Split Decisions: A Southern Romantic-Suspense Novel - Charlotte - Book Two

by Carmen DeSousa

  “That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.” Jordan jumped up, clearly not sure where he was going.

  Caycee grabbed his hand, but then retracted quickly when it shocked her again. As ridiculous as the story sounded, even to her, he was starting to tick her off. She was still a woman who looked exactly like his wife.

  “Okay, you explain then. I am clearly not your Jaynee. I don’t have the scar from the gunshot wound, but I am her everywhere else.” His eyes narrowed in confusion or anger again; she decided to go with confusion. “Yes, I know that’s what you were looking for; she showed me. But every mole and scar up until a week before our twenty-second birthday…every memory is here.” She tapped her head. “We are the same. Jaynee didn’t believe it either. I had to show her my scar on my leg.” Caycee proceeded to raise her jeans to show Jordan. “I’m sure you knew we rode a motorcycle in high school that our father had given us; this we got from his bike though.”

  He peeked, but then waved her off. “I’ve seen it.” He crossed his arms. “Hypothetically speaking… If this is true, why now? How did you find her? Why would you contact her?”

  “I was searching for you,” she admitted. “I found you on Google, and when I saw your wife’s name, I looked her up. Imagine my surprise when I saw my face on your wife. I thought you were sick, so infatuated with me that you’d photo-shopped my face over your dead wife.” Jordan scowled at her comment, but listened. “I found the story of the shooting, but never found out if she lived or died.”

  Jordan shook his head in disbelief. “It’s not possible.”

  “Ask me anything about those first four days, up to the time you proposed. After that, I seemed to take on a new persona.”

  He closed his eyes for a second and then opened them. “What did you suggest when I ordered my steak?”

  “Butterfly it.”

  “What did I say that first night when I set down your coffee at Starbucks?”

  Caycee leaned in, and Jordan jolted upright. His reaction hurt her more than words. “It’s what you did, Jordan. You leaned in and laughed, then said, Now I’m waiting on you.”

  “What flavor ice cream—”

  “Mint chocolate chip,” she said, cutting him off.

  Jordan sighed.

  “It’s true, Jordan. We could go back and forth all night, but it’s true. Neither Jaynee nor I understand, but we know it’s true.”

  “Why are you here? Where’s Jaynee?”

  “I’m here because I never stopped loving you, and I wanted to see what I missed not having a family. I have no one. I could never find another man like you, believe me, I tried.”

  “Please stop saying that. I cheated on my wife.”

  “No, you didn’t, Jordan. We are the same person. You didn’t know.”

  “Why did you let me?”

  Now it was her turn to glower at him. “I tried, you know I tried. You were relentless. You thought that I—that she—didn’t want you. I was afraid.”

  “I would have gotten over it.”

  “You seduced me. I wanted you too much to resist.”

  He jumped up again. “Where’s Jaynee?”

  “I don’t know. She was going to stay at my apartment and write. We were going to switch back on Saturday. So you know, this was all my idea. I forced her…I made her feel guilty. She’s the one who called you and told you she was sick. She told me if I seduced you, she would hogtie me and drag me behind her truck.”

  He laughed without humor. “That sounds like Jaynee.”

  “Jordan, I’m sorry. I just never stopped loving you, but I never planned for what happened between us. I simply wanted to be a wife and mother.”

  “She’ll never forgive me.”

  Caycee bobbed her head. “Yes, she will. I would understand, and whether you want to believe it or not, we are the same.”

  He dropped his head. “No, you’re not. I knew immediately, from the first time I kissed you at the airport, but how could I ever imagine. I still can’t believe this. Who could?”

  “Are you angry at Jaynee?”

  “I’m furious at both of you, but I don’t have time for anger right now. I need to find my wife. I need to call my sister to watch the kids, and then we’ll leave immediately. Go pack.”

  Caycee did as instructed. Fury still burnt in Jordan’s eyes, but he was focused now, evidently in cop mode.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  (Jaynee)

  Jaynee heard a door open outside her prison, some muffled sounds, another door close, and then nothing.

  She thought about screaming, but it made no sense to make him angry. He’d fed her, let her go to the bathroom, and allowed her to wash up. She would simply have to wait and be patient.

  She hoped that she would be able to talk to him, get him to understand that she wasn’t Caycee, but then she feared he would go after Caycee. Of course, Caycee had Jordan to protect her.

  How many days would Caycee wait? They’d agreed on signals, small things to let them know all was okay. If either decided it was too much, they would simply type the day and know that that was the day they were to meet at the airport around noon. Was Caycee concerned, or was she completely satisfied with her role?

  After about an hour, her door opened with its long screech. It was dark, but she could make out the silhouette as it came through the door. Like the previous times, he threw her the key. She quickly went to work unlocking the restraint and hurried to the bathroom. Her body ached, and she felt weak.

  A few hundred calories a day wasn’t enough to sustain her; already her cheeks looked sallow. She’d always lost weight in her face first. She washed up the best she could in the little sink, but she still felt dirty. A hot shower would feel heavenly; she could imagine the hot water pouring over her muscles. And her hair, she wanted to wash her hair so badly. She hadn’t washed it since Sunday morning, and it was now oily from her trying to loosen the knots by running her fingers through it.

  A knock on the door caused her to jump. He was impatient.

  “I’m coming.” She stepped out. He’d already taken his stance against the far wall. Jaynee started for the bed, but then had a thought. “Can I latch up my other arm this time? On the other side of the bed, please? My wrist is so raw.”

  He gawked at her, weighing his decision. Seemingly confident that he had complete control of the situation since he was the one wielding a gun, he nodded once.

  Jaynee took slow and measured steps around the bed. She wouldn’t do anything now; she would wait. She’d been hoarding one of her crackers each time he fed her in case he didn’t return. She’d wait until tomorrow morning to take action. She’d go to the bathroom before he arrived, eat her food, and then as soon as she removed the manacle, she’d attack. He would expect her to run to the restroom, as she had before, but instead she would charge him.

  She sunk onto the creaky mattress, but held the key in her hand for a second instead of tossing it in his direction. “Will you explain what you want from me, please?”

  “I want you to lock your wrist,” the voice, barely a whisper, demanded, as though she’d angered him.

  Jaynee complied, looking at her captor with pleading, tear-filled eyes. “Please tell me what you want.”

  “I want to know what you want, Caycee.” And with that, the fiend threw the crackers and water bottle on the bed and charged toward the only escape, again banging the door closed with his fist as he left. No matter what she said, she seemed to upset him.

  ***

  Ben sat in his office, trying his best to get his mind off Caycee, but nothing worked. He had to see her again.

  He needed her to understand. She’d not wanted to see him; that part was clear. If he could just get her to listen, she would want him again. He knew she’d been with other men, but he also knew she’d not found one to her liking. It was because she was always thinking of him, upset because she couldn’t have him, but now his marriage was over. Once she understood it was a permanent sit
uation, she would want him again.

  He heard the door open. Tyler had said he would be at youth group with a friend tonight and would not be home until later, so it had to be Sheila.

  He didn’t want to fight with her again. He’d hoped that she would want this too. Why would she want to hold onto a husband she didn’t love?

  He busied himself with returning an email, hoping she would go to her room as she usually did and not want to fight again. As soon as she went to bed, he would go to Caycee and try to get her to talk to him.

  Sheila walked into his office a few minutes later and leaned against the doorway. She still looked good, but he felt nothing, anything he’d had for her was long gone.

  She smiled at him, evidently reading more into the way his eyes glided over her than there was. He was looking at her because he recognized such a waste of their last twenty years, but she thought he wanted her.

  “I was thinking,” she started, her voice as seductive as ever. She walked over to him, stopping in front of his chair.

  “Yes?” he asked as politely as he could muster. It was better to be polite than to get into another argument. Maybe he could negotiate with her.

  “I thought maybe we could spend one final night together, go away, and be alone. Tyler said he could spend the night with his friend.”

  “Sheila,” he pleaded.

  “I know…you want a divorce.” Her voice dripped with sweetness, as it had in the emergency room in what seemed like a million years ago. A man could only take so much, though, and he’d accepted enough torture to last him a lifetime and then some. “I just want this one evening. One night together, just the two of us, someplace romantic, and then if you don’t want me tomorrow, I’ll agree to a divorce.”

  He wanted to say, You’ll be the same person tomorrow. You may act as though you want me tonight and then make me wait for another sixteen years. Was she going to trick him again, get pregnant again? It wouldn’t matter; he’d made up his mind. He didn’t want her, and sadly, he didn’t think he could give her what she wanted anyway.

  “Why are you doing this, Sheila?”

  “I just want this one night, Ben. If you think I’m trying to get pregnant, wear protection. I’m still your wife. All I’m asking for is one night. Is that too much to ask?”

  He exhaled loudly. Did he have a choice? Did it really matter? “So if I go away with you for one night, you’ll give me a divorce?”

  “If that is what you want, then yes, I’ll give you exactly what you want.”

  Ben stood up, brushing by her. “I’ll pack a few things.”

  “I’m already packed. I’ll meet you in the car,” Sheila said, turning and exiting the apartment.

  He didn’t want another night. All he wanted was out of this loveless marriage. He’d explain everything to Caycee, then perhaps she would let him move in with her. All she would have to do is listen to how much he loved her, what he was willing to sacrifice for her. She would want him, he was sure of it.

  ***

  Day three and Caycee was still missing. Of course, Corey was the only one who knew it. The cops had come and gone, but since they saw no sign of an attack, no witnesses, just one phone call, they had pretty much dropped the case.

  Corey sat outside her apartment building, unsure of what to do next. It was late, too late for her to go out if she’d returned home in the day. He could check out her apartment again, but that would be a bad decision now that the police were involved.

  He could call in a tip indicating Ben, get the cops to follow up with him, if they hadn’t already. He was certain they hadn’t. When he’d tried to check on her case, he found little information. The police had taken it as a prank call, since there’d been no further information suggesting she was missing. A woman like Caycee could have gone anywhere.

  He made his decision. He would go to Ben’s apartment, show his badge, and question him. He typed his name into the computer. The superb thing about being a cop is that he could find anything on anyone.

  He drove to Ben’s apartment and took the elevator to his suite on the top floor. Caycee had made him wealthy; he’d been nothing before he’d discovered her. He never understood what she’d seen in him. Ben was attractive enough, but he had nothing on him. He was shorter than he was, looked as if he’d never worked out a day in his life, and seemed boring. And worse, he was married.

  No matter what his marriage life, he couldn’t comprehend that she would accept that life. Maybe it was why she’d broken it off so many years ago, but now Ben was back in her life, where Corey should be.

  Corey knocked on the door and waited, wallet drawn in case he asked for ID. No one answered, so he walked down the hall and stared out the window at the street below.

  He didn’t have to wait long. Ben’s wife stepped out of the elevator and walked toward the door. “Excuse me, ma’am?”

  Exhaling sharply, her hand flew to her throat as she turned in his direction. “Oh, you scared me. No one is usually on this floor.”

  “Sorry. I’m here to see Benjamin Miller. Is he here?”

  “I believe so. And you are?”

  Corey pulled out his badge. “NYPD,” he said, omitting homicide. No sense in upsetting the woman.

  “Hmm, well, give me a minute. I’ve been waiting for him. We were going away for the weekend, and he didn’t come downstairs.”

  “May I come in?” Corey asked, instantly alerted by her comment. Why would they be leaving so late at night?

  “No, I’d rather you not. I’ll get him and be right out.” She stepped inside, but left the door open a couple of inches.

  Corey crossed the hall and leaned back against the opposite wall, waiting patiently. He heard doors open and close as she scrambled through the apartment, then he heard a scream.

  Reflexively, he drew his gun. Pushing off the wall, he headed for her apartment, gun held close to his chest, ready to fire. He slid into a crouch in the event there was someone waiting to blow off his head, then inched open the door a fraction wider. The woman darted out of a room off the foyer, a sheet of paper clutched in her hand.

  “He left me! That good-for-nothing—ugh!” she screeched, piercing his ears. Realizing there probably wasn’t a threat present, Corey pulled himself upright while she continued. “I was waiting for him. We were going away for a couple days, sort things out—”

  Corey raised his hand to silence the rambling woman. “Ma’am, is there someone else in your apartment? Why did you scream?”

  “Because he left me,” she shrieked again. “I was waiting and that S.O.B. left me—for her! That singer!” She shoved the piece of paper at him.

  It was a short letter, written on his business stationary.

  Sheila,

  I am leaving town with Caycee.

  I will have my lawyers send the papers for a divorce.

  Goodbye,

  Ben

  Corey stood motionless. He was too late, just a couple of days too late. He hadn’t said anything to Caycee this entire year since he’d moved here, and now it was too late. She’d left with this man, this moron who would leave his wife by notifying her on a piece of paper.

  He handed the paper back to Sheila and walked off. She slammed the door behind him.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  (Caycee)

  Madder than a hornet, Jordan yanked the chair from beneath the desk and plopped down. What had his wife been thinking? What had this woman masquerading as her been thinking?

  That he was an idiot, no doubt. That he wouldn’t know his own wife. Did she think that little of him? He’d known something had been wrong, but how would he have guessed that his wife had a twin sister.

  Within seconds, he found a flight leaving Charlotte at 10:05 p.m., arriving in New York at 11:46 p.m. If Caycee packed quickly, they’d have time for Sissy to get here and still make it with plenty of time to spare.

  He made the reservations, printed out the boarding passes, and logged off. He tucked his laptop into
the backpack he always used when flying, then stuffed a few snacks inside. He didn’t want to check a bag, but it was the only way to bring a weapon. He had a concealed weapons permit, but it wouldn’t allow him to carry a gun on the plane, and New York wasn’t a reciprocal state anyway, not that he planned to ask permission. And if the airline confiscated his gun, he’d just have to get another one.

  While Caycee was inside the bathroom, Jordan pulled out his carry-on sized suitcase. He wrapped his Glock, along with extra ammunition, in a jacket, threw in a few changes of clothes, and then went downstairs to meet Melissa, and stay as far away from the imposter as possible. Everything inside of him screamed that Caycee’s story was impossible, but he didn’t have any choice other than to follow her to New York.

  If there was a remote possibility it was Jaynee in there, and she’d somehow surgically removed the scar, he wondered if he was doing her an injustice by placating her. He couldn’t very well drag her to the police station as he’d threatened, as their next step would be to commit her. So, he’d follow her to New York in the slight chance that this woman who knew everything about him was actually setting them up.

  Melissa had said nothing when he called requesting that she come immediately and stay the night. She was good about that; she knew when he meant business. Rachael would have played twenty questions.

  Immediately following a knock, the front door opened, and Bobby and Sissy walked inside together. They didn’t have to announce they were here; they did it out of courtesy. Being invited, they would use their key and let themselves inside.

  Sissy eyed him cautiously as she approached. “We saw the news right before you called, Jordan. What’s going on?”

  “It’s too complicated to explain. So please don’t ask and make certain the news stays off while we’re gone.”

  “Jaynee’s here, then?” his brother-in-law asked, echoing his wife’s confused tone.