Barbara Ellen Brink - Entangled (Volume 1)

Entangled

Barbara Ellen Brink

Amazon.com Edition

Copyright 2010

Barbara Ellen Brink

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Cover photo by Graphic Designer Katharine A Brink

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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This book is dedicated to Leon, my husband and biggest fan.

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PROLOGUE

For years Ive had nightmares. They started when I was fifteen--after the night Paul attacked me and tried to rape me. I dream of wine, and blood, and a desperate struggle. After tossing and turning, I end up staring into the darkness of my room, wondering why the past continues to have a chokehold on my life.

Sleeplessness is a common feeling, always craving one more hour of rest, but never getting it. Finally I sleep, but its far into the night. In the predawn of morning my body is pulled from slumber with a jolt of remembrance. Something unspeakable sits in the shadows waiting to be recognized.

But weariness soon settles in and hides the nights truth with a blanket of fog. It feels as though only moments pass and I awake at the sound of my alarm. The sun streams through the blinds, and I curse the hands of time.

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CHAPTER ONE

M other often chose to call when I was the busiest, informing me that her ESP just clicked on and gave her no choice. I'm sure what she really meant to say was she felt lonely and assumed I must be too.

"Uncle Jack died?" I switched the receiver to my left ear as I tried to sign the papers Jody placed before me on the desk.

"Yes, a massive heart attack."

Jack was my father's half-brother but I hadn't seen him since I was a little girl and couldn't even remember what he looked like. I assumed my father and he had a falling out of some sort.

"He liked to travel but when he bought that winery and vineyard out in California he was always too busy to visit." She sighed. "We didn't see him after your father died. I sent a Christmas card or two, but he never responded."

I'd heard it all before, but Mother needed to say it so I continued to listen while deleting Spam from my email inbox. She told me she was going to California for the funeral.

"Why do you feel obligated to fly out there? Doesn't he have a family to take care of things?" I asked. Fridays were always busy and I had another appointment in ten minutes.

"That's the problem. He never married and we are the only family. Your father would never forgive me if I abandoned Jack in his time of need."

Mother's sense of drama was always rich. "They're both dead. Neither will know if you choose not to go."

"You can't be serious! Your father would turn over in his grave."

I rolled my eyes and reached in the desk drawer for the small mirror I kept there. "How's that possible? I thought he was in heaven."

"Of course, honey. It was just a figure of speech."

"Which? Heaven or turning in his grave? Because if it's the latter,he probably needs to turn over. He's been in the same position for thirteen years."

"Wilhelmina Fredrickson! That is disrespectful."

"Sorry, Mother." I lowered the volume on my headset and tried to touch up my lipstick. "I've really got to go. I have an appointment."

"I understand, but I haven't told you the real news yet," she said.

"Can I call you back when I get home?" I asked. "I've really got to go." I clicked off before she could respond. I'd probably pay for my rudeness later, but right now it was worth it. I put my head down on the desk and closed my eyes, a feeble attempt to ward off the headache I felt building.

*****

"Jody, go home to your kids. I'm going to finish up this brief before I leave. No reason for you to hang around." I pulled open the top drawer of my second-hand desk and rummaged around for a paperclip. An ancient coffee stain spread out from the middle of the drawer's bottom like a one-celled organism magnified to scary proportions. My father built the desk before I was born. He said he felt the need to do something useful with his hands during my mother's pregnancy. She said it would have been a heck of a lot more useful to build a bassinet. But in hindsight, at twenty-eight and unmarried, the desk served me better.

Jody stood with her arms crossed over her chest, staring out the narrow window behind me. "Looks like a storm's setting in," she said. "Abigail hates storms. I imagine I'll be sharing my bed tonight." My secretary, a former client that needed a job after her husband gambled everything away, was a sweet lady, but a little too touchy-feely for me. I preferred to take charge of my emotions, lock them away during the day, and only take them out at night if they were completely incapable of staying hidden any longer. Emotions were messy, better left turned off during business hours.

I smiled. "She's thirteen, isn't she? Don't they ever grow out of that?" I asked, even though I still fought the urge to leave a nightlight on.

"Ann didn't ask me to tuck her in after she turned ten. But Abigail has always been my little girl." She walked to the door. "Don't forget you promised to call your mother back," she said.

I waved her away. "Goodnight. Have a good weekend."

Alone in my office, I dropped my pen on the desktop and leaned back with my hands above my head, stretching the kinks out of my back. I needed to go to the gym and spend some time on the machines. But I had an appointment with Kent to meet at the Bullpen for dinner.

"Appointment," I said aloud. "Why do I call...?"

Probably because Kent always called during business hours and set out dates up with Jody as though we were meeting to discuss a civil suit rather than to spend intimate time together.

The Bullpen was a raucous sports bar, where food and fun meant loud and greasy. I preferred the dimly lit, quiet ambiance of an Italian restaurant after a day at the office, but Kent couldn't be more than twenty feet from a television screen.

I finished, slipped the papers into a folder, and stood up. Maybe I would call Kent and cancel our evening. I was tired and still had to return Mother's call. If I didn't, she would be sure to call me. I flipped the lights off and had my key out to lock the door when the telephone rang. Hopeful that Kent was on the other end of the line and I could back out of our date gracefully, I set my briefcase beside the door and picked up the phone on Jody's desk.

"Fredrickson Family Law."

"This is Handel Parker. Jack Fredrickson's attorney."

I picked up a pen and scrawled the unfamiliar name across the top sheet of Jody's notepad. "What can I do for you, Mr. Parker?"

"Not a thing. It's what your uncle did for you. He named you sole heir of his estate."

"Is this some kind of joke?" I asked. My brother Adam and his college buddies had pulled senseless pranks on me before but this didn't have the same immature flavor.

"I can assure you this is no joke."

Why would a man I'd met only once leave everything he owned to me? It made no sense. Nearly everyone had friends or a lover -- someone. "Mr. Parker, why --?