “Clarissa probably loved visiting here, right?”

“The one time we came, yes.” Roland’s relaxed smile faltered, and he looked out the window to watch buildings whiz past. “It was the first trip I took her on, to help her get over her mother.” He sighed, waving his hand. “We can talk about her later. I still want to talk about you.”

“Only because you like to laugh at me,” Jenny said.

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Thursday, March 26, 1998

Laura dropped out of the pilot’s seat and walked to the back of the mental corridor. Veering right, she knocked on the door to Kevin’s room. “Hey, will you at least try to explain why you’re avoiding me?” Nothing. “Kevin?” Laura sighed. “I don’t like this. You’ve never drawn away from me like this before.”

The lock clicked, and Laura tried the knob, unable to open it. Behind the door, Kevin said, “You have to promise you won’t laugh.”

He didn’t open the door before she laughed, her back loosening as concern drained from her. She’d been worrying that he was hiding something bad. “Whatever it is, you can’t avoid me forever.”

The knob turned in her hand, and Kevin opened the door, staring down. “Just…” He sighed and raised his head to lock gazes with his alter ego.

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Thursday, March 26, 1998

Tommy paced the motel room, blinking his red-rimmed eyes fast to keep his tears from blinding him. He didn’t think he could cry so much, but once Jenny dropped to the deck and vanished, he’d caught a flashback of the torture she’d endured at the hands of the humans.

And now she was gone from his reach, and Roland had her on a boat, able to do whatever tests he wanted. Tommy had no way to get to her to help, and that knowledge dug a hole in his chest.

He spun at the sound of the door opening. The woman who walked in was Abigail, Henry’s alter ego, while the man behind her was Rory, Diana’s alter ego. They had switched personalities to take a day off, and neither had any clue of the trouble they were walking in on.

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Thursday, March 26, 1998

Once Roland had been sent away, Marcus collapsed on the bed. The death of his mother hit him hard. Carmen had been Marcus’ best friend for most of his life. She was the first face he remembered clearly, and her advice guided and shaped him most often.

Marcus loved Dean, but his father was a clown. Dean’s new status as a powerful mage didn’t change his goofy behavior or his outlandish appearance.

Carmen had always seemed more stable to Marcus, and in hanging around her, he had always been a stereotypical mama’s boy. Long before Jenny emerged, he’d grown his hair long to emulate Carmen.

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Thursday, March 26, 1998

The plan was made to take a chartered Cessna flight on Thursday from Amarillo International to the Cameron County airport in Port Isabel.

From there, they would ride to Roland’s private 80 foot yacht, Mariah, and his crew would have the boat ready for a trip to some stopover location in Mexico. Roland had not yet said where they would end up.

Jenny was packing her bags for the trip when James, her personal servant knocked on the door. “There is an unusual couple asking to speak with a woman named Jenny Wrigley. I…are they looking for you?”

Jenny pouted and shook her head. “The name isn’t familiar. What did they want?”

“I don’t know. They won’t speak to me about what they want, but they seem rather insistent that this Jenny person is here.”

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Tuesday, March 24, 1998

The first week passed by in a blur of long conversations, many of which ended with Roland excusing himself for getting misty-eyed. Those that ended differently were because of Roland’s prying questions about Jenny’s background.

It couldn’t be helped, since Jenny had passed enough energy to Roland to allow him to heal his hip. He’d stopped using the cane, baffling his staff when he laid it across the arms of his wheelchair and told his butler, “Call a charity about picking those up, will you?”

Since then, he had often redirected conversations to find out more about her, because he would not believe that she was a clone who had just been born the week before.

She gave him nothing, as Tommy would probably want. Jenny was pursuing her own agenda, one to help Roland and earn the money that Tommy had taken.

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Jenny’s first meal in the house was exquisite yet simple. After he’d returned from changing into a dry dress shirt and slacks, Roland and Jenny had gone to the kitchen in the east wing of the manor. It was a corner room too, taking advantage of natural sunlight.

They parked themselves at a countertop near the large stainless steel refrigerator to make sandwiches, and the staff moved out of Roland’s way. They weren’t surprised to see him working for himself.

The meat for the sandwiches was a delicate spiced ham, sliced so thin it almost floated. The cheese was a smoked gouda, and Roland tossed a salad across the cold cuts before he added a layer of brown mustard to the top and bottom of a slice of bread. Then he added another layer of meat, cheese and bread. The monster sandwich was cut into quarters and Jenny was given half. Had he made her a whole sandwich, she wouldn’t have been able to finish it.

While they munched the sandwiches, Roland sliced potatoes in a food processor to make a second course of hash browns. But instead of ketchup, he served the potatoes with fresh Pico de Gallo from the refrigerator.

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