Night Shift (Book 1, the Night Shift series)

Chapter Thirty-two

"What?" he asked, leaning forward, certain he misheard her through her tears.

"I don't know how," she choked. "But this is Virginia."

"No," he said gently, as if delivering bad news to a child. "That's impossible. She only looks like her." He reached for the handkerchief in his back pocket.

Mary wiped a hand across her face, ignoring his gesture. "I saw her every day for twenty years! This is Virginia," she said pleadingly, tapping the photograph again. "It explains everything."

"Explains everything?" he repeated. "It explains nothing." He laughed nervously then took the album from her. "What you're saying is impossible, Mary. And I think you'd agree, I've got a deep capacity for believing in the impossible." The joke fell flat. He turned away and started placing items back in the box; his hands had started shaking.

"It's the truth," she said.

Daniel gritted his teeth. A dull ache began to grow inside his chest, making it hard to breathe. "Why are you saying this?" his voice faltered. He reached for the last of the CDs. Her fingers gripped his wrist. "Don't," he whispered, but he did nothing to move away; he couldn't resist her touch.

"Daniel." Her voice was soft but urgent.

He slowly turned his head and looked at her. Uneven blotches covered her face and neck, and tears still clung to her eyelashes. "Was this Petey's idea?" he asked, almost pleading. "It's another one of his practical jokes, right?"

"It's no joke," she said. "I swear."

The ache in his chest began to move up his throat; he tried to swallow it back down. Daniel wished he would wake up in the hotel room and start the evening all over again.

His silence encouraged Mary's resolve. "Your mother is Virginia," she began. "She lived with us in the store."

"Stop it." He pulled out of her grasp. "Why are you throwing out these weird stories about my dead mother?" A mix of bile and fear churned in his stomach.

Mary nervously wet her lips. "You play the piano just like her, you look just like her—the same eyes, the same hair, the same smile. I can't believe I didn't see it earlier."

Her words echoed in his head, distorted like they were underwater. He focused on a spot over her shoulder, taking sharp breaths through his nose. The adrenaline was building, making his words tremble. "Do the others know?" he finally asked.

Mary shook her head. "No." Her voice was weak. "I was suspicious about why you seemed familiar. I hadn't really thought it was possible for Virginia to be your mother, but when you arrived tonight with your family album, I had to see the picture first to be sure."

"And now you're sure?"

She nodded.

Daniel took one more deep breath, then grabbed the box and jumped to his feet.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to ask the others," he called out, racing to the elevator.

Mary was quick and managed to run in behind him before he slammed the elevator gate closed. He thumped his palm against the number three button. "Let's see what's going down in the Music Room, hmm?" he said, mockingly.

"You don't understand. It's not just the pictures."

"Really? Enlighten me!" he snapped. His shock was distorting his fear into anger. Daniel felt like he was trapped in a speeding car, headed for a cliff.

"Your father's handkerchiefs came from the store. It's the same blue initial!"

He speared her with a damning glare. "Do you have any idea how many tourists visit the store every week? All that proves is that the handkerchiefs were bought here."