Twice Kissed - Lisa Jackson [21]
“Thane!” she’d cried, and he lunged forward as if to catch her.
Maggie had screamed as his expression had turned to hatred and the hand he’d offered her sister had been used to push her farther over the edge.
“No!” Maggie had yelled, but it had been far too late.
Marquise began falling, her arms and legs frantically flailing as she became ever fainter, and the yawning black hole swallowed her completely. Thane, his features once again calm, had turned and faced her as if she was his next victim. That’s when she’d heard Mary Theresa’s voice again.
Now, the nightmare still palpable, Maggie sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Her insides were shaking, her pulse thudding deep in her brain.
“Mom?”
She gasped, only to see Becca, a pale figure in the doorway. “Good Lord, you scared me,” she admitted, clicking on the bedside lamp.
“You scared me.” Becca, still wearing the jeans and sweatshirt she’d had on when she’d been thrown by Jasper, was leaning on the doorframe, her injured foot cocked, her other leg bearing all her weight. She blinked against the sudden wash of light, and her hair was a tangled mess, evidence that she’d been sleeping.
“Sorry. I had a bad dream. A nightmare.”
“About Marquise,” Becca guessed.
“Yes.” Giving herself a quick mental shake, she stood and walked to the doorway. “I’m sorry, honey. I guess I’m just worried.”
“Me too.”
“Let’s get you back to bed, and I’ll get some more ice and—”
“I’m okay, Mom, really.” Becca yawned. “You just weirded me out. You’ve been acting so strange lately. Today in the barn when you were on your knees, and now with the screaming.” Becca’s teeth sunk into her lower lip. “It’s kinda creepy.”
“Oh, honey.” Without thinking, Maggie wrapped her arms around her daughter, and for once Becca didn’t squirm away. “The last thing I want is to be creepy.”
Becca managed a nervous giggle as she slid out of her mother’s embrace. “I know you’re worried about Marquise, and I heard you and Thane talking about you helping him.” Maggie’s eyes narrowed on her daughter. “I wasn’t really eavesdropping, but I couldn’t help but overhear,” Becca added hastily, her gaze sliding away from her mother’s. “So why don’t you go find out what happened to her?”
“It’s not that easy.”
“Sure it is. The neighbors will take care of the horses, your book isn’t due for another couple of months, I could miss a few days of school and stay with my friends or Aunt Connie and Uncle Jim in L.A….”
“So that’s what this is all about,” Maggie said, wondering how conniving her daughter was becoming. As the years rolled by it seemed that Becca was developing her own sense of how to manipulate people. Just like Mary Theresa.
“But you could help find Marquise.”
“I could?”
“You write mystery novels, Mom. True crime. You talk to policemen all the time, and you worked for a private investigator, didn’t you?”
“That was a long time ago.”
Becca lifted a shoulder. “Isn’t it kind of like riding a bicycle?”
“Not quite,” Maggie said, chuckling a little as the effects of her nightmare faded away. “Come on, let’s get you back to bed.”
Becca offered a shy smile. “How about that hot cocoa now?”
Maggie wasn’t so groggy that she didn’t realize she was being conned, but she couldn’t help herself. If this was Becca’s self-centered and manipulating way of bonding, so be it. “Okay, okay, but then back to bed, and don’t try and talk me into this trip to Denver, okay? I’ll decide on my own.”
She helped her daughter into the living area of the house, where Becca curled on the sofa with an afghan tossed over her shoulders. The fire had burned low until only red embers glowed behind the screen and the house was taking on the chill of night. Maggie, barefoot and shivering, took the time to throw on a fleece robe and slippers, then quickly heated water for the instant cocoa. As the cups circulated in the microwave,