“Carole?” His voice echoed the mystification in his eyes.
Though the protective gesture was a dead giveaway, Avery covered her lower body with one hand and extended the other toward him in appeal. “Tate, I…”
As sharp and deadly as swords, his eyes slashed upwards to clash with hers. “You’re not
Carole.” He stated it softly, while his brain still sifted through conflicting facts. Then, when the impact of it hit him full force, he repeated with emphasis, “You’re not Carole!”
His arm shot through the shower’s spray to grab hold of her wrist and yank her from the tub. Her shins banged into the porcelain; her wet feet slipped on the tiles. She emitted a tortured cry, more of the spirit than the body.
“Tate, stop. I’ll—”
He slammed her wet, naked body against the wall and pinned it there with his own. His hand closed tightly around her neck, just beneath her chin.
“Who the fuck are you? Where is my wife? Who are you?”
“Don’t shout,” she whimpered. “Mandy will hear.”
“Talk, goddamn you.” He lowered his voice, but his eyes were still murderous and his hand exerted more pressure against her adam’s apple. “Who are you?”
Her teeth were chattering so badly she could barely speak.
“Avery Daniels.”
“Who?”
“Avery Daniels.”
“Avery Daniels? The TV…?”
She bobbed her head once.
“Where’s Carole? What—”
“Carole died in the plane crash, Tate,” she said. “I survived. We got mixed up because we had switched seats on the plane. I was carrying Mandy when I escaped. They assumed—”
He trapped her dripping head between his hands. “Carole’s dead?”
“Yes,” she gulped. “Yes. I’m sorry.”
“Since the crash? She died in the crash? You mean you’ve been living… all this time…?”
Again, she gave a swift, confirming nod.
Her heart broke apart like an eggshell as she watched him try to comprehend the incomprehensible. Gradually, he released his stranglehold on her cranium and backed away from her.
She snatched her robe off the hook on the back of the bathroom door and pulled it on, hurriedly knotting the tie belt. She reached into the tub and cut off the faucets, which she instantly regretted doing. The resulting silence was deafening, yet it shimmered with the brassy reverberation of disbelief and suspicion.
Into that silence he threw her one simple question. “Why?”
The day of reckoning had arrived. She’d known it would come eventually. She just hadn’t counted on it being today. She wasn’t prepared.
“It’s complicated.”
“I don’t give a damn how complicated it is,” he said in a voice that vibrated with wrath. “Start talking to me now before I call the police.”
“I don’t know how or when the initial mix-up was made,” she said frantically. “I woke up in the hospital bandaged from head to foot, unable to move or to speak. Everybody was calling me Carole. At first I didn’t understand. I was in such pain. I was afraid, confused, disoriented. It took several days for me to piece together what must have happened.”
“And when you realized it, you didn’t say anything? Why?”