In the Presence of Mine Enemies

by Debbie Viguié

  “But something felt wrong about it?” Mark guessed.

  She nodded.

  “So, when did all this weirdness start?” he asked.

  “That’s just it. It started the day after you called and asked me to look for a baby surrendered at a police station near UCLA thirteen years ago.”

  Mark stared at her. “You don’t think it’s related, do you?”

  She leaned forward. “I’ve been in this job for seventeen years and nothing like what’s happened the last few days has ever happened to me before. You tell me.”

  “It can’t be,” Mark said, not wanting to believe. “I mean, that’s impossible.”

  “You said this was part of an active investigation.”

  He nodded. “It is.”

  That was sort of true. It was an active investigation of his even if it was not officially on the books at work.

  “So, I’m asking you what you’ve gotten me mixed up in?”

  “Honestly, I’m not sure. It shouldn’t have led to what you’re describing.”

  “Well, I’ve got two kids of my own, and I’ve decided this would be a fine time for us all to go visit my folks in Atlanta.”

  “Okay.”

  The food arrived, and Mark waited until the waitress had left before resuming the conversation.

  “If you want me to investigate what’s happening-”

  She shook her head fiercely. “I don’t want any more part of whatever this is. I’ve dealt with deadbeat parents, junkies, psychotic kids, and things most people can’t even imagine in this job. But I have never before worried for my personal safety.”

  He tried to tell himself that she was imagining things, but deep down he had a sick feeling that wouldn’t go away. They ate their lunch quickly with few words exchanged as Mark thought over what she was saying. When the check came he paid for her lunch. It seemed the least he could do under the circumstances.

  He finally addressed the one thing they hadn’t discussed. “Did you find the kid?” he asked.

  She stared at him and a muscle in her jaw twitched. “I’ve been debating for the last twenty minutes whether or not I should tell you, whether it would help you or just make things worse for everyone.”

  He was stunned that she was actively considering holding out on him.

  “This is an active investigation and as such-”

  She held up her hand. “Save it. This isn’t about who’s entitled to what information. This is bigger than that. So, until whatever this is goes away, I don’t expect to hear from you again.”

  She stood abruptly and lifted her purse off the table. Underneath it was an envelope. She met his eyes, nodded almost imperceptibly and then walked out.

  Mark reached out and slid the envelope over and swiftly put it inside his jacket. He felt like every eye in the room was on him, though in truth he couldn’t see anyone looking his way. He couldn’t help but wonder if this was how Jeremiah had felt during his days as a spy.

  Mark stood up and made his way quickly to his car. Once inside he started the engine and drove off. He wanted to delay for a minute, so he could review the contents of the envelope, but Kendra had spooked him too badly. It almost felt like his skin was crawling as he imagined people watching him, too.

  “Stop being paranoid,” he muttered to himself.

  It didn’t do much good as he found himself speeding down the highway trying to get away from there as quickly as possible. He decided Jeremiah had to have been cooler headed about this sort of thing otherwise the man would have dropped dead of a heart attack years before.

  He was almost back at the precinct when his phone rang startling him badly. It was Liam.

  “I’m fine,” he said, answering his phone.

  “Glad to hear someone is.”

  “What’s wrong?” Mark asked quickly.

  “Sadie Colbert stopped by looking for you. She seemed very agitated and wouldn’t talk to anyone else. She just left here a couple of minutes ago.”

  “Do you know where she was heading?”

  “She said you could reach her at home.”

  “Okay, I’m going to head over there,” Mark said.

  “Alright. Everything go okay?”

  “Yeah, I think so. Just weird.”

  “You’ll have to tell me about it.”

  “I will,” Mark promised.

  He got off the freeway an exit early and a few minutes later he parked outside Sadie’s house. He sat there for a minute trying to collect himself. He pulled the envelope out of his jacket and slowly opened it. Inside he found a piece of paper and a picture of a thirteen-year-old boy. He looked so much like Not Paul that it gave Mark a start. He sat staring at the picture feeling like he was looking at a ghost.

  He finally tore his eyes away from it and looked at the piece of paper. There was an address in Los Angeles and a name. Darren Bradley Michaelson. He carefully folded the paper and put it back into the envelope. Then he put the envelope and the photo in his jacket pocket. He sat for another minute, trying to gather his composure.

  So many emotions were rushing through him. “He looks like a fine boy, Paul,” he said. He wished his former partner could hear him.

  “That’s it, too many emotional days this week,” he said, struggling to pull it together. “Enough of those.”

  He got out of the car and went up to the front door. As soon as he rang the bell the door flew open and Sadie stood there, eyes wide, cheeks tear-stained.

  “Are you okay?” he asked in alarm.

  She shook her head and turned away. Mark walked in and shut the front door behind him. He followed her into the living room and sat down on the couch while she took a seat in an armchair.

  If anything, the room looked even more dilapidated than it had when he was first there which hadn’t been that many days earlier. Sadie herself looked like a complete and utter wreck.

  She covered her face with her hands and then suddenly took them down and leaned forward. “Do you see me? Do you really see me?” she asked.

  “Um-”

  “Of course you don’t,” she interrupted. “How could you because I haven’t told you. You don’t see me. You see her.”

  He tried to think of a tactful way of asking if she was on any medication or, perhaps, off of it. She hadn’t been like this when they first met, and he was wondering what exactly had changed.

  “What’s wrong, Sadie?” he asked.

  She laughed like he’d just said the funniest thing in the whole world. “That. That’s what’s wrong, right there,” she said.

  “I’m sorry. I’m not following you.”

  “I have a secret,” she said, leaning close as though she didn’t want anyone else to overhear. Given that she lived alone it was creepy and he had just about had his fill of creepy for the day.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  She started to speak, then stopped. She tried again and stopped again. Tears came to her eyes. “Why is it so hard to admit? After all these years. It doesn’t matter now. My parents are gone. Paul is gone. There’s no one to care.”

  “You can tell me what it is,” Mark said.

  She nodded and took a deep breath. It was as though he could watch her actually pull herself together, like her sanity was a threadbare shawl that she was trying to wrap around her soul.

  “I’m not Sadie Colbert,” she said.

  Mark had not been expecting that. “Who are you?” he asked.

  “I’m Sandra. Sandra Colbert.”

  And suddenly her whole body relaxed, and she gave him a tentative smile. “You don’t know how good it feels to say that,” she told him.

  “I thought Sandra was kidnapped by the cult,” he said.

  She shook her head. “That’s what everyone thought, but it was Sadie that they grabbed. Not me. I’m Sandra.”

  “I don’t understand,” he said.

  She nodded and reached out and patted his knee.
“Let me explain. Sadie and I were twins. When we were little we’d play pranks on our babysitters and even our parents by switching identities.”

  “How very Parent Trap,” he said, thinking of the old Disney film.

  “For some reason we always thought it was funny to trick people into calling us the wrong name. Well, when they kidnapped Sadie, she was pretending to be me.”

  “Once your parents knew what had happened, why didn’t you tell them?” he asked, wondering how something like that ended up becoming a decades long secret.

  A tear trickled down her cheek. “I was going to, but my parents were beside themselves with grief. And they said something that parents should never say.”

  “What?” Mark asked.

  “They said that if they had to lose one of their children they were glad it worked out this way because they always liked Sadie best.”

  Mark thought of Ryan and Rachel and he felt sick to the bottom of his soul. He could never imagine preferring one to the other let alone saying it out loud.

  “Oh, dear heavens,” he whispered.

  She nodded. “When I heard that I felt that I couldn’t make it worse by telling them the truth, that Sadie, their favorite, was the one who was taken. So, I just kept being her.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Mark said, realizing that it explained a lot about how she had gotten as messed up as she was.

  “It was terrible, but I had resigned myself to being Sadie. Then… then I met Paul.”

  “Oh no,” Mark whispered, starting to see.

  She nodded. “And he had known Sadie, the real Sadie, in the cultists’ camp. He knew I was lying. He’d heard my name and came to find me and knew straight away that I was really Sandra. And he said my name. And no one had said my name in so many years. And he understood my pain.”

  “And the two of you ended up in a relationship,” Mark finished.

  She nodded. “My whole life he was the only person who ever knew the truth.”

  Mark took her hand. “It’s time to step into the light, Sandra,” he said gently.

  A little sob escaped her, but then she smiled at him. She was going to need a lot of counseling, but maybe there was hope for her to live a normal life in the future. He hoped so.

  “When I found out Paul was dead, I realized there wasn’t anyone left in the world who knew, and I found that unbearable. That’s why I had to talk to you. I knew you’d understand.”

  He understood all too well. Given that Paul had also taken on the identity of another child and spent his life lying he could see how he would be attracted to Sandra who was harboring a similar secret.

  “I found something I’d like to share with you,” he said.

  “What?” she asked, wiping at her eyes.

  He pulled the picture out of his jacket and handed it to her. “His name is Darren.” He knew he shouldn’t have told her even that much, but he hoped it would help her in some way.

  “He looks just like Paul,” she said, in a slightly awed voice.

  “I noticed that, too. Except he has your eyes.”

  “He does!” She kissed the photograph tenderly. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “Happy Mother’s Day.”

  “This means so much.”

  He nodded, trying to fight back his own tears. He wouldn’t have understood the look on her face before he became a parent. Now, he couldn’t imagine what she was going through. He couldn’t even let himself think about how he would feel if strangers were raising his children.

  He cleared his throat. “Do you know a counselor you can speak to?” he asked.

  She nodded. “I’ll find one.” When she looked up at him again her eyes were clear, and she looked ten years younger. “It’s time to start living again,” she said. “And who knows? Maybe one day I’ll get to meet my son.”

  “I hope so,” he said.

  She stood, and he rose as well. She held out her hand. “Thank you, Detective. You don’t know what you’ve done for me.”

  He shook her hand solemnly. “I’m happy I could help in some small way. And thank you for sharing your story with me, Sandra.”

  She nodded, smiling.

  The cult leader that had been Not Paul’s father had destroyed so many lives. Mark was just grateful that this was one life that he could help save. Looking at her he truly did believe that she was going to get better. He smiled. It was a new day in so many ways.

  She walked him to the door and stood on the porch as he walked to his car. The sun was hitting her face and it seemed like it was driving away all the shadows. He smiled to himself as he unlocked his car and opened the door.

  Suddenly a shot rang out. Mark hit the ground. He drew his gun and looked around, but could see no one in the street. There was no second shot and he slowly eased to a crouched position. The shot had sounded like it came from a distance. Maybe it had been a street or two over. He would call it in.

  “Better get inside!” he shouted to Sandra.

  She didn’t say anything. She’d probably already done so like any normal person would. He turned just to make sure and his heart stopped when he saw her lying on the porch. He stood and looked around, gun extended in front of him, but there was no one anywhere that he could see. He edged his way over to the porch.

  “Sandra, are you okay?” he asked, still looking for the shooter.

  There was still no answer.

  Finally, he was standing over her and he looked down. She was staring up at him, her lips parted slightly and eyes wide open. There was a hole right in between them.

  Sandra Colbert, the mother of Not Paul’s son, was dead.

  Look for

  ANNOINTEST MY HEAD WITH OIL

  Coming Summer 2018

  Debbie Viguié is the New York Times Bestselling author of more than fifty novels including the Wicked series, the Crusade series and the Wolf Springs Chronicles series co-authored with Nancy Holder. Debbie also writes thrillers including The Psalm 23 Mysteries, the Kiss trilogy, and the Witch Hunt trilogy. When Debbie isn’t busy writing she enjoys spending time with her husband, Scott, visiting theme parks. They live in Florida with their cat, Schrödinger.