Broken Chain Part Four: Revelation: Broken Chain, #4

By Sandi Plewis

A fast-moving small-town family story in the tradition of Mary Higgins Clark.

With the arrival of 1971, all the lies and manipulation, the secrets and abuse that have lurked in the shadows for years are about to be exposed.

The conflict between Tricia Porter, Brody Rivers and Lizzy Baker is now ready to burst open. Add in the strange nightmare apparition who plagues both Tricia and Brody, and the tension and turmoil in Brody’s life is at a fever pitch. In his opinion, his empathic ability is truly the curse that Brody always believed it to be.

The ghost of Tricia’s aunt triggers vague and confusing images of a tragic experience that happened long ago, from a past that Brody couldn’t possibly remember. For the first time, Brody not only starts to believe in a past life, he also suspects that it might be the reason for his empathic ability in his current lifetime.

Along with this eerie connection, Brody, Tricia and Lizzy are thrown together when a violent January blizzard comes out of nowhere. The old ploughs and local road crews are unable to deal with the relentless barrage of snow and ice, leaving people stranded in their cars and homes. 

The resulting confrontation that erupts between the main characters is as intense as the historic snowstorm that strikes Huron County during the winter of 1971.

Broken Chain: Revelation is the fourth and final part of the Broken Chain saga.
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sandi Plewis
• Release date: Jan 28, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386315650

Book preview

For Gary

Chapter Forty

Tuesday, January 26, 1971.

Dawn edged over the horizon as if it was reluctant to face the world. It started out much like the previous morning. The temperature hovered around thirty degrees Fahrenheit by the time the sun yawned and rose, a soft underbelly of snow hid beneath a crusty skin, and an assortment of birds—blue jays, cardinals, brown-capped chickadees—squabbled at Olive’s bird feeder in the backyard. As the jays dominated, the others squawked out their indignation, wings fluttering as they scattered seeds onto the ground. It was a morning like any other typical winter day.

Inside the Porter household, Taylor splashed water on his face from the tap at the kitchen sink, then scrubbed it off with a tea towel. Tricia put together a pot of coffee. She looked over at him as she set it on the burner.

Didn’t sleep?

Nope. You?

A bit.

He pulled his lunch from the fridge before he spoke again. Tricia?

The solemn tone of his voice made her turn toward him, abandoning the eggs she was breaking into a frying pan. Yeah?

No matter what happens today, don’t try to protect me, okay?

She frowned at him. What are you talking about?

I’m not sure. I just think there’s going to be trouble, that’s all.

Where? She could feel the pulse throbbing in her neck. What’s wrong, Taylor?

It’s work, he said. And it’s personal. But I’m warning you, Tricia, if you try to cover up for me, I’ll tell everyone you’re lying.

Before she could pry the story from him, Percy entered the room. He looked haggard and dishevelled but he sat down at the table, quietly. Troubled, Tricia turned back to the stove. Taylor would never reveal anything in front of their father. Maybe it was good that she’d been ordered to stay home from school. It sounded like Taylor might be fired. If so, her father would be angry and Taylor would need someone on his side.

After she’d set a bowl of scrambled eggs down on the table, Tricia made eye contact with Taylor and jerked her thumb toward the living room. He paid no attention to her. Taylor left the house as her father was heading out to the barn. But he did something unexpected just before he slipped through the back door. Tricia was running the dish water and Taylor leaned over, then kissed her on the forehead.

What the hell? she said. Tell me. Are you going to lose your job?

He smiled slightly. I don’t think so. I’m just overreacting.

When he was gone, Tricia gazed through the window over the sink as she washed the dishes. A light scattering of flurries speckled the sky. The snow looked like the granules of sugar Olive sprinkled across her gingerbread cookies. Tricia had the radio on and the announcer was predicting a disturbance moving into the area but it sounded mild. Certainly nothing to concern a community accustomed to harsh winters. She didn’t pay much attention to the report.

Her thoughts lingered on Brody. Did he go to Lizzy Baker after he left last night? She had an image of Brody and Lizzy, their bodies pressed together as they lay on top of Lizzy’s bed. She scrubbed violently at the frying pan, the steel wool leaving a temporary imprint on the palm of her hand.

With the dishes finished, Tricia moved toward Taylor’s bedroom. Her brother’s sheets were smooth. He obviously hadn’t been to bed all night long. She paused in his doorway, her brow lined. Then she closed his door, softly.

She continued on upstairs to her parents’ room. The bed was crumpled and the blankets hung off the footboard, like someone draped them there on purpose. She sighed and rearranged the sheets, pulling them tight and putting the bed back together again. Why did her mother do this every day? Couldn’t Taylor and her father make up the beds themselves? It seemed ridiculous that they’d just leave everything in disarray and expect a woman to tidy up after them.

She was just finishing when a snapshot on the night table caught her eye. It was tattered, the black and white finish so faded that it was now dull shades of beige and brown. She picked it up slowly, her held breath making her lungs tighten. Even in its dilapidated condition, Tricia recognized the woman. How could she not? She’d invaded Tricia’s room...and her dreams...for months.

She turned the photograph over. The inscription on the back had no date but it had a name—Kathleen Mae Porter. Beside it, in the same precise handwriting, were the words, age sixteen. Tricia closed her eyes and held the photograph against her chest. Emotions jolted her—every feeling from the day when that snapshot was taken. Just like Tricia’s dreams. But this time, she was wide awake.

She could actually hear her aunt’s laughter, feel the arms that wrapped around her. The man who embraced her pulled back and Tricia saw him for the first time. She cried out, the picture falling from her fingers onto the floor at her feet. The features were slightly different, the hair lighter, but not the eyes.

Those vivid green eyes.

By ten o’clock the storm front hit. The wind picked up immediately, gusting up to seventy miles an hour within a matter of minutes. The flakes of snow that had swirled in the air earlier thickened into a frenzied swarm. The temperature plunged, dropping so rapidly you could almost see the thermometer changing. By eleven o’clock, the school board made a decision to send their students home, but it was already too late. Visibility was nil. The bus drivers couldn’t see in any direction. Some started out, only to turn back to the schools within a matter of minutes, concern for the children’s safety a stronger force than the shrieking blizzard around them. A few business owners had the sense to close early, releasing their employees while there was still a chance to defy the storm and return home. Others delayed, and their workers were stranded in the buildings, trapped by a growing barrage of wind and snow. Within the town of Granger’s Crossing, the feed mill was one of the businesses that had the foresight to lock up in time.

Tricia would hear all this when the storm finally ended. But that morning, she barely glanced at the weather. Compared to the photograph, a bit of snow hardly mattered. All she could do was try to sort through the feelings swirling inside her. Her mind kept returning to his green eyes.

There was no chance that the man in Kathleen’s life was Brody. But why was she allowed to peer into her aunt’s life?

Tricia’s head ached. She sat at the table, clutching the necklace in her hand, shuffling through her confusion. She’d retrieved the garnet from her jewellery box earlier, hoping that the gift would trigger Kathleen’s reappearance. So far, nothing.

When the back door opened, Tricia looked up without much interest. Her father stood there, snow encrusted on his eyelashes and in his hair. Reddened patches of skin stood out on his cheeks and he peeled off his gloves, blowing on his hands to warm them.

Hell of a storm!

She’d rarely heard her father swear.

If this keeps up, Percy told her, we’ll be snowed in by nightfall.

She stood up and turned on a burner beneath the tea kettle as Percy removed his coat and boots. Focusing on the blizzard was enough to dilute the anger between them.

Think I’ll stay inside today, until it’s time for the evening milking, he said, settling down on his chair at the end of the table. Lucky thing you didn’t go to school. You might not have gotten home.

What about Taylor?

Percy didn’t answer her. She’d left the picture lying on the kitchen table, after studying it for a long time. He picked it up slowly, before his accusing eyes came to rest on Tricia’s face.

I found it in your room, she said. Her voice sounded high-pitched and jittery. When I was making the bed this morning.

He nodded, outwardly calm. I was looking at it last night, he murmured. Sometimes I do.

Tricia sat down at the other end of the table. Percy examined the photograph again, as if the memories had swallowed him.

Tricia felt the weight of the necklace clutched in her fist. She laid it down on the table. The soft click of the chain against the wooden surface drew Percy’s attention and his gaze shifted toward it.

Where did you say that came from?

It was a gift, she said. From Brody.

He continued to target the necklace and his hand shook as he gripped the old snapshot between his fingers. The first time I saw it, I thought that it couldn’t be possible. So I told myself that the necklace just looked the same. But...it’s hers.

Who’s?

Kathleen’s. She always wore it.

For a moment, Tricia couldn’t find her voice. She remembered his face on the day when he had beaten her so violently, his startled expression when he saw the necklace, the way he shook his head as if trying to clear it. Brody bought it from the antique store, she finally said.

That’s not true.

How do you know?

Because... His voice faltered for a moment. He cleared his throat. ...just before she died, the chain broke, near the garnet. In the exact same spot.

But it wasn’t broken when Brody gave it to me.

It had to be. No one fixed it. Then it disappeared. He reached out, picked up the necklace, and stared down at it