Deception at Castle Rock (Amelia Grace Rock 'n' Roll Mysteries Book 2)

by Anne Marie Stoddard

  "Dill needs to learn our new songs for the tour," Jack chimed in. He gave Mickey a high five.

  "Just promise me you'll take it easy for the rest of the day," Kat said, bringing my attention back to her. "I'll give Suzie your car keys so she can drive you home. As soon as Jealousy Fetish's show is underway, I'll send Bronwyn over for the next shift."

  "You make it sound like y'all are guarding the crown jewels or something," I groused.

  Kat winked. "You're just as precious," she teased. Jack snorted, and I cut him a dark look.

  "Fine." I sighed. "Thanks for lunch." I took the pizza box and diet soda from Kat, deciding I'd save the grub for later. If the conversation with Emmett went any way like I imagined it would, I was going to need the comfort food.

  Suzie gave Jack the type of good-bye kiss that should be reserved for X-rated movies. Kat, Mickey, and I averted our eyes. When she'd pried herself away from the rocker, Suzie took my car keys from Kat's outstretched hand and followed me out of Castle Rock. I ambled sullenly out to the parking lot and stood waiting next to the passenger seat, feeling like a petulant teen whose parents wouldn't let her drive the family car. Suzie gave me an apologetic look as she slid behind the wheel. "I know you don't want me to go with you," she said.

  I blew out a breath and forced a polite smile. "It's not you," I said. "I'm just frustrated."

  "I understand," she replied in her girlish voice. I gave her my address, and she pulled the Jetta out onto North Avenue. "I just wanted to be helpful," she said. "You and your friends have been so kind to me. And now Ginger's in jail for…murder." She whispered the last word as if she'd been afraid to say it out loud. She gave me a sidelong glance. "It's just all kind of crazy, ya know?"

  I nodded absently. I was barely listening, my thoughts on the impending reality show-level fight that Emmett and I were about to have. And because the doctor told Kat that I needed a babysitter, Suzie was going to have a front row seat. I'd have to microwave her a bowl of popcorn first.

  We reached my apartment a few minutes later. I set my purse and drink cup on the kitchen table and placed the Camila's pizza box in the fridge. "Home sweet home," I said, moving my arm in a sweeping gesture as Suzie walked through the kitchen.

  "You have a lovely apartment," she remarked, taking a few steps into the living room and turning her head from side to side. "Wow. That view is to die for." She crossed the living room and slid open the glass door to my balcony. My thirteenth floor, one-bedroom apartment overlooked the gorgeous, sprawling green lawn of Piedmont Park. Kat and I often lounged out there during the summer, sipping cocktails while we watched people jog, do yoga, and play Frisbee out in the field.

  "Yeah, it's great," I said. I cast a glance at the clock. It was nearly two-thirty; Emmett should be here within half an hour.

  "Oh, hi there," Suzie cooed. I looked down to see Dos, my chubbiest cat, circling her ankles. He gave her an appraising sniff as she stooped to pet him. "Aren't you just the cutest—ow!" Dos hissed and batted a paw at her, claws extended. Suzie drew her arm back, tiny droplets of fresh blood welling on her hand. Dos rocketed across the floor in a streak of fur and disappeared into my bedroom.

  "I'm so sorry!" I wet a paper towel and rushed forward to help Suzie clean her wound. "That's so weird—Dos is my friendliest cat. He's usually a total sweetheart." I cringed as the blood continued to flow from her hand. "He's never done that before. Here." I handed Suzie the paper towel so she could apply pressure to the wound and then turned in the direction of my bathroom. "I'll get you a Band-Aid."

  I returned a few moments later to find Suzie seated at my kitchen table, still holding the paper towel against the scratch. "Thank you," she said when I gave her the bandage and some disinfectant.

  The adrenaline spike from witnessing Dos's surprise attack ebbed, and I felt suddenly drained. My head throbbed its demand for my next dose of medicine. "I should probably take my meds," I said out loud, more to myself than to Suzie. Though I wanted to be alert when Emmett arrived, maybe the painkiller would also help dull the heartache.

  Suzie saw the exhaustion in my face. "Why don't you go sit down and watch TV?" she suggested. "I'm supposed to be taking care of you, remember? Not the other way around." She smiled. "I'll bring your pills to you."

  I dropped wearily onto the couch, a feeling of dread swelling in my chest. I needed a distraction to take my mind off of Emmett's betrayal—and my own. My gaze settled on my coffee table where my laptop lay open. I hadn't gotten the chance to research Jessica Whitley earlier—maybe I could look her up really quickly and send my findings over to Detective Dixon before Emmett arrived.

  "Where are your pills?" Suzie called from the kitchen.

  "They're in my purse. I can wash them down with the Diet Coke Kat brought from Camila's."

  "Got it. I'll add some fresh ice—most of the cubes are probably melted by now."

  I pulled the computer onto my lap and typed Jessica Whitley's name into Google. I scrolled past results for several Facebook and LinkedIn profiles matching the name, but the fifth entry on the page was the one that caught my attention. The link was for an article posted four weeks ago on the L.A. Times website. The headline read: Local Girl Perishes in Automobile Fire. I clicked the link and waited for the article to load.

  The image above the story showed a badly burned sedan, nose down at the bottom of a small ravine. I grimaced. The car's frame was twisted and scorched, making it impossible to even identify the vehicle's make and model. Scrolling past the grizzly photo, I began to read the article.

  A UCLA student was killed Sunday when her car veered down a steep ravine on a Southern California mountain road. According to a source at the Azusa Police Department, a call came in around 3:30 a.m., reporting the sighting of a vehicle fire off the edge of Highway 39. The car, belonging to twenty-three-year-old Jessica Ann Whitley, is said to have careened down the ravine, landing on its roof about 40 feet down. The vehicle was towed early Sunday morning, and Miss Whitley's body was found among the wreckage. The cause of the crash is unknown at this time.

  I skimmed the rest of the article, but nothing jumped out at me—until I reached the bottom of the page. There was a photo of Jessica Whitley at the end of the article. I gaped at the girl smiling at the camera, feeling the air leave my lungs. The young woman had long, chestnut hair and a slightly rounder face, but the brown, almond-shaped eyes were the same. If she dyed her hair black and thinned out her cheeks, she'd look just like…

  "Here's your drink," the girl pretending to be Suzie Omara said close to my ear, causing me to nearly jump out of my skin. I snapped the laptop shut and shoved it back onto the coffee table.

  Suzie sat beside me on the couch, my cup of Diet Coke in her outstretched hand. The empty prescription bottle of hydrocodone was in her other hand, dangling upside-down with the top off. "It won't hurt," she said, the eerie calmness in her voice chilling me down to my core. "But I'm afraid it'll kill more than just your pain." Her pretty features were stretched wide in an unnerving smile, the scar on her cheek suddenly taking on a sinister quality.

  "I'm not thirsty," I said, leaning away from her. My gaze flicked to my purse on the dining room table, about fifteen feet away. I had a good forty pounds on Suzie—I mean Jessica—but in my weakened state, she could easily take me in a fight. If I could just reach my purse and grab my phone, I could call for help. Or maybe Emmett would arrive in time to save me. I glanced toward the clock on the living room wall and saw that it was nearly three. He should be here any minute. Unless he was never coming at all. The realization struck me dumb. Jessica must have used the Spoofer app to disguise her number as Emmett's. That's why she volunteered to drive me back to the apartment—so she could get me alone and finish what she started last night in the parking lot.

  Jessica followed my gaze to the clock. "In case you haven't figured it out by now, your lover boy didn't really text you." She stretched her arm farther, pushing the Diet Coke cup under my nose. "You need to hurry up an
d drink this," she said, her tone impatient. "I need the pills to take you before Bronwyn gets here."

  "I'm not going to drink that," I said, a slight tremble in my voice.

  Jessica smiled, showing her teeth. "Oh, I think you will." She reached into the pocket of her pink tunic. Fear spiked through me as she withdrew Mickey's pocketknife, the rust-colored stains of Sid's dried blood still on its blade. "Either you drink this, or I start stabbing."

  My whole body quivered, and my mind slipped back to the last time I'd been stabbed. I remembered the searing pain of the knife biting into my flesh with agonizing clarity. I reluctantly took the cup from Jessica's hand. You've got to fight! screamed a voice in my head. But how?

  A desperate idea struck me. Jessica leaned forward, gripping the knife firmly with the blade pointed toward my gut. I slowly lifted the Diet Coke to my lips. At the last second, I tipped the cup away from my mouth and flung it in Jessica's face.

  The small woman gave a startled squeal as the sticky drink splashed in her eyes. She lunged forward with the knife. I dived off of the couch just in time. The blade missed me by mere inches and tore through the cushion where my chest had been. I lay on the floor in a state of fear-induced paralysis. My legs just wouldn't cooperate. Jessica mopped the soda from her face with the front of her tunic and glared down at me, gnashing her teeth. "You bitch!" she cried. She gripped the handle of Mickey's pocketknife and yanked it out of the couch cushion, tearing the hole in the fabric even wider. Seeing the sharp blade again galvanized me. I scrambled to my feet as Jessica leaped from the couch.

  I was too far away from the dining room table now—she'd turn me into Ame-kabobs before I reached my phone. Instead I skittered through my bedroom and into the bathroom, locking myself in. Less than two seconds later, Jessica rammed the door with surprising force. It shuddered on its hinges, and I skittered away from it, nearly tripping backwards into the bathtub. My quick movement was greeted with a hissing sound. I whirled around to find Uno and Tres curled up in the tub, something they normally only did during lightning storms. My furry pals must have sensed something was wrong the moment Jessica and I had stepped through the apartment door. No wonder Dos was so freaked out, I thought. My blood ran cold in my veins as I looked back and forth from the tub to the door. Only two of my three kitties were safe in here with me. Dos was still out there with that slightly crazier version of Yoko Ono.

  An angry yowl sounded on the other side of the door, seizing my heart in a vice. She'd found him. "Amelia, I hope you like Chinese food," Jessica called through the door. "Because if you don't open that door in the next ten seconds, I'm turning this little jerk into sesame seed kitten." Dos gave another yelp, and a surge of anger crashed through me like a tidal wave. It was one thing to mess with me—but you did not mess with a poor, defenseless animal.

  "I'm coming out," I said. "Don't hurt him." I swiveled my head from side to side, looking for something I could use as a weapon. I was fairly sure she'd have sliced and diced me long before I managed to nick her to death with my dull razor. Jessica began to count slowly to ten, and I grabbed the closest thing I could reach: it looked like I'd be bringing a toilet plunger to a knife fight. I suppose there's a first time for everything.

  "Okay, here I come," I said, unlocking the door and slowly turning the handle.

  I pushed the door open and peered through the threshold. My bedroom appeared dark and empty, with no sign of Jessica or her feline hostage. As silently as I could, I grabbed the spare roll of toilet paper off the rack and tossed it through the doorway at eye level. Jessica leaped out of the shadows, her expression murderous. She buried the blade in the bundle of white tissue, not registering right away that it was only a decoy and not my pasty white face. I was relieved to see Dos blur by, seemingly unharmed as he darted under the bed to hide.

  Jessica toppled to the ground with the toilet paper roll. She sat up quickly, her brows knit in confusion. Understanding dawned a moment too late, and her jaw went slack just as I sprinted forward, ramming the plunger suction-side first into her face. I'm not sure what I was expecting, really; maybe that I would let go of the plunger and it would stick to her like something out of a cartoon. Unfortunately, real life isn't nearly as hilarious.

  Jessica knocked the plunger out of my grasp and reached for the knife again. "Why couldn't you just leave it alone?" she shrieked, hopefully loud enough that my neighbors could hear. With nowhere to go, I retreated toward the bathroom, Jessica blocking my only route of escape. She had me cornered, and the blade trembled in her hand. "If you had just minded your own damn business, I wouldn't have to do this." She almost sounded sorry. "Jack and I could've been happy. He'd have gone his whole life believing I was his precious Suzie."

  "He would've figured it out eventually. We all would have." The words didn't come from me. Jessica whirled toward the newcomer's voice just as Mickey wrenched her arms behind her back. The knife slipped from her grasp and landed with a thud on my bedroom carpet. "I've been looking all over for that," Mickey said through clenched teeth.

  "Suzie?" Another voice flitted through the open bedroom door. Jack stood in the threshold, pure anguish written on his face. "I don't understand," he said, his voice quavering.

  With all eyes on Jack, Jessica sprang into action. She struggled in Mickey's grasp, twisting around to face him. Her knee came up fast and connected with his groin. Mickey grunted in pain as he doubled over on my bedroom floor.

  "Mickey!" I screamed. I dashed toward the knife, but Jessica dove onto the carpet and beat me to it. I rolled away and backed toward Mickey before she could strike. Instead of lunging after me again, she took a menacing step toward Jack.

  "I love you," she snarled, glaring at him. "Way more than that snotty bitch Suzie ever did. She was cheating on you with your own band mate!" Jessica took a ragged breath, her face straining. When she spoke again, her voice was soft. "Someone like her could never really deserve you, Jackie."

  "You're lying," Jack said, his words dripping with emotion. "Suzie wouldn't betray me. She was my everything."

  "And you're my everything," Jessica said. Her own voice was trembling. "I changed my whole life to be with you. My name, my hair, even my face." She lightly touched the scar on her cheek, and her expression twisted into something wicked. "But if I can't be with you, then nobody can." Jessica stalked toward Jack with the knife raised.

  Jack stood motionless, his own face a mixture of pain, fear, and confusion. Why wasn't he stopping her? I scrambled to my feet, but Jessica was too far away. I wouldn't reach her in time.

  A deafening explosion reverberated through my bedroom. I clapped my hands over my ears, my vision nearly doubling from the pain the noise set off in my injured head. Jessica halted in her tracks, her body jerking backward as if some invisible force had slammed into her chest. "Jackie?" she called weakly. She crumpled to the floor and didn't move again.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  There's no doubt in my mind that Detective Ben Dixon saved Jack Pearson's life that night. His quick thinking and accurate aim stopped Jessica Whitley dead in her tracks. Well, not really dead, though the pain from the beanbag round to her chest probably made her wish she was. When she'd been cuffed and read her rights, Jessica was taken to the hospital to make sure the impact hadn't cracked any of her ribs (though, after she threatened my sweet baby, Dos, I secretly hoped that it did). At the least, the hit shattered her nerves, and she gave the detective a full confession.

  Like most teenage girls in the mid-2000's, Jessica was a huge fan of Royal Flush. Over the years, her appreciation for their music developed into an unhealthy obsession with Jack. After high school, she moved from Idaho to Los Angeles just to be closer to the band. When the disillusioned fan met the real Suzie Omara on campus at UCLA, she saw a morbid opportunity. Not only was Suzie engaged to the man of Jessica's dreams, but she was practically her twin. Convinced that she and Jack were really meant to be together, Jessica devised a plan to take over Suzie's life. She spent sever
al months befriending Jack's unassuming fiancée and learning everything she could about their relationship. Over her last spring break, Jess blew the rest of her college fund from her grandparents on a trip to Germany where plastic surgery was cheap and discreet.

  When Jessica returned stateside, she bought a bottle of Rohypnol from a drug-dealing friend and put her plan into action. She drugged Suzie and sent the poor woman crashing down a ravine to her death. When the police found Jessica's car, identification, and a badly burned body that matched her description, she was assumed dead. Free to take over Suzie's life, Jessica contacted Jack while Royal Flush was away on tour in Japan. She pretended to be a nurse at a local hospital, calling to inform Jack that his fiancée had been in a car accident and suffered head trauma, resulting in some memory loss. This helped Jessica account for things that Suzie couldn't remember when she assumed the dead woman's identity.

  Jessica slipped easily into Suzie's life for the first week. Then Sid started making passes at her when Jack wasn't around. Unaware of Suzie's fling with the bass guitarist, she ignored his advances. Sid made one final pass at Jessica on the night she killed him. Angry that Jack and the guys hadn't backed him up in his fight with Dillon, Sid threatened to tell Jack all about their little tryst. That was when Jessica put two and two together and realized that the real Suzie had been cheating on Jack with the sleazeball bass player. She'd worked too hard to let Sid ruin her plans to marry Jack—especially over someone else's infidelity.

  After Jack fell asleep that night, Jessica sneaked out of the hotel and asked Sid to meet her on the tour bus. She needed someone to take the fall and didn't have a lot of time. Jessica remembered recently seeing Mickey sharpening his pocketknife, and it gave her an idea. She'd been unable to part with her old cell phone since her voicemails and pictures were all she had left to remember her family. Jessica pulled the phone out of its hiding place and downloaded the number-spoofing app, which she used to lure Mickey onto the tour bus. She poured the two men a drink and dropped in the roofies. As soon as they were passed out, Jessica stabbed Sid and left Mickey behind, assuming the drugs would erase any memory he had of seeing her there. Unfortunately for Mickey, she'd been right.