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“He saw this, Sonya. It’s so detailed. And, Jesus, that mirror is creepy. There’s more in here. The same mirror, but they’re wearing different clothes—and… different ages. Some younger, some older.”
“They’re just boys here. He drew these from memory. Has to be. The same mirror, but they can’t be more than six or seven. Dad’sholding a little car. But in this one, Collin’s holding it. It’s the same car, Cleo. Isn’t it?”
“It looks the same. He passed it to his brother through the mirror?”
“That’s not possible.”
“In a dream, everything’s possible.”
“Dinner’s here,” Winter called from the bottom of the steps.
She insisted they eat at the table—like the civilized—and on plates, not out of cartons.
“Marshall contacted Mr. Doyle. Mr. Doyle is emailing Marshall the files, and they’re meeting tomorrow.”
“Already?”
“Marshall wanted the meeting, and Mr. Doyle—Marshall told me—was more than amenable. You’ll be able to make a better decision once Marshall goes over all the documents and meets Collin Poole’s lawyer.”
“I’m really grateful. It takes a load off.”
“See? We’ll all sleep better.”
Sonya didn’t count on it.
“We found a sketchbook with at least a dozen drawings of the mirror dream. Some with them as boys.”
“Your dad said he’d had the dream his whole life.”
“The mirror’s a nightmare,” Cleo put in, plucking up a pot sticker with chopsticks. “Decorated with predatory birds, animals, reptiles. Nothing I’d want to use to check out how my butt looks.”
“Didn’t Dad have a bunch of little cars? Toy cars?”
“His beloved Matchbox cars?” Winter smiled as she ate. “You played with them when you were two, three, but lost interest. You didn’t play with dolls much either. Always arts and crafts for you.”
“Matchbox cars. Do you still have them?”
“After Drew died, I gave them to your cousin Martin. And apparently he took good care of them because he mentioned he put them away for when he has a kid of his own. I love knowing that. Drew really treasured those cars.”
“Collin Poole left a collection of Matchbox cars to Mr. Doyle’s son in his will.”
“Twin synergy.” Cleo lifted her shoulders. “It’s a real thing.”
“In one sketch, a boyhood sketch, Dad’s holding a little car. In the next sketch, Collin’s holding the same car. I wonder if Collin had the same dreams. No way to ask, I guess.”
“You could try a séance.”
At the identical stares from Sonya and Winter, Cleo gave an exaggerated shrug. “Okay, that’s a bridge too far even for me. I don’t think it’s smart to stir that sort of thing up. But it wouldn’t surprise me if he had similar dreams. You said he and the lawyer were pals since they were kids. You could ask him if he knows.”
“Maybe I will. I’d like to take the sketchbook, Mom, and the ones with the house, if that’s okay.”
“Of course it is. I’m going to call your grandparents in the morning. Let me do this part, baby. It’s going to upset them to find out Drew had a brother and they weren’t told. They’ll want to talk to you, but let’s give them a chance to get through that part first.”
“It wasn’t their fault.”
“No, it wasn’t. One of the things I want to find out, whatever you decide to do, is whose fault it was.”
Chapter Five
