My Sister, Myself

by Alice Sharpe

  His remarks hit her like a slap in the face, way out of proportion, considering the only thing she knew about her father was that he’d walked away from her when she was an infant and never, it seemed, looked back.

  That’s not true, she argued with herself. During this night you’ve come to know him through Katie’s eyes. And Katie’s eyes are your eyes in a way, aren’t they?

  He was Katie’s dad and he was your dad. You believe in his innocence.

  “Tess?”

  “I think you’re projecting your own sense of betrayal with my father on this issue,” she said softly, moving deeper into the living area, further from him, perching at last on the edge of the coffee table. She took off the glasses and set them beside her, lining the lenses up with the grain of the wood. “I’m going to keep the appointment Katie made to play ‘Moonlight Sonata’ this morning at Bluebird House,” she said softly, staring at the glasses and not at Ryan. “I’ve played the piano for years. My mother hated hearing me practice—I guess it reminded her of my father—but I was driven to play. Maybe someone there can explain—”

  “Where you left your brain?” he snapped, standing. He shook the notebook at her. “This is ridiculous.”

  That got her attention. “No it’s not.”

  “Try to remember that I actually know your sister. You’ve built some pie-in-the-sky image of her as an intrepid crusader—”

  Tess almost tipped over the table as she, too, shot to her feet, the glasses sliding to the carpet. “Don’t you dare talk about her like that,” she said. “I do know Katie. I got to know her during the night. I touched her things, I lay in her bed, I put on her clothes.” She didn’t add the rest because she knew he would scoff at it. The truth was that sometime in the middle of the night after dying her hair and reaching certain conclusions, she’d peered into Katie’s mirror and seen a reflection different from the one she expected. And it wasn’t just the hair color, either, it was something in the eyes. Tess felt empowered by her sister’s essence, though that didn’t explain it, not really.

  She just knew she wasn’t afraid anymore.

  “And now you’re determined to turn into her,” Ryan said. “You’re as reckless as she is.”

  She stepped backward and heard the crunch of the glasses as she trod on them. Too upset to care, she tossed her head defiantly. “Thanks.”

  “It wasn’t meant as a compliment,” he snarled. He looked down at his feet—was he counting to ten?—then back at her. “Tess, Tess. How are you going to explain the fact that you don’t know the people Katie knows or have her memories?”

  She tried one last time to enlist his aid by demonstrating she’d thought this through. “In case whomever did this is at Bluebird House or is watching the apartment, from now on I’ll wear glasses and bandages and the walking cast. I mean, they’re bound to know they hit me, so I’ll give them what they might expect to see. A minor break in my leg, bruises, bandages around my head. I’ll blame any memory lapses or confusion on the mild concussion I suffered. I’ll make sure everyone hears me say I have no idea what happened. I’ll misdirect them by saying the police are looking for a green SUV or a red truck from out of state. Katie will be safer, the would-be killer can relax, I can sniff out possibilities.”

  Ryan rubbed the back of his neck as he sat down in his chair. “When you say Katie will be safer, you do realize that in this context, for all intents and purposes, you are talking about yourself, not your sister?” he said. “Your sister is all tucked away in ICU behind locked doors. By going out and pretending to be her you are anything but safer. You do know that, don’t you?”

  She said, “Yes. That’s why I need your help.”

  She thought he would protest again or maybe even stalk out of the apartment. He said, “You’re going to do this with or without me, aren’t you?”

  Surprised, she whispered, “Yes.”

  “When are you supposed to be at the Bluebird House?”

  “In two hours.”

  He stood again and walked right up to her, forcing her to look up at him. “You know I don’t approve of this scheme?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’ll be cautious? You’ll keep me posted, you won’t go off on some tangent without checking in? I’ll allow you to be my partner, but the trade-off is you have to keep me as yours. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “I’m going to regret this,” he said.

  “No you won’t. Go home and freshen up.”

  “I’m not leaving you alone in this apartment until we get that door fixed,” he said.

  Tess moved away from him, breathing easier when she’d put a couple of feet between them. For a second, as he stood looking down at her and she up at him, they’d been close enough that his body heat hit her full force and she’d had to caution herself not to succumb to the comfort of his arms…and not because of fear this time.

  She dug back into her shopping bag. “I thought you might refuse to leave,” she told him, “so I bought you some new underwear at the drugstore and a toothbrush and some deodorant and even a new white T-shirt. You can shower here. If you want.”

  He stared at her, and she wondered if it was bad form to buy black briefs for a man you’d known less than forty-eight hours. Too late if it was. “I took a guess at the size,” she added, “and, um, the style.”

  He accepted the plastic-wrapped items with a look of disbelief still on his face. “I miss the reasonable veterinarian of yesterday,” he muttered, meeting her gaze.

  “Yeah, well, she’s gone for now,” Tess said.

  “I can see that,” he told her, and strode off toward the bathroom.

  HE DROVE HER to Bluebird House with one eye on the road and one eye on the rearview mirror. He’d never in his life been so damn aware of a woman; the third eye he’d developed was glued to her.

  She wore the small turquoise earrings and ring he had dumped out of the evidence bag the night before, along with an inexpensive white dress she’d found in Katie’s closet. Her new red tresses brushed her shoulders, her new black glasses perched on her nose. What the glasses didn’t obscure, the bandages wrapped around her head did. There was a smudge of dried blood on one edge, discreet, barely noticeable, but a nice touch. She’d also come up with a black eye for herself and had put on a loose, long-sleeved sweater to cover her arms. The cast looked real, and they’d picked up a pair of aluminum crutches to emphasize her injury when they’d stopped to replace the glasses.

  She didn’t look much like the smartly dressed blonde veterinarian he’d first met three days before. She didn’t look much like Katie, either, which was the point.

  She also didn’t look as frightened as she should be, but warning her seemed pointless. He’d already tried. Perhaps, he thought, she was more focused than scared, and how could he fault her for that? It was the police credo.

  “How far away are we?” she asked, her voice the only part of her that revealed a show of nerves.

  “Not far.” He sent her a hurried glance as the light turned green. He said, “Tess, when I first joined the New Harbor Police Force I worked undercover. For three months I wore the same ratty clothes and spent most of my nights on the street buying and selling drugs, trying to work my way up to meet the sleazeball in charge. I called myself Brian. Just Brian. Notice how close it is to Ryan. It’s a old undercover trick—choose a name that sounds like your own so you won’t be startled or fail to answer when someone addresses you.”

  He could feel her staring at him.

  “Pretending to be someone else takes concentration,” he continued. “You have an edge because you’re basically playing your doppelganger, but you aren’t Tess Mays anymore, you’re Katie Fields, but damn it, you aren’t even Katie Fields, you’re Caroline Mays. Get use to the name Caroline.”

  “You’re forgetting that Caroline Mays is my mother. I’ve grown up with that name. If Katie could be Caroline, I can be Caroline.”

  “But Katie didn’t know her mother,
so Katie was no doubt being Katie with a new name and red hair.”

  “So tell me what I need to know about Katie.”

  He shook his head. “Well, pretty, of course, but a little flighty for my taste and besides, she was Matt’s daughter.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You don’t mess around with a partner’s daughter.”

  “Is this police code?”

  “No, this is common sense. I think Matt wanted her married and settled down, or at least educated, but after a couple of years of junior college she dropped out. I don’t think she could afford to go anymore. Matt never had extra money to help her. Well, we now know why—he was too busy gambling it away. And Katie mostly did odd jobs like bartending, which I gather she was good at. She likes people. Other than that, I don’t know what to tell you.”

  Tess was so quiet he glanced her way. He found she’d scrolled through the photos on the phone until she’d found the one of her sister and father and was staring at it. Biting her lip, she stuck the phone in his glove box. “I’m not taking any chances that some friend of Katie’s chooses the wrong moment to call. Okay, it sounds as though Katie is outgoing. I’m not so good with people. Much better with animals. I’ll pretend everyone at Bluebird House is a dog or a cat.”

  Ryan cast her a worried frown. “Do me a favor,” he said, his hands gripping the wheel. “Instead of pretending everyone at Bluebird House is a nice cuddly pet, pretend they’re a cold-blooded killer.”

  Chapter Five

  A brochure inside the door informed Tess that Bluebird House catered to developmentally disabled adults with or without physical limitations. The room Tess was shown to was set up wedding style for the occasion, the white baby grand piano situated at the front. Tess felt a flutter of nerves as she recalled just how long it had been since she’d actually played “Moonlight Sonata.”

  The staff was alternately horrified and curious about her injuries, as were the two other musicians, one a middle-aged dentist/violinist, and the other a retired banker who could play any number of instruments. Tess was by necessity vague during their brief conversation, touching her forehead often to drive home the point that she’d suffered a minor concussion and couldn’t remember nine-tenths of the things they talked about. They seemed to grow bored with her very quickly, which was a relief. They’d both been checked out after the fire; Ryan had said not to waste too much time on them or any of the other members of the troupe who hadn’t been scheduled for this day’s activity.

  As far as their audience went, there were about forty people present, mostly residents though members of the staff were clearly in evidence, as well. Tess kept her eyes peeled for the girl on Katie’s phone. She had a gut feeling this person was important to Katie, and hopefully, to the investigation, as well. Surely she must be connected to Bluebird House in some way.

  Despite Tess’s occasional fumbles, which she hoped were attributed to her injuries, the recital was well received. When the last notes faded away, followed by enthusiastic clapping, a woman wearing a smock announced refreshments in the dining room.

  As people filed out haphazardly, sweeping the other two musicians in their wake, Tess imagined her father doing this for years. He had apparently been both a gambler and a volunteer musician; such an odd combination, one interest so selfish, the other so selfless.

  And then Katie followed in his path, a “people person” Ryan had called her. Tess felt a renewed connection to this twin sister she didn’t know and a renewed jab of anger with her mother for keeping them apart.

  Which brought up the burning question: where was her mother? Every time Tess placed a call, her mother’s phone switched to voice mail yet she hadn’t returned one of Tess’s increasingly demanding missives. And what about her new husband’s stepson? Never avail able, never even home, according to his housekeeper. Who was this man and why was he avoiding her? What kind of family had her mother married into?

  Tess was awkwardly gathering up her music when someone tugged at her sleeve. She turned to find a girl just out of her teens with a pale, round face, blue eyes, curly reddish-blond hair, wearing a green jogging suit with flower embroidery. As short as Tess was, this girl was shorter, barely reaching Tess’s shoulder.

  “Caroline,” the girl said, struggling to make herself understood. A tad cross-eyed, she had a deep lisp that blurred the syllables making “Caroline” sound like “Carewine.”

  “Hello,” Tess said, recognizing at once the girl on Katie’s phone. She wore a name tag that read Tabitha Woodall. The name seemed familiar. “Did you like the music?” she asked.

  The girl nodded enthusiastically. “Nice,” she said and in a pleasant sing-song way added, “Tanks for kitty.”

  For kitty. What kitty? Tess looked up as a gray-haired woman in a tailored black suit approached, hazel eyes wide with shock. “Oh, my gosh, Caroline, I just heard! A hit-and-run accident!”

  “I’m fine,” Tess said as the woman gripped her hand.

  “Did it happen right after you left my house Tuesday?” Lowering her voice, she added, “Were you able to keep your appointment with Nelson Lingford?”

  “I…I don’t know,” Tess said, her confusion disguis ing the sudden constriction in her chest. “I’m a little fuzzy on details,” she added. Katie had had an appointment with Nelson Lingford the very same day she was hit and left to die? Here was something Ryan didn’t know!

  “This is just dreadful,” the woman continued.

  “Tank for kitty,” the girl repeated, frustration twisting her blunt features. “At da party, da kitty.”

  The older woman said, “Yes, yes, Tabitha.” Glancing back at Tess, she added, “My daughter just loves the kitty you gave her.”

  The girl smiled, took the older woman’s hand and put it to her cheek.

  Mother and daughter? No two women looked less alike than these two, one short and round, forever young, with guileless transparent eyes, the other tall and angular, middle sixties, intelligence burning behind her gaze. Tess tried her best to look as if she knew what they were talking about. She finally noticed the tiny silver cat hanging from a green ribbon around Tabitha’s neck.

  “I’m so glad you like the kitty,” Tess said.

  “Pretty,” Tabitha said, fingering her pendant.

  “After you left Tabitha’s little birthday bash, I drove her back here,” the woman added. “It doesn’t pay to over-stimulate her, as you know, and she was getting so tired. I’m sorry, by the way, she got so excited when you took her picture. I thought she was going to break your little phone. You’ll tell me if I need to replace it, won’t you?”

  “She didn’t hurt it,” Tess said.

  “I like da picture,” Tabitha said. “I see?”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t have the phone with me, Tabitha. “Next time, okay?”

  Tabitha clapped her hands together. Tess wasn’t sure what that meant, but in the next moment, the girl grabbed Tess, stepping on her foot in the process. Tess swallowed a wince and returned the hug. The genuine emotion prompting the girl’s action spoke volumes about Katie’s ability to communicate with all kinds of people, and Tess was oddly proud of her twin sister.

  Gently disengaging her daughter, the mother said, “Careful, sweetheart. Go along now and get yourself a cookie. I’ll be there in a moment.”

  Tabitha reluctantly released Tess from her strangle-hold and went in search of cookies as the woman fetched Tess’s crutches from where she’d stacked them against a wall. “Do you really feel up to keeping your appointment with Madeline Lingford today?” she asked over her shoulder.

  Tess allowed herself a befuddled expression as she fitted the crutches beneath her arms. An appointment with Madeline Lingford? Would she refuse such an opportunity? Not likely. She said, “Of course. Do you happen to know when she’s expecting me?”

  “Anytime. I’m on my way over to her place after I eat a cookie with Tabitha. You can’t drive, can you? Shall I give you a lift?”

 
; Pausing a moment to think of Ryan waiting outside, Tess grabbed the opportunity and said, “That would be great.”

  RYAN SPENT most of the time Tess was inside Bluebird House scrolling through Katie’s cell phone, looking for something he might have missed. A number, a contact, a name…anything. He found nothing.

  He was just throwing it back in the glove box when Tess hobbled out the big front doors, accompanied by an older woman in a gray raincoat. Neither Tess or the stranger gave him a second glance as they proceeded to a small black car. He could barely believe his eyes when Tess got into the passenger seat, pulling her crutches in behind her.

  He hit the steering wheel. That woman had been working undercover less than three hours and already she was breaking the rules!

  The trouble with being shut out of the investigation after Tess’s father died was that now he didn’t know many of the suspects by sight. He’d have to identify the woman Tess left with by running her automobile plates, which he did as he trailed her car out of the parking lot.

  The ID came back: Irene Sarah Woodall. He recognized the name as being connected to the Lingford family. She was an art dealer. That was it. Her home address was in the opposite direction from where she was driving and she was no slouch when it came to speed. He stayed as far back as he could, wishing there were more cars on the road, feeling conspicuous as they headed out of town.

  The land south of the New Harbor had consisted mostly of sand dunes and small lakes until fifteen years before when Nelson Lingford, as part of a consortium, bought up every last acre and began an “improvement” plan, transforming it all into pricey real estate. Now it housed a country club, two golf courses and huge, elaborate estates. Rocking Sand Road was one of the addresses located closest to the ocean, a winding lane bordered by dunes on one side and fir trees on the other. Gated fences kept out the riffraff.

  Did Tess have the slightest idea what she was getting herself into?