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A Penny for Your Thoughts
What if you could pick coins out of the local wishing well and feel the wishes already on them?
When heiress Nicole Madison crashes into the town wishing well, she finds she can feel the wishes already on the coins and see the ghost on the third floor of the old Miners Hospital. Aggravated by her newfound abilities, she tries to make a few wishes come true and, when confronted with the overwhelming emotion of a particularly desperate wish, she is determined to help and rid herself of the coin that won’t go away. If that isn’t enough, small-town cop, Jake Saunders, can’t decide if he’s still carrying a torch for her, or wants her out of his town as soon as possible. Throw in a confused and vengeful ghost, a search-and-rescue guy trying to find himself, Mad Dan The Radio Man hot on her tail for an interview, and the sculptor determined to turn nude artist, and Nicole can’t decide if her newfound ability is a curse she brought upon herself, or a wish come true. |
Prologue
Miners Hospital, Park City, Utah, 1904
Edward woke with a start, his body tense as he wondered what had roused him. Everything was quiet. The third-story windows were closed against the chill autumn air and snow flurries predicted by the nurses, effectively shutting out sound.
He studied the darkness beyond the lace curtains. Even if the panes were open, he doubted he’d hear any noise with the hospital perched on the mountain, so far from the red-light district. Decent folk living nearby were tucked into bed at this hour.
He moved his head slowly toward the new-fangled electric light spilling up the stairs. He was glad for the light. Working the silver mines by day meant he’d spent most of his life in darkness.
Had his dreams wakened him? He couldn’t remember. How was he supposed to remember dreams of the dark?
His chest tightened, his throat itched, and he immediately regretted even the small movement of his head. He willed his body to relax, his mind to slip back into sleep. It was the only place the pain couldn’t chase him. The only place he felt whole again.
Delila. He’d think of Delila. His favorite nurse. His girl. She was his beacon in the darkness, like that lighthouse he’d seen with his mother when he was a boy.
The other nurses were competent, but didn’t really see him. She saw him. Looked at him with her pretty blue eyes. Knew his name. She even took off her white cloth mask sometimes, allowing him to see a human face. Her beautiful face.
She was working tonight. She’d given him morphine, held his hand and stayed by his bedside until he’d fallen asleep.
He loved her. At twenty-two, she was three years younger than he, and perfect in every way. His sweetheart. It was worth being awake to think of her. She was married, but sometimes, more and more, he pretended she was his wife. That he was healthy and whole and breaking his back in the mines for a reason. Because there was someone to come home to.
Sudden yearning burned his eyes and he wished he’d had the opportunity for a sweetheart. Wished things could have been different. Wished Delila were his.
Sometimes she had bruises on her face. On her arms. She claimed to be clumsy, but he was no fool. He couldn’t stand the thought of anyone hurting her. She was always so kind, funny and cheerful.
And at times, she looked at him as if she felt the way he did. As if she wished for things that could never be.
If he were whole again, he’d champion her. Take her from that brute she’d married and give her a better life.
His chest heaved and his throat went from itching to burning. He couldn’t help it. He started to cough. Great hacking coughs that tried to expel his lungs, his stomach, his soul. He tried to breathe and sucked blood into his lungs for his efforts, forcing more coughing, killing him slowly, painfully.
Tuberculosis. It was the reason they’d stuck him up on the third floor by himself. So he could die without infecting anyone else. So he could die.
A woman’s scream rent the air.
He tensed, breathed carefully, slowly, then clutched his burning throat and tried to hold the coughing at bay.
A woman’s sob, a plea, wafted up the stairs.
He tried to get out of bed. Tugged the blankets back and got his feet to the floor, all the while coughing furiously. He lifted a shaking hand to the bedside table to steady himself.
He watched as Delila half-ran, half-crawled up the top stairs, disheveled and terrified. Her nurse’s cap and mask were gone, and her black hair streamed around her face.
A man staggered up behind her, his large body silhouetted against the light. The man called her by name and grabbed her arm. He hauled her up and around and slapped her face, knocking her down again.
She tried to get up, to slip past the man. She pleaded with the silhouette, called him by name, and Edward realized it was her husband who kicked her as she lay moaning.
Fury pulsed through Edward’s body, giving him strength. "Get away from her!" He tried to stand, but fell to the floor. He tried to get up. Tried to save her.
The bigger man assessed him and laughed. Mocked him. He circled his hands around Delila’s throat, squeezing, choking her. Fueled by rage, Edward found the strength to hurl himself across the room. He jumped on the bigger man’s back.
The man grabbed him, shoved him, and Edward fell to the floor. Coughing, wiping at the blood on his lips, he turned to look at Delila.
She lay on the floor, her hands at her throat as she gasped for air.
Panicked, Edward reached for her, and a pillow, the one from his bed, was placed over his face. He struggled. Hit out. Kicked out. Choked on his own blood, on the pillow, weakened, until finally the pressure eased, his body lightened, and the pain receded.
He was floating, watching from above while his murderer went back and finished strangling Delila. Edward tried to move, to help, but couldn’t. Grief had him screaming at his own ineffectiveness.
Edward watched as the man dragged her body beside his own. Placed his hands at her throat.
The killer stood and looked down at Delila and sudden grief etched his face.
Then he left, stumbling down the stairs.
A sweet, oh-so-familiar voice called his name.
He turned.
Delila was beside him. Beautiful, glowing, she held out her hand.
He started to lift his own, to meet her gaze, but angry and ashamed that he hadn’t saved her, turned away instead.
A long time later when he looked back, she was gone.
He hesitated, but didn’t follow. Rage--bitter, ugly and venomous--swamped him. He had to wait for the man to come back. He had to make everything right.
Chapter One
Park City, Utah, present day
At one o’clock in the morning, Nicole Madison sped toward Park City, squinted at the yellow lines dotting the middle of the road, and tried to stay to the right of them.
They kept disappearing.
It was entirely possible that she was drunk.
She widened her eyes and tried to concentrate on those lines. If she could just get home, she’d go to bed and stay there as long as possible. Before she started feeling sorry for herself.
Again.
She hit the steering wheel with the palm of her hand, and welcomed the sting. Other people got drunk without throwing pity parties. Granted, some individuals got mean, anti-social, or started dancing on bar tops. Some even went home with strange men. But still, give some people a bottle of Jack Daniel’s or Jim Beam and they grinned like hyenas, hovering for long periods of time in an all-is-right-with-the-world daze.
So why couldn’t she? Instead, she always got weepy, nostalgic, and started feeling sorry for herself.
She squinted at the speedometer and realized she was going way too fast. Not necessarily a big deal. This was Utah, after all, and no doubt there was a law forcing residents to be in bed by ten o’clock.
She sniggered, then frowned. So what was she doing in Utah? She could be anywhere in the world right now. New York, Paris, London, heck, even Timbuktu if she had the inclination. She could certainly afford it. So why wasn’t she anywhere but here?
She sighed, long and loud. She was here because when things got tough she always came back to Park City like an over-anxious homing pigeon. The only problem was, it wasn’t exactly home anymore. If she were honest, it never had been. Oh heck, here it comes, the pity party.
She jabbed at a button and the radio blared on. Carly Simon’s throaty voice sang ‘You’re So Vain’ out of the speakers and into the chill autumn night breezing through the open windows. Nicole started to sing along, but immediately teared up. Carly might be a little vague about who she was dissing, but Nicole knew exactly who she was talking about. The Creep.
She wiped her eyes, switched off the radio, and realized she’d passed the Quicky Mart. Hallelujah, she’d be home soon. State Highway 224 was coming to an end, and with a feeling of relief she passed the convenience stores, the golf course, the businesses all built to cutesy rustic building code, and finally hit Park Avenue.
The speed limit slowed after the intersection, but Nicole didn’t. What did it matter? No one else was on the road, anyway.
Except the deer.
Deer! There was a deer in the road!
The big fella had come out of freakin’ nowhere and parked himself squarely on the narrow, no-room-to-go-around street!
She cranked the wheel and screamed like a third grader as she narrowly missed a parked car, jumped a curb, careened between two pine trees, jumped another curb, and headed for the Old Miners Hospital and toward the two boys sitting on the edge of the town wishing fountain! She tried to swerve but couldn’t, just before the airbag exploded in her face.
She was a murderer!
Before she could really grasp what had happened, before she could breathe, the car flipped, splashed, and neatly landed upside-down in the fountain.
Water started to fill the car.
Upside down, stunned, dazed, eyes wide but unseeing, Nicole pushed at the airbag as cold water soaked the top of her head. She couldn’t breathe. What should she do? What could she do? Had she really just killed two boys?
Please, God, no!
Water continued to fill the interior of the car, covering her forehead, rising to her eyes, then her nose, her mouth, and her entire head, forcing her to move, to jerk and squirm.
But all to no avail. She was trapped.
Nicole was able to take one desperate breath before water covered her head completely. She bucked against the seat, fighting for her life, but the steering wheel wedged tight against her chest, and as she batted away the flattened airbag and stuck her hand out the window, her fingernails scraped against stone.
The driver’s side door was jammed tight against the side of the fountain.
She couldn’t believe it. She was really going to drown. She was really going to die.
Shadows and light crazily bounced off each other as the headlights eerily lit the flooded interior of the car. She lunged for the passenger’s side, frantically clawing the water, but couldn’t move. It didn’t matter. She could see stone blocking the other side, too.
Somehow the car had landed with dead accuracy between the wall and the stone fountain in the middle.
Her breath ached in her chest as she hit at the windshield with the flats of her palms, her efforts hampered by the airbag, her floating hair, and the water. The glass lit up like a spiderweb, hundreds of broken cracks sparkling off water and light, giving her hope that the glass would give, but as much as she wiggled, she couldn’t put on the needed pressure.
With a sense of disbelief, she stopped fighting.
This was it, then.
Had she hit the kids? Were they dead?
Her lungs ached and the need to suck in air--or even water-- grew intense. She knew she couldn’t hold out for much longer. Now that she was still, she heard muffled music, from her car radio. Could feel the music.
Her lungs burned worse with each passing second. Her hair splayed out over her face.
Suddenly, she saw two kids, upside down through the spiderweb of glass. They were frantic, waving their arms, yelling.
She hadn’t killed them.
Good. That was good.
Something unclenched inside her. She didn’t need that on her conscience, too.
Wild-eyed, the boys looked in the windshield.
She looked back.
One kid yelled, but all Nicole heard was the music, the muted pounding from the radio. Her lungs burned for her to suck in the water. Breathe, breathe, breathe.
Hands thrust down into the water by her head, gripping the steel window frame, straining. She could see it wasn’t going to happen. The other kid jumped into the fountain, and tried to kick in the windshield, but the angle was too awkward and it didn’t budge. Nicole knew even if he were successful, she was still trapped and he wouldn’t be able to pull her above water in time to save her life.
Her chest hurt. She needed so badly to breathe. All she had to do was open her mouth. Her lungs were demanding it anyway. All she needed to do was to simply give in. Everything would be over in seconds.
Blackness pushed at her and she realized she had regrets. She was only thirty-two. She had more money than...well, than Elvis. But she’d never found The One. Never had a child. Never found the love that had come so easily to her parents.
Maybe it was for the best. There wouldn’t be anyone to mourn her.
She knew she couldn’t hold on much longer and hoped the boys weren’t too traumatized by her death.
Suddenly, water gushed out through the driver’s side window, saving her life. She sucked in air as sound returned and she heard a kid screaming above the radio. "The fountain broke! The stones on the fountain gave way! Can you breathe? Lady, can you breathe?"
More water drained out of the car. Nicole choked, coughed, felt sick.
"Lady, can you hear me?"
Breathing harshly, sucking in air, coughing, Nicole switched off the radio with a shaking hand. "Yes." The word came out a sob. She placed frozen, trembling hands on her face and breathed deeply twice more. "Yes," she said more calmly, "I can hear you. Are you boys all right? Did I hit anyone?" Her voice sounded strange, nasal, reminding her of yoga class and headstands.
"Are you hurt?"
She assessed her situation. Nothing seemed to actually hurt. She was hanging upside down, packed in tight against the steering wheel, her legs encased and tucked up underneath. She wiggled her toes. She actually seemed okay. She certainly didn’t feel drunk anymore.
Drunk. She’d been drinking and in an accident. She was in so much trouble.
"Lady?"
"Yes, I’m all right. Thank you. You’re sure everyone out there is okay?"
"Yep, we’re good. It looks like your car is stuck in there tight. I bet the cops are going to have to use a crane to get you out." There was a pause. "Too bad about the car. She’s sweet. Porsche GT 3?"
"Yes."
"You’re lucky it isn’t a convertible."
"Yes. What happened to the water?"
"Your car smashed some stones loose. We kicked ‘em out and the water drained."
Nicole shivered. "You saved my life."
"Yeah."
She hadn’t deserved their help after almost killing them. "Thanks."
"Yeah. So we’re going to go call for help. We’ll be right back, okay?"
When it came out she’d been drinking she was going to get her license revoked. Luckily she hadn’t killed anyone. Not even the deer. Again she felt intense relief over the fact that the boys were all right.
She blew out a shaky breath. Other than the weird tightness in her head, and the freezing chill of the water, she was pretty comfortable. Right? No need for the police to show up just yet. "No hurry. In fact, I don’t want to be a bother to anyone, so tomorrow is probably soon enough to get help."
"She’s going into shock."
She probably was. Cold and wet, she started to shiver. She had to pee, but no way was that going to happen.
She could hear the boys running away.
Both of them.
Unexpected panic gripped her. Alone and trapped, she suddenly didn’t care if she lost her license or went to jail. She just didn’t want to be alone. "Wait!" The word came out as a croak. "Hello? Anyone there?" Couldn’t one of them have stayed to talk to her?
She suddenly realized how lucky she was they’d been in the park at all. If they hadn’t, she’d be dead now.
Her panic escalated. What if the boys were angry that she’d almost killed them and left her by herself and she really was stuck all night? She realized one boy hadn’t so much as spoken to her. Out of anger? Well, why not? She was a mess, and she’d almost killed them. She didn’t deserve help.
And Utah weather was unpredictable. Especially in the mountains. What if a blizzard sprang up? What if the temperature plummeted and she froze to death? She started shaking with cold and probably shock, too. Her teeth chattered, and her head pounded. Didn’t people die from shock?
She breathed in once. Twice. A third time. She needed to stop scaring herself or she was going to have a major freak out. The boys would come back. There was nothing to do but sit tight, or rather, hang tight, until the cavalry showed up again. What she needed was a distraction.
Nicole wiggled her shoulders, but her legs couldn’t move, so she didn’t make any headway. She was pinned.
The headlights were still on, and she could see an eerie glow illuminating the pool of water where it had settled below her. It also lit up the coins, reminding her that she’d landed in the town wishing fountain.
Not so good. If the fountain couldn’t be repaired, and it came out she’d been drinking, she’d be lynched like it was 1890. This would be a really good time to make a wish of her own.
There was just enough hand space to reach through the driver’s side window and she tried to snag a quarter with her index and middle finger, but it was just out of reach. It only made her more determined.
She stretched, straining against the steering wheel, and with the very tips of her fingers almost managed to get the quarter. Almost.
She relaxed a second, took a deep breath and strained forward once more. She had to get that quarter; it suddenly seemed more important than anything in the world to make a wish.
No luck. She relaxed again and tried to slide closer to the door. It worked. She gained about an inch.
If she had a coin she’d wish the cops would forget to have her alcohol level tested. She’d wish she could stop drinking. She’d wish her parents hadn’t died. She’d wish she weren’t so alone.
Tears started to burn behind her eyes and before self-pity completely overwhelmed her, she surged forward a third time, her fingernail managed to flick not just one, but several coins forward and she snatched up a quarter as it sank again through the remaining four inches of water. "Gotcha!"
Okay, she wished that....
She blinked and opened her palm to look at the quarter glinting dark and light shadows in her palm.
She could feel a wish already on the coin.
Someone else’s wish.
She could see the person, feel the emotion, and hear the wish. An elderly lady; Clara Jones; Quite nice-looking, but unhappy. Lonely. She wanted to see her daughter.
Jerking her hand, Nicole dropped the quarter. It landed with a plop and she watched it rock back and forth, winking in the light before it resettled on the upside down roof of her car. She blinked a few more times. Okay, so she was more drunk than she’d thought.
She hesitated, then dipped her hand into the water and picked up the quarter again. She tightened her fist around it and immediately felt sadness; loneliness; felt the elderly lady wishing her daughter would come home for a visit.
Yeah. Um. Okay. Well then. She was losing it. She must have hit her head.
She quickly dropped the quarter again, hesitated, then picked up a nickel. A housewife wished she could lose weight on her new diet; she had a twenty-fifth high school reunion coming up.
Nicole scrambled for a dime. This wish was fainter, but still there. A few months ago a teen-age girl hoped a boy named Andrew Child would ask her to Senior Cotillion.
Okay, granted, Nicole had been drinking. And granted, she’d almost died. But even so, this was way too weird. She dropped the coin as she heard the boys returning.
"Lady, are you still okay?"
"Yes, just dandy." The blood to her head was really doing a number on her. She sounded congested.
"We called the cops, and they’re sending an ambulance. And probably a crane to lift your car out, too. Cool, huh?"
"Yes, definitely cool."
She couldn’t help herself. She picked up another coin. A young child wanted a puppy. The kid had made the wish earlier that day. She could see him in her mind. Cute little guy. Red hair and freckles. His name was Tommy Jordan.
Nicole snatched up the last coin within reach. Another quarter. She flinched as emotion rocked through her, but didn’t drop the coin. Her chest tightened as she realized...as she realized-- "Huh...huh...huh..."
One of the boys spoke, the words sounding far away. "Did you say something?"
Chills broke out on top of goose bumps. She couldn’t breathe. One hand continued to grip the coin, and with the other she clenched her dripping hair. Her breathing escalated until she was panting. "Huh...huh...huh..."
"Lady?"
She was...she was...dead! She was dead, wasn’t she? This was like a Sixth Sense thing or something and she’d hit the boys and they were dead, too, and none of them even knew it!
"Huh...huh...huuuhhh..."
Her chest unclenched, and she finally caught enough oxygen in her lungs to scream.
***
The lights flashing on his car, Police Chief Jake Saunders pulled into the park. Sure enough, Dispatch hadn’t lied. There was a car upside down in the wishing fountain. Who would have thought that could ever happen?
An ambulance was parked on the lawn next to the fountain and two paramedics knelt, talking to the inhabitants of the car. The odds were they were drunk. He just hoped no one was dead. That was all he needed to deal with tonight.
His eyes felt gritty, reminding him he should be in bed instead of working a double shift to cover for Mike. But by morning, Mike and his wife should be welcoming a new baby to the family. Their first. Excited as Jake was for them, right now all he wanted was sleep.
As he parked, he recognized the two teenage boys waving him over and wondered what they were doing out so late. As if he couldn’t guess. The padlocks on the skate park gate didn’t keep the boys from jumping the fence. Or some of the girls, for that matter.
A woman’s scream exploded from the car and Jake jumped out of his Explorer and hurried over. "What happened?"
The boys met him halfway, the taller of the two, Karl, did all the talking, as usual. "...and this huge deer ran into the road and just stopped, and the lady swerved and rammed the fountain. She totally almost hit us! Totally! We could be dead now!"
Corey, his face animated, nodded, saying nothing, as usual.
"How many in the car?"
"Just the lady. She was fine a minute ago, and then she started doing a major freak out. Maybe she has internal bleeding and is coughing up blood or something. We looked, but didn’t see any. Maybe she wiped it off or it dripped in the water. We couldn’t tell for sure. Is she going to die or what?"
Jake could see the fountain had a big chunk of stones broken out. The car was wedged in tight. He hoped the boys were wrong about the injuries, because there was no way the lady was getting out without a crane and probably the Jaws Of Life, too. They could be here a while.
He leaned down beside the paramedics. "What can I do?"
"Hi, Jake. Do me a favor and calm her down, will you? I’ll be right back." Scott jumped up and headed toward the ambulance. The screaming continued, grating on Jake’s nerves. He looked at Terry, a seasoned paramedic, who ran after Scott, patting Jake’s shoulder as he left. Cowards.
Jake hunkered down in the mud, wishing he could see better. The edge of the fountain pretty much obscured his view, but he could see dangling hair, one side of her face, and her hands gripping the wheel. "Ma’am? Are you all right?"
She took another breath, and the screaming continued.
Jake resisted the urge to reach over and cover her mouth. "Ma’am? Are you in pain?"
The screaming stopped abruptly. "How can I be in pain? I’m dead!" She sounded like she had a cold.
He smiled. "No, ma’am, you’re not. Are you hurt?"
She shook her head and hair, stringy and wet, stirred the water. "How can I be hurt if I’m dead!"
She seemed unhurt. "You’re not dead. Any broken bones?"
She shook her head again. "No." She was silent a moment. "I’m really not dead?"
Jake moved out of the way to let the paramedics through again.
"No, but you’re lucky. You could have died." He turned to Scott and Terry. "Is there a crane on the way?"
"Yeah, Cal is bringing his."
Jake stepped back as the paramedics questioned the lady, stuffing a blanket around her. He gave the teens a hard look. "You want to tell me what you’re doing out after curfew?"
Corey looked down, but Karl grinned. "Being heroes. We kicked in the fountain when she was drowning. We saved her life. She almost killed us first, and she did kill Corey’s skateboard, but we’ve decided not to hold it against her on account of the deer and all."
"The deer, huh?"
"Yeah, you shoulda seen him! He was huge! If my mom would just let me go hunting next month--"
"Jake, take over here for a second, will you?"
Jake put a hand on the boy’s arm then walked over. Terry stopped him. "I think she’s okay, but I’m pretty sure she’s been drinking," he said quietly.
Jake nodded. "Figures." He crouched down again. "You all right now, Miss?"
"Yes, sure. Never better."
He smiled at her nasal-sounding voice. "We’ll get you out of there before you know it. The boys tell me they saw a deer. Is that what made you swerve?"
"Yes. He ran out in front of me." She spoke carefully. Too carefully.
"What’s your name?"
"Nicole Madison."
Jake’s eyebrows rose of their own accord. He peered into the half-lit interior. With her hair dangling, her body scrunched up and only half her face showing, he’d failed to recognize her. A year older than himself, they’d gone to one year of high school together. She’d been a cheerleader her junior year and he’d been a sophomore with a huge crush. Then she’d gone back to private school in New York and he’d only seen her around town on rare occasions since. If he remembered right, her parents had died in a plane crash about six months ago. "I’m Jake Saunders."
He didn’t say anything for a moment, then carefully voiced, "Nice to meet you."
She didn’t remember him. No surprise there. Even if it were broad daylight and she were right side up, she probably wouldn’t recognize him. He’d grown six inches since she’d last seen him and he’d never spoken to her in his life.
The boys crowded behind him. "Chief Saunders, can we see your gun? Just for a second?"
"Chief?" She laughed a bit hysterically.
"Not going to happen, boys. Yes, I’m Chief of Police for Park City. Can you tell me where you were coming from tonight?"
"I was at a friend’s house in Salt Lake," her voice slurred slightly.
"Have you had anything to drink tonight?"
"No," her voice quavered.
Not a good liar, then. He wanted to believe she was simply shaken up, but couldn’t ignore the slurred voice.
She’d been drinking.
For the sake of his old feelings for her, he wanted to ignore the signs, but couldn’t. Wouldn’t. He’d seen too much harm come from driving drunk.
"Not anything?"
She paused. "Well, maybe one drink. At my friend’s house."
Uh, huh. He’d heard that one before.
Deer or no deer, she could have killed two boys. He glanced over at the broken stones, the demolished skateboard. She almost had. That no one was hurt was just pure luck. He shook his head, sad that his former dream girl just took a plunge in his estimation. But then that was all she’d ever been. A dream girl. He didn’t even know her. "Ma’am. I’ll be doing a blood test when you get to the hospital. I hope I like the results."
After a hesitation, she sighed. "I hope you do, too."
Miners Hospital, Park City, Utah, 1904
Edward woke with a start, his body tense as he wondered what had roused him. Everything was quiet. The third-story windows were closed against the chill autumn air and snow flurries predicted by the nurses, effectively shutting out sound.
He studied the darkness beyond the lace curtains. Even if the panes were open, he doubted he’d hear any noise with the hospital perched on the mountain, so far from the red-light district. Decent folk living nearby were tucked into bed at this hour.
He moved his head slowly toward the new-fangled electric light spilling up the stairs. He was glad for the light. Working the silver mines by day meant he’d spent most of his life in darkness.
Had his dreams wakened him? He couldn’t remember. How was he supposed to remember dreams of the dark?
His chest tightened, his throat itched, and he immediately regretted even the small movement of his head. He willed his body to relax, his mind to slip back into sleep. It was the only place the pain couldn’t chase him. The only place he felt whole again.
Delila. He’d think of Delila. His favorite nurse. His girl. She was his beacon in the darkness, like that lighthouse he’d seen with his mother when he was a boy.
The other nurses were competent, but didn’t really see him. She saw him. Looked at him with her pretty blue eyes. Knew his name. She even took off her white cloth mask sometimes, allowing him to see a human face. Her beautiful face.
She was working tonight. She’d given him morphine, held his hand and stayed by his bedside until he’d fallen asleep.
He loved her. At twenty-two, she was three years younger than he, and perfect in every way. His sweetheart. It was worth being awake to think of her. She was married, but sometimes, more and more, he pretended she was his wife. That he was healthy and whole and breaking his back in the mines for a reason. Because there was someone to come home to.
Sudden yearning burned his eyes and he wished he’d had the opportunity for a sweetheart. Wished things could have been different. Wished Delila were his.
Sometimes she had bruises on her face. On her arms. She claimed to be clumsy, but he was no fool. He couldn’t stand the thought of anyone hurting her. She was always so kind, funny and cheerful.
And at times, she looked at him as if she felt the way he did. As if she wished for things that could never be.
If he were whole again, he’d champion her. Take her from that brute she’d married and give her a better life.
His chest heaved and his throat went from itching to burning. He couldn’t help it. He started to cough. Great hacking coughs that tried to expel his lungs, his stomach, his soul. He tried to breathe and sucked blood into his lungs for his efforts, forcing more coughing, killing him slowly, painfully.
Tuberculosis. It was the reason they’d stuck him up on the third floor by himself. So he could die without infecting anyone else. So he could die.
A woman’s scream rent the air.
He tensed, breathed carefully, slowly, then clutched his burning throat and tried to hold the coughing at bay.
A woman’s sob, a plea, wafted up the stairs.
He tried to get out of bed. Tugged the blankets back and got his feet to the floor, all the while coughing furiously. He lifted a shaking hand to the bedside table to steady himself.
He watched as Delila half-ran, half-crawled up the top stairs, disheveled and terrified. Her nurse’s cap and mask were gone, and her black hair streamed around her face.
A man staggered up behind her, his large body silhouetted against the light. The man called her by name and grabbed her arm. He hauled her up and around and slapped her face, knocking her down again.
She tried to get up, to slip past the man. She pleaded with the silhouette, called him by name, and Edward realized it was her husband who kicked her as she lay moaning.
Fury pulsed through Edward’s body, giving him strength. "Get away from her!" He tried to stand, but fell to the floor. He tried to get up. Tried to save her.
The bigger man assessed him and laughed. Mocked him. He circled his hands around Delila’s throat, squeezing, choking her. Fueled by rage, Edward found the strength to hurl himself across the room. He jumped on the bigger man’s back.
The man grabbed him, shoved him, and Edward fell to the floor. Coughing, wiping at the blood on his lips, he turned to look at Delila.
She lay on the floor, her hands at her throat as she gasped for air.
Panicked, Edward reached for her, and a pillow, the one from his bed, was placed over his face. He struggled. Hit out. Kicked out. Choked on his own blood, on the pillow, weakened, until finally the pressure eased, his body lightened, and the pain receded.
He was floating, watching from above while his murderer went back and finished strangling Delila. Edward tried to move, to help, but couldn’t. Grief had him screaming at his own ineffectiveness.
Edward watched as the man dragged her body beside his own. Placed his hands at her throat.
The killer stood and looked down at Delila and sudden grief etched his face.
Then he left, stumbling down the stairs.
A sweet, oh-so-familiar voice called his name.
He turned.
Delila was beside him. Beautiful, glowing, she held out her hand.
He started to lift his own, to meet her gaze, but angry and ashamed that he hadn’t saved her, turned away instead.
A long time later when he looked back, she was gone.
He hesitated, but didn’t follow. Rage--bitter, ugly and venomous--swamped him. He had to wait for the man to come back. He had to make everything right.
Chapter One
Park City, Utah, present day
At one o’clock in the morning, Nicole Madison sped toward Park City, squinted at the yellow lines dotting the middle of the road, and tried to stay to the right of them.
They kept disappearing.
It was entirely possible that she was drunk.
She widened her eyes and tried to concentrate on those lines. If she could just get home, she’d go to bed and stay there as long as possible. Before she started feeling sorry for herself.
Again.
She hit the steering wheel with the palm of her hand, and welcomed the sting. Other people got drunk without throwing pity parties. Granted, some individuals got mean, anti-social, or started dancing on bar tops. Some even went home with strange men. But still, give some people a bottle of Jack Daniel’s or Jim Beam and they grinned like hyenas, hovering for long periods of time in an all-is-right-with-the-world daze.
So why couldn’t she? Instead, she always got weepy, nostalgic, and started feeling sorry for herself.
She squinted at the speedometer and realized she was going way too fast. Not necessarily a big deal. This was Utah, after all, and no doubt there was a law forcing residents to be in bed by ten o’clock.
She sniggered, then frowned. So what was she doing in Utah? She could be anywhere in the world right now. New York, Paris, London, heck, even Timbuktu if she had the inclination. She could certainly afford it. So why wasn’t she anywhere but here?
She sighed, long and loud. She was here because when things got tough she always came back to Park City like an over-anxious homing pigeon. The only problem was, it wasn’t exactly home anymore. If she were honest, it never had been. Oh heck, here it comes, the pity party.
She jabbed at a button and the radio blared on. Carly Simon’s throaty voice sang ‘You’re So Vain’ out of the speakers and into the chill autumn night breezing through the open windows. Nicole started to sing along, but immediately teared up. Carly might be a little vague about who she was dissing, but Nicole knew exactly who she was talking about. The Creep.
She wiped her eyes, switched off the radio, and realized she’d passed the Quicky Mart. Hallelujah, she’d be home soon. State Highway 224 was coming to an end, and with a feeling of relief she passed the convenience stores, the golf course, the businesses all built to cutesy rustic building code, and finally hit Park Avenue.
The speed limit slowed after the intersection, but Nicole didn’t. What did it matter? No one else was on the road, anyway.
Except the deer.
Deer! There was a deer in the road!
The big fella had come out of freakin’ nowhere and parked himself squarely on the narrow, no-room-to-go-around street!
She cranked the wheel and screamed like a third grader as she narrowly missed a parked car, jumped a curb, careened between two pine trees, jumped another curb, and headed for the Old Miners Hospital and toward the two boys sitting on the edge of the town wishing fountain! She tried to swerve but couldn’t, just before the airbag exploded in her face.
She was a murderer!
Before she could really grasp what had happened, before she could breathe, the car flipped, splashed, and neatly landed upside-down in the fountain.
Water started to fill the car.
Upside down, stunned, dazed, eyes wide but unseeing, Nicole pushed at the airbag as cold water soaked the top of her head. She couldn’t breathe. What should she do? What could she do? Had she really just killed two boys?
Please, God, no!
Water continued to fill the interior of the car, covering her forehead, rising to her eyes, then her nose, her mouth, and her entire head, forcing her to move, to jerk and squirm.
But all to no avail. She was trapped.
Nicole was able to take one desperate breath before water covered her head completely. She bucked against the seat, fighting for her life, but the steering wheel wedged tight against her chest, and as she batted away the flattened airbag and stuck her hand out the window, her fingernails scraped against stone.
The driver’s side door was jammed tight against the side of the fountain.
She couldn’t believe it. She was really going to drown. She was really going to die.
Shadows and light crazily bounced off each other as the headlights eerily lit the flooded interior of the car. She lunged for the passenger’s side, frantically clawing the water, but couldn’t move. It didn’t matter. She could see stone blocking the other side, too.
Somehow the car had landed with dead accuracy between the wall and the stone fountain in the middle.
Her breath ached in her chest as she hit at the windshield with the flats of her palms, her efforts hampered by the airbag, her floating hair, and the water. The glass lit up like a spiderweb, hundreds of broken cracks sparkling off water and light, giving her hope that the glass would give, but as much as she wiggled, she couldn’t put on the needed pressure.
With a sense of disbelief, she stopped fighting.
This was it, then.
Had she hit the kids? Were they dead?
Her lungs ached and the need to suck in air--or even water-- grew intense. She knew she couldn’t hold out for much longer. Now that she was still, she heard muffled music, from her car radio. Could feel the music.
Her lungs burned worse with each passing second. Her hair splayed out over her face.
Suddenly, she saw two kids, upside down through the spiderweb of glass. They were frantic, waving their arms, yelling.
She hadn’t killed them.
Good. That was good.
Something unclenched inside her. She didn’t need that on her conscience, too.
Wild-eyed, the boys looked in the windshield.
She looked back.
One kid yelled, but all Nicole heard was the music, the muted pounding from the radio. Her lungs burned for her to suck in the water. Breathe, breathe, breathe.
Hands thrust down into the water by her head, gripping the steel window frame, straining. She could see it wasn’t going to happen. The other kid jumped into the fountain, and tried to kick in the windshield, but the angle was too awkward and it didn’t budge. Nicole knew even if he were successful, she was still trapped and he wouldn’t be able to pull her above water in time to save her life.
Her chest hurt. She needed so badly to breathe. All she had to do was open her mouth. Her lungs were demanding it anyway. All she needed to do was to simply give in. Everything would be over in seconds.
Blackness pushed at her and she realized she had regrets. She was only thirty-two. She had more money than...well, than Elvis. But she’d never found The One. Never had a child. Never found the love that had come so easily to her parents.
Maybe it was for the best. There wouldn’t be anyone to mourn her.
She knew she couldn’t hold on much longer and hoped the boys weren’t too traumatized by her death.
Suddenly, water gushed out through the driver’s side window, saving her life. She sucked in air as sound returned and she heard a kid screaming above the radio. "The fountain broke! The stones on the fountain gave way! Can you breathe? Lady, can you breathe?"
More water drained out of the car. Nicole choked, coughed, felt sick.
"Lady, can you hear me?"
Breathing harshly, sucking in air, coughing, Nicole switched off the radio with a shaking hand. "Yes." The word came out a sob. She placed frozen, trembling hands on her face and breathed deeply twice more. "Yes," she said more calmly, "I can hear you. Are you boys all right? Did I hit anyone?" Her voice sounded strange, nasal, reminding her of yoga class and headstands.
"Are you hurt?"
She assessed her situation. Nothing seemed to actually hurt. She was hanging upside down, packed in tight against the steering wheel, her legs encased and tucked up underneath. She wiggled her toes. She actually seemed okay. She certainly didn’t feel drunk anymore.
Drunk. She’d been drinking and in an accident. She was in so much trouble.
"Lady?"
"Yes, I’m all right. Thank you. You’re sure everyone out there is okay?"
"Yep, we’re good. It looks like your car is stuck in there tight. I bet the cops are going to have to use a crane to get you out." There was a pause. "Too bad about the car. She’s sweet. Porsche GT 3?"
"Yes."
"You’re lucky it isn’t a convertible."
"Yes. What happened to the water?"
"Your car smashed some stones loose. We kicked ‘em out and the water drained."
Nicole shivered. "You saved my life."
"Yeah."
She hadn’t deserved their help after almost killing them. "Thanks."
"Yeah. So we’re going to go call for help. We’ll be right back, okay?"
When it came out she’d been drinking she was going to get her license revoked. Luckily she hadn’t killed anyone. Not even the deer. Again she felt intense relief over the fact that the boys were all right.
She blew out a shaky breath. Other than the weird tightness in her head, and the freezing chill of the water, she was pretty comfortable. Right? No need for the police to show up just yet. "No hurry. In fact, I don’t want to be a bother to anyone, so tomorrow is probably soon enough to get help."
"She’s going into shock."
She probably was. Cold and wet, she started to shiver. She had to pee, but no way was that going to happen.
She could hear the boys running away.
Both of them.
Unexpected panic gripped her. Alone and trapped, she suddenly didn’t care if she lost her license or went to jail. She just didn’t want to be alone. "Wait!" The word came out as a croak. "Hello? Anyone there?" Couldn’t one of them have stayed to talk to her?
She suddenly realized how lucky she was they’d been in the park at all. If they hadn’t, she’d be dead now.
Her panic escalated. What if the boys were angry that she’d almost killed them and left her by herself and she really was stuck all night? She realized one boy hadn’t so much as spoken to her. Out of anger? Well, why not? She was a mess, and she’d almost killed them. She didn’t deserve help.
And Utah weather was unpredictable. Especially in the mountains. What if a blizzard sprang up? What if the temperature plummeted and she froze to death? She started shaking with cold and probably shock, too. Her teeth chattered, and her head pounded. Didn’t people die from shock?
She breathed in once. Twice. A third time. She needed to stop scaring herself or she was going to have a major freak out. The boys would come back. There was nothing to do but sit tight, or rather, hang tight, until the cavalry showed up again. What she needed was a distraction.
Nicole wiggled her shoulders, but her legs couldn’t move, so she didn’t make any headway. She was pinned.
The headlights were still on, and she could see an eerie glow illuminating the pool of water where it had settled below her. It also lit up the coins, reminding her that she’d landed in the town wishing fountain.
Not so good. If the fountain couldn’t be repaired, and it came out she’d been drinking, she’d be lynched like it was 1890. This would be a really good time to make a wish of her own.
There was just enough hand space to reach through the driver’s side window and she tried to snag a quarter with her index and middle finger, but it was just out of reach. It only made her more determined.
She stretched, straining against the steering wheel, and with the very tips of her fingers almost managed to get the quarter. Almost.
She relaxed a second, took a deep breath and strained forward once more. She had to get that quarter; it suddenly seemed more important than anything in the world to make a wish.
No luck. She relaxed again and tried to slide closer to the door. It worked. She gained about an inch.
If she had a coin she’d wish the cops would forget to have her alcohol level tested. She’d wish she could stop drinking. She’d wish her parents hadn’t died. She’d wish she weren’t so alone.
Tears started to burn behind her eyes and before self-pity completely overwhelmed her, she surged forward a third time, her fingernail managed to flick not just one, but several coins forward and she snatched up a quarter as it sank again through the remaining four inches of water. "Gotcha!"
Okay, she wished that....
She blinked and opened her palm to look at the quarter glinting dark and light shadows in her palm.
She could feel a wish already on the coin.
Someone else’s wish.
She could see the person, feel the emotion, and hear the wish. An elderly lady; Clara Jones; Quite nice-looking, but unhappy. Lonely. She wanted to see her daughter.
Jerking her hand, Nicole dropped the quarter. It landed with a plop and she watched it rock back and forth, winking in the light before it resettled on the upside down roof of her car. She blinked a few more times. Okay, so she was more drunk than she’d thought.
She hesitated, then dipped her hand into the water and picked up the quarter again. She tightened her fist around it and immediately felt sadness; loneliness; felt the elderly lady wishing her daughter would come home for a visit.
Yeah. Um. Okay. Well then. She was losing it. She must have hit her head.
She quickly dropped the quarter again, hesitated, then picked up a nickel. A housewife wished she could lose weight on her new diet; she had a twenty-fifth high school reunion coming up.
Nicole scrambled for a dime. This wish was fainter, but still there. A few months ago a teen-age girl hoped a boy named Andrew Child would ask her to Senior Cotillion.
Okay, granted, Nicole had been drinking. And granted, she’d almost died. But even so, this was way too weird. She dropped the coin as she heard the boys returning.
"Lady, are you still okay?"
"Yes, just dandy." The blood to her head was really doing a number on her. She sounded congested.
"We called the cops, and they’re sending an ambulance. And probably a crane to lift your car out, too. Cool, huh?"
"Yes, definitely cool."
She couldn’t help herself. She picked up another coin. A young child wanted a puppy. The kid had made the wish earlier that day. She could see him in her mind. Cute little guy. Red hair and freckles. His name was Tommy Jordan.
Nicole snatched up the last coin within reach. Another quarter. She flinched as emotion rocked through her, but didn’t drop the coin. Her chest tightened as she realized...as she realized-- "Huh...huh...huh..."
One of the boys spoke, the words sounding far away. "Did you say something?"
Chills broke out on top of goose bumps. She couldn’t breathe. One hand continued to grip the coin, and with the other she clenched her dripping hair. Her breathing escalated until she was panting. "Huh...huh...huh..."
"Lady?"
She was...she was...dead! She was dead, wasn’t she? This was like a Sixth Sense thing or something and she’d hit the boys and they were dead, too, and none of them even knew it!
"Huh...huh...huuuhhh..."
Her chest unclenched, and she finally caught enough oxygen in her lungs to scream.
***
The lights flashing on his car, Police Chief Jake Saunders pulled into the park. Sure enough, Dispatch hadn’t lied. There was a car upside down in the wishing fountain. Who would have thought that could ever happen?
An ambulance was parked on the lawn next to the fountain and two paramedics knelt, talking to the inhabitants of the car. The odds were they were drunk. He just hoped no one was dead. That was all he needed to deal with tonight.
His eyes felt gritty, reminding him he should be in bed instead of working a double shift to cover for Mike. But by morning, Mike and his wife should be welcoming a new baby to the family. Their first. Excited as Jake was for them, right now all he wanted was sleep.
As he parked, he recognized the two teenage boys waving him over and wondered what they were doing out so late. As if he couldn’t guess. The padlocks on the skate park gate didn’t keep the boys from jumping the fence. Or some of the girls, for that matter.
A woman’s scream exploded from the car and Jake jumped out of his Explorer and hurried over. "What happened?"
The boys met him halfway, the taller of the two, Karl, did all the talking, as usual. "...and this huge deer ran into the road and just stopped, and the lady swerved and rammed the fountain. She totally almost hit us! Totally! We could be dead now!"
Corey, his face animated, nodded, saying nothing, as usual.
"How many in the car?"
"Just the lady. She was fine a minute ago, and then she started doing a major freak out. Maybe she has internal bleeding and is coughing up blood or something. We looked, but didn’t see any. Maybe she wiped it off or it dripped in the water. We couldn’t tell for sure. Is she going to die or what?"
Jake could see the fountain had a big chunk of stones broken out. The car was wedged in tight. He hoped the boys were wrong about the injuries, because there was no way the lady was getting out without a crane and probably the Jaws Of Life, too. They could be here a while.
He leaned down beside the paramedics. "What can I do?"
"Hi, Jake. Do me a favor and calm her down, will you? I’ll be right back." Scott jumped up and headed toward the ambulance. The screaming continued, grating on Jake’s nerves. He looked at Terry, a seasoned paramedic, who ran after Scott, patting Jake’s shoulder as he left. Cowards.
Jake hunkered down in the mud, wishing he could see better. The edge of the fountain pretty much obscured his view, but he could see dangling hair, one side of her face, and her hands gripping the wheel. "Ma’am? Are you all right?"
She took another breath, and the screaming continued.
Jake resisted the urge to reach over and cover her mouth. "Ma’am? Are you in pain?"
The screaming stopped abruptly. "How can I be in pain? I’m dead!" She sounded like she had a cold.
He smiled. "No, ma’am, you’re not. Are you hurt?"
She shook her head and hair, stringy and wet, stirred the water. "How can I be hurt if I’m dead!"
She seemed unhurt. "You’re not dead. Any broken bones?"
She shook her head again. "No." She was silent a moment. "I’m really not dead?"
Jake moved out of the way to let the paramedics through again.
"No, but you’re lucky. You could have died." He turned to Scott and Terry. "Is there a crane on the way?"
"Yeah, Cal is bringing his."
Jake stepped back as the paramedics questioned the lady, stuffing a blanket around her. He gave the teens a hard look. "You want to tell me what you’re doing out after curfew?"
Corey looked down, but Karl grinned. "Being heroes. We kicked in the fountain when she was drowning. We saved her life. She almost killed us first, and she did kill Corey’s skateboard, but we’ve decided not to hold it against her on account of the deer and all."
"The deer, huh?"
"Yeah, you shoulda seen him! He was huge! If my mom would just let me go hunting next month--"
"Jake, take over here for a second, will you?"
Jake put a hand on the boy’s arm then walked over. Terry stopped him. "I think she’s okay, but I’m pretty sure she’s been drinking," he said quietly.
Jake nodded. "Figures." He crouched down again. "You all right now, Miss?"
"Yes, sure. Never better."
He smiled at her nasal-sounding voice. "We’ll get you out of there before you know it. The boys tell me they saw a deer. Is that what made you swerve?"
"Yes. He ran out in front of me." She spoke carefully. Too carefully.
"What’s your name?"
"Nicole Madison."
Jake’s eyebrows rose of their own accord. He peered into the half-lit interior. With her hair dangling, her body scrunched up and only half her face showing, he’d failed to recognize her. A year older than himself, they’d gone to one year of high school together. She’d been a cheerleader her junior year and he’d been a sophomore with a huge crush. Then she’d gone back to private school in New York and he’d only seen her around town on rare occasions since. If he remembered right, her parents had died in a plane crash about six months ago. "I’m Jake Saunders."
He didn’t say anything for a moment, then carefully voiced, "Nice to meet you."
She didn’t remember him. No surprise there. Even if it were broad daylight and she were right side up, she probably wouldn’t recognize him. He’d grown six inches since she’d last seen him and he’d never spoken to her in his life.
The boys crowded behind him. "Chief Saunders, can we see your gun? Just for a second?"
"Chief?" She laughed a bit hysterically.
"Not going to happen, boys. Yes, I’m Chief of Police for Park City. Can you tell me where you were coming from tonight?"
"I was at a friend’s house in Salt Lake," her voice slurred slightly.
"Have you had anything to drink tonight?"
"No," her voice quavered.
Not a good liar, then. He wanted to believe she was simply shaken up, but couldn’t ignore the slurred voice.
She’d been drinking.
For the sake of his old feelings for her, he wanted to ignore the signs, but couldn’t. Wouldn’t. He’d seen too much harm come from driving drunk.
"Not anything?"
She paused. "Well, maybe one drink. At my friend’s house."
Uh, huh. He’d heard that one before.
Deer or no deer, she could have killed two boys. He glanced over at the broken stones, the demolished skateboard. She almost had. That no one was hurt was just pure luck. He shook his head, sad that his former dream girl just took a plunge in his estimation. But then that was all she’d ever been. A dream girl. He didn’t even know her. "Ma’am. I’ll be doing a blood test when you get to the hospital. I hope I like the results."
After a hesitation, she sighed. "I hope you do, too."
