Ben’s wife was nice-looking after all. She wasn’t his type in the least. In fact, she was so counter opposite from Caycee that he’d wondered what Ben had ever seen in her. She was almost as tall as Ben, and though she was in great shape, she wasn’t curvy like Caycee. She was model-like with her straight figure. Even having a child hadn’t changed her physical appearance. Blond and tan, she was the epitome of a Californian girl. So, if she was the kind of woman Ben liked, what had he ever seen in Caycee?
Caycee was only five-three, and she was extremely curvy. Her figure resembled Mediterranean women. Her skin, though light, had olive undertones. And her eyes … her eyes were hazel, they were mysterious, taking on different hues, but mostly they were mesmerizing, like cat’s eyes.
He had to find her. When he did, he would tell her. He wouldn’t care if she shunned him; he would let her know how long he’d been in love with her.
He drove off, heading home. He’d come back in the morning, before work. Maybe Ben would come back to get his stuff after Sheila left the house. He certainly hadn’t enough time to pack if she was waiting for him in the car. He would have only been able to grab a few things and leave out the front while she was in the parking garage. If she’d been telling the truth, of course.
***
Along with a headache the size of North Carolina, Jaynee awoke to a sharp hunger pain that pierced her insides, causing her to emit a soft yelp.
She hadn’t eaten her allotted rations. She’d planned to eat them in the morning before her warden arrived so she would have the strength to attack.
Banging sounds filtered through the walls as if he were hammering something. Maybe he was making a larger cell for her, boarding up all the doors and windows so she could move around the house. That would be something … Anything was better than being strapped to a bed all day.
It would be helpful if she knew what he wanted; that way she could reason with him. He’d said he was going to give her what she wanted. What did that mean … more room to be a prisoner? He hadn’t tried to rape her, so he was after something else. Maybe he couldn’t get aroused in traditional ways, so he inflicted pain or torture or other atrocities to get a thrill. The idea sent a wave of fear through her body.
She thought about calling out to him, but decided she’d rather him think she was asleep. She needed to sleep to keep her strength; she needed to be her best for the morning. Tomorrow she would escape.
Tomorrow was Thursday, which meant that three full days had passed since she’d had contact with Caycee. Wouldn’t she be worried? Wouldn’t she confess to Jordan that they had to come and find her? Caycee certainly couldn’t believe that she’d been having a jolly good time up here partying every night. She had to see that this wasn’t her life. She was a country girl. She appreciated the quiet and peacefulness of her home in Stanfield. She missed her husband, and she missed her children.
Dear God, I promise I will never feel sad or ungrateful again. Please let me see my husband and children at least one more time. A feeling of ease fell over her; she felt comforted. Tomorrow, she thought to herself. Tomorrow, I will escape. She opened the bottle of water, took a few swigs, then fell fast asleep.
Jaynee woke a few times during the night, the constant banging noises from the other room, startling her. He’d peeked in a few times, but hadn’t made conversation … just stared at her then walked off. What in the world did he want and what could he be building?
It was close to dawn she was sure, so she decided to drink the rest of the water, and then she would attempt to use the bottle to relieve herself.
After downing the final drops of water, she fell back to sleep, overcome with fatigue... He’d obviously drugged her again.
***
The dream had been so real that Jaynee startled awake in fear, but then she felt Jordan’s warm hands on her, trying to wake her. It must be Sunday. Sunday was their favorite day of the week to have a little morning delight.
Her eyelids were heavy as she struggled to open them. She tried to speak to tell him what a terrible dream she’d had, but her mouth wouldn’t work either.
His whispers became more frantic. She tried to smile, to let him know she was awake.
“Caycee, wake up!” the voice was clearer now. Caycee? Why would Jordan call her Caycee? “Caycee, can you hear me?”
She attempted to open her eyes again. They felt so heavy, and the little light that seeped through felt blinding, like an arrow piercing straight through her brain. She squinted through one eye, but then winced as pain shot through her stomach.
“Thank goodness! I didn’t know what she gave you. Are you okay?”
“What?” The one word came out hoarse and weak. It didn’t even sound like her voice. “What who gave me? Who are you?” She took in her surroundings. She wasn’t at home, it wasn’t Sunday morning, and Jordan wasn’t beside her. A cuff still held her captive to a bedpost, and now a man was strapped beside her. He’d called her Caycee, so he knew her or at least he thought he did.
“Caycee, it’s me … Ben. What did she give you?” His eyes were worried at once.
“She? Caycee?”
“Sheila … Sheila brought you here and then me. She drugged me in our car and then gagged me and strapped me in a wheelchair. I woke up in this house and tried to free myself. She came to me this morning and offered me a bottle of water. I took a few sips, and then woke up next to you. I’ve been trying to wake you for a while, so I’d assumed she drugged you too.”
“Ben, Caycee’s manager? And Sheila is?”
“My wife …”
“Oh …” She massaged her temples with her free hand, trying to rub away the massive headache so she could think. “What I wanted … She’s giving Caycee what she wanted.”
“You’re not Caycee? You’re her sister? I saw you together at the restaurant. Amazing … you’re absolutely identical.”
She huffed. “Yeah … amazing …” She didn’t feel very amazed. In fact, furious was a better word. If Caycee hadn’t screwed around with a married man, this wouldn’t be happening. She closed her eyes. Of course, if she hadn’t come to New York, if she hadn’t been searching for something that she shouldn’t have been, this wouldn’t be happening either. But then again, if she hadn’t come, it would be Caycee here right now, suffering. The thought pained her more than it should. Why should she care about what Caycee felt? She opened her eyes to see Ben staring at her.
“I love her, you know.” He paused, taking a deep breath through his nostrils and then closed his eyes. “I’ve loved her for years.” But I never thought … I never would have guessed that Sheila would do this. She doesn’t even love me. She hasn’t loved me for years; maybe she’s never loved me. I don’t know, I just … I’m sorry …”
Jaynee felt immediate compassion. He was wrong. Caycee was wrong. She knew that, but she could see that he did love her.
“So, why are we here?” Jaynee asked, hoping he would know what his deranged wife wanted.
Ben took in a deep breath and then his breathing became erratic. He tried to relax, to calm his breathing, but couldn’t seem to manage it.
“Ben, are you asthmatic?” She struggled for something to do, but there was nothing. He shook his head, but the heavy gasps for breath continued. “Ben, listen to me. Breathe in, only through your nose, hold for a few seconds, and then push it back out through your nose.” He did as she instructed, and after a few seconds, he seemed to calm down. “There, better?”
He nodded as tears filled his eyes.
“Ben? What does your wife want?” She tried to be firm, but her voice quivered.
“She …” he broke off, his voice barely audible through his tears and gasps for air. “She set up everything as if I kidnapped Caycee. She researched the cabin under my name. She called me when I went to your house the other night and just hung on the line, so they would know I was there. I had left a message telling you I was on my way. She said she removed the recorder … to give herself more
time, but she’ll use it as evidence, and she left other clues to make it look as though I’d abducted you and —”
“And … what?” she asked, her anger piquing.
“She wants me to kill you. If I don’t, she’ll bring Tyler here and make it look as if I killed him too.”
“Tyler?”
“My son … my fifteen-year-old son.” His head fell into his hands. “I can’t do it, Caycee. I could never hurt you; I love you, but my son …”
“My name is Jaynee.”
He gazed up, then, his eyes still glassy. “You look so much like her. I’ve never seen twins who look so identical. Your eyes … they’re exactly the same shade. I could never hurt her. I could never hurt you. How could Sheila do this?”
Jaynee felt uncomfortable by his closeness, the way he was looking at her. “We’ll make it through, Ben. My husband will find me. Caycee will lead him to us.”
***
Sheila pulled back into her garage, fuming. They were together now. She’d always known that Caycee was conniving. She’d spent years flaunting herself in front of Ben, knowing if she kept picking up men that Ben would eventually be so jealous that he would go back to her.
She also knew her time was up. Tyler was fifteen. Ben wouldn’t feel the need to stay any longer. She knew without a doubt that he was the only reason he’d stayed with her all these years. The reason that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t be intimate with him. Every time she tried, she pictured the two of them together.
This was his fault; he would have to get over Caycee for them to ever work, if they were ever to be a family again. She truly wished it were possible. That he would honestly return to her and love her the way he once had.
***
Corey watched as Sheila drove back into her parking garage. Ben had not shown up. She’d been gone when he’d arrived this morning and was just now returning hours later.
Ben certainly wasn’t coming back while she was here, so he’d have to return tonight after work. He was running late already. He mostly kept eight to six hours, unless there was a homicide when he was on call. Uniformed officers secured most of the scenes, and then the ME collected evidence. He did all the follow-up, the knocking on doors, the real investigative work for weeks on end. Most cases were easy to solve. The murders in the area of the city where he worked generally consisted of drug deals gone bad, hookers being used like animals, then beaten and killed, and the occasional jilted lover.
Caycee had always been his release. He didn’t have time for a real love interest, and his world-view had become colder and harder with every case he worked. He’d built-up a beautiful relationship in his mind with Caycee, a love that no man or woman could ever live up to, he knew, but it was better than attempting to have a real relationship. Every woman he met tried to get him to talk about his work, as if he wanted to relive it when he got home.
So instead of finding an actual relationship, he’d stopped dating altogether and focused his thoughts on what they could become one day. Now it was over, and he felt as if he’d truly lost the love of his life.
He pulled into the parking garage of the police department and weaved his way through the cubicles to the break room for coffee before he had to confront his sergeant. He could tell her he’d been on a stakeout, but then she’d want to know which case. He couldn’t admit to her or anyone that he was investigating the disappearance of an entertainer from years ago.
A Styrofoam cup of black mud in his hand, he slumped into his chair, grateful that the entire floor of detectives seemed consumed with some stupid YouTube video. Practically every officer on the floor, male and female, hovered around a detective who worked in fraud.
“They got nothing,” Turner, one of the detectives in Auto Theft, announced as he walked by.
Cindy, a rape detective, strolled next to him; of course, they’d been together quite often lately. “Just another star who has too much money,” she said. “Hollywood … I wish they’d stay there. We have enough trouble dealing with the freaks in New York without having to chase after disappearing starlets.”
Their comments piqued Corey’s interest in what everyone was watching. It would be something to take his mind off things anyway. He made his way to Horton’s desk. He’d been one of the first detectives Corey had met when he moved here from L.A. Most of the officers resented the fact that he’d moved up so quickly, coming from the outside, but being a detective from L.A. carried its own weight. Horton had been one of the few who’d accepted him, since he’d been an outsider as well. His father and grandfather hadn’t worked here before him.
Corey peeked around the partition, noticing the screen was back on his calendar. “Hey, Paul … what’s all the fuss?”
Horton glanced over his shoulder. “Oh, hey, Corey. My new case … came over from missing persons. A real hottie.” He moved his mouse and clicked on a different tab. “Check out this video. It’s been a while, but trust me, I’ve seen her recent pic and she still looks good.”
Corey waited for the YouTube video to boot up, an empty feeling in his gut. Then, she was there. He knew the video well. It was Caycee in Daytona Beach on her first tour. Corey owned the actual store-bought DVD of the entire album; it’d come with a CD of the same songs.
He raised an eyebrow when Horton turned for his reaction.
The detective reached out and smacked him on the leg. “So what does this have to do with me, you ask? The babe goes missing a few days ago, someone anonymously calls it in, says they saw someone drag her out of her building. Only, there’re no signs of a struggle in her apartment. Missing Persons did a few checks, just to see where she’s been, where she might show up.” He shrugged as if he understood Corey’s who cares reaction. “She has two residences … not that that is strange, but one is under Caycee Jaynee Evans and the other is under Caycee Jaynee Monroe. She’s a musician in New York and a writer under the name of Jaynee Jordan in North Carolina.”
“So …” Corey inserted, prompting him to finish. “Strange, but certainly not against the law. How does that constitute fraud?” Corey asked.
Horton raised his own cup of mud, then gestured for Corey to sit. Always animated, he enjoyed talking with Corey about his cases. “It gets better. Monday, she got on a plane to North Carolina, but there’s no record of her return, and yet, she placed a call from her house Monday night, ordered a pizza that she didn’t accept delivery of, and then bam … Tuesday she’s called in as a missing person. But, this is where it gets bizarre. Last night she flew in from Charlotte at midnight.” Paul paused for effect. “Obviously she’s not a missing person; it’s just unusual. The captain wasn’t sure what to do with it, but thinks there must be some deception involved, so it wound up in fraud.”
Corey didn’t offer that it was her twin sister. How would he know that? Why wouldn’t they have discovered that tidbit? But why would they have the same name, well, almost the same name. In New York, she went by her maiden name. Did her husband know how she lived? Wait … she couldn’t have a husband … He’d seen her almost every night for the last year since moving to New York. So it was fraud … they were using the same names?
Corey needed to look at the file, see if he could find out any additional information. “So, what are you gonna do? Are you going after her?”
Horton lifted his hands. “Go after her for what? I don’t know what the captain’s thinking. So she lives in two different states, has two different jobs. The only way there’s a crime here, is if she is married in both states and committing bigamy. Which I already checked; she’s not.”
Corey wanted to laugh at that, knowing the entire male portion of the office would have been in Paul’s cubicle if that were the case. Instead, he felt a twinge of relief that nothing showed Caycee was married, even though her sister was. “So, what are you gonna do?”
“Hold onto it a few days, investigate a little, make sure I don’t dig up that some woman is using her name, but I looked up the author’s pic and the reco
rding artist … they’re definitely the same chick.”
Corey nodded and stood. “Cool. Let me know how it turns out.” He smacked the detective on the back and walked back to his desk. Horton would go to lunch and then he’d get the file. He’d do his own investigating now that he knew where the file was and didn’t have to run any searches on his computer. He’d use Horton’s PC. More than likely, the older detective wouldn’t shut it down when he left for lunch.
Chapter Twenty-Five
(Caycee)
Jordan had lifted Caycee onto the bed after she’d collapsed, after he’d realized she wasn’t faking.
She’d been in real pain and then had dropped in front of him. As much as he wanted to hate her, he couldn’t. She was right. She looked, spoke, walked, acted, and even smelled like Jaynee. He’d purposely tried to ignore her through their entire trip. Every time she touched him, it sent a shockwave through his body and then the guilt, the culpability that he’d betrayed his wife.
How could this have happened? He hadn’t believed it for a second. The fake Caycee had somehow manipulated this entire situation. More than likely she was a deranged fan who’d had the money and wherewithal to change her entire appearance. The question was, why? And of course, she knew things that she shouldn’t. She could have forced them out of Jaynee, but he didn’t think she could have rattled them off as quickly and as smoothly as she had last night.
He knew when someone was lying to him. His training as a detective was one reason, but he’d always been adept at discerning motives. And though he’d had his doubts over many things over the past few days, it was clear that she’d been telling the truth when she explained what was happening. Or, at least she thought she was telling the truth. So, was his wife crazy? Had she gone insane?
He searched again for the scar he’d seen a hundred times in the last thirteen years, but found nothing. No scar on her forehead and nothing under her ear.
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