Mind Games
Authors: M.J. Labeff
Mind Games
By
MJ LaBeff
Mind Games
Copyright © MJ LaBeff, 2015
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Kindle Edition.
Thank you to my husband Jeff for your unconditional love and constant support and encouragement- you inspire me to write book after book. You’re my hero!
To my loving parents, Joe and Janet Cvetic- thank you for allowing me to follow my dreams and for being my biggest fans. I guess that decision to change my major from Business to English was right after all. To my sister, Melissa- thanks for always listening to me read a page from my latest work in progress and for always being there for me.
A special thanks to New York Times Bestselling Author, Vicki Lewis Thompson, who took an interest in my writing and was my first mentor. It’s an honor to call you my friend.
To my critique partner USA Today Best Selling Author, Patricia Forsythe Knoll- thank you for reading and rereading and for all of your kind and gentle critiques. It is a privilege to share my writing with you.
To my plot partner Jenna Storm- you always answer whenever I call and have a great solution to my plotting woes. To my beta reader Merry Lewis- your keen eye and attention to detail is amazing. To Michael Petersen at Killer Book Marketing for developing an incredible marketing strategy and covering a million other details. To my editor Arran McNicol- you rock.
Writers are special people. We have tales to tell and wonderful imaginations. Most of us desire to publish our works and share our stories with the world. The road from writer to author is fraught with struggles. There are highs and lows along the way. There are the dreaded rejections. To all of my friends who cared enough to listen, to read a rough draft, and to believe in me, from the bottom of my heart I thank you.
Her brain had been hijacked. That was what she’d have to prove to clear her name if she turned herself into the authorities. No evidence of the murders existed. Only one suicide after another, but she was the killer. They were both linked to her.
“Hey, Sparrow, you gonna kneel or what?” Tony asked, tugging on her elbow, pulling her from her thoughts.
The sight of the bronze casket, only a couple of feet in front of her, jolted her back to the hideous reality—Dana Michael Sargent was dead.
His brother, Tony Sargent, was by her side, offering emotional support, ignorant of the ugly truth. Tony’s gentle hand clung to her elbow. She dropped to her knees, made the sign of the cross, and looked down into Dana’s lifeless face. His closed eyes and thin lips hid the viciousness she’d once known. Her pulse raced. She could almost smell the musky scent of his aftershave.
If she concentrated hard enough, he almost resembled the man she’d fallen in love with. The soft angles of his face had turned hard over the years. His eyes and the tone of his voice once full of optimism later carried only despair. His mind slowly deteriorated, corrupted by drugs.
She angled her head thoughtfully at him and remembered how enthusiastic he’d been about his photography. The nights they would walk on the beach at sunset, the click of his camera, snapping the scenery unfolding around them, and she as his muse. Those quiet, stolen moments when they would lay together and meditate, lost in thought, lost in passion, lost in each other. Then it all changed. Her fingertips slid from the casket’s edge, and she folded her hands together in prayer.
How do you pray for a man you murdered, a cruel and unkind man; a man whose public face drastically contradicted his private face?
How many times had he backed her into a corner? Shoved her with strong arms that once loved and protected her, and his venomous mouth called her nasty names? Did that give her the right to perpetrate his suicide?
The visceral image of his hard muscles straining the night he took his life haunted her. It was so clear, so real in her mind.
Sparrow searched his neck for any visible signs of the hanging. The mortician had done an excellent job, masking the marks where the tough cord had cut into his delicate flesh. Dana’s limp body had swayed from the tree limb his eyes had bulged; his voice had gurgled when he took his last breath. Her gaze drifted up to his sewn eyes.
His opaque blue eyes sprang to life. He held her in a cold stare. His pale lips slowly grew pink in color. “Stop him.”
His eerie words pummeled her like a punch to the stomach, knocking the wind from her. She lurched back, stumbling to get on her feet, blinking her eyes. Did she imagine Dana’s eyes boring into hers and the threat dripping off his lips? She gasped for air, sickened by the floral stench surrounding his coffin. Tony wrapped his arm around her waist, supporting her.
“It’s okay, Sparrow. He’s in a better place.”
Her misting eyes met his. She stared at his face, startled by the eerie resemblance he and Dana had shared, their chiseled faces framed by charcoal black hair and piercing blue eyes. The similarity started with their faces but ended with their different body types. Unlike Dana, who was tall and lean, Tony was a block of muscle.
She looked away from his concerned eyes. She didn’t deserve his kindness, and she couldn’t find any comforting words to offer him. He wasn’t aware of Dana’s personal problems. How she’d suffered along with him for as long as she could, and how her heart ached that she couldn’t fix him. Tony lost the only sibling he had and the only family he had left.
Heavy tears soaked her cheeks. She dabbed at her eyes, her conscience riddled with guilt. Were the tears she cried for Dana or herself? Tony’s arm kept her steady on her feet. She smiled up at him through closed lips and allowed him to lead her back to the pew.
The priest gave the final blessings. She slipped out of the pew, keeping her head down to her chest. Remorse prevented her from making eye contact with Dana’s friends. She pushed open the heavy wood door and escaped, stepping out into fresh, rain-washed air. Relief entered her lungs, and she expelled the stifling incense-filled and despair-laden interior of the church that had nearly suffocated her. The smell of fresh flowers had choked her. She drew in another deep breath, walking down the sidewalk to the cement curb. She looked in both directions up and down the street and noticed Derrick at the far corner, leaning against the Mobile Health Clinic RV and looking concerned. She sighed at the sight of him.
Dr. Derrick Sloan straightened when he noticed her looking his way. From across the street she could see his gentle brown eyes searching her face, curious to know if she was okay. His long strides gobbled up the pavement. The wind whipped his black jacket and pants against his body. It’d been a long time since she’d seen him out of his white lab coat. She assumed he’d brought a change of clothes with him while on rounds. A tuft of light brown hair fell over his forehead and then blew back in the breeze. A sincere smile arced from his closed lips.
She stepped off the curb to meet him, and then paused, hearing the other church attendants at her back. Within minutes the street filled with Dana’s friends and family. She hadn’t been aware of how many people were inside the church until now. She waved at Derrick and then turned around, searching for Tony in the crowd.
“It was a lovely service, Tony. I hope you and your family understand that my parents send their condolences, but my mother’s not well. I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go,” she said, turning away from him.
He grabbed her arm before she could leave.
“Did he really have to show up in that?” Tony asked her, and hitched his thumb toward Derrick and the Mobile Health Clinic RV. His eyes reflected the same annoyed glare she had witnessed in Dana’s eyes.
“He’s doing a lot of good work in the city,” she replied, pursing her lips together before she said something she’d regret. “I know you still don’t forgive him for what happened when he and Dana were just teenagers, but he cared a lot for your brother. He’s hurt over his death. We both feel terrible that we weren’t there for Dana.” Her voice quavered, thinking about the horrible vision she had the night Dana had died, and how she felt responsible for his death.
Tony’s grip softened and she pulled her elbow free. Derrick had been edging his way toward them, his eyes never losing sight of her and the intense conversation she was having with Tony, even though he’d been stopped by several people trying to talk with him. Before a potential confrontation could ensue, her gaze slid from Derrick to Tony. “I’m sorry for your loss. If there’s anything I can do, please let me know. Be well and remember all of the good times we had together.”
When she turned from Tony, Derrick was near her side, the rock she needed to lean on. “Everything okay?” he asked, his light brown eyes looking past her to the distraught expression on Tony’s face.
She smiled up at him. “Yeah, fine.”
“Tony, I had to come and pay my respects. I hope you don’t mind. I did wait until after the service.” Derrick pushed his hand forward in front of Tony, who turned his face from them and released a loud breath, then turned back to them and briefly accepted Derrick’s handshake. Sparrow didn’t like the hard stare between the men. Derrick needed to offer his condolences, but Tony wasn’t in a forgiving mood. For her sake, he’d been cordial to Derrick. Now was not the time or the place for them to resolve their differences.
She nudged Derrick’s arm, breaking the glare between the two men, encouraging him back toward the Mobile Health Clinic RV. Tony revolved on his heels, waving them away.
“Come on, let’s go. Tony, take care.”
Derrick’s eyes rolled from the back of Tony’s head and down at her. She smiled, hoping to defuse the tension, and pushed the locks of sandy hair that had fallen over his forehead back from his eyes. His dimpled smile anchored her, and she pressed her index finger into the center of his square jaw.
He leaned down and kissed her cheek, sliding his arm behind her waist. She detected the faint smell of bubblegum on his breath. He kept a supply of the stuff in the Mobile Health Clinic RV, passing it out to kids while he administered medical treatment.
The uneasy moment exchanged by Derrick and Tony had passed, and she moved on to a more pleasant thought, relaxing against Derrick’s arm. She and Derrick had only had a couple of dates, but their relationship was moving along swiftly, and he’d started treating her more and more like a girlfriend, not just an old friend. They’d been working side by side for weeks, she as a volunteer while he administered medical attention to kids in need. After getting reacquainted, there was no denying the fact they’d grown close in a short amount of time.
A slow drizzle began, and she pulled the belt on her raincoat snugly around her middle, thrusting her hands into the deep pockets. Derrick pulled her closer to him. She could smell the subtle scent of antiseptic mingle with his aftershave. He’d come directly from work. The combination of the fresh rain and his calm, cool scent released the tenseness in her shoulders brought on during the funeral service. She sighed and relaxed against his arm.
“I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I wanted to pay my respects but thought it best from a distance. I know Tony doesn’t forgive me for what happened all those years ago, but we were just kids.”
“I know, I know. Let’s not talk about it. Dana had problems. It’s all water under the bridge.”
“Is it?”
Not by a long shot. She wondered how she could tell Derrick about the strange vision. Would he believe her if she told him that she saw Dana kill himself? That she had connected to him while meditating and convinced him to end his life? Keeping secrets was not a good way to start a relationship, but how could she tell him something that
crazy
?
But the vision had been incredibly real.
She’d been practicing yoga, sitting in a lotus pose, chanting. That familiar feeling of solitude had washed over her, and the memory emerged vividly as if she were sitting in her studio reliving the session again. Everything disappeared around her, she could no longer feel Derrick’s steady arm around her back or his fingers curling around her hip, and the fragrant smell of fresh rain, gone.
Why had Dana seeped into her brain that day? He was an awful boyfriend, a liar, a cheat, and an addict. She’d tried to help him, but he wouldn’t listen. Instead he’d called her a “whore” and “pain in the ass” and accused her of trying to be like her father. She didn’t understand why he’d always dragged her father into things, and when she pushed him on it, he’d pushed back with his fists. His need for drugs was more powerful than anything she had to offer.
Her mind had been spinning.
She had gone into her studio and pulled the shades and closed the door. She needed the darkness; she needed the feeling of being shut in to help her forget. When a crack of light had spilled under the drawn shade, she entered the walk-in closet and closed the door behind her. Assuming the lotus position, she bent her right leg over her left leg, placing her right foot on top of her left thigh with her heel up, and crossed her left leg in the same position over her right thigh, with her left heel up, and started some basic breathing exercises. Before beginning the meditation, she relaxed her arms and placed her upturned hands on her knees then joined her index fingers to her thumbs.
“All I need is deep within me waiting to unfold. I must be still and search for the silence. I must seek the truth and it will reveal itself to me.”
In the blackness, patiently she sought the quiet. Dangerous negative thoughts continued to invade her mind; she had to rid her mind of the chatter or risk attracting the echoed thoughts and their manifestation to reality. Her spine stiffened and she forced herself to relax, trying to keep her back straight but comfortable, shoving the rigidity away with more breathing. She decided to use a basic Buddhist mantra known to evoke compassion and dispel negative feelings toward others. Maybe this would clear her mind of Dana.
“Aoom-Mani-Padmay-Hoom, Aoom-Mani-Padmay-Hoom, Aoom-Mani-Padmay-Hoom…”
She concentrated on the rhythm and sound vibrating from between her lips. She imagined herself a potted plant, her legs the roots, crossed over and twining around each other, her spine the stem growing longer. She imagined her arms and hands were bright green and shiny leaves, light as air. Behind her closed eyes, she pictured a golden-white light, traveling through the lengths of her root-legs, up her stem-spine and to her head, where the golden flower shone. The petals opened. A tingling sensation pricked. A male hand plucked the petals and pulled her root-legs up and out of the pot.
Dana’s hand. There was no mistaking the class ring on his right ring finger. She confronted the vision. She found herself in Dana’s backyard, soft green grass moist under her bare feet. Dana held a thick rope in his hands. Their eyes met. His face contorted. He slung the rope around a hearty branch and formed the noose. A wicked mantra popped in her head.
“You know what you must do, you know what you must do, you know what you must do…”
She couldn’t center herself and focus on a pleasant yoga mantra.
Dana paused. He stood on the plastic white yard chair. Her eyes were intent on his. Finally she had power and control over him. She concentrated on the wicked mantra, You know what you must do, pushing the thought deep into his brain. She wanted to end his struggle. He slipped the noose around his neck. She chanted, “You know what you must do.”
