Unforgettable

Chapter One - The Broken Circle
January 1995
Boston
A knock at her grad school apartment door pulled Lisa Delaney away from
Commonwealth of Massachusetts vs. Torcelli Construction. Eyes burning, she
rubbed her lids while, from her iPod, she heard Bryan Adams insist that
everything he did, he did for her. Old song. Easy words. If the man really wanted
to impress, he could take her contracts exam in the morning.
She pushed away from her desk, covered in law books and case briefs, and rose
from her chair, stretching, bending and groaning. Her knees creaked like an
arthritic old lady’s. Shaking her head, she emitted a long sigh and promised
herself a gym visit the next day—after the exam.

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A second knock echoed, this time more impatiently
“I’m coming. Hang on.” Nimble again, she rushed across the room and opened
the door.
Her eyes widened, her stomach began to roil as she looked at two uniformed
state troopers, snow melting on their jackets, cop faces in place. Her thoughts
raced with possibilities. Classmates? Mike? Oh, please, not Mike.
“Are you Lisa Delaney?”
She stared at bad news and froze. All of her. Nothing worked. Not her mind,
tongue, or breath. Perhaps her heart had stopped, too. One man coughed. The
other repeated the question.
“I-I’m Lisa.”
“Are your parents’ names Robert and Grace Delaney?”
Oh, God, yes! Her heart raced at Mach speed, but she couldn’t feel her legs at
all. “What happened?”
“May we come in, Ms. Delaney?” Taller cop.
She nodded and pulled the door wider, but the knob slipped through her sweaty
hands and she lost her balance.
“You might want to sit down.”
As though moving underwater, she struggled into the closest chair.
“I’m afraid there’s been an accident on the turnpike,” began the quiet-till-now
officer. “A fatal accident.”
“Not…not my…my parents?” She barely got the words out before the officers’
sympathetic silence answered her question.
“But that’s impossible! I just spoke to my dad…”
“When was that, ma’am?”

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When? When? “I think…maybe…last…last night….” Her voice drifted. Daddy
had been checking up on his eldest, his numero uno child, joking with her about
an apple a day. Staying healthy. A convenient excuse to call. To keep in touch
with the one who’d left home. She’d understood his M.O. a month after arriving
at school. Sweet, loving man. A man with a phone.
“Wh-what…?” Her throat closed.
The cops seemed to understand her intent. “The official investigation is ongoing,
but according to preliminary reports, the other driver lost control of his vehicle
and did a one-eighty.”
“Drunk? But…but it’s the middle of the week.” As if that fact could change
things.
“The driver’s blood alcohol was normal.”
“Then what…? The road…?”
“Icy conditions contributed. The temperature drops at night, and your folks were
approaching at just the wrong moment. There were no survivors. I’m very
sorry.”
She nodded. No survivors? Mom and Dad?  She wanted to cover her ears.
The other officer looked at his notes and said, “The Woodhaven police are with
your brothers and sisters.”
Oh, God, the kids… She had to get back to Woodhaven!
Standing quickly, she was hit by a wave of nausea and fell back into her chair.
She doubled over, hand on her stomach. The phone rang, startling her further.
She stared at the instrument, half-buried by textbooks, reached forward, and
slowly lifted the receiver. “Hello?” she whispered.
“Lisa! Lisa! The police are here. Mom and Dad were in an accident. You have to
come home! Now! I’m scared.”
Jennifer. Her social butterfly teenage sister whose life revolved around
boyfriends, best friends, and having fun. Except, not tonight. In the background,

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she heard the cacophony of younger voices crying and talking at the same time.
She heard little Emily’s high-pitched wail. “When is Lisa coming?”
“Hang on, Jen.” She took a breath and looked at the officers. “There are four of
them. Emily’s only seven. My twin brothers are nine. Jen’s sixteen. I’ve got to
get there—a hundred miles—and I don’t own a car.” She couldn’t afford one and
didn’t need one in a city with mass transit.
The troopers nodded, and she spoke into the phone again.
“I’ll be there soon, Jen. As soon as I can. Maybe William and Irene can stay with
you meanwhile.” Her fiancé’s parents lived across the street.
“They’re not home. They went to Miami to see Mike play. Didn’t you watch the
game yesterday?”
“Of course I watched, but I didn’t know his folks flew down.” Mike had subbed
for the starting quarterback and played an entire quarter. It was only his first
year, but now the Riders were in the play-offs.
“So, Jen, you need to be in charge now until I get there. You and the kids sit tight
and wait for me.” She glanced toward the window, where falling snow was
reflected by the light of the streetlamps.
“It might take a little while,” she added. “It’s a big trip, and the roads are bad…”
What was she saying? Her parents had just been killed on those roads. “Jen,
honey, let me talk to one of the officers there.”
Her hand shook as she gave the receiver to the state cop. “Ask if they told the
kids the truth.”
In seconds, he shook his head. “Not yet. They’re getting a social worker in on
it.”
She raised her eyes to his. “Please tell them not to do or say anything until I get
there. Okay?”
Perspiration trickled from every pore. She shivered and sweated until finally her
stomach lurched. Running into the bathroom, she vomited until nothing
remained. Then she brushed her teeth, packed her suitcase to the brim, and

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snapped it shut. The sound focused her, and she inhaled a deep breath. Be strong,