The Pretender (The Soren Chase Series Book 2) (8 page)

These weren’t crocodile tears, either. Sharon cried in great big, sobbing heaves. It was what Sara had once referred to as an “ugly cry,” complete with snot running down her face.

“You . . . you . . . you are
such
an asshole,” Sharon said. “I came here to talk, and you beat me up.”

Soren and Glen looked at each other. “If you came here to talk, you shouldn’t have started by attacking my partner,” Soren said, nodding at Glen. “You also shouldn’t have killed Audrey Yong and Sharon Lizt.”

“I didn’t kill either of them, you big jerk,” she managed to say among tears.

“Whoa, watch the salty language there,” Glen said. “We may have to wash your mouth out with soap.”

She shot Glen a nasty look. “Can you get me a tissue?” Sharon asked Soren, looking helpless.

Glen found a tissue, and hesitantly approached her.

“No,” Soren said. He handed the stun gun to Glen and took the tissue. “Use this if she makes any sudden moves.”

Soren stepped toward her cautiously and wiped her face. When he got his hand near her nose, she blew a wad of snot onto his hand.

“Son of a bitch,” he yelped.

“You deserve that,” Sharon said. “You are not a nice person!”

Soren threw the tissue away, walked into his office bathroom and washed his hands, keeping the door open so he could see if Sharon suddenly broke free. By the time he got back, Sharon’s tears had been reduced to sniffling.

“We’re running out of time,” she said.

Soren put up a hand to stop her. “First things first,” he said. “You said you didn’t kill the real Sharon. Where is she? Is she in trouble?”

The girl rolled her eyes. “She’s at school, dummy. She doesn’t even know I exist. I snuck into her room last night. And the only threat to her right now is that she really wants Adam to ask her to the winter dance, but I don’t think he’s going to because he’s been talking to Allie a lot, and I think he totally likes her. But Allie’s all hot for Trent because he’s on the lacrosse team, so—”

“I really don’t care,” Soren interrupted. “The point is, if I call the school, she’ll be there?”

“Of course!” Sharon said.

Soren looked at Glen.

“Call the school,” he said. “Make sure she’s telling the truth.”

“What the hell do I tell them?” Glen asked.

“I don’t know; make up something,” Soren said. “Say you’re a police officer checking on Audrey’s friends. Just find out whether she’s in class like she’s supposed to be.”

“Why would I kill Sharon?”

“It’s what pretenders do.”

“
Pfft.
Why are you calling us
that
?” Sharon responded.

“Because that’s what you’re called,” Soren said.

“That’s what
aussenseiter
call us,” Sharon said. “We don’t use that term, which you should know. You do know I can tell that you’re, like, one of us, right? Does your
partner
know that?”

Soren gritted his teeth. The fact that she knew what he was worried him. Was it obvious to them somehow? If so, why had it never come up before? But he didn’t want to let her know she’d struck a nerve. He turned to Glen who was still on hold on the phone.

“Hey, Glen,” Soren said. “I’m really a murderous monster called a pretender. I killed the real Soren Chase and took his place.”

Glen nodded his head distractedly, and flashed a thumbs up.

“I think he’s got it,” Soren said, appreciating the look of surprise on her face when he turned back. “How do you know what I am?”

“Duh. Cause you’re not dead,” Sharon said. “I called the hospitals last night and nobody had heard of you. And here you are, totally fine. So . . . you’re not an aussenseiter
.”

“There are a lot of other creatures that could have survived falling off your car,” Soren replied.

“Maybe, but Soren Chase has a reputation,” Sharon said. “You’re obsessed with us. Oh yeah, we’ve heard of you. We read your blog. Several wanted to kill you, but some of us argued that could make things worse. We just tried to stay away. But you’re like Ahab and the whale; you just won’t leave us alone. That book is really boring, by the way. I have a report due in two weeks on it, and I can’t even finish it. It’s all about tying sailing knots and—”

“Stay focused,” Soren said.

“Anyway, I realized you’re one of us. Which explains why you, like, care so much, you know?”

Soren felt dizzy even trying to follow her train of thought.

“How does it explain it?”

“Because you’re splintered,” she said, sounding almost happy.

Soren leaned forward.

“I’m what?”

“Splintered,” she said. “It happens from time to time, usually with strong personalities. You become somebody and forget who you really are, what you really are. It’s
really
annoying. Been there, done that.”

Soren was stunned. It had never occurred to him that this had happened to other pretenders, much less that there was a word for it. Was this normal for them? Was he going to just one day wake up as Falk again?

“Do your memories come back?” Soren asked, his voice betraying how badly he wanted to know the answer.

“Mine did; your mileage may vary,” Sharon said. “Sometimes, it takes a while. And I totally hate to change the subject, but we’re running out of time. I came here voluntarily. And you aren’t treating me very nice.”

“Well, you did kill Audrey Yong. And you attacked my assistant.”

Sharon rolled her eyes again. “Trust me, that wasn’t an attack,” she said. “I just thought he didn’t know what you were. I figured we needed a little one-on-one talk. And just look at him. He’s fine. And I already told you, I didn’t kill Audrey!”

Soren glanced at Glen, who was still on the phone. His assistant made a little face, rubbing the back of his head, but shrugged. Soren turned to the girl.

“Come on, it can’t be a coincidence that you were impersonating her when she went nuts and killed her family.”

Sharon shook her head and looked at Soren in exasperation.

“I’m
trying
to tell you what happened,” she complained.

Soren had dreamed of interrogating a pretender, but it wasn’t going like he planned. In those fantasies, the captured pretenders were always raging at him, spitting bile, and vowing to kill more innocent people.

He heard Glen put the phone down.

“She’s telling the truth,” he said. “Sharon is in class today. She’s okay.”

Sharon shot Soren an “I told you so” look. Soren and Glen looked at each other. Soren had never heard of pretenders letting a target live. If Sharon wasn’t dead, it suggested at least some of what Soren thought he knew about pretenders was incorrect. The idea was disturbing.

“Okay, fine,” Soren said. “First thing: Who the hell are you? What’s your real name?”

She smiled sweetly.

“You can call me Friday,” she said. “We change our names a lot, but I like that one best.”

Soren nodded.

“Okay, Friday,” he said. “If you didn’t kill Audrey Yong, who did?”

“So, like, I need to back up, okay?” Friday said. “I was contacted for a very simple
auftrag
.”

“A what?” Soren asked.

Friday sighed dramatically again.

“Can I just tell my story without you interrupting every ten seconds? This would be easier if you weren’t splintered,” she said. “An
auftrag
. A job.”

“You can hire pretenders?” Glen asked. “What, for bar mitzvahs and kids’ birthday parties?”

“You know, that word is really offensive,” Friday said in a sanctimonious tone. “Words can hurt.”

She looked so offended that Soren was tempted to laugh out loud. “Oookay,” Soren said. “Duly noted. What do you call yourselves?”

“
We
call ourselves doppelgängers,” she said. “But yes, you can hire us out. We’re typically hired as infiltrators and spies, and occasionally as assassins. We’re damned good at it. Don’t you know that?”

Soren shook his head.

“I don’t remember anything,” he said.

Friday gave him a pitying look.

“Sorry,” she said. “Anyway, I was hired to take Audrey’s place, which was a good gig. She was so nice and really, really smart. She wanted to be a pianist—and an astronaut.”

For a moment, Friday looked sad. Soren had given up figuring out what was an act and what wasn’t. He just couldn’t tell.

“Anyway, the
auftrag
was just a simple switch. After two weeks, she would be returned, alive and unharmed. I don’t normally take targets so young; it can be a bit overwhelming, you know?” she said, looking at Soren for sympathy. “All those hormones, all that emotion. Just the other day, my friend Susan told me this sad story and I just burst into—”

“Friday?” Soren said.

“Oh right, sorry,” she said. “Anyway, I needed the
auftrag
, so—”

“Why? You were running low on money?” Glen asked.

Friday stared at Glen like he was stupid.

“Duh. Doppelgängers can be anyone in the world,” she said. “I could be Katy Perry if I wanted to be. Why would I need money?”

Soren had no idea who she was talking about, but assumed it was somebody rich. What she said made sense. If you could be anyone in the world, then acquiring money would be easy.

“So why did you need the job?” Soren asked.

Friday turned back to Soren, and then cocked her head meaningfully in Glen’s direction.

“We can talk more about it later,” she said. “But what I wanted was information. For the record, the only currency doppelgängers trade in is information. Material wealth, chemical enhancements—what are those things to us? I’ve been trying to find something for two years, and the contact suggested he knew about it.”

“Who was the contact?”

Friday shrugged again. “I don’t know his
name
,” she said. “That’s not how it works. He gave me the
auftrag
and I took it. From there, it was easy. I made the switch and gave them the real Audrey. Then I just lived her life. She had a good one, though like all aussenseiter, she didn’t really know that. They’re always focused on what they don’t have, you know? Oh I guess you don’t, you being splintered and all. Sorry. But that’s aussenseiter for you. Sometimes it’s money, or possessions, or love. But it’s always about wanting something. Audrey was better than a lot of them, but she was just a kid. Given time, the desire would get worse; it always does.”

“Do you know who these people were?” Soren asked.

Audrey shook her head.

“Not really,” she said.

“What happened?” Soren asked. “If it was a simple switch, why is Audrey’s family dead?”

At this question, Friday looked away, staring out the window.

“It all went wrong,” she said. “I was living Audrey’s life and when I returned from school, I found the door open and her family dead. Audrey was . . . upstairs. They’d put a pistol in her mouth and blown her head off.”

“Why?”

Friday looked upset.

“I don’t
know
,” she said. “The whole point of hiring me was so that Audrey’s kidnapping wouldn’t be public. Even if something went wrong, if they’d damaged Audrey somehow, why would they kill the rest of her family? It was like they were trying to draw attention to themselves—and to me.”

Soren stood up and began pacing alongside Glen.

“That doesn’t make sense,” Soren said. “You’re suggesting they framed you? Why? The police don’t know pretenders exist. The only person who does is someone like—”

Soren looked at Glen in horror.

“You,” Glen finished. “They wanted
you
to think it was a pretender.”

Soren’s stomach sank. “Which is why the whole family had to die,” he said grimly. “If Audrey just disappeared, it wouldn’t have been splashed all over the news, and I wouldn’t have heard of her.”

Soren turned to Friday. “Why were you at the house last night?” he asked.

“Because I was contacted about payment,” she said. “I’d been hiding for the past week because they’d specifically told me I had to stay as Audrey or I wouldn’t get paid. I didn’t want to risk losing the information I needed over a technicality. My contact said I had to hurry out to Audrey’s house. He said I’d get my payment there. And then, you showed up.”

“They set you up,” Soren said. “Somehow, they knew I was going to the house and they wanted you there.”

Friday looked relieved.

“Now you see why I came here?” she said. “They wanted you to chase me.”

She started to giggle.

“Sorry,” she said. “I just remembered your last name is Chase. Soren Chase wants to chase me.”

“I still don’t get why,” Glen said, ignoring her. “They framed you for Audrey’s murder, and made sure Soren saw you. How does that help them?”

“They couldn’t have known she would come here,” Soren said.

“I wouldn’t have, but I figured out what you were,” Friday said. “Then I thought I’d take a chance. Fat lot of good it’s done me so far.”

“I don’t think they care too much about who I blame for Audrey’s death,” Soren said. “I think this is a wild goose chase.”

Friday started to nod vigorously. “That’s why I came. I think they want you distracted, focused on me, so they can do something else and you won’t know. They set me up.”

“But they were really focused about it,” Glen pointed out. “I mean, it doesn’t seem like they just picked a random person for you to replace and then did the deed. They wanted Audrey, specifically, for two weeks.”

“You’re right.” Soren looked back at Friday. “So why did they want her?”

“I didn’t ask at the time,” Friday said. “But I figured it out pretty quick. Audrey . . . well, she was special. I mean, not in a, you know, ‘special needs’ way, but she knew stuff, stuff she wasn’t supposed to know.”

Soren leaned back in his chair. It was what he’d been thinking right before Friday had arrived.

“She was psychic,” Soren said.

“Duh,” Friday replied.

Alarm bells went off in Soren’s head. Eight months ago, Sara Ignatius had come back into his life because a creature had tried to kidnap her son, Alex. The case had taken some twists and turns, but it ended up that a monster had been hired to take Alex because he was “special.” Someone very powerful was kidnapping kids like Alex, and although Soren stopped the previous attempts, he hadn’t been able to figure out who was behind them.