Now You See Her Page 0,93

to control the too-rapid thumping of her heart, stopping when they made her feel dizzy and lightheaded.

“Are you all right?” Liam asked. “You look a little pale.”

“Excuse me,” a woman said, pushing past them into the store.

“I really need to find some new clothes,” Marcy heard herself say, her voice coming from somewhere outside her body, as if she were a ventriloquist’s doll, unable to function without someone pulling her strings.

“What do you need?” Liam asked, taking a final look around before guiding her past the rows of confectionery treats toward the women’s-wear section at the back of the large store.

I need to have my head examined, Marcy thought. “Everything,” she said.

Twenty minutes later, casting wary glances over her shoulder for any sign of Vic Sorvino, she approached the sales counter, her arms loaded with two pairs of pants, one black, one khaki; two T-shirts, one white and one beige; a blue-and-white-striped cotton blouse; a navy peacoat; some socks; a new bra; a pair of pink-and-white-flowered flannel pajamas; and half a dozen pairs of Calvin Klein panties. “That should do me,” she said, handing the items to the flame-haired, gum-chewing salesclerk.

“You don’t want to try any of them things on?” the girl, whose name tag identified her as Sissy, asked.

“No. I’m sure they’re fine.”

Sissy cracked her gum, as if to say, “Suit yourself,” then began ringing up the items. “There’s no tag on this one,” she said accusingly.

“Oh, sorry,” Marcy apologized, accepting that this was somehow her fault.

“Hey, Adeline,” Sissy called to a young woman who was walking by. “Can you do a price check for me? This lady lost her tag.”

Marcy protested. “I actually don’t think there was one.”

“There’s always a tag,” Sissy said with a roll of her bored brown eyes.

“Eighty-eight euros,” Adeline shouted back several long minutes later.

Sissy entered the appropriate numbers into the computer. “That’s six hundred and forty-four euros in total,” she announced between snaps of her gum. Marcy handed over her credit card to be swiped. “There seems to be a problem with your card,” Sissy said seconds later.

“What?”

“It’s not going through.”

“That’s impossible. Try again.”

Sissy dutifully ran the card through again. “Nah. It’s not acceptin’ it. Sorry.”

“I don’t understand,” Marcy mumbled, her dizziness returning.

“Is it possible you forgot to pay your bill?” Liam asked.

“No. Peter takes care of that. And he’s always on time. He’s positively anal about it. Not a day early, not a day late. It’s like a mantra with him. He says that the credit card companies charge interest from the first second you’re late, so there’s no way he’s going to let them make interest on his money by paying them early. Just as there’s no way he’ll let them earn interest by being late. So he’s always exactly on time,” she said, feeling her knees grow weak. She understood she was babbling but was unable to stop, as if it was only the sound of her voice that was keeping her upright.

“Marcy,” Liam said, “are you okay?”

“Do you have another card?” Sissy was asking. “Otherwise, I’ll have to ask you to step aside. There’s other customers waitin’.”

“Here.” Liam handed his card to the salesclerk. “Use this.”

“No.” Marcy protested over the sudden ringing in her ears. The bells of St. Anne’s Shandon Church, she thought, amazed at their power. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’ll pay me back as soon as you get this straightened out.”

Get what straightened out? Marcy wondered as the ringing grew louder. My credit? My daughter? My life?

“If you’ll just sign here,” Sissy told Liam. Marcy noticed the salesgirl’s hand brush up against his as she pushed the itemized bill across the counter.

“I don’t understand,” Marcy was muttering as he signed it. Except she did understand. She understood all too well. Peter, alarmed by her recent actions, had cut off her access to her credit cards. The ringing in her ears grew more intense. “Can’t somebody please turn off those damn bells,” she cried as the ringing reached a crescendo and the room began spinning out of control. In the next instant, her knees gave out. The last thing she saw before she fainted was Liam reaching out to grab her before she hit the floor.

SHE WOKE UP to the sound of knocking.

“Who is it?” Marcy sat up in bed, quickly orienting herself to her surroundings. The leaded windows and delicate, apricot-colored walls told her she was back in her room at the Hayfield Manor Hotel. The clock on her bedside table announced it was