The Stranger Inside

by Laura Benedict

  Gabriel nods. “If it is, it’s an ugly coincidence.”

  “You don’t really believe in coincidences, do you?”

  “Not much. Except she was old and it was dark.” He indicates Mr. Tuttle. “And if she was out with this guy…who knows.”

  Kimber scoffs. “Don’t you believe it. Jenny’s message said there was a car parked in front of my house last night. She saw a woman go inside.”

  “What motive could he or the woman have?” Gabriel sits down in the other chair. “Listen. Don’t make this harder on yourself than it already is. We’ll get this guy out and get you back into your house, and that will be the end of it. You’ll be able to go on like nothing happened. I promise.” Resting his fingertips on her knee, he nods. “It’s going to be soon.”

  “What if Jenny died because she saw something she wasn’t supposed to, Gabriel? If he’s in the house because of me then her death is my fault.”

  “Don’t go there. It’s not your fault, no matter why it happened.”

  “Something else happened. To me. Two things, really.”

  Gabriel’s eyes widen with alarm. “Has he been following you? Did he do something?”

  She tells him first about Shaun discovering that the real Lance Wilson, the man the person in her house is pretending to be, is in a coma in Florida. Gabriel doesn’t look surprised.

  “It’s been clear there’s something not right about the guy. It would take a criminal to try to take over someone’s house,” he says. “Have you told the police this?”

  “I haven’t. If they don’t figure it out themselves, that’s their problem. They don’t even half believe me.” She softly scratches behind the sleeping Mr. Tuttle’s ears. “I don’t want to get Shaun in trouble. Who knows where he got the information, and they’d definitely ask.”

  “Yeah, let’s think about that. We can hope they’ll make the discovery, but you’re right about them not being very interested in his history.” He runs a hand through his wavy black hair. She guesses he must be getting hot in his suit. A sheen of sweat glistens on his forehead. “What else?”

  Kimber lowers her voice though there’s no one nearby. “I went shopping for a couple of things yesterday. I left the pajamas I was going to buy on the counter when I went into the dressing room. While I was in there, he showed up and paid for them! The saleswoman said he told her it was a surprise and he’d take them home for me.” Saying it out loud again brings the cold feeling back to her stomach. It’s the intentionality of the thing that gets to her. Just like his moving into her house. I’m going to mess with you like nobody else can.

  Gabriel’s voice is stiff and controlled. “He didn’t.”

  She nods.

  “That son of a bitch.” He looks past her to Lance Wilson. Never before has Kimber seen violence in his eyes. He’s taking it personally. Why? It’s the kind of reaction a current lover might have. Not a former lover. And not at all how someone who is just supposed to be her lawyer and friend might act.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  After promising Kimber he won’t yet tell the police about the clothes or about Wilson’s fake identity, Gabriel tells her to stay on the porch while he talks to the detective sergeant in charge. Watching him go, she wonders if she’s done the right thing. He’s as straight-arrow as they come, and he’s compromising his principles for her. It isn’t the first time. She still regrets telling him about her affair with Kyle and about her brushes with the law in college. He once teased her that he’d never gone out with a criminal before.

  A couple of the women bystanders watch her from the street, and she does her best to look back at them without emotion. I haven’t done anything wrong. Not here. Not now. She’d once been invited to attend a neighborhood book club, but when she didn’t RSVP, there was never another invitation. Only Jenny was her friend. Sort of.

  She wishes she could take Mr. Tuttle inside Jenny’s house, but Officer Maby told her to stay out. The dog snores softly in her lap. Poor thing. What an awful night he must have spent with Jenny. Leaning back in the chair, she closes her eyes. The voices, the radios, the running engines, fade as she sits, wishing she were invisible. Would the police think she was heartless or guilty of something if she fell asleep waiting?

  “Damned shame about your neighbor.”

  Kimber snaps her eyes open. Her immediate view of Lance Wilson is the front of his tight blue jeans and the faded terra-cotta T-shirt. His forearms are bare and taut, the skin even darker, like he’s been spending more time in the sun. The bike, she thinks. He’s been out on his bike. She sits up. Mr. Tuttle is gone from her lap. How long has the guy been standing there?

  “What do you want?”

  Glancing past him, she sees Gabriel talking to a uniformed cop. No one is watching the porch, not even the mothers in the street. It’s as though Lance Wilson has arranged for them to be alone.

  He could do anything to me, and no one would see. The fear is sour in her mouth.

  His voice is deeper, more confident than it was on Monday evening. He’s not hiding his true self now. “That’s not any way to treat an old friend, Sunshine. In fact, you’ve been downright rude to me since I got here.”

  Kimber’s jaw is tight, and she tries to keep her voice under control. “I don’t know who in the hell you are or what you want from me.”

  I’m supposed to know him. He’s telling me I’m supposed to know him. And as she thinks it, she knows it’s true. She does know him, somehow. She’s felt it from the moment she saw him, but she still can’t place him in her memories.

  “Ah. I heard you were a good liar. But you’re pretty, and pretty makes up for a shitload of bad things.” He tilts his head as though considering, but Kimber can’t see his eyes because of his sunglasses. “Only you don’t look so pretty now, Sunshine. You’ve got big ol’ circles under your eyes. Rough day?”

  “Harassing me isn’t going to get you anywhere. A judge is going to throw you out of my house, unless I make sure you leave first. It doesn’t matter if the cops don’t figure out what you’re up to, because I have people looking into it.” She leans forward, malice in her voice. “I know your name isn’t Lance Wilson.”

  He shrugs, lifting his palms in a helpless gesture. “Whatever. Funny you don’t seem very worried about people knowing certain things about you.”

  Is now the time? Will he tell me what he really wants?

  “Why didn’t you just ask for money like a normal person when you sent me that blackmail picture? Let’s cut through the drama.”

  “You’ve got me all figured out, don’t you?” His eyes are as cold and dead as a snake’s. “Those are some pretty nighties you picked out. I put them on your bed. You can come and get them any time you want, Sunshine.”

  “Stop calling me Sunshine.” Sunshine was her father’s pet name for her, and now the sound of it grates on her nerves. She starts from the chair to slap the grin off his face when they hear a child shout from the street. “Look! Hey!”

  They both turn.

  Two people in white paper suits have emerged from the stairwell, carrying the gurney between them. The gray body bag bound to it with wide orange straps looks too small to hold any body but a child’s. When the attendants reach the driveway, the wheels of the gurney pop down, and they roll it noisily to the medical examiner’s waiting SUV. Mr. Tuttle trots after them, businesslike in his resolve. He barks insistently from the sidewalk as the gurney’s loaded and the vehicle’s doors are closed.

  “Poor little pooch.” Lance Wilson’s voice is comically sympathetic. “Old Jenny sure did love that stupid thing.”

  “Funny you should care, considering you’re the one who killed her.” Kimber does stand now. Gabriel is on his way over to them, his mouth set in a firm line. He touches Officer Maby’s arm and points to Lance Wilson.

  “That what it looks like to you?” He leans in close, and she shrinks back from him. “I guess you are the expert on people dying from terrible falls.” The mock-friendly lo
ok on his face is grotesque. “How was your trip to the lake? It’s so nice to get out of town and take a walk in the woods, isn’t it?”

  Officer Maby reaches them first, and Kimber wants to weep with relief. It isn’t his words that have affected her but the menace behind them. She’s never before been so close to pure evil.

  “Mr. Wilson, it would be a good idea for you to wait at—” Officer Maby seems about to say your house, but she corrects herself. “Across the driveway. We need to wrap up our questions.”

  Gabriel pushes past Lance Wilson to stand beside Kimber. He doesn’t speak, but he’s breathing hard.

  Lance Wilson’s slightly whiny tone is back. “Miss Hannon looked so upset. I thought I might be able to help.” He shrugs. “Guess I was wrong.”

  To Kimber’s surprise, the police don’t require her to go to the station to make a statement. As an officer and the detective sergeant question her on the porch, others are inside looking for contact information for Jenny’s daughter, Abby. It’s soon obvious that the detective sergeant, whose last name is Mercer, isn’t concerned that Kimber believes Lance Wilson is dangerous.

  “Mr. Wilson has a clean record,” she says, giving Kimber a smug grin. “Not even a parking ticket. And there’s no reason he can’t invite guests to his place of residence.”

  The real Mr. Wilson may be clean, but the man in my house is a murderer. She doesn’t argue, certain that when she finds out who this man really is, she’ll find the answer to Jenny’s death as well.

  Gabriel listens, attentive and concerned, but every once in a while he looks at Kimber’s house. Distracted.

  No one objects when she volunteers to take Mr. Tuttle with her. She can’t bear to think of the dog stuck in a shelter until Jenny’s daughter makes a decision about his fate. Or is it more that she senses Lance Wilson might try to take him to spite her?

  I won’t let him steal anything else.

  After the police let her go, she sits in her car, a puzzled Mr. Tuttle on her lap. Leeza has sent her several insistent texts telling her to be at the office in the morning. I’ll be there!!! she answers, not really feeling the extra exclamation points. Leeza doesn’t reply, even after Kimber starts the Mini and signals to Gabriel that she’s ready to drive on to Kyle and Diana’s house.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Come on, doggy, it’s okay.” Hadley kneels on the floor, trying to coax Mr. Tuttle from beneath Kimber’s chair with a treat. She ignores both her own dinner and requests from her parents to get back into her own chair and leave the dog alone.

  Mr. Tuttle whimpers, and Diana suggests that he might need to go outside. Before anyone else gets up, Gabriel, who Diana insisted stay for dinner, pushes back his chair and says he will take him out. Kimber sees relief in his gray eyes, as though he’s been waiting since dinner began to get away. There’s a palpable tension between him and Kyle. Has Diana also noticed?

  Hadley jumps up. “Can I go?”

  “Sure thing.” Without another word, Gabriel scoops Mr. Tuttle from beneath the chair and heads for the door to the backyard, Hadley following like a large-eyed, giant puppy.

  Diana smiles. “That poor, poor dog, to lose his person like that. So suddenly.”

  “He’s a good dog. Hadley’s the perfect distraction,” Kimber says. “I’m just glad the family across the street discovered Mrs. Winkelman hiding in their garage and was willing to take her in.” They’ve all agreed not to talk about Jenny’s death around Hadley.

  “I like how sweet Gabriel is with Hadley too. So many single men are awkward around kids.”

  Kyle puts his fork down. “You know, there are certain kinds of grown men who love to be around little kids. Look at Michael Jackson.”

  It takes a moment for Kimber and Diana to believe what they’ve just heard.

  “Don’t be disgusting, Kyle.” Diana is visibly angry—something Kimber rarely sees. “How could you imply that about Gabriel? You hardly know the man and you’re talking like he’s some kind of pedophile. I think you’ve had too much wine.”

  Kimber and Kyle have finished the bottle of red on the table. Diana and Gabriel drank only sparkling water.

  Kyle’s eyes harden. “Like you said, we hardly know the man.”

  The warning look Diana gives him says she doesn’t want to argue.

  “He’s a good guy.” Kimber leans forward to speak directly to Kyle. “I think I would know if he were a pedophile. And you’re crazy if you think I’d let him anywhere near Hadley if I suspected for a minute he’d hurt her. I wouldn’t spend five minutes with him myself. I don’t get involved with assholes.” She hopes he hears her silent present company excepted. He holds her gaze for a moment, his thick lashes unblinking. She knows he’s speaking out of his sense of her being his territory. His lookout. Whether he truly thinks there’s something wrong with Gabriel is beside the point.

  “Honestly, I don’t know what’s come over you.” Diana rises to carry dishes to the sink. One of the plates trembles slightly, and Kimber wonders again whether she saw what happened between her and Kyle the previous day.

  The back door opens again, and their tense triangle is interrupted.

  “He went pee! He went pee!” Hadley jumps up and down, her old-fashioned pigtails swinging.

  “He’s a genius,” Kyle says.

  Hearing his sarcasm, Hadley gives her father a wary look. “Gabriel said I should give him his treat.” She opens her empty hands. “See? He took it from me.” Squatting down to where Mr. Tuttle sits obediently at Gabriel’s feet, she pats him on the head. “Good dog. You’re a good, good dog.”

  “Honey, why don’t you go upstairs and choose your clothes for tomorrow and get ready for your bath?” Diana removes more dishes from the table. “I’ll be up in a minute.”

  “Never mind. I’ll go with her.” Kyle raises a brief hand to Gabriel. “See you next time, man.”

  When they’re gone, Diana speaks quietly, not really addressing either of them. “He drinks so much these days. I wonder sometimes how he manages to get up and go to work so early in the morning.”

  Mr. Tuttle looks up appealingly at Kimber until she lifts him onto her lap.

  “Coffee, Gabriel?” Diana gives him a warm smile. Now the atmosphere is actually relaxed.

  As they sit over coffee, Kimber and Gabriel bring Diana up to date, telling her what Shaun discovered about the social security number and the real Lance Wilson in Florida.

  “I still don’t get why he’s messing with you.” Diana sets a small plate of homemade oatmeal-raisin cookies between them.

  Gabriel pushes the cookies he can’t eat an inch toward Kimber. “It’s disturbing the way he’s so belligerent about being there. I believe he must have a very personal reason for being in that particular house.”

  Kimber’s heart beats faster. “I’ve never seen him before in my life.” But he knows me. He knows I was a brat and a liar. He knows about Michelle. He has the photograph. He knows how sick it makes me. He calls me Sunshine. Somehow his using her father’s nickname for her is the most painful of all.

  “Maybe it isn’t you.” Diana sits down and reaches across the table to touch Kimber’s hand. Her fingers are thin but slightly rough, her manicure perfect. “Maybe it’s the house. I bet it has something to do with your father. Or what about the previous owners?”

  “The Harkers were normal as toast and left all their money to their kids. No weird hoarding or anything. Jenny would’ve told me too.”

  “Kimber, you and I have discussed this before. We don’t know anything about what your father was up to in the years after he disappeared.” Gabriel shrugs. “Maybe he was into something he shouldn’t have been.”

  “There’s nothing in the house. I would know.” Are Diana and Gabriel trying to pry something out of her? They can’t have any idea that the guy is a blackmailer.

  Diana squeezes Kimber’s hand. “This is so hard on you, sweetie. Let’s not talk about it anymore, okay?”

  Kimber nod
s.

  “Hey, I have the best idea.” Diana brightens. “There’s a Pregnancy Center fundraiser on Saturday afternoon, and they’re using my regular nail people. They’re offering facials and massages too. Why don’t you and Hadley and I all go together? It would make her so happy, and frankly”—she holds up Kimber’s hand—“you could use a manicure, my friend.”

  Despite the current chaos, Kimber hasn’t forgotten how average she feels beside Diana when they go out together. The last thing she wants to do is go to a fundraiser where fifty Dianas and their adorable daughters are getting their nails done.

  “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll be back in my house by then. Maybe a judge will come through tomorrow.”

  Diana and Gabriel exchange a look, and she realizes she’s being naive.

  “It’s a good idea. Diana’s right. You need a break. I’d come along, but…” Gabriel holds up his hands, with their bitten-to-the-quick nails, and grins sheepishly. Kimber remembers how he was always trying to give up biting them. She’s never actually seen him bite them, but it’s evidence of his anxiety and vulnerability. When she’d learned the police’s theory, that he drove into a parking garage wall, not wearing his seat belt, a very, very tiny part of her had not been surprised.

  Laughing, Diana rises from the table, smoothing her crisp cotton skirt. “I’m sure Hadley would be perfectly happy to select a color for you. Bright orange or pink, I suspect.”

  Gabriel grimaces and Kimber smiles.

  “I better go up and see how bedtime’s going. It’s hard to get her to settle down when it’s still light outside like this.” Diana puts one long hand on Gabriel’s arm and lightly kisses his hair. “Don’t be a stranger. You’re welcome here any time.”

  Kimber can’t read his eyes as he watches Diana leave the kitchen.