The Stolen Twin

by Michele PW (Pariza Wacek)

  “No, they probably wouldn’t be.” An image of Brad rescuing me the day David stole my inhaler popped into my head. What was Brad doing there anyway? I think I asked him but now I couldn’t remember his answer. “I’m not sure the Cleavers had sex. Ever.”

  A wry smile touched her lips. “On second thought, I think things are all Mr. and Mrs. Cleaver.”

  “Yeah, that’s better.” The music switched to David Bowie’s Changes. Must be seventies night.

  “Back to my news. Do you want to hear it or not?”

  Half my brain was still puzzling over why Brad would be at my apartment without either Elena or Tommy there as well, but I nodded. “Why not?”

  “There’s no record of Cat being kidnapped.”

  I attempted to put my mug down and tipped it over instead, the beer oozing its way down the bar. “What?” I couldn’t have heard her correctly. At any moment, I expected the theme song from Twilight Zone to drown out David Bowie.

  “Cat. Kidnapped. No record.”

  My brain finally caught up to the conversation. I quit pondering Brad and his motives and signaled the bartender for another beer and a bar rag. “Cat. My sister Cat.” Maybe another beer would make this more comprehensible.

  “Yes. Your sister Cat. You were in Milwaukee, right?”

  Definitely needed another beer. “What are you talking about? Of course she was kidnapped. Otherwise what would’ve happened to her?”

  “Well, according to the Milwaukee police department, there is no record of a Catalina Caldwell being kidnapped in the eighties.”

  The bartender plopped another beer in front of me. I drank half of it in one swig. “Maybe I got the year wrong.”

  “I had them check the entire decade. No record.”

  “No record? I don’t understand.”

  “Are you sure it was Milwaukee?” Elena pressed.

  “Well, yeah, I think.” I swirled my beer around in its glass. “I was in a Milwaukee hospital at the time. I don’t remember my parents taking a trip then, but I’m probably not the right person to ask. There isn’t much about that time I do remember.”

  Elena sat back on her bar stool. “They must have gone somewhere else. That’s the only explanation.”

  “Or maybe the Milwaukee police department put her file in the wrong place. Did you check missing kids?”

  Elena twisted her glove in her lap. “Kit, I had them check under anything I could think of that would cause a child to go missing. That included missing, runaways and murder.”

  “Murder?” I bolted upright, sloshing my beer. “No, she wasn’t murdered. She was still alive … ” My voice trailed off. Somehow I didn’t think Elena would put too much stock into Cat’s spiritual nocturnal visit five years ago.

  Elena put her hand over mine. “I know this is hard. But that is a possibility. However, there’s just no record of her, Kit. At all.”

  My mind reeled. “So, she just disappeared without a trace and my parents never bothered to call the police?”

  Elena held her hands up. “That’s what it looks like. Unless it happened somewhere other than Milwaukee.”

  “Or she really was kidnapped by the fairies.” The dim light of the bar deepened the amber color of the beer, making it glow.

  Elena shrugged. “Maybe she was. Although I’d put my money on the police misplacing the file over a fairy kidnapping.”

  The fairies are evil. Pure evil. I shuddered, clutching my mug like a lifeline. “You think the police really could have misplaced the file?”

  “Anything’s possible, although that’s pretty doubtful. But you never know – cops are human and humans do make mistakes.”

  “Maybe it is time for a road trip to Milwaukee. We could look through old copies of the Milwaukee Journal.”

  Elena nodded. “Yeah, that’s one way to do it. But there’s another way. An easier way.”

  “What? The Internet doesn’t work. Files don’t go back that far.”

  “I’m not talking about the Internet, Kit. I’m talking about your parents.”

  I picked up my mug and poured the remaining liquid down my throat. “If you knew my parents, you’d know that wasn’t the easier way.”

  “Why not? What’s so hard about talking to your parents about this? Don’t you want to know the truth?”

  The truth. Cat’s been kidnapped. My mother’s flat, empty expression. I stood up, threw a couple of dollars down for a tip. “Funny thing about the truth, Elena,” I said, sliding on my coat. “Sometimes you get way more than you bargained for. Sort of like pulling a rabbit out of a magician’s hat. Before you know it, you have dozens of rabbits hopping out of that stupid hat, going who knows where and doing who knows what.”

  Elena studied me carefully. “I’m sure what you said would make perfect sense to someone, somewhere, but unfortunately I’m not that person. So talking to your parents is out. Which, I guess, means road trip is in.”

  I nodded, adjusting my gloves and striding toward the door. “Precisely.”

  Elena followed me outside. “So, now where’re you off to?”

  I didn’t answer, instead tipping my head to stare into the sky. The night was still and cold. Stars sparkled brightly, like chips of ice embedded in blacktop.

  The cold made me cough a couple of times. Both my head and chest hurt. I should go home. “Not sure.”

  “Come with me to the party.”

  I took a deep breath, sucking in the smells of snow and cold tinged with the stink of car exhaust. “I don’t go where I’m not invited.”

  “You’re invited because I’m inviting you. Come on. I know you aren’t going home, even though it’s where you should be. Come to the party for a few hours, then get some sleep.”

  A couple with their arms around each other stepped past us. “It’d be good to see Tommy,” I hedged.

  “Good. It’s settled then.” Tucking her hand through my arm, she led me down the street.

  Why didn’t I just go home? I wondered, only half listening to Elena’s chatter and trying to stop myself from jumping at every shadow. I used to be so much more responsible about my health. What had changed?

  Everything. The word rattled around in my brain, almost like it was surprised at being there. But the moment I heard it, I knew it was the right word. Everything had changed. Especially me.

  “David wouldn’t dream of showing up,” Elena said in my ear as we walked up the porch steps. “He knows he’d get his ass kicked. Don’t worry about it.”

  I know you like knives.

  I shivered. “That wouldn’t deter him. He probably wishes he would get his ass kicked so he can line up more restraining orders.” But if Brandi was right and he didn’t like witnesses, he wouldn’t appear.

  “Well, think of the bright side. If he does, there’s no way he’d be able to show his face here again.” Elena held the door open for me. I ducked inside, the moist warmth slapping me across the face.

  I stepped into the landing, opening my mouth to answer her, but suddenly those words developed wings and flew out of my wide-open mouth with no assistance from me.

  Standing in the corner next to the staircase were Tommy and Brandi. Actually, standing wasn’t exactly the right word. One step removed from making out would be closer. Brandi had her face turned up toward Tommy, staring intently at him. His head was bent forward, close to hers, one arm against the staircase.

  Elena bumped into me, peering forward. “What are you … Oh, my God!”

  I found myself paralyzed, gawking, unable to believe the scene unfolding in front of me. Tommy and Brandi? This was completely unreal.

  Then, right before my stricken, disbelieving eyes, Tommy leaned forward and kissed Brandi on the mouth.

  Chapter 28

  Elena clapped her hands over her mouth. “What the hell are you two doing?�
� she shouted.

  Both Brandi and Tommy jerked their heads toward us, looking as shocked as I felt. I wanted to open my mouth and say something, but my mouth was already open. So, I closed it and realized I couldn’t remember what I was going to say. Not that it mattered. Words couldn’t adequately express the chaos of emotions inside me. Escape was a much better solution.

  Whirling around, I pushed my way back out the door, ignoring calls to come back, that it wasn’t what it looked like. Yeah, that’s what everyone kept telling me, that nothing was how it seemed. Too bad I didn’t believe them.

  A cold damp wind greeted me outside. I half-heartedly wrapped my scarf around my neck as I ran down the street, my chest already aching with suppressed coughs.

  It didn’t take me long to run out of steam. I was in no shape for running, which I would have remembered had I been thinking straight. After two or three blocks, I slowed to trot while hacking my lungs out. My head pounded. My eyes swam with tears, whether from coughing or the massive spear of betrayal piercing my soul, I didn’t know. I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt this miserable.

  “Kit, wait.” It was Brandi, running to catch me.

  I tried to run again, found I couldn’t, and kept right on coughing. “Go away. I don’t want to talk to you,” I yelled, between coughs.

  “Kit, come on. It’s not what you think.”

  “It never is.”

  Brandi finally caught up to me, out of breath, hair hanging in her face. “You’re going to have to deal with me sooner or later. After all, we live together.”

  “Maybe I’ll take Martha’s advice and move out,” I said bitterly.

  “Don’t be absurd.” Brandi fell into step next to me.

  I was so angry I couldn’t even speak, only cough. “Me absurd?” I spat when I got my hacking under control. “I’m not the one seducing my roommate’s boyfriend.”

  “I am not seducing Tommy. If you’d just let me explain … ”

  “Explain? Explain why Tommy was kissing you.” The image of Brad rescuing me shot through my head and everything clicked. “You’re sleeping with Brad, too, aren’t you?”

  “What? Brad? What are you talking about?” Brandi looked at me like I had started yelling at her in Yiddish.

  Now it all made perfect sense. “That day David stole my inhaler. Brad was here. At our apartment. I couldn’t figure out why, until right this moment. Because you’re sleeping with him.”

  “I am not sleeping with Brad.”

  “Then why the hell would he at our apartment without Elena?”

  “Well, he wasn’t there because of me.”

  “Likely story. First Elena’s boyfriend and now mine. What, you’re so bitter you can’t hold onto your own man you need to go after everyone else’s?”

  Brandi blew her hair out of her face. “First of all, according to you, Tommy isn’t your boyfriend. And second, that was a shitty thing to say.”

  “Not to be confused with the shitty thing you did.”

  “I didn’t do anything. If you’d just let me explain … ”

  “Save it.” We were nearing the apartment. I tried to get ahead of Brandi, but my chest felt like it had knives sticking out of it. All I wanted to do was lie down and die.

  Brandi tried again. “Kit … ”

  I whirled around. “Let me spell it out, since you don’t seem to be grasping the obvious here. I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t care about your explanations. I just want to be left alone. Maybe tomorrow I’ll feel like listening, but not tonight.”

  Brandi chewed her lower lip, folding her arms across her chest. “Fine.” She turned and started marching in the opposite direction.

  “Fine.” I resumed walking toward the apartment. Then I saw the shadow.

  Someone was there. Standing on the stoop in front of the door.

  A man.

  David.

  My heart leaped into my mouth, nearly choking me. “Brandi,” I cried in a strangled voice. I knew I was in no condition to face him alone.

  Brandi didn’t stop. “What?” she called over her shoulder.

  “David,” I gasped, trying to speak loud enough to get her attention without attracting his.

  Brandi froze, then turned, long hair spilling out of her coat. “What did you say?”

  I backed toward her, pointing to man. “Look. David.”

  Brandi came forward. “Christ, that guy doesn’t give up, does he?” She stalked toward David, while I struggled to keep up. “Hey. What is your mental block? Or did you never learn that no means no?”

  The man spun around on his heel to face us. It wasn’t David. This man was older, gray at the temples, heavy jowls, thickening skin, squished facial features.

  Brandi stopped. “Oh, shit,” I heard her gasp.

  The man came barreling toward us. “Who are you? And where’s my daughter?”

  Brandi swallowed. “She’s not here, Mr. Jamieson.”

  Jamieson? Oh no. This was Elena’s father.

  Mr. Jamieson kept coming, his purposeful strides eating up the distance between us. “Well, then, where is she? Studying?”

  I think for the first time ever, Brandi was at a loss for words. “Ahh, yeah.”

  Covering for Elena was a lot easier when her parents only made phone calls or sent letters. We had never discussed the possibility of a surprise visit.

  Mr. Jamieson halted in front of us. I towered over him. Much shorter than I expected. “I need to speak with Elena immediately. Where does she usually study?”

  Brandi looked at me, shifting her weight from one foot to another.

  “It depends,” I answered. “She has a few favorite spots.”

  Mr. Jamieson’s eyes darted back and forth as he studied each of us. “You are her roommates, I presume?”

  “Yeah, I’m Kit and this is Brandi.”

  “I see.” He looked us over a second time. “And which one of you is being stalked?”

  My eyes widened. How did he know that?

  “Uh, who told you that?” Brandi asked cautiously.

  His expression became impatient. “That’s immaterial. I’m sorry that one of you is being stalked, and if I can offer any legal expertise, I’d be happy to do so. But we can talk about that later. What needs to be accomplished immediately is getting my daughter out of here. I can’t allow her to live in a situation where she might get hurt. Her mother has been a wreck about this ever since she heard. Now, if you don’t know where she’s studying, when do you expect her home?”

  “You know what?” Brandi said brightly. “I’ll go find her.”

  I shot her an expression that said: Right, leave me alone with him. Brandi shrugged. What other choice do we have?

  “Excellent idea,” Mr. Jamieson said, moving toward the door. “In the meantime, I’ll start collecting her belongings.”

  Brandi and I exchanged looks again. “I’m sorry,” I said. “You want to do what?”

  He folded his arms across his chest and tapped his foot – the picture of exasperation combined with impatience. “Come on now. I haven’t a lot of time here.”

  Slowly I started toward the door. “Mr. Jamieson, I think you should wait out here while Brandi goes to get Elena.”

  “I’m not waiting out here. Who do you think pays for this apartment? Now let’s go in.”

  I shot Brandi a help me look. She shrugged again, mouthing “try to keep him occupied.”

  Another figure materialized out of the darkness. “Uncle Ed?” Martha’s voice squeaked out, echoing in the night.

  Mr. Jamieson circled back. “Martha? What are you doing here?”

  Martha’s mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out.

  Brandi started trotting away. “I’ll go find Elena. See you in a bit.” After a few steps, I saw her break into a run
. I launched into another coughing fit.

  Mr. Jamieson regarded me with something resembling alarm. The expression didn’t quite work on his face – maybe his features were too thick and heavy for it. “Good heavens. You sound terrible. Have you seen a doctor?”

  I waved nonchalantly, like coughing my lungs out was no big thing. I wondered how long we could realistically keep him on the front step.

  “So, what are you doing here?” Martha asked, her voice shrinking.

  “I’m here to fetch Elena. I won’t have her be a part of this stalking situation.”

  “Oh,” Martha said.

  Mr. Jamieson clapped his hands. “Now move along there. You, Kit, that’s your name, right? You shouldn’t be outside with that cough anyway.”

  “Uh, actually fresh air is supposed to be good for colds,” I said, creeping my way toward the door.

  “Don’t be foolish. You should be in bed. Now, chop chop.”

  Martha shot me a terrified look. I shrugged in return. What the hell was I supposed to do? Her uncle was obviously hell bent at getting inside the apartment. Short of tying him to the streetlight, I saw no other way to keep him outside.

  I took my time digging through my purse and pulling out my keys, stretching it out as long as I dared. Mr. Jamieson watched me, shifting from foot to foot.

  “Martha, you can go home now,” he said as I fiddled with the keys.

  “No, that’s okay, I’ll wait for Elena,” Martha said.

  “Suit yourself.” The moment I unlocked the door, he strode in. “Now, where’s Elena’s room?”

  “Mr. Jamieson, why don’t you have a seat? Would you like something to drink?”

  He ignored me and started searching through the apartment. I followed him at first, asking him in as many ways as I could think of to wait, but to no avail. Eventually, I gave up my ineffective stalling techniques and sat on the couch, watching him alternate between opening every door and demanding explanations from Martha.

  “Is she sleeping on the couch?” Mr. Jamieson asked, shutting the door to the linen closest. “I don’t understand. Where are her clothes? Her stuffed animals? Why doesn’t she have a room? Is she sharing a bedroom with one of you? Martha, what is going on here?”