Then another part of my brain answered; you’ve never gotten this far before.
The dried grasses crunched under our feet. I continued to be propelled forward, drawn to one of the first graves beyond the fence. My breathing became shallower and shallower, punctuated by booming coughs.
The stone was barely visible under the carpet of weeds. Falling to my knees, barely able to suck air into my lungs, I reached with trembling hands to clear the grasses away. They made a crackling noise as they broke. The top of the stone held an elaborate carving of cherubs with the words “Our Littlest Angel.”
“But … but this can’t be right,” Tommy said, stepping forward. “This stone is for a child, an infant. Not a sixteen-year-old.”
I kept pulling up weeds, my hands moving meticulously, even as the blood trickled from my mouth.
Stone clear, I sat back to study it. But something wasn’t right. Not right at all.
Above me, Tommy gasped.
I kept shaking my head. No, no, no, this couldn’t be right. I tried to breathe, but the air refused to pass through to my lungs.
“Kit, this doesn’t make any sense,” Tommy said.
I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t breathe. Then, from far away, I heard it.
The tolling of the bell.
Darkness hovered on the edge of my vision. It had finally come, and all I had was more questions – no answers.
“According to this,” Tommy said, oblivious to my gasps, “Catalina Caldwell died before she was even four years old. But you said she was kidnapped when you were seven.”
I started to choke. The darkness came closer.
“Someone must have carved the dates wrong,” he continued. “But you’d think they’d notice and fix something like that.”
My hands started clawing up the dead grass, trying to dig into the frozen ground. This couldn’t be. Cat had been kidnapped by the fairies. She didn’t die this early. I remembered her at seven. I remembered her.
“Finally,” a female voice drawled from behind us. “I didn’t think you’d ever figure it out.”
Choking, I turned my head. There stood the woman from the party. From the Union. The one who looked like Cat.
The one who should be dead.
Chapter 36
“I didn’t mean to give you such a scare.”
We were sitting in the corner of the Emmitsville Bar. Dark and cramped – the wooden paneled walls were decorated with Packer posters. The bar was empty except for two grizzled men sitting at the bar drinking amber-colored liquid in fat glasses.
As it turned out, the woman’s name was Courtney Deborne. Not Cat. Not Bethany. Courtney.
And I didn’t die after all. I realized my dream hadn’t been predicting my actual death, but something else altogether.
Something even more sinister.
The death of innocence.
I sipped my coffee, heavily laden with sugar and cream. Not my favorite way to drink it, but Tommy had insisted.
“You probably wouldn’t have if you’d been a little more forthcoming in your messages,” I said.
She tossed her long blonde curly hair. “Ah, yes. I’d thought you’d say that. But I did what I had to do. To save Kayla.”
Tommy held his hands up. “Okay, can we back up here a little? How do you know about David and Cat? Some answers would be greatly appreciated.”
“Yes, I guess they would be.” Courtney glanced around the bar. “I’ll try to make this fast. We don’t have a lot of time.” God, she looked like Cat. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
Tommy looked even more mystified. “Time? Why are we running out of time?”
“You’ll understand when I’m done.” Courtney took a deep breath. “David is my cousin. For that matter, so is the girl you know as Cat.”
“What?” I started to interrupt, but she held her hand out.
“This is a lot to take in, so just let me try to tell it. This story starts the day of your birth, Kit. October 16. You see, my Aunt Gretchen was pregnant at the same time as your mother. Your mother gave birth to two girls, my aunt to only one girl. But, somehow, somewhere, a terrible mistake happened. The hospital switched the babies.”
“What? My mom and dad aren’t my real parents?” I gasped.
Courtney shook her head. “No, you’re fine. Your parents are your real parents. But your sister got switched. With my cousin.”
Silence. I could hear the bartender clinking glasses together.
“So,” Tommy said slowly. “What you’re saying is the person Kit thinks of as her sister isn’t her sister. Her real sister.”
Courtney nodded. “Yes. The person you think of as Cat is actually my cousin Bethany.”
Another pause. “Then, what happened to my real sister?” I asked.
Courtney tossed her head to the side. “You were just visiting her.”
A cold wind seemed to blow through the bar right then. I shivered, wrapping my fingers around the coffee mug, trying to absorb its warmth. “My real sister is dead?”
Courtney reached over and touched my hand. “I’m so sorry, Kit. Yes, your real sister is dead.”
“But, what … I don’t … ”
“My aunt took home your blood sister, who she named Bethany. Your parents took home my blood cousin, who they named Cat. When Bethany was still a toddler, my aunt discovered she had Cystic Fibrosis.”
I sucked in my breath sharply. “She really did have Cystic Fibrosis?”
“Yes. And about a year and a half later she died of it.” Courtney paused, glanced around the bar again. “You have to understand something about my aunt. She’s just like my mother. Both wanted daughters in the worst way. Perfect little dolls. Living, breathing dolls they could mold and twist in their own image.”
Twist? I glanced at Tommy. He raised his eyebrows ever so slightly.
“Anyway,” Courtney reached for her untouched soda, visibly trying to calm herself. “After Bethany died, my mother and aunt started talking about it. How could Aunt Gretchen have given birth to a child with Cystic Fibrosis? It wasn’t in either family, and as you know, it’s strictly a genetic disease. Both parents must have the gene. So, my aunt started to do a little detective work. And, that’s when she discovered another woman had given birth to two children the same day she did. A woman who carried the Cystic Fibrosis gene, who had already given birth to one child with the disease … and one healthy, perfect child.”
Courtney paused, tapped her fingers against her glass. I noticed her fingernails – perfectly manicured, long, sharp and painted dark red. “After that, it was just a matter of tests and legalese. The hospital kept it out of the courts, gave both families large settlements. But, my aunt ended up with the best prize of all. A second chance for a perfect daughter.”
I squeezed my coffee cup tighter. “Why don’t I remember any of this?”
Courtney sighed. “I’m sure it’s because your parents kept silent about it until they knew they’d have to give up Cat. By then, you were in the hospital.”
An image suddenly burst through my head. Cat leaning over me, clutching a doll. Blonde curls brushing my face. “The Terrys are taking me,” she whispered. “Kit, we can’t stop them. I’m being kidnapped by the Terrys.” The doll’s empty eyes staring at me.
I’m being kidnapped by the Terrys.
In my confused, fever-induced condition, I heard fairies. The fairies had kidnapped me.
The doll. The doll knew the truth all along. The doll had heard what Cat really said. But it wasn’t about the doll – it was the message.
The fairies are evil. Pure evil.
My lips were so stiff I could barely form the words. “What happened to her? Cat … I mean Bethany?”
“Well, as it turned out, my aunt should have let well enough alone. Bethany would never be the perfect c
hild. She was too old when my aunt got her. Too willful. Too independent.”
Courtney’s hands with their red, pointed fingernails, knotted into fists as she talked. The knuckles turned white. Breathing deeply, she dropped her gaze to them.
“The abuse was never physical,” she said softly. I could see her trying to force her fingers to relax. “Always verbal. Emotional. Manipulative. They aimed to break your spirit, never your bones.
“Bethany was having none of it. From the moment my aunt brought her home, it was a battle. She even refused her name, would never answer to Bethany. Only Cat. That’s the name she told to people. Drove my aunt absolutely wild.”
Courtney smiled a little. “I guess it was easier for her to rebel. She had another place to go. I have no doubt your parents would have taken her back in a heartbeat. And she never got tired of throwing that into my aunt’s face. ‘You’re not my real parents. You just gave me your blood. You’ll never be my real parents.’ David and I didn’t have such a fallback.”
David. Now everything was becoming clearer. The manipulations. The deceiving. He learned it from his mother.
“How did she die?” I asked.
Courtney’s fists tightened again. “I’m not exactly sure of the details, but this is what I think happened. Cat came home that night from the party. She and my aunt had one of their big, blow-out fights, except something happened this time. I’m not sure if my aunt pushed her or if Cat lost her balance because of the argument. All I know for sure is that she was dead when they put her in the car.”
I closed my eyes. Oh Cat. I’m so sorry.
“David helped my aunt hide it. He’s the one who staged the car crash. As per her instructions, I’ve no doubt.”
“Okay,” Tommy broke in. “This is an absolutely amazing story, but what I don’t understand is why you just didn’t come out and tell us? Why all the secrecy and notes and shit?”
Courtney paused, eyes dropping to her soda. “A couple of years ago, my aunt decided to try a third time for the perfect daughter. She started going to adoption agencies, but quickly realized it was going to take far too long, if ever, to get a child that way. Then she hit upon the whole ward of the state thing. So, she went through the classes and the paperwork, and eventually found little Kayla Benson.”
“Again, this is all very interesting, but it still doesn’t answer my original question,” Tommy said.
Courtney stared at him. “Isn’t it obvious? I couldn’t let her do it. Not again. Especially since it was my fault.”
“Your fault? How on earth is any of this your fault?” I asked.
Courtney’s fist tightened further. I could see a drop of blood glistening on the edge of her fist. “I thought you would have figured that out,” she said bitterly. “I am the perfect daughter. My mother succeeded, whereas my aunt did not. It literally ate my aunt up inside that she couldn’t do what my mother did. And don’t think my mother doesn’t throw it in her face at every opportunity.”
“That’s hardly your fault,” I said. Now blood dripped from her other fist. I wanted to stop her, but was afraid I would make it worse.
Courtney gave her head a quick shake. “Anyway, I’d been racking my brain for months looking for a way to stop this whole adoption thing. I was starting to get desperate, and then David met you at the Halloween party, and I knew I had my answer.”
I tore my eyes away from her bloody hands to look her in the face. “Excuse me? How exactly am I an answer?”
“You can get David to confess.”
“What?”
“Get David to confess. To the murders. Once they hear what my aunt has done, there’s no way they’ll give a child to her.”
“Newsflash. David’s stalking me. He’s threatening to kill me. How am I supposed to get him to confess?”
She shot me a coy look. “Oh, come on Kit. David’s stalking you because he’s obsessed by you. You must’ve figured that out by now.”
“Well, yeah, but that still doesn’t mean I can get him to confess.”
“He was obsessed with Cat. Actually, it was more than an obsession. He wanted to BE Cat. He wanted another family, a good one, like Cat had. When he met you, it was a dream come true. He could literally have Cat’s family.”
Tommy broke in again. “I’ll say it a third time. Why didn’t you just come out and tell us? Why all these riddles and games?”
Courtney finally loosened her fingers. A trail of blood dripped onto the dark wood table. This was so creepy.
“Let me ask you something. If I had just walked up to you and told you what was going on, what would you have done?”
I glanced at Tommy. “Verified it, probably.”
She tapped the table with a bloody finger, her nail painted the exact color of her blood. “Exactly. Then, you would have gotten so caught up with what happened to Cat and what happened to your first sister – to Bethany - you would have forgotten all about poor Kayla until it was too late. Wouldn’t you?”
Courtney sat back, a triumphant look on her face. Her hands were streaked with blood. What had it cost her to give us the little information she had? What kind of family could twist a child into doing that to herself, without her even knowing it? This went beyond creepy. More like sinister. Eerie. Terrifying.
And terribly sad.
Tommy gave her a strange look. “Well, maybe at first, but you could’ve talked to us … ”
“Yes,” I cut in. “You’re absolutely right, Courtney.”
Tommy now gave me the strange look, but I nudged him under the table. In Courtney’s reality, manipulation was king. It probably never occurred to her there was another way to handle the situation.
Blood never lies.
“I still don’t know how I’m going to get David to confess,” I said.
Courtney shrugged. “That’s easy. Cat could get him to do anything she wanted.”
“But I’m not Cat.”
“That’s why we have to hurry,” she said, as if she hadn’t heard me. “He’s still in Minneapolis. I have to bring you there. Now’s a good time. He’s in pain and on drugs from the knife wound you gave him. Should be no problem.”
“How do you know where he is?” I asked.
She looked surprised. “Because he called me, that’s why. Think he’d go to his mother with that knife wound? You gotta be kidding. Then she’d know he failed. No, I came and took care of him last night. Waited outside the hospital this morning for you. I was going to talk to you then, but I decided instead to follow you. What a kick. Never thought you’d come here. Shall we go?”
My head was whirling. “Wait. The police said they told the hospital not to tell anyone where we were.”
Her look sharpened, became crafty. “I didn’t ask the hospital. I asked the night manager at the Motel 6.” She started giggling. “Told him I was a reporter. Bought it hook, line and sinker. We should go.”
Christ, it was a family of con artists. The Brady Bunch gone bad.
“Wait one more second,” Tommy said, struggling to keep a neutral expression on his face. “You said murders. Who else was murdered?”
Courtney stared at him like he was a slow student who had missed the point she had so painstakingly explained three times now. “Who do you think?”
Tommy’s mouth fell open. “Uh.” He stared at me wildly.
I could only think of one other person in this mess who it could possibly be. “But you said Bethany,” I said cautiously, “the first Bethany, died of Cystic Fibrosis.”
“And she did. If she hadn’t had Cystic Fibrosis, she never would have died.”
I must have looked as confused as Tommy, because she uttered a long sigh. “Kit, you of all people should know the answer to this. You inherited Cystic Fibrosis from your parents. Bethany inherited the same genes you did. How could she have died from the disease as a toddl
er while you’re still alive and healthy more than seventeen years later? I told you, she wanted perfect.”
Understanding began to seep through my mind. “Oh, my God.”
She cocked her head, looking so much like Cat at that moment I stopped breathing. “Look, it was never something we talked about. It was something I figured out later, when I realized you were still alive. Why else do you think David’s so obsessed with your disease?”
Leaning forward, she touched her finger to the corner of my mouth. Where there was blood. Blood from my lungs. “You’re perfect right now. You do understand, right?”
Our eyes locked. David. Sixty-five roses. A rose pin. Yes, now I did understand.
“Oh, and one other thing,” Courtney said, as we slid out of the booth. “Thought you might want to see this.”
She held out a crumpled photo. As I took it, I could see the scars on her palms, darker red where her blood had soaked in.
I studied it. It was a family photo of the Terrys – Cat, David, Dad and mom - blonde and beautiful. The family resemblance was striking. Now I could see why Courtney and Cat looked so much alike.
“But, I saw Mrs. Terry and she … ”
“I know,” Courtney cut in. “When she decided to adopt, she did the whole dark thing. Dark hair, dark glasses, brown contacts. Doesn’t need either glasses or contacts, by the way. She thinks it makes her look more matronly. People would treat her with more respect as a brunette than a blonde. In reality, I think it makes her look hideous. Don’t you agree?”
“Uh, yeah.” What was it about Courtney that put me at such a loss for words? “Oh, Courtney, something you said earlier. About David meeting me at the Halloween party. You were there, though. Because I saw you.”
Courtney now stared at me like I was slow. “Of course I wasn’t there. That’s the party where David met you. I heard about it later.”
“But … ” I started to say, then stopped.
The smell of chlorine. The scent of wildflowers.
“Don’t be afraid, Kit. I’ll take care of you. I’ll always take care of you.”
The Stolen Twin Page 32
