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Mirror Image

Mirror Image

Titel: Mirror Image Kostenlos Bücher Online Lesen
Autoren: Sandra Brown
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me?”
    The question was routine. He heard it a dozen times a day, particularly from mothers harboring guilt. In this instance, he could provide a positive answer. He smiled a good ole boy’s smile. “She speaks very highly of her mommy and only gets apprehensive when referring to events that took place before the crash, which ought to tell you something.”
    “What?”
    “That you’ve already improved as a parent.” He patted her shoulder. “With your continued tender loving care, Mandy will get through this and go on to be an exceptionally bright, well-adjusted child.”
    “I hope so, Dr. Webster,” she said fervently. “Thank you.”
    He escorted them to the door and pulled it open. “You know, Mrs. Rutledge, you gave me quite a start when I first met you. A young woman did a television interview with me about a year ago. She bears a remarkable resemblance to you. In fact, she’s from your area. By any chance, do you know her? Her name is Avery Daniels.”
    * * *
    Avery Daniels, Avery Daniels, Avery Daniels.
    The crowd was chanting her real name as she and Tate made their way through the crowd toward the dais.
    Avery Daniels, Avery Daniels, Avery Daniels.
    There were people everywhere. She stumbled and became separated from Tate. He was swallowed by the crowd. “Tate!” she screamed. He couldn’t hear her over the demonic recitation of her name.
    Avery, Avery, Avery.
    What was that? A shot! Tate was covered with blood. Tate turned to her and, as he fell, he sneered, “Avery Daniels, Avery Daniels, Avery Daniels.”
    “Carole?”
    Avery Daniels.
    “Carole? Wake up.”
    Avery sat bolt upright. Her mouth was gaping open and dry. She was wheezing. “Tate?” She fell against his bare chest and threw her arms around him. “Oh God, it was awful.”
    “Were you having a bad dream?”
    She nodded, burrowing her face in the fuzzy warmth of his chest. “Hold me. Please. Just for a minute.”
    He was sitting on the edge of her bed. At her request, he inched closer and placed his arms around her. Avery snuggled closer still and clung to him. Her heart was racing, thudding against his chest. She couldn’t eradicate the image of a blood-drenched Tate turning to her with contempt and accusation burning in his eyes.
    “What brought this on?”
    “I don’t know,” she lied.
    “I think I do. You haven’t been yourself since Dr. Webster mentioned Avery Daniels.” She whimpered. Tate threaded his fingers up through her hair and closed them around her scalp. “I can’t believe he didn’t know she died in that crash. He was so embarrassed by mentioning it, I felt sorry for him. He had no way of knowing how much the comparison would upset you.”
    Or why, she thought. “Did I behave like a fool?” All she remembered after the doctor had spoken her name was the clamorous ringing in her ears and the wave of dizziness that had knocked her against Tate.
    “Not like a fool, but you almost fainted.”
    “I don’t even remember leaving his office.”
    He set her away from him. Her hands slid onto his biceps. “It was a bizarre coincidence that you were on the same airplane with the Daniels woman. Strangers often mistook you for her, remember? It’s surprising that no one has mentioned her to you before now.”
    So he had known who Avery Daniels was. That made her feel better somehow. She wondered if he had liked watching her on TV. “I’m sorry I caused a scene. I just get…” She wished he was still holding her. It was easier to talk when she didn’t have to look him in the eye.
    “What?”
    She laid her head on his shoulder. “I get tired of people staring at my face all the time. It’s an object of curiosity. I feel like the bearded lady in a sideshow.”
    “Human nature. No one means to be cruel.”
    “I know, but it makes me extremely self-conscious. Sometimes I feel like I’m still wrapped in bandages. I’m on the inside looking out, but no one can see past my face into me.” A tear trickled from the corner of her eye and splashed onto his shoulder.
    “You’re still upset over the dream,” he said, easing her up again. “Would you like something to drink? There’s some Bailey’s in the bar.”
    “That sounds wonderful.”
    He divided the small bottle of Irish cream between two drinking glasses and returned to the bed with them. If he was self-conscious about having only his underwear on, he gave no outward sign of it.
    It pleased her that he sat back down on her bed, not the one

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