The dial tone sounded from the other end of the line. There was no way he would answer at this time of night.
“Hello?“
“Hey, Chris?“
“Sharon, is that you? What time is it?“ he asked in a slightly drowsy voice.
“Almost one.“
“You can’t do things the normal way, huh?“
“What’s so abnormal about a late phone call?“
“Well, considering the last time we talked you were calling from New Zealand, informing me that you hadn’t really been murdered . . . Maybe you’re right, after that, nothing seems too crazy.“
A smile crept to her lips. “I never promised you a rose garden.“
He chuckled. Even after waking him up in the middle of the night, she’d managed to captivate him. He couldn’t wait any longer.
“So when will I finally get to see you? To verify that you really are alive and well?“
Sharon looked around her. Her apartment was a total mess.
There’s no way you’re coming over here anytime soon . . .
“I have just one last thing to wrap up with the case I’ve been working on, and then I’ll be free.“
“So I’ll see you this weekend?“
I always work better with a deadline . . .
“Absolutely.“
“Oh, Sharon, one last thing.“
“Yes?“
“The next time you decide to fly off to another continent, please, just let me know.“
CHAPTER 60
By eight o’clock in the morning Sharon was already on her way to NYU. She had talked to the university secretary and after presenting herself as a detective with the NYPD, she hadn’t encountered any problems getting access to the registration file of a former student. The documents were waiting for her there. She was a short subway ride away from finding out the truth, or at least part of it, and she couldn’t resist the temptation. Sharon texted Rob that she was taking the day off. She figured he would be happy that she was finally taking some time to recover.
But how can you stop yourself from completing a crossword puzzle when you only have one word left?
She took the train to West Fourth Street. On her way she passed by Washington Square Park, the same place Gloria and Kelly had met years ago. She admired the impressive marble arch from the other side of a large fountain, and the perfect harmony that formed between them. It looked so peaceful at this time of day. But she knew that by lunchtime the park would be crowded and no bench would be left unseated. A saxophone player was standing in a strategic location, waiting for people to pass by. Sharon looked for some change and tossed the coins into his instrument case on her way out of the park.
When she arrived, Glenda Milton, the university secretary, handed Sharon a thin file that was marked in black: Kelly Whitesporte. It didn’t contain many papers, and Sharon guessed she would finish going through it within the hour. Most of the documents contained technical details needed for administrative purposes and didn’t tell her much.
Sharon brushed through the papers, acknowledging the fact that she probably wouldn’t find anything there that she had hoped to reveal. But then, toward the end, she noticed something strange. On the receipt for the tuition payment, which showed the student’s information as well as the payer’s details, the fields of home phone number and address were identical.
At first, Sharon thought that maybe someone had gotten confused. After all, they were both named Kelly. But then it clicked.
They were roommates.
CHAPTER 61
“I need you to meet me at Kelly Danes’ house in thirty minutes.“
“Davis, weren’t you taking the day off?“
“What happened? We’re back in New York so you stopped calling me Sharon?“
“Don’t you get it?“ “When you get on my nerves, you’re Davis.“
“Then you won’t be calling me Sharon anytime soon . . . Meet me there?“
“Do I have a choice?“
Half an hour later, Sharon was standing outside of the house that had formerly been occupied by “Kelly Danes,“ and was currently surrounded by the NYPD yellow stripes. A few minutes later Rob showed up, wearing dark sunglasses and taking fierce steps.
“What the hell are we doing here?“ he asked impatiently.
“That’s Kelly’s house.“
“I know.“
“Not Kelly Danes’ house, Kelly Whitesporte’s.“
“What are you talking about?“
“They were living together.“
* * *
Rob Jackie did not want to spend his first morning after an exhausting flight at a crime scene that happened to be the home of a murderess who was no longer among the living. He couldn’t understand why Sharon wanted to pursue this any further; there was no one left to save.
In spite of it, he couldn’t leave her alone. They’d started this whole thing together and he sure wasn’t going to back off now. The question, though, was whether Sharon would ever be able to put this whole affair behind her.
As Rob had expected, they didn’t find anything revealing among the various objects in the house, nothing that could uncover the story that would otherwise remain forever untold by the two deceased women. Sharon looked desperate. She had hoped that the new information would lead to the solution of the remaining enigma; but it just wasn’t happening. She turned her head away and let out a long sigh.
Why can’t I let it go?
“It’s in your blood,“ Rob said, as if he could hear Sharon’s thoughts. “You can’t drop something if you don’t feel like all the loose ends are tied. That’s what makes you so damn good at your job.“
Sharon cracked a smile. Maybe she wasn’t so crazy after all.
“However,“ he continued, “sometimes you need to accept the fact that some things will always remain a mystery.“
“I know you’re right, but do you understand why it’s so hard for me to throw away something that has been a part of my life for so long? That almost cost me my life?“ she implored him.
“Yes, I understand, Sharon.“ Rob put his hand on her shoulder in a fatherly manner. “But don’t let this story suck you in; otherwise, you might miss out on your own tale.“
Sharon’s thoughts wandered to Chris and the fact that she had been putting off their date because she’d felt like she had to solve this case once and for all.
“Listen, as far as I’m concerned, this case is closed,“ Rob determined. “Tomorrow it will be officially sealed and moved to the archives.“
“But Rob–“
“No buts,“ he interrupted her. “As your boss, I’m telling you that there is no reason to keep wasting the NYPD’s workforce on this case.“
Sharon crossed her arms and looked aside. She felt betrayed.
“And as a person who deeply cares about you,“ he continued, “I think this case has put you through enough hell and you should get some rest. Goddammit, your stitches haven’t even healed yet!“
Sharon chuckled. “Are you implying that I should take another day off?“
“A sabbatical is more like it.“
“Let’s settle for the rest of the week.“
“I couldn’t hope for more. It’s a deal.“
* * *
After Rob had left hastily in order to meet his wife for lunch, Sharon remained alone in the empty house. She decided to take one last look around before she left this place for good. Sharon didn’t know how to explain it, but she could somehow feel the eerie presence of the souls that had ended their existence here.
When she got to the second floor she felt cold chills breathing down her neck and came to a resolution it was time to leave. But then she noticed the half open closet door in Vicky’s bedroom. It had probably been left that way ever since the forensics team had scanned the house after finding Kelly Whitesporte’s body in the basement.
Sharon walked over to the closet and opened the door. Dozens of suits were hanging, densely packed and
in meticulous order, not leaving room for anything else. She ran her hands along them, letting her fingers glide over the fine fabrics. She opened the bottom drawer and looked through the expensive-looking lingerie, but there was nothing there. Stacks of sweaters were color coded on the top shelf, perhaps concealing something behind them, but Sharon could not reach that high without a ladder.
In a burst of despair, before she could drop the whole thing forever, Sharon slid an antique chair in front of the closet and stood on it. She moved the neatly organized sweaters aside, letting a few of them tumble to the closet floor, revealing an old cardboard box pushed up against the wall.
“Ha!“ Sharon called out triumphantly, though no one else was in the room.
The box was filled with yellowing papers, and among them she found a golden necklace and some old photos. The pictures showed Kelly Whitesporte’s mousy figure, only she was no longer a teenager but in her late twenties. She was wearing the same golden necklace that Sharon found in the box. Vicky stood beside her with her new and improved looks as Kelly Danes.
Perhaps this was some kind of memory box, where Vicky had kept all of her souvenirs from Kelly, Sharon presumed. A box that just might contain the answers she was so desperately looking for.
Sharon decided to take the box home with her. Now that the case was closed, it wouldn’t bother anyone if she borrowed it; it was no longer protected evidence.
Sharon just hoped she wouldn’t run into Rob on her way out. Breaking the rules was one thing; an angry boss was a whole different issue.
CHAPTER 62
The sun hid behind the clouds and the sky dimmed. A few drops trickled from above, heralding the upcoming rain. Sharon was glad she didn’t have to leave her apartment anytime soon. Now she could focus all her attention on the dusty box that had been forsaken for so long.
While she took out the contents and arranged them on the table, she thought about her talk with Miranda Whitesporte, just moments ago. It did not make sense for a mother not to know her own child. Maybe she’d been cooperating with Vicky all along? If so, she was one hell of an actress, because Sharon had completely believed her when she had mourned the loss of her only daughter.
* * *
“Are you saying my Kelly is dead?“
“Yes, for three years now.“
“No! It can’t be! I used to get letters from her. She told me things, about the magazine and her job as Editor in Chief.“
“I am really sorry, Mrs. Whitesporte, but it wasn’t Kelly writing you those letters. It was Vicky Hermont.“
“What?“
* * *
Sharon had almost finished emptying out the box and had begun organizing the scattered pages in a way that she could read them. There were a lot of papers, so she decided to pour herself a glass of white wine – just enough to get in a nostalgic mood, but not enough to cloud her judgment.
* * *
“So what made you think that ‘Kelly Danes’ was actually your daughter?“
“What do you mean ‘what’?“ Miranda asked, slightly irritated. “She told me.“
“You mean, wrote you?“ Sharon corrected her.
“No, she told me over the phone. Shortly after she’d moved to New York she called to let me know that she was intending to have plastic surgery and change her name, so she could have a fresh start,“ Miranda sighed. “And believe me when I say that I know my own daughter’s voice.“
Sharon’s eyes widened in surprise. “That means she told you about becoming Kelly Danes . . .“
“Over a decade ago,“ Miranda completed the sentence for her.
“Had she come to visit you since she’d moved to New York?“
“No,“ Miranda answered in a grim voice. “She said she couldn’t deal with coming back to this place – too many painful memories. She didn’t want anything to do with reminders of her former life. Not even me.“ Her voice cracked. “But still, she sent photos of herself after she’d gone through the surgeries and articles that mentioned her name.“
“As Kelly Danes?“
“Yes.“
“And she told you she was working for Inner Beauty magazine?“
“Of course. Ever since she’d told me she was going to study journalism.“
Considering the fact that Kelly had started med school only four years ago, Sharon realized that the deception had been going on for quite some time.
But why?
“Excuse me, Sharon, but I really don’t want to deal with all this right now. I still can’t process what you’ve told me about Kelly. And, frankly, I don’t understand how digging into this does any good.“ The grieving mother put in simple words what Rob had tried to get through to her earlier that same day.
“Yes, you’re right. I’m very sorry for you loss. I won’t bother you again.“
* * *
Sharon felt a tad guilty when she finally sat down with her glass of wine, looking at the stack of papers on the table. She knew that once she started reading those yellowing papers, she might be a step closer on her quest for the elusive truth, but in the process she would be letting down the people dearest to her heart.
She picked up one of the papers, but then the doorbell rang, preventing her from completing her act of betrayal.
Please, just don’t let it be Rob. If he took one glance at the table, he would know exactly what she was up to.
“Hey, Sharon, it’s Chris. Open up.“
Sharon instinctively let her golden hair down, that beforehand had been pulled up in a messy ponytail, and brushed her hands over her clothes, making sure she looked alright. She tried to keep a slightly tough expression; after all, the guy had barged in without any notice. But as soon as she opened the door a silly grin popped onto her face.
As much as Sharon wanted to stop smiling, she couldn’t.
“Hey, what are you doing here?“ she asked. Sharon tried to look upset, but her damned facial muscles did not allow her to do so.
“Your boss called me. He told me I’d better keep you close, or you might run away . . .“ Chris looked into her eyes and smiled.
Sharon could feel the blush invading her cheeks. “How did Rob get your number?“
“I was wondering the same thing. I guess being an NYPD Captain has it perks.“
Sharon laughed and brushed a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.
“So . . . Are you going to invite me in?“
Sharon turned and looked behind her. The wine glass and the pile of yellowing papers were still covering her table.
“Actually–“
“Actually,“ Chris interrupted her, “I wasn’t asking. Your boss asked me to tell you that it’s an official order.“
Sharon arched an eyebrow. “What do you mean an order?“
“You have to spend the evening with me or he’ll force you take another week off.“
“What? He can’t do that!“ Sharon began to protest but then her eyes met his. She paused for a moment and then let out a gleeful chuckle.
“Well, I have to do what the boss says.“
“In that case, I’ll be sure to send him a dozen roses first thing in the morning.“
The guy just kept making her laugh.
“Well, I know you were supposed to take me out to do a little sightseeing in the city, but I was thinking that after everything you’ve been through, that I don’t even presume to realize, we can just stay in and watch a movie.“
He took out from the pocket of his jacket a DVD case with the title of Sharon’s favorite movie of all time, Breakfast at Tiffany’s.
“How did you know?“ she asked excitedly. Sharon was thrilled. After all the horror she had been exposed to lately, she’d kind of forgotten that life also had a lovely side to it.
“A little birdie told me?“ Chris tried to keep the mystery.
“Rob?“
“Yes,“ he admitted.
They laughed again.
“By the way, on my way over here I passed by this cute Chinese re
staurant, really close by. I thought maybe we could order some takeout, if you’re hungry.“
Wow, I think I’ve found the love of my life.
“Sure, if you’re in the mood for Chinese.“ Sharon tried to conceal her enthusiasm. It was better that he found out about her culinary obsession as late as possible.
She opened the door wide and Chris walked inside.
“Sorry for the mess.“
“It’s okay. You have a perfectly good excuse; you only got back home less than two days ago.“
“So I won’t tell you that it always looks like this.“
He smiled at her. “Where’s your phone? I brought the takeout menu so we can order.“
Should I tell him that I already know it by heart?
“It’s on the table.“
Suddenly, Sharon remembered that she’d had an entirely different plan for the evening. It seemed that Chris noticed, too.
“Oh, I’m sorry. It looks like I really came at a bad time. Work stuff?“
Sharon gave the pile of papers a prolonged look.
“Nothing important,“ she said, and in the blink of an eye raked everything back into the box.
EPILOGUE
March 18, 2007
She felt as if her entire world were crumbling down on her. Things she had believed in wholeheartedly had turned upside down and crushed her soul.
She marched quickly in the hopes of getting home as soon as possible; maybe she could still catch her before she left.
She inserted the key into the lock with trembling hands but turned the doorknob with a firm grip. When she entered, she didn’t see anyone. She was all alone, just her and her thoughts.
Kelly went up the stairs of the lavish house and entered the room of her best friend, her mortal enemy, her greatest savior, the one who had betrayed her and lied to her for years.
Dark Illusion: A Psychological Thriller Novel Page 22
