The Pieces We Keep(98)

Audra’s eyelids started to drop. She strained to keep them open. Jack’s latest night terror hadn’t come until four in the morning, allowing her just enough sleep to leave her too restless to go back to bed.

She straightened her posture. Listening closer, she hoped for any hint of how to bring the pieces together: Jakob, Isaak, Vivian, the FBI and Nazi spies, the reunion   of a couple divided.

Dr. Shaw was on the seventh step down ... now the sixth ... every limb growing heavier.

Audra’s eyes continued to fight her, every blink like the fall of velvety drapes. She could no longer hold them open.

Then her head jerked up. Her chin had dipped to her chest and startled her awake.

Dr. Shaw was standing beside her, his hand on her shoulder. He had adjusted the lighting. The room was slightly brighter.

“Mrs. Hughes, we’re all done.” He wore his practiced smile as he released his hold.

“But—we just started.” Across the room Jack sat on the floor, sifting through the bin of mismatched toys. That’s when she realized it was Dr. Shaw’s hand that had woken her. “You’re kidding me. I fell asleep?”

“Not to worry. I’ve recorded the session, so you can play it back at home.”

She rubbed at her eyes to clear her vision. In doing so, her wrist discovered a trail of saliva by her mouth. She swiped the moisture away as Dr. Shaw settled into his desk chair.

“Could you ... tell me what happened?” she asked quietly, conscious of Jack’s presence. “After the stairs and the door.”

Dr. Shaw pleasantly obliged. “When your son was ready, I guided him into a boat that drifted into a fog. As I mentioned before, past life regression isn’t a specialty of mine. But what I’ve found is that patients who did regress well used the mist as a transitioning point. From there they were able to access memories from a past life.”

Audra still couldn’t believe she had dozed through all of this.

“And,” she said, “what did Jack say?”

Dr. Shaw sighed, shook his head. “I’m afraid he didn’t see anything. That’s not to say those lives didn’t exist. It could simply mean that for one reason or another he wasn’t willing to revisit them. At least not today.”

Discouraged, she sat back. She didn’t have the luxury of unlimited time and money. There had to be a solution they just weren’t seeing. She gazed over at Jack. He pushed a button on a robot, triggering its deep automated voice: “Together, we shall use our secret weapons to defeat Veter Man once and for all.”

Dr. Shaw said to her, “During the next session we could certainly try again. We might have more success with a second attempt.”

Audra nodded, though her thoughts had already seized another option. Specifically, another person. And that person was hiding something. Audra realized this now, looking back. She had missed the connection before today’s mentions of boats, the past, and secrets. Most of all, one’s willingness to access memories.

Now, she just had to figure out which button to press to obtain the information needed.





44


It was a place where people didn’t ask questions.

Vivian perceived this the instant she entered the hotel. Stacked chairs and an old mattress lined the walls, creating nooks and crannies to shelter guests’ secrets. Down the stairway, a suited man escorted the type of female who provided company by the hour.

An orange sunset spilled muted hues through the lobby windows. It was too dark for the sunglasses over Vivian’s eyes, too warm for the scarf enwrapping her hair and neck. Yet for now, she would retain her semi-disguise.

As she crossed the chipped tiles to reach the caged elevator, the grizzled man behind the counter never once glanced up from his newspaper. In fact, he appeared to deliberately drop his head. No wonder Isaak had chosen this place as his hideout for the duration. With the funds he had been given, he could have stayed at the Martinique or the Hotel Governor Clinton, but here, tucked away on a side street in Queens, he had optimized discretion while minimizing use of dirty Nazi money.

She rode the creaky lift alone, glad for the uninterrupted transport to the fourth floor. So close now to voicing her declaration, she could barely contain her smile.

In the vacant hallway, she gave the area a quick scan before knocking at 42. “Isaak,” she said quietly, “it’s me.”

Seconds later came the rattle of a chain sliding and screech of a bolt turning, and the door opened halfway. Isaak stood with his shirt unbuttoned, tossed on haphazardly, as if he had been undressed only a moment ago.

She slipped past him, concentrating on her news. The air held a musky scent, corralled in the room by the closed curtains. Food wrappers, empty Coke bottles, and half a loaf of bread crowded a table in the corner.