Skin and Bone: A Psychological Thriller

by T. L. Keary

  Whoever that woman is, she’s a good liar. She just chats and talks and she really does sound just like me.

  I realize—she has to have been watching me for a long, long time. She’s learned my mannerisms. How I say certain things. She really is me.

  But every time Ezra starts to bring up our past, when he dips into some memory, she makes a vague comment and steers the conversation elsewhere with a flirtatious remark.

  They have the table completely assembled and are just breaking open the box of chairs when the timer on the oven goes off.

  “Sorry, I should get out of here so you can eat your dinner,” Ezra says with a glance over his shoulder toward the oven.

  “I wasn’t going to ask you to put together a whole dining set without at least feeding you,” she says in an isn’t-that-a-given tone.

  “Not much I won’t do for a home-cooked meal these days,” Ezra says with a smile while she gets up and takes a dish out of the oven. She pulls a few things out of the fridge and then plates, and just like that, she’s feeding him and he’s working in the house like they’re just a happy little married couple.

  “I really do appreciate you helping me out, Ez,” she says as they stand around the island and eat. “It’s kind of weird coming back home and my parents aren’t here. And most of my friends have moved away, or we’ve lost touch. I…” she looks reluctant to say the words and I have to applaud her for her acting skills. “I guess I kind of always knew I could count on you.”

  That look of wariness comes back in an instant, but she quickly moves on.

  “I guess this is where I say I’m sorry,” she blurts out. She sets her fork down and looks right at Ezra. “How I handled things was cruel and immature. Thinking what I thought, all I can do is blame it on being young. I should have…”

  “You were entitled to feel how you felt, Sawyer,” Ezra says when she pauses. “We were just kids. Of course one of us was going to need to go a different way at some point.”

  But by the way he clenches his jaw, I can tell he doesn’t mean what he just said. It’s almost as if he’s repeating the words someone has told to him over and over.

  A few weighted seconds pass, and I can feel something building, and I’m not even in the room with them.

  “No,” I say again, shaking my head. “No.”

  “I didn’t think it then,” she says, and tactfully, she shifts just a little closer toward Ezra. “But being back here, walking through all these memories, seeing you…”

  She places her hand on his. He looks at it intensely. I hear him breathe hard through his nose, and see the muscles in his jaw tense.

  “I think I made a mistake back then,” she says in a quiet tone.

  “No,” the word comes out as little more than a whisper from my own lips, and my stomach sinks into oblivion.

  Because I know that look in Ezra’s eyes as they slowly rise, tracing up her body as he looks from their hands to her face.

  I well remember that hunger. That heat.

  “No!” I scream at the both of them as she leans forward just enough to invite him, and Ezra’s all too eager when he closes the distance between them. His fingers slip into her hair and he pulls her lips to his.

  “No!” I yell again, wishing I could scream loud enough Ezra could hear me, when her hands come to his arms, pulling him in close.

  I hear their hard breathing and watch as Ezra twists her and pins her between the island and his body.

  I remember how that felt, how he’d do that thing with his hand where his fingers splayed into my hair, but his thumb brushed over my cheek bone.

  How can he just let her—me—her in that fast? I dropped him and walked away. I broke his heart. How could he just forgive me after seeing me three times?

  Ezra, you softhearted idiot!

  I have to turn away, because I can’t watch, but I also don’t dare take my eyes off them. I don’t know what her goal here is, what she’s got planned. I can’t say she isn’t some cannibal who wants to eat him alive because he’s beautiful. I don’t know if she’s looking to get knocked up. She could just be plain crazy and want to kill him for fun after she screws him.

  Her hands go to his waist and she manages to pull his belt out of its loop before Ezra takes a quick step back. His lips are swollen and his hair is a mess.

  “Thank you,” I let out a breath of relief.

  “Whoa, Sawyer,” Ezra says as he closes his eyes and tips his head to one side. His hands fumble for his belt, re-cinching it. “Come…come on. I think we have a lot to talk about before any…any of this happens.”

  She swallows hard, her eyes shifting away, and I see her searching for words. Her chest is heaving and I recognize the lust-haze in her eyes. “Yeah,” she says. “We should. We need to talk about this.”

  Ezra steps away and stops at the door. He stands there, his hand braced against it, his head dropping low. He takes four deep breaths and I watch him blink, trying to clear his head.

  “You’ve been gone a long time,” he finally says. “It crushed me when you walked away. And now you’re back. I…I don’t know how to take all of this, Sawyer. I…” He stops, squeezing his eyes shut and pauses for a few long breaths. “I need to think about some things first.”

  He grabs the doorknob and pulls it open. But he does look back.

  She’s looking at him with panic; she actually looks pale. But she does nod, though she doesn’t say anything.

  Ezra walks out the door, the chairs unassembled, his food unfinished on the counter.

  I hear the door close with a hard snap.

  My heart is beating very hard and very loud. Suddenly it’s all I can hear.

  That woman just stands there for several long moments, unblinking, unmoving.

  But suddenly she lets out a laugh. And then another, short and quick. She raises her hand to her lips, and she brushes her fingers along them. They’re swollen, still glistening.

  I take one step back when her eyes suddenly flick up, right at the camera.

  And then it goes black.

  She’s crazy. She’s made herself look like me. Like the girl Ezra never got over. And now she’s trapping him in her web, and I think he’s falling for it.

  I have to get out of here.

  I have to save Ezra from this insane woman wearing my face.

  Chapter Nine

  I don’t need a lot of people. I don’t need anyone, really. Just Ezra. If I could make all these other people disappear and avoid them altogether, I would.

  I think I’ll start shopping outside of the city borders, because as I’ve gone through this grocery store and filled my cart up with the things I need, I’ve run into four different people we know.

  They all want to chat. They’re all surprised to see me back. They all ask what I’m doing for work, where I’ve been. They’re all impressed that I’m doing my own thing, being my own boss.

  Thankfully, most people are actually nice, tactful people. Only one of them asks about me and Ezra. I simply smile and tell them that we’re friends.

  I’ve just checked out and am headed for my car when someone steps out of a truck that’s parked next to me, and I suddenly stop.

  Davis Knox turns to look at me and he stops dead in his tracks too.

  “Davis,” I say, flipping through my catalogue of pre-scripted conversations for when I put my plan into motion. I don’t have one for Ezra’s brother. “Hi.”

  I wasn’t expecting the way Davis’ expression darkens. I don’t expect the hard line of his lips or his right hand that curls into a fist.

  “I can’t believe you’d actually go and pull this, Sawyer,” he says with a scoff and the shake of his head. “I wouldn’t give you his number, so you what? Go and move back home so you can stalk him down?”

  “Davis, what—”

  “You know, he came into my office yesterday and he seemed happy,” Davis says. He takes a step forward, and I actually take half a step back. Davis is taller than Ezra. He mi
ght not be as lean as Ezra from working construction, but I still spy toned shoulders and firm forearms under that suit jacket. Davis is the most ambitious man in this town and it makes him intimidating. “I figured he’d met some girl. He had told me he had a date the other day. And then he brought up your name.”

  My heart hammers, because I have to grab every detail of what Davis says.

  Davis wouldn’t give me Ezra’s number.

  What was this conversation? When did it happen?

  Shit.

  “I didn’t think you’d really do it, when you said you’d come here and track him down, but I guess I have to admire your balls, Sawyer,” Davis says. He’s standing close now, just two feet away. “Keep your harpy claws out of my brother.”

  Without another word or backward glance, Davis steps around me and walks into the grocery store.

  Hammer, hammer, hammer, hammer. My heart is slamming against my ribcage and my brain is sprinting through all the possibilities.

  When did Sawyer ask Davis for Ezra’s number?

  I throw the bags in the car and speed all the way home.

  I don’t even put the groceries away when I get back. I throw the bags on the counter and go straight for the bathroom. I open the cupboard and pull out the tampon box and turn it over. Sawyer’s phone slips out into my hand.

  It’s dead, considering it’s been ten days since it’s seen a charger. I plug it in and grab my new laptop and pull open a browser.

  Knox Properties, I search, and half a second later, it displays a link to his website. I click on it and start reading and combing through all the info I didn’t care to study before.

  Davis got his realtor license when he was only nineteen years old. He bought his first piece of commercial property when he was only twenty. Looking through this website, I see his property ownership has expanded. I’m pretty sure he owns half of Snohomish now. He owns the coffee shop, the bar, he owns three of the antique shops our town is known for. He has two rental homes listed as available, so how many others does he have that are tenant occupied? And there’s even a page here that says he has building lots in town, soon to be developed into new construction homes.

  Davis is wealthy, I’m sure about that. But as a real estate man, does he really pose any kind of threat to my plan? Does he really have the potential to mess anything up?

  I push the laptop away and grab Sawyer’s phone. It’s been charging long enough now that it powers on when I press the button. Her background is generic, but suddenly explodes when notifications start coming in.

  There’s missed calls and texts from her boss, Jared. There’s an email from her assistant. There’s a dozen messages from various friends, though nothing alarming.

  I need to handle these. I need to give an explanation for Sawyer uprooting her life and moving and cutting ties.

  I’ll deal with that tonight.

  First, I click into her recently placed calls. I look back at the number plastered all over Davis’ website and back at the phone.

  His number was the very last one she called.

  Shit.

  I had hoped that maybe Sawyer had just been feeling sentimental weeks or months ago and wanted to say hi to Ezra and asked Davis for his number.

  But as I check the time stamp on the call, my stomach sinks when I see that Sawyer called Davis right before I made the switch.

  I’d seen her on the phone when I slowly rolled down the road with that rented mini-van.

  It was Davis she’d been talking to.

  Shit.

  I slap the phone down on the tabletop, none too gently, but it doesn’t crack.

  I have to find out what was said and why she called Davis.

  Chapter Ten

  Sawyer

  I’m sleeping when the TV comes on again. The brilliant glow makes its way into my dream and suddenly I’m consumed in a brilliant white explosion, watching Ezra burn to death in front of me.

  I startle awake, blocking my eyes from the harsh light.

  “Wake up.”

  I blink four times, clearing my vision. I sit up, squinting against the harsh light of the TV.

  There she is, and she’s looking right at the camera.

  “I need a few answers from you and you’re going to cooperate with me.”

  Slowly, I stand, waiting for Ezra to walk into the frame. But he doesn’t, and she just stares at the camera, which makes it look like she’s looking directly at me.

  “You made a phone call, the last day,” she says, and she’s still looking right at me. “You called Davis Knox. I need to know what you said to him and why you asked for Ezra’s number.”

  I blink fast and my mouth opens but doesn’t say anything.

  She’s talking to me.

  After all these twisted videos, letting me see her living my life, she’s talking to me.

  “Why are you doing this?” I hiss, the anger bubbling up quick and fast. “What the hell did I ever do to you? Who are you and why are you taking my life?”

  The woman who looks like me presses her lips together and shakes her head. She almost looks bored. “Focus, Sawyer. Depending on what you said, I might have to move fast with this. What did you say to Davis, and why did you ask for Ezra’s number?”

  I stall, even though my first instinct is to tell her to go to hell and that I won’t tell her anything. I want to curse her a million ways to a fiery death.

  But something has happened.

  Something has changed if she’s finally talking to me.

  Somehow she knows I called Davis right before she drugged me.

  And something cold as ice slips down into my stomach.

  I can’t put Davis in jeopardy.

  And suddenly I realize.

  Davis might be my only chance that someone will realize that woman is not me.

  “Someone from our high school died,” I say, feigning confusion and innocence in my voice. “A friend, John Hull. The student council was planning a memorial for him, since he was part of the council. They were going to do a mini class reunion as well. I was just trying to track down Ezra’s number so I could call and help out. We were both on the student council. It was kind of my job to help handle these things.”

  I see her taking a moment to consider this. She mulls it over, weighs it. Considers if I’m telling the truth.

  Technically I am.

  I saw the news on Facebook that John had died. The student council is planning a memorial and reunion for August.

  Ezra really is helping to put it together.

  I should have gotten in contact with the other student council members and helped plan everything.

  But I never intended to come back to Snohomish.

  “You can ask Ezra about the memorial and reunion,” I say, my voice coming out hoarse. “I mean, you’re pretending to be me, so I guess you’ll be going, too.”

  Her eyes shift back to the camera, like she’s looking right at me.

  It’s incredible, really. My eyes are unique. Some days they look bluer, some more green. And whatever contacts she’s wearing captures that just right.

  “If I find out you’re lying to me, there will be a price to pay,” she says. Menace and hatred and jealousy just barely creep into her tone. She keeps her composure so calm, so controlled.

  “Why are you doing this?” I breathe again. I feel myself already getting tired. After not using my body for the past…I don’t know, more than a week, maybe almost two, I already feel off. “Why… If you’re going to take over my life, be me, why not just kill me and get it over with?”

  I’ve been thinking about it over and over on a constant loop in the last day or two.

  Why let me live?

  “Because I may be a psychopath—though the good doctor danced around the actual word—but I’m no murderer,” she answers me, clean and simple, like she’s thought about this a lot.

  “I’ll run out of food and water in two weeks,” I say, my throat scratchy and my words sounding bro
ken. “You might not be wrapping your fingers around my neck, but I’ll die by your hands just the same.”

  A small smile forms on her lips and she just gives a little shrug. “My hands are clean.”

  I shake my head and my stomach turns. “So while you wait for me to die, you’ll make me watch you tear Ezra’s heart apart again.”

  At this, I get to her. Her expression hardens. “It seems only fair. It’s what I watched you do. Smash him to pieces and walk away with him scattered across the floor. I’m the one putting him back together after thirteen years. If you cared about him at all anymore, I would think you’d be thanking me.”

  I don’t say anything.

  Because right then, she drops something, a little crumb. A tiny bit of insight.

  “You don’t go live happily ever after with a psychopath,” I finally find the words, my voice even more rough and quiet than before.

  “Guess you’ll have to wait and see,” she says. “At least for the next few weeks. I better make this quick. I wouldn’t want you to miss a second.”

  She reaches forward, and the video goes black.

  A huge breath rushes from my lungs and I actually have to sit down. I sit there, utterly still, hardly breathing.

  She’s wearing my face, and it’s a perfect mask. I have no idea who she is or what she really looks like.

  But I finally have a clue. She dropped one hint, and I don’t think she even realized her mistake.

  She said she watched me break up with Ezra and walk away.

  Which means she was around, she was witness to it, or at least the before and after.

  It means she knew who we were, even back then.

  It means she knew us when we were eighteen.

  Chapter Eleven

  I don’t know if Sawyer is a liar. I mean, I don’t remember her being one, but our interactions were limited at best. It’s not like I’d ever gone and asked her if she felt good about breaking Ezra’s heart. I’d never asked her if she thought I was weird or ugly or creepy.

  Most everyone else had been very honest about those things.