Sibs

by F. Paul Wilson

Jill smiled and together they watched the end of her movie.

  ▼

  9:30 P.M.

  Kara headed back to Kelly's apartment early. She was tired. On the way she went over the morning's session with Dr. Gates. He had been his usual remote self, sitting behind his desk, twirling his key chain and contributing little more than a few noncommittal grunts while she free associated about her childhood. The whole thing seemed like an exercise in futility. But no doubt everyone thought that at first.

  Patience, Kara, she told herself. Patience.

  But she knew patience had never been her strong suit. She tended to want results yesterday, if not sooner.

  She thought she had seen a slight reaction in Dr. Gates when she told him of her tentative plans to move the therapy to Philadelphia if things continued as smoothly as they had since Monday. It hadn't been much of a reaction. The slightest lifting of the eyebrows, the slightest down-turning of the mouth. Nothing more. Perhaps it had been her imagination. Perhaps she had simply wanted to see him react.

  Two more nights, she told herself as she slipped the key into the vestibule's inner door.

  She had promised herself that if the next two nights proved uneventful, she would abandon Kelly's apartment and begin sleeping at Ellen's. That would be easier for herself, and especially better for Jill.

  As she turned the key, she glanced at the row of mailboxes to her right. She noticed the envelopes through the window of the 2C/K. Wade box.

  Probably bills.

  Which reminded her of Ed Bannion's offer to help her become administrator of Kelly's estate. It was sounding better all the time. Good to know that a seed of kindness you had planted while alive could reap benefits after you were dead. Even in New York.

  Kara wondered where the mailbox key was. Probably on Kelly's key ring which was still in the personal effects—evidence bag at the Midtown North precinct house.

  As she entered the apartment she realized that she no longer felt like some sort of graverobber whenever she walked through the door. She was getting used to it. She was almost comfortable here.

  She hid the apartment key in the same place as the other night—in the rear of the oven—and then made a quick search for the mailbox key. No luck. She'd ask the super for a duplicate in the morning.

  As she toweled herself off after her shower, she realized that she hadn't heard from Rob all day, which was a bit strange. But he had said he was loaded down with work.

  She sat on the edge of the bed and debated taking the Halcion tonight. What if she didn't really need it.

  Don't be a jerk. Take it as directed. Kelly didn't and look what happened to her.

  Kara swallowed one and turned out the light.

  ▼

  11:44 P.M.

  Ed Bannion stood in the lobby of the Waldorf shaking hands with the very tanned Murray Weiss and Jay Delano, accepting their thanks for a wonderful dinner and wishing them in turn a safe flight back to the coast in the morning. Weiss and Delano were producing a feature that was to be shot entirely on location in Manhattan and this had been one of many trips to firm up budgets and leases and contracts and permits and the myriad legal documents necessary for a location shoot.

  They were turning in early tonight—they had an early flight out of JFK tomorrow.

  The three of them had started off first thing this morning and crunched numbers all day long. After that it was drinks and a long leisurely dinner at Le Cirque with three wines and after-dinner cordials. Ed was feeling loggy. They seemed fine.

  Different metabolism. Or because they were still on L.A. time. That had to be it.

  As Weiss and Delano headed for the elevators, Ed glanced past them and caught sight of a familiar blond haircut just entering an elevator; it belonged to a slim, shapely woman in a leather mini. She was on the arm of a swarthy man wearing a business suit and a turban. Ed froze for a moment. She looked just like Kelly Wade—no, Kara Wade!

  And then the elevator doors closed.

  Ed shook his head to clear it. He felt dizzy, frightened. It was like seeing a ghost. Too many after-dinner snifters of Irish Mist. That was it. The liquor was affecting his vision.

  He turned and hurried outside for a cab.

  February 19

  11:40 A.M.

  Kara made it back to Kelly's apartment before Ed showed up.

  Another good morning, right from the start: bright sunshine, the apartment key just where she had left it, and no writing on walls or mirrors. She'd had breakfast with Jill, tutored her in math and reading, and had a nice long talk with Ellen.

  She had vague memories of another sex dream. Only tiny, tantalizing fragments remained… a Hindu… all sorts of weird positions…

  She wondered if it was the Halcion.

  And once again she was left with the vague impression that Dr. Gates had been there. Not visible, not a participant in the dream, but there.

  She guessed that wasn't so unusual. Dreams were supposed to be subconscious rehashing of the day's events. She'd had a session with Dr. Gates yesterday, and he was playing an important role in her life right now, so it wasn't surprising he'd be a presence in her dreams.

  But where had the Hindu come in?

  As she passed the mailboxes in the vestibule, she noticed that Kelly's seemed even fuller than last night. She'd asked the super about a key earlier this morning and he said he'd get her a replacement—for five dollars. Fine. She'd paid him.

  Back in the apartment now, she found that a small envelope had been slipped under the door. It was the new mailbox key.

  At that moment the buzzer from the vestibule rang. It was Ed. Instead of buzzing him in, she went down to meet him. She had to get the mail anyway.

  Ed was looking dapper in a Burberry coat and a cashmere scarf. His brown hair was slightly windblown but otherwise he looked perfectly put together. He carried a slim briefcase that appeared to be polished cordovan leather.

  "You're looking great!" he said with a smile as she opened the vestibule door.

  "A bit of an exaggeration," she said, "but thanks anyway."

  She felt shabby in her jeans and sweater, but she hadn't taken much time to pack on Monday morning. Her mind hadn't been on her wardrobe.

  Ed held the door for her while she opened Kelly's mailbox and pulled out a stack of envelopes.

  "Bills?" Ed said as they headed for the stairs.

  Kara took a quick look at the return addresses.

  "That's the way it looks."

  "Then I'm just in time. Legalman to the rescue."

  Kara gave him a smile. He was trying very hard to be nice.

  In the apartment he set his briefcase on the floor and said, "Want to have lunch first and then get to the paperwork?"

  "Why don't we—"

  Kara stopped when she spotted Dr. Gates' return address on one of the envelopes. She pulled it out and stared at it.

  "What's the matter?" Ed said.

  "This envelope…"

  Dr. Gates' name was on the return address sticker in the upper left corner, a West 21st Street address. Probably his home. But the rest was strange. It was a Consolidated Edison payment return envelope, but the Con Ed address had been heavily scratched out with pencil and the address of Kelly's apartment written below it. But even stranger was the new addressee.

  "… it's addressed to me."

  It wasn't sealed. The flap had been torn open and then tucked back inside. Within was an electric bill, folded around a check. Kara was baffled.

  "What on earth—?"

  "There's writing on the back," Ed said, pointing to the reverse of the bill.

  Kara turned it over and stared at the hasty scrawl. She felt her throat constricting as she read.

  Kara Wade—

  Get away from Dr. Gates, as far away as you can. He takes over your body while you sleep and uses it for his own pleasures. You cannot fight him. Run far away or you will end up like your sister. RUN!!!!

  Kara felt as if the temperature in the apa
rtment had plummeted forty degrees. Gooseflesh broke out along her arms. She shook her head in wonder. "This is the craziest thing I've ever seen." And it was precisely because it was so very crazy that it bothered her so. Some nut knew her name and address, and knew she was one of Dr. Gates' patients. Great. This was just what she needed.

  But worse than that—the words struck a responsive chord within her—as if she had half suspected the same thing. She shivered.

  Ed reached for it. "May I?"

  His brow furrowed as he read it. He looked up at her, questioningly.

  "What's this all about?"

  "Dr. Gates was Kelly's psychiatrist. I've had a few sessions with him myself, lately. I haven't the faintest idea who this is from, but I'd assume it's one of his patients."

  "Yeah. But why write on the back of an electric bill?"

  "I don't know, but I'm going to find out."

  "The police?"

  "Right. This mentions Kelly."

  With a trembling finger, she dialed Rob's number at Midtown North. While the phone was ringing, she looked at Ed and noticed that he seemed strangely tense all of a sudden.

  ▼

  Ed thrust his suddenly sweaty palms into his coat pockets.

  The police! Couldn't he ever come here without the police getting involved?

  He went to the table and picked up the electric bill again.

  And this! Were these twins a magnet for madness? He takes over your body and uses it for his own pleasures. What kind of craziness was that?

  Kara spoke a few words into the phone and then hung up.

  "Rob's not in, but I left a message for him to call when he gets back."

  Thank God for small favors.

  He wanted to change the subject.

  "Speaking of craziness," he said, "I was in the Waldorf late last night and I saw someone who looked exactly like you. Was it you?"

  "Afraid not. I went to bed early."

  "Yeah. I didn't think it was you. Didn't dress like you. Had this red leather miniskirt on, black stockings."

  She stared at him. "What was I… I mean she, doing?"

  "She was getting into an elevator with some towel-head."

  "Towel-head?"

  "Yeah. You know, a guy with a turban. Some sort of Indian or Hindu character."

  He smiled at her but she didn't smile back. Instead, the color slowly drained from her face.

  "What's wrong, Kara?"

  She didn't answer. Instead she ran into the bedroom. Ed followed at a discreet distance and stood in the doorway. He watched in amazement as Kara darted about the room like a madwoman, turning over the two night stands one after the other and searching the spaces beneath. Next she went to the big dresser and pulled out the bottom drawer. Her anguished cry drew him into the room.

  "Are you okay?"

  She was down on her knees before the dresser. She had something red clutched against her chest. She looked up at him with a look that Ed instantly recognized—the same helpless, tortured look that he'd seen on her sister's face before she went through the window at the Plaza.

  "Sweet Jesus!" he said. "What's wrong?"

  With tears glistening in her eyes, she held up something red, something leather. He didn't know what it was. Just then the phone rang. She dropped the red leather thing and ran into the front room. He could hear her on the phone, talking to "Rob," asking him to get over here as soon as he could.

  It took him a moment but he finally recognized the red leather thing lying at his feet. It was a miniskirt.

  ▼

  Rob stared at the note scrawled on the back of the Con Ed bill. It was rank insanity. His skin crawled at the thought of what kind of mind had dreamed this up— and then addressed it to Kara.

  "This is scary stuff."

  "You're telling me!"

  Kara looked spooked. Her eyes had a haunted, hunted look as she sat at the table and twisted her hands together. Ed the Lawyer had scooted off as soon as Rob had showed, all but falling over himself in his hurry to get out the door, leaving behind some papers for Kara to sign, saying he'd pick them up some other time.

  Something about that guy…

  "But that's not the worst of it!" Kara said. She held up a leather miniskirt, a pair of black panty house, and a black ruffled blouse. "Look at this!"

  After Ed had left, she had told Rob about her dream, and what Ed had said about spotting her last night with somebody wearing a turban.

  "Maybe you missed it when you cleaned things out the other night," Rob said, not believing it himself. Oh no, not after his Tuesday night with Kara. How could he?

  "I didn't miss it, Rob. I threw out every sleazy thing I found. This was not under the dresser when I turned in Monday night!"

  He could see she was getting more upset.

  "Okay, okay. Take it easy. I was just trying to offer an alternative explanation."

  Her expression was bleak. "Rob, what's happening to me?"

  "I don't know. And I don't know how to help you. But I'll do anything I can. You know that." He tapped his finger on the Con Ed bill. "I do know I can do something about this, though."

  "What?"

  "Show it to the guy whose return address is on the envelope."

  With Kara along, Rob drove back to the precinct house. Handling them by the edges, he xeroxed the check, the front of the envelope, and both sides of the bill. Then he sealed each of the three in clear plastic evidence envelopes.

  "I'll get them dusted for prints as soon as possible. That'll be a futile exercise with the envelope, what with all the people who've handled it legitimately since it was mailed, but the bill may yield something useful."

  Kara only nodded. Her mind seemed elsewhere.

  "I want your prints, too."

  "Why?"

  "To eliminate them. You handled the letter. Even if we don't get a single print off it, that note will still be useful in keeping your sister's case open."

  "Really?" Some interest began to show in her eyes. Good.

  "Sure. The part about how you'll 'end up like your sister' can be construed as a threat to you, plus it implies foul play in Kelly's death."

  "Do you think it's a threat?"

  "No. I think it's meant as a warning. There's a screwed up mind out there that knows something about Kelly's death—or things it knows something—and has sent you a warning. I don't think he means you any harm."

  " 'He'? How do you know it's a he?"

  Rob handed her the xerox of the note.

  "Doesn't that look like a man's handwriting?"

  She nodded. "I guess so."

  He snapped his fingers. "I ought to submit this for handwriting analysis. That could be real interesting. But for the moment, we're going to see how the esteemed Dr. Gates reacts to this."

  Kara was watching him closely.

  "You're really looking forward to that, aren't you?"

  Rob grinned, unable to suppress the gleeful anticipation rising through him.

  "Are you kidding?" he said. "I can hardly wait."

  ▼

  1:57 P.M.

  "Ask the doctor to squeeze us in between appointments," Rob told the receptionist.

  Her tone was dubious. "I'll see what I can do."

  Rob gave her his best and strongest tough cop stare. "Do. It's a police matter. Very important." They sat in the waiting room with one other person, an attractive woman of about twenty-five. Rob watched her read a magazine and nibble steadily at her already well-chewed fingernails. When the current appointment exited the consultation room, Rob nudged Kara and rose to his feet. He headed for the inner room door without waiting for the receptionist's okay. "Just a minute, sir—" she began.

  Rob ignored her. He didn't want to give Gates time to set himself up. He wanted to catch him off guard and keep him that way. Maybe the doctor would let something slip.

  "Dr. Gates," he said, marching up to the desk and looking down at him, "we have a new development in the Kelly Wade case. I need to question you
about it."

  "I resent this intrusion, Detective Harris," he said, appearing properly indignant. "Certainly this could have waited until after hours."