Dead Ringers: Volumes 1-3

by Darlene Gardner

  “Then why aren’t I inside a fox’s body and running through the woods right now?”

  “Not every trial is successful,” he says.

  “How do I know you’re not someone else?”

  “You get my point. You can’t tell.”

  “You can’t even tell if there’s been a body switch if there’s not a dead body,” I say, going with the far-fetched flow.

  “Exactly. But sometimes a dead body is just a dead body. How many people committed suicide in the field at Wilder Woods after that singer killed himself?”

  “Six or seven.”

  “If either of us had turned up dead, the police would have written it off as a suicide,” Max says. “I think that’s why we were taken to that particular field.”

  “But who took us there? What we’re talking about is impossible. People can’t just do something like that.” My mind buzzes with supernatural possibilities: Aliens, demons, magic amulets.

  “I don’t pretend to have all the answers,” Max says. “But just because we don’t understand something doesn’t mean it’s not happening.”

  “If you’re right,” I say slowly, “how do I know the body switch wasn’t successful on you?”

  “Check the dates. There won’t be a suicide in that field.”

  I’m not willing to take his word for it. Too bad my phone’s a dinosaur. “Does your phone have Internet?”

  He nods and hands his phone to me. Moments later, I confirm that no one died in Wilder Woods or anywhere close on the dates he was missing. The most recent suicide in the coastal forest was last November.

  “Let’s assume you’re on the mark about all this,” I say slowly. “You were taken about a month before me. Why try a human-to-human switch before an animal-to-human switch?”

  “We don’t know when Punch and Judy were switched, but it was probably before I was abducted. Maybe I was part of the first human-to-human try. Since that didn’t work, it makes sense to go back to animal trials.”

  “Animal-human trials, you mean.”

  “Yeah,” he says.

  “But if the Black Widow is in somebody else’s body, that means a human-to-human switch succeeded.” And somebody, likely one of my friends, is dead. I can’t help but shiver. If there’s even a chance this is true, we need to do the responsible thing. “We should go to the cops.”

  “The cops already think we’re unreliable. They won’t change their minds if we come into the police station with a dog that acts like a cat.”

  “But we can’t let this go on!” I cover my mouth as something occurs to me. “Oh, God. Julian and Suri. What if one of them are next?’

  I’m taking no chances with the safety of my brother and sister. I whirl and head for the door. Max gets there before me, blocking the exit. “Hold on. Where are you going?”

  “To confront Roxy.”

  He can’t say the carnival boss isn’t involved. We suspected Roxy of something even before her dog and cat started acting strangely. She’s the one who lied about me being on a ski trip with her when it turns out I could actually have been an unwilling participant in an unconscionable experiment.

  “Are your brother and sister at the carnival tonight?” Max asks.

  When I’d run into Mom earlier, she said Uncle Landon was baby-sitting, just like he and his wife used to when I was a kid. “They’re at home.”

  “Then they’re safe. Now slow down and tell me why you think they’re in danger.”

  Max knows Roxy rescued Julian from drowning. I’d discovered earlier tonight that Roxy told Julian and his friend Tommy that swimming near the pier was fun, that the currents were no longer treacherous. I air my suspicion that Roxy orchestrated the rescue to ingratiate herself with my family. My mom even invited her to dinner.

  “Can you get me invited to dinner?”

  “Probably.” My mom likes Max. She even asked him to watch over me. “It might be tough for you to get the time off, though. Roxy’s already letting me come in late.”

  “I can ask,” Max says. “We need to figure out what Roxy’s up to before she guesses we’re on to her. In the meantime, you can’t go after her. We can’t afford to tip our hand.”

  I chew my bottom lip, digesting that. “I hate it when you’re right.”

  Across the trailer, Punch has finished his tuna. The big dog practically prances over to the litter box and does his business. Yep. I need to seriously consider the notion that Midway Beach is becoming the body-switching capital of the world.

  “Dinner’s not until the day after tomorrow,” I say. “What do we do until then?”

  “We make our best guess about whose body the Black Widow took,” he says. “How early can I pick you up tomorrow morning for surveillance work?”

  CHAPTER THREE

  The house is dark and quiet when I get home from the carnival, with only a single light shining in the living room. I’m about to shut off the lamp when I notice another, fainter light through the sliding glass doors leading to the back patio. Like the glow of a cigarette.

  From down the hall, gentle snores come from Julian’s room. He really needs to get his sinuses checked. My mom, who’s usually asleep well before now, doesn’t smoke. Even if Suri’s awake, no way is my eight-year-old sister out there sucking in nicotine.

  The security bar isn’t latched. If I make a break for the door, I could probably jam the bar in place before the smoker can get inside. By the time I get through to 911, though, he’d be long gone. And Max and I would be no closer to solving the many mysteries of Midway Beach.

  Something long and thin leaning against one of the walls catches my attention. A bat! Saying silent thanks that Julian leaves his toys everywhere, I reach for it. The bat has no heft. It’s made not of wood but of hollow plastic. If I’m going to confront the smoker, though, the wiffle bat is the best thing I’ve got. In the dark, it might pass for the real thing.

  Adrenaline rushes through me as I close the distance to the sliding door. Without giving myself time to reconsider, I slide open the door and lift the bat above my head.

  There isn’t only one person on the deck. There are two. The second is my mother.

  The smoker’s hands raise, the tip of the cigarette still glowing in the dark. It’s Uncle Landon. “Whoa! Don’t swing!”

  “Put that bat down, Jade.” Mom sounds lethargic but more together than when her words ran together at the carnival earlier tonight. “What’s wrong with you?”

  She asking that of me? After she tracked me down to say the voices in her head warned that I should be careful of who I trusted, that the people in this town aren’t who I think they are. I actually believe that last part, but still.

  The wiffle bat is poised above my head. I lower my arms and let the bat drop to the floor of the deck. “What are you two doing out here in the dark?”

  “Talking,” Uncle Landon says. “I baby-sat tonight.”

  Mom had told me that. Uncle Landon’s car is probably parked out front, but I didn’t notice when Max dropped me off. Some detective I am. If I’m going to figure out how the Black Widow switched bodies, I need to step it up.

  I still can’t believe I’m going along with this body-swap theory.

  Uncle Landon grinds out his cigarette in the ashtray on the patio table. Beside the ashtray is an empty beer can. Until tonight, I’ve never seen Uncle Landon smoke or drink. With the light shining from the living room, my eyes quickly adjust to the darkness. Mom looks like she hasn’t run a brush through her hair in days. Uncle Landon’s wearing another Hawaiian shirt that does little to hide his beer gut. His hair needs attention, too. It’s long enough to be approaching ponytail territory.

  “We should probably tell her, Lizzie,” he says.

  “Tell me what?”

  “We have some good news.” Mom draws out the five words like it’s difficult for her to string them together. “Your uncle’s moving in tomorrow.”

  My stomach rolls and in the back of my throat I get the sour tas
te of the lemonade I drank earlier tonight. Even though we call him Uncle Landon, he’s a family friend who isn’t related to any of us. The reason they were sitting close together in the dark slaps me in the face even harder than Adair did.

  Ick. No, make that double ick.

  “I’m gonna help out with Julian and Suri,” Uncle Landon says like that excuses things.

  “I’m really tired.” Mom gets up without warning, slowly unfolding herself from the chair. She bends down and kisses Uncle Landon on the cheek. “You’re a dear friend, Landon.”

  If this is her definition of a friend, she’s even worse off than I think. It’s torture to wait until she’s inside the house and out of earshot, especially because she shuffles more than walks, but I don’t want her to hear what I have to say to my not-uncle.

  “You’re not moving in with us.” With my voice lowered, it sounds like I’m hissing. My hands fold into fists. “I won’t let you take advantage of my mother.”

  “Hold up. You got the wrong—”

  “You were my stepfather’s best friend! How can you live with yourself?”

  “I said hold up.” His voice carries through the quiet night. “You got it all wrong.”

  “Don’t you dare say you and my mom are consenting adults! She’s married.”

  Uncle Landon raises his left hand and points to the silver band on his ring finger. “Hey, I was married, too. For twelve years. To the love of my life.”

  I loved his wife, too. Aunt Jayne couldn’t have children of her own so she became our honorary aunt, cheering us on at every athletic event and school function. She was pretty and chatty and always on the go—until Lou Gehrig’s disease got her in its grip. Five years after she was diagnosed, she was gone.

  “I miss her every single day. I don’t want any other woman.” Uncle Landon sounds dispassionate, like he’s afraid he’ll lose it if he lets out his grief.

  Now that I think about it, Uncle Landon’s appearance has gone to hell since Aunt Jayne’s death. His health has, too. Why didn’t I put cause and effect together before now? Guilt creeps up on me. I make an effort to moderate my voice. “My mom said you were moving in.”

  “To help out. She’s going through a tough time.”

  I should apologize except I can’t make myself.

  When I say nothing, Uncle Landon adds, “You know your mom’s a schizo, right?”

  Duh. She used her disease to justify disappearing when Julian, Suri and I needed her most. She was gone when I went missing, when my stepfather flashed his unloaded gun at the liquor store clerk and when he waived his right to a trial.

  “Mom says her meds are working again,” I say. “She said she has the schizophrenia under control.”

  “Maybe for a while. But you must have noticed she’s not doing so great.”

  If I mention the voices in my mother’s head, Uncle Landon might get her committed. My mom and I have our problems, but I don’t need another parent locked up. “I’ve seen her worse.”

  “I’ve seen her better. It was either move in or call Social Services. With any luck, I won’t stay long, just till your mom gets it back together.” He inclines his head. “So are we okay now?”

  I wouldn’t go that far, but having Uncle Landon around will take some of the baby-sitting heat off me. He’ll not only make sure my mother keeps custody of Suri and Julian, he’ll keep them safe.

  “As long as you’re not sleeping with my mother,” I say.

  “Hey, I wouldn’t do something like that. I’m not like your...” His voice trails off.

  “Not like my what?”

  “Forget it. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “I don’t want to forget it.”

  Uncle Landon rubs a hand across his mouth and kneads the back of his neck. “Maybe I should tell you. Then you’d understand why your father and I aren’t friends any more.”

  My throat’s clogged or I’d point out that he’s my stepfather. The anger’s almost too much to bear, and it’s not directed at only one person. Since my stepdad held up that liquor store, I’ve been almost as furious at Uncle Landon. He didn’t offer legal help, although at one time he’d been a top defense attorney. Maybe if he had, my stepfather would have fought the charge.

  “I’m not sure how to say this so I’ll just come out with.” Uncle Landon peers out into the black night instead of at me. “Zach and Jayne slept together.”

  No, it can’t be. My stepfather wouldn’t have cheated on my mom. He was always holding her hand, sneaking a kiss and telling her she was beautiful. When my friends were over, it was almost embarrassing. “I don’t believe that.”

  “I had a hard time with it, too.” His delivery is matter of fact. “But Jayne and me, we talked about all kinds of things at the end.”

  “Maybe you misunderstood.”

  “No. She told me everything.”

  “What do you mean by everything?” I demand.

  “It happened right after Jayne found out she was sick. I was working late. See, she wanted to keep things as normal as possible.” He shakes his head. “Except she was feeling low and opened a bottle of wine. Zach came by and she invited him to help finish it off. Then he took advantage of her.”

  “You’re saying he forced himself on her!”

  “As drunk as she was, it wouldn’t have taken much force.”

  “But if it happened five years ago, why didn’t she say something then?”

  “Zach warned her nobody would believe her and I’d never forgive her.” Uncle Landon stands up, picks up the empty beer can and crushes it. “He was wrong about that. Zach’s the one I’ll never forgive.”

  He ruffles the top of my head on his way past, the way he used to when I was much younger. It doesn’t take away the sting of what he just told me.

  “See you tomorrow, kid,” he says. “And thanks for letting Suri bunk with you so I can have her room.”

  Groan. On top of everything else, now I have an eight-year-old roommate.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “You gonna tell me what’s wrong?” Max’s question jars me out of my surveillance stupor. It’s past ten on Wednesday morning, and we’ve been sitting in the front seat of Max’s pickup outside Adair’s house for at least an hour. Even with the windows rolled down, the truck is heating up.

  I’m not keen on telling him my stepfather is guilty of more than armed robbery.

  “Gee, that’s a tough one.” I pretend to think. “Let’s see, we think a woman who murdered her husband might be a Ringer inhabiting somebody else’s body. Oh, and it could be one of our friends.”

  “Since when are you and Adair friends?”

  Adair is our number one suspect. No surprise there. The Adair I’ve known since grade school wasn’t always sweet, but she didn’t used to go around calling other girls names and slapping their faces. Okay, as far as I know she’s only done that to me, but it’s still out of character. And she did disappear for a few days last week. I’d even gone hunting for her to make sure she was okay.

  “We’re not friends, but I’d still be bummed if Constance Hightower stole Adair’s body. That would mean Adair is dead, right?”

  “Somebody’s dead,” he says. “Otherwise, we wouldn’t have found that body on the beach.”

  With the sun shining out of a cloudless sky, it seems like the events of last night didn’t happen. That’s wishful thinking. The Black Widow’s sister did tell us her twin was inside someone else’s body moments before a false bomb threat conveniently separated us. And then there’s the matter of Roxy’s dog and cat.

  But still...

  “We should be trying to figure out how something like this is possible.” Max doesn’t seem to have any of my lingering doubts. He probably wasn’t awake half the night, either. His eyes are clear, his shorts and T-shirt look crisp and his dark hair is thick and shiny.

  “Maybe the Black Widow is an alien using Adair’s body as her host,” I say. “You know, as a fertile breeding ground.”

/>   He looks so confused I’m sure he’s never seen Alien vs. Predator. I don’t even know why I keep trying.

  “That’s not what’s going on. I doubt the Black Widow is the brains of the operation. She wasn’t in the country when you and I went missing.”

  “And you know this how?”

  “Last night I read everything I could find about her. One of the stories mentioned she spent the entire winter at a resort in Bali.”

  “Must be nice to have that kind of money.”

  He wets his lips. “Let me run a theory by you. It’s no secret Constance was living it up on her dead husband’s dime. But the consensus was that she couldn’t beat that murder charge, that it was a miracle she even got bail. What if somebody recognized how desperate her situation was and offered her a way out?”

  “I’m not following.”

  “Think about it. If the Black Widow is a Ringer, she can hide in plain sight. She won’t have to go to trial. Or back to jail.”

  “That would mean whoever’s behind this is in it for the money.” World domination and pure evil seem like better motives to me.

  “Greed explains a lot of things.”

  “Not everything. Who has the capability to pull off something like that?”

  “It’s not as far-fetched as it seems,” Max says. “Have you heard of mind uploading?”

  He’s not the only one who can research on the Internet. I read just last night that mind uploading is the hypothetical process of scanning and mapping a brain in detail and then copying it into a computer. Very cyber punk. “Yeah, but it’s a lot different than body switching.”

  “My point is technology’s constantly changing,” Max says. “Until Dolly the Sheep, we didn’t think cloning was possible. Why couldn’t someone have figured out how to transplant a mind into another body?”

  “Let’s say you’re right. How does a carny like Roxy fit in? And what about the clown with the syringe?” I can picture the clown’s white face with the grinning red lips and feel the evil emanating from him.