Dead Ringer (22 page)

"I'm
paralyzed, Carnie. I've always been able to make decisions. Now I can hardly
decide which pair of shoes to wear, let alone who should raise my child."

"This
situation is difficult even in the best of times. Toss in a bucket of hormones
and it's that much harder. Ease up on yourself."

"Do
you have kids?"

A
bit of light faded from her eyes. "No." She sighed. "As I told you, I'm
adopted. My past is a huge mystery.
Having a baby just feels
like genetic roulette to me."
She offered a wan smile. "It was a big
issue for my husband and
I
. He wanted lots of kids. We
divorced over it."

Nicole's
back ached and her breasts felt like melons. "I'm sorry to hear that. Do you
think my baby will feel this way?"

"My
adoption was closed. Yours is going to be an open adoption. Your baby will know
how to find you. My guess is that you'll be good with sharing information when
the time comes."

Nicole
smoothed her hand over her belly.
"Of course."

Carnie
studied Nicole. "Can you tell me about your baby's father?"

Nicole
stiffened. Even now, talking about Richard sent a bolt of fear through her. He
was dead, couldn't hurt her. But an illogical part of her brain whispered that
he could somehow return from the grave and harm her. "I figured you read the
papers last summer."

"I
did. But I want to hear it from you."

Nicole
straightened, annoyed at her fear. "My husband, Richard, was the most romantic
man I'd ever met when he first strolled into my photography studio.
So charming.
So handsome.
So funny."

She
dropped her gaze to her thumbnail and studied the rough cuticles. Richard would
have been furious if he had seen her right now. For an instant, fear tightened
her chest and she had to remind herself that he was dead.
Gone.

"After
we married everything slowly started to change. He started monitoring my cell
phone calls and e-mails. He'd drop in at work and insist I have lunch with him.
And then he began hitting me."

Carnie
traced the rim of her cup. "I'm sorry."

So
was she. "He started to hit me more and more. The last time was the worst. He..."
She stopped, still not able to put the event into words. Counseling had helped
enough that she could say the word. "He raped me. The baby was conceived then."

Carnie's
face tightened with sadness. "I can't imagine what you've been through."

"I
ran here to Richmond. I moved in with my friend Lindsay O'Neil and she hid me.
The rest was covered by the papers. Richard found us.
Nearly
killed Lindsay."
Nicole's heart rate quickened. The baby kicked. "So
here I am unable to love the child growing in my belly."

"You
can't say that you don't love this baby. You're bringing it into the world.
You're seeing a doctor and you want the best for the child. You're more
maternal than you realize."

"So
why do I just want this damn pregnancy over with? I want my career to get
restarted. I want my life back!"

Carnie
smiled. "That's very normal, Nicole. My partner is pregnant with her fourth,
and she's ready to jump out of her skin. All she can talk about is seeing her
toes again and sleeping on her stomach."

"So
I'm normal?"

"You're
very normal."

The
tension eased from her chest and she was able to sip her tea. "Thanks, Carnie."
She glanced at the profiles, still not ready to decide.

"Sleep
on it. Another day or two won't matter."

That made her feel
better. "Thanks." She checked her
watch. "I've got to run. I have an appointment to take pictures of a couple and
their dog. All three are wearing matching red sweaters."

Carnie
laughed. "Sure."

Nicole
grabbed her coat and purse and headed out. When she stepped out the front door,
the cold hit her across the face. She turned up her collar and fished her keys
out of her pocket. She hurried down the sidewalk and climbed into her car.
Breath puffed from her mouth. She stuck the key in the ignition and turned on
the engine. Then she turned the heat on full blast. For several minutes it blew
cold air. Her toes felt numb. She glanced in her rearview mirror. Someone had
written a message on her back windshield. The roughly scrawled letters were
backward and hard to read. She got out and waddled around to the back of the
car.

Written
in the frost was
Hi
.

Most
likely a kid had written it.
Much like "Wash Me" or some
other nonsensical statement.

But
it reminded her of something Richard would do in the early days.
A simple gesture that no one but her would ever see as a threat.
It had been his way of letting her know he was following her.
Tracking her.

A
chill passed down her spine. She stared at the word until the back window
defroster melted it from sight.

Allen
sat at the small workbench. An overhead light shone down on the large
magnifying glass. He rubbed his dry eyes and stared at the tiny gold oval
pendant. With engraver's tools, he carefully started to write the first letter.
He added an extra swirl to the
R
, paying close attention to the loop at
the end of the letter. His engraving skills were expert.

His
first charms, way back in the beginning, had been crude and sloppy. Like a
child's. But he'd been a child in so many respects then. It had taken years to
hone his skills. He'd started preparing for this moment in Alaska, the frozen
land where he'd fled to so long ago to escape the demons. He'd thought that up
there he could begin anew. But the demons had followed.

The
first woman in Anchorage who had caught his attention had flowing black hair
like
Her
. The woman had been a waitress. The first
hint of winter--Termination Dust, snow on the distant mountains that encased the
city around the bay--had arrived. The wind had been blowing and the air
possessed a chill like nothing he'd felt before.

For
one moment he'd stopped short, his breath frozen in his chest as he'd watched
her. The hair had reminded him of the woman he'd loved and despised.

The
woman's skin wasn't smooth or pale. It was olive and pockmarked. And she didn't
smell like fresh peaches, but of old cooking grease.

But
her hair had captivated him. It had allowed him to pretend that she was someone
else.

After
he'd paid for his meal he'd waited across the street in the cold for her shift
to end. He'd waited for nearly three hours.

When
she emerged bundled in a parka and smoking a cigarette, he had watched her move
down the street to a lot where her car was parked.

She
was unlocking the door to her beat-up VW Bug when she'd seen him. He'd smiled,
slid his trembling hands into his pants pockets.

Pale
moonlight had washed over her face. "Who are you?"

"Sorry,"
he'd said, careful to keep his body relaxed. "I saw you in the restaurant.
Waiting tables.
I thought you were someone I knew."

She'd
frowned
her distrust. "I don't know you."

His
gaze had slid to her slim neck, where he imagined he saw the throb of her pulse
in the hollow. "My name is Jack." That had been a lie. He'd not given his real
name in so long. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Allen
had kept his posture relaxed and dropped his gaze before raising it again. He'd
wanted her relaxed so he could get closer. He'd just wanted to touch the soft
skin of her neck.

The
woman had remained suspicious. She'd unlocked her car door and tossed her purse
inside. "It's fine. Have a good night."

She'd
started to lower herself into the front seat. He'd clenched his fists in his
pockets. He hadn't wanted her to leave. Not yet. "Hey, can you suggest a good
place to stay tonight?
Someplace not too expensive."

She'd
shrugged. "There's a motel at the edge of the city. It's called Trail's End.
Low prices.
Fairly clean."

He'd
edged a few steps closer. "Thanks. Now, which way do I head out the main road
to get there? I still get turned around here."

Impatience
had darkened her eyes. She'd gotten in the car and closed the door.
Dismissing him.
Rejecting him.
An
old rage that had lain dormant inside him had flickered and caught fire. In
seconds, it had rumbled inside him.

She'd
fumbled for her ignition key.

He'd
forced a smile and knocked on the glass. To keep her calm, he'd stepped back.

"Hey,
I'm sorry to keep bothering you, but I still don't know how to get there from
here."

She'd
rolled down the window, feeling more relaxed now that she had the car to
protect her. "Just follow this road. You can't miss it."

"Right, thanks."
He'd watched as she turned her attention to
the keys in her hand.

Bitch.
How dare she? He was trying to be nice.

With
her attention distracted, he'd lunged toward the car and grabbed hold of her
neck, her pulse throbbing under his calloused fingers.

Her
gaze had shot up to him, panic glistening. A surge of desire had shot through
him and he'd squeezed harder. She'd dropped her keys and reached up to his hand
trying to pry his hands from her neck and clawing at his skin.

The
pain had pissed him off and he'd squeezed harder, making her cough. Tears had
rolled down her face. He'd never felt more powerful than he did at that moment.
Then the life had drained from her eyes.

She'd
passed out. He'd opened her door and lifted her out of the car. He'd put her in
the back bed of his truck and covered her with a tarp before driving back to
his place in the woods.

For
sixty-two days he'd kept her. Those had been good times. And then the day had
come to send her home. He'd strangled her and left her body in the woods for
the animals.

Allen's
mind refocused on the charm in front of him. The engraver's tools shook in his
unsteady hands. Even now the memory had the power to excite him.

He
blinked and stared through the magnifying glass at the charm. He drew in deep
breaths and tried to calm himself, but he couldn't. His hands weren't steady
enough to finish the work tonight.

"It's
okay. There's still time. No rush."

He
studied the
R
. He smiled.

"Rachel
isn't going anywhere."

Wednesday, January 16, 1:30
P.M.

Kendall
pulled into traffic and ten minutes later was crossing the Huguenot Bridge,
which took her to the south side of town, where her parents and she had lived.
Gray, overcast clouds hovered above as she turned into the neighborhood that
had been built fifty years ago.

Each
house was different from the one next to it, a sign that the houses had been
built individually over time, rather than all at once by a single developer,
like the newer neighborhoods. The yards were large and the trees tall with
thick trunks.

She
found the mailbox that had
THORNTON
on it and pulled into the gravel driveway. Her heart pounded in her
chest as she stared at the tri-level. The winter sky dulled the house's white
color, making it look tired and worn. Boxwoods and a pine tree offered a touch
of color in garden beds that were otherwise stripped of greenery.

Kendall
got out of the car and crossed the uneven slate sidewalk to a set of steps that
led to the front door. She climbed the steps and rang the bell. Seconds passed
and there was no sound. For a moment she thought Mrs. Thornton hadn't heard her
and she was tempted to ring the bell a second time. She smoothed damp hands
over her skirt.

Then
the lace curtains covering a large picture window to her left fluttered.
Seconds after that the door opened.

Standing
in the doorway was a tall, heavyset elderly woman who was wearing wire-rimmed
glasses. A gray pageboy framed her round face. She greeted Kendall with a wide
grin. "Kendall Shaw. You are a sight for sore eyes."

Kendall
smiled. "Mrs. Thornton."

The
screened door creaked open. "You call me Jenny. Now get yourself in here out of
that cold."

Kendall
stepped over the threshold and was greeted by a rush of very warm air. The
house smelled of mothballs and fried eggs. "Thank you for seeing me."

Jenny
closed the front door and motioned for Kendall to sit on a couch covered with
an afghan. "You could have knocked me over with a feather when you called. Can
I get you anything to eat or drink?"

"No.
No. I'm fine." Kendall sat.

Jenny
eased into a wing chair across from her. "I'm sorry I never made your mother's
funeral. I was in the hospital then."

"The
flowers you sent were very nice." She tried not to let her impatience show, but
it was a struggle to make small talk. "I hope you're feeling better."

"I
am. Thank you for asking." She grinned. "But you didn't come here to talk to an
old lady about her heart."

Kendall
shook her head, relieved by her directness. "No. I came to talk about my mom
and my adoption."

Jenny
swallowed. "Irene and I used to be such good friends. I never thought we'd ever
not be friends, but when she moved across the river we just lost touch."

"Why
did she move?"

"She
said she and your dad liked the schools over there better." Jenny shook her
head. "There was more to it than that, but when I pressed her, Irene wouldn't
say." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a stack of photos. "I dug
these out right after you called."

Kendall
accepted the pictures. The images were of Kendall and her mother. Kendall
couldn't have been more than three. Irene was beaming, but the toddler in her
arms was frowning and staring off into the distance as if lost.

"I
took those."

Kendall
felt as if she held a precious link to her past. She traced the outline of the
child Irene held. "Why do I look so sad?"

Jenny
shifted as if she wasn't sure how to answer. "I don't know. You were very
clingy and fretful those first weeks with Irene. She said you cried a lot and
would have terrible tantrums."

She
scooted to the edge of her seat. "Can you tell me anything about my birth
family? I've been to the adoption agency, but a search is going to take months,
possibly years. Did Mom say anything?"

"Your
mom and dad had tried for years to have children. Did your mom ever tell you
about the baby she had long before you were born?"

Kendall
shook her head. "No."

"Irene
had a baby when she was twenty.
Just a year before she
married your dad.
It was born out of wedlock. She said the baby died of
a heart problem days after it was born. She never could get pregnant again."

Kendall
glanced at the picture of a much younger Irene. There was no hint of sadness in
her smiling eyes. "I never knew."

"It
broke her heart, not having a child. She wanted to adopt but your dad didn't.
She worked on him for years to change his mind. Finally, he gave in and they
submitted their paperwork. They thought it would be years before a baby would
become available, and then out of the blue they got a call in the middle of the
night about a little girl who needed fostering. They went right then and there
and got you." Jenny smiled. "I'd never seen your mom so happy. And your daddy,
despite his misgivings, was as pleased as punch."

"Where
did I come from?"

"Your
mom never did say. She said it was best to leave the past buried."

Kendall's
hopes dashed. "She never told you anything?"

"Well,
I do know you came from someplace close."

"Why
do you say that?"

"Your
mom called me before she left to go get you. Said they'd gotten 'the call.'
That was around midnight. They were back by the next morning. That's when I
took that picture of Irene holding you."

"And
Mom never said anything about my birth family. I was three. I had to have spent
some time with my birth family."

Jenny
pressed her hands to her lips as she seemed to force her mind to the past. "I
remember you were wearing a little blue dress, white socks, and brown lace-up
shoes. There was a stain on the dress. Irene threw it out."

"Do
you know what it was stained with?"

"No."

"And
you smelled like apples and cinnamon."

Kendall
clung to the details as if they were precious gems.

"I
asked Irene a few times about where you came from. She was very tight-lipped
about it. And then out of the blue, Irene announced that you three were moving
across the river. I remember she seemed rattled when she told me you all were
leaving. Within two weeks the house was sold and you three were gone."

Irene
Shaw had been one of the most levelheaded, practical people she'd ever known.
Picking up and moving wouldn't have been like her.

"Do
you have any idea what rattled Mom so badly?"

Jenny
leaned forward. "I was sitting on the back porch. It was winter, but I was
having hot flashes back then." She smiled. "You're too young to know about that
yet. Anyway, your mom and dad were on their back porch. They didn't see me. I
heard them talking about you. Your mom had gotten a call that day and it scared
her. She was worried for your safety. Your dad was worried too."

"Did
they say anything else?"

"No.
But they weren't the kind of people who spooked easily."

Kendall's
frustration showed on her face.

Jenny
nodded. "I got the impression that the call was about your family.
Your
other
family."

She
eased forward on her chair.
"My birth family?"

"Yes."

"Do
you know who called?"

"No.
Irene never mentioned the call to me. But she kept talking about
him
.
Whoever that is."

Kendall
glanced down at the photo taken of her as a child.
What had scared Mom so
badly?

It
was nearly midnight when Kendall pulled into her garage.

Earlier,
she'd made it to the station with time to spare, but her thoughts had been
distracted. She'd mispronounced a name on air and fumbled as she'd struggled to
get it right. Kendall had never messed up a name before.

She
blamed the mistake on her own wandering thoughts. She kept replaying her
conversation with Jenny and found with each rewind she grew more frustrated.

Brett,
thankfully, was cordial and there was no mention of their fight. Of course, he
was too much of a professional to upset her before a broadcast. He'd lower the
boom later, when it suited him.

But
now, she didn't care about that. She was physically and emotionally exhausted.
The air was bitter cold and thick clouds blocked the stars and moon. She shut
off the car engine and grabbed her purse.

Despite
the late hour, her mind was spinning, not with the eleven o'clock broadcast but
with her visits to Carnie and Jenny. She was no closer to finding her birth
family.

She
got out and shuddered against the cold. She couldn't wait to get out of her
heels and make a cup of tea. She clicked the keyless entry and the car beeped,
signaling it was locked.

Kendall's
heels clicked against the garage's concrete floor as she moved toward the door.
A motion sensor light mounted in the garage clicked on and cast a circle of
light fifteen feet around her.

Normally,
she closed the alley door from the inside and left through the door that
connected to her backyard, but it was recycling day and Nicole had promised to
leave the bin out. Now, she needed to grab the bin. Honestly, she didn't want
to fool with it but the last time she'd left one out overnight, it had gotten
pinched. City living.

A
cold wind sliced down the alley and she braced against the blast as she reached
down and picked up the green bin.

As
she turned to cut back through the garage, gravel behind her crunched.
Footsteps sounded. She whirled around, annoyed that she'd not bothered to pull
out her mace.

Standing
in the alleyway was a tall man, well over six feet. He wore a heavy coat, faded
jeans, and work boots. His hands were thrust into his pockets. Shadows covered
his face.

He
moved toward her.

Kendall's
senses went on overload. She dropped the recycling bin and dug her cell out of
her purse. Jacob's comments about her looking like the victims rattled in her
head.

She
dialed 911 and put her thumb on
SEND
. "Whoever the hell you are, sport, the cops are on their way."

The
man pulled his hands out of his pockets and held them up in surrender. "Hey,
lady, don't freak out."

She
ignored him and hit
SEND
, pressing
the phone to her ear as she backed up. Her heel caught a patch of ice and she
slipped. Adrenaline surged as she righted herself. Her heart felt as if it
would burst through her chest.

"Lady,
I'm your new neighbor. I live on the other side of the alley."

Kendall
swallowed and listened as the operator picked up and said, "Nine-one-one operator.
State your emergency."

The
guy inched forward so that she could get a good look at his face. He was a
rugged-looking man, not handsome, but his face would have caught her eye in any
circumstance. Dark hair brushed his collar. There was an edge about him that
whispered danger, but he seemed to be doing his best not to look too
frightening. He smiled, baring even, white teeth.

"I'm
your neighbor. Cole Markham. I've got ID."

"This
is Kendall Shaw. I live at one-oh-two Grove Avenue. I'm in the alley and
there's a strange man."

Markham
let out a sigh and shook his head as if he couldn't believe this. He pulled out
his wallet and from that his driver's license.

The
911 operator said, "We will dispatch a car to you right now."

Kendall
kept her gaze on Markham. "I'd like to stay on the line until I see the squad
car."

"I'll
stay on the line," the operator said.

Markham
held out his hands. "Honestly, lady, I'm your neighbor."

Kendall
lowered the phone away from her mouth. "Explain yourself to the cops."

He
shook his head. "You're making a mistake."

She
tapped her foot. "We'll see."

Seconds
later the flash of blue lights appeared at the alley's entrance. A Richmond
city police car screeched around the corner and down the unpaved lane toward
them. It stopped just feet from Markham.

Kendall
thanked the operator and hung up her phone.

Markham
held up his hands as if to show he was no threat. He faced the squad car.

The
cops got out, hands on their guns, and strode toward Markham.

"Officers,
this is a mistake," Markham said. "I live right here." He nodded his head to
the house on the other side of the alley. "I have ID in my right hand."

One
of the officers nodded. "Slowly, stretch your hand with the ID out to me."

Kendall
glanced at the house behind Markham. Doubt
niggled
her
senses. That house had had a
FOR RENT
sign on it a few weeks ago. Still, everyone in the area knew it. It
would be an easy excuse to toss out. She let the officers do their job.