by Mira Gibson
Holly probably looked like a deer in headlights so she made herself say, “I’m just trying to find my nephew.”
“Did you think he was at the hospital?” he asked with an air of ease to his sarcasm.
“No, of course not,” she said nervously. “But I thought... I was looking into something.” She pressed her mouth into a thin line, afraid to say more, and stared at him.
“You’re interfering with a police investigation-”
“I wouldn’t,” she blurted out. “I didn’t mean to-”
“You keep lying,” he shot back. “Are you protecting him?”
“No,” she asserted.
He tucked his hand in his pocket and for an anxious second she expected him to draw out a pair of handcuffs and arrest her. “I’m waiting on a warrant,” he said instead. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you about the paternity test your sister ordered. I think we both know who the father is, but it’ll be a day or so before I get a court order allowing me to swab the inside of Lucas’s cheek.”
She wondered why he was telling her this. She could see Lucas in her mind, those huge, panicked eyes, his mouth twisting with remorse, not because he was guilty of murder, but because it killed him that he couldn’t remember—he didn’t know for sure he was innocent, but believed it. Without thinking, she stated, “You think he did it just because he’s Tucker’s real father?”
Cody’s eyes flared at the challenge, as his brows sprung to his hairline. “So you are protecting him?”
“No,” she shot back. “All I care about is the truth and finding my nephew, and...” She knew what she was about to say would sound like she was in fact protecting Lucas, but she came out with it anyway, “I don’t think he did it.”
Cody stated, “Lucas is the boy’s father. When he discovered the fact, he gave Rose an ultimatum. Let’s be a family or something to that effect. But she rejected him so he went after her, killed her then Benjamin, stole his son back, and tried to kill you to tie up loose ends...”
She wasn’t sure she could argue against him or that she should. He obviously trusted his theory and Holly couldn’t deny it made a hell of a lot of sense. But Cody hadn’t seen Lucas the way she had. He hadn’t looked into his partner’s eyes, while Lucas wavered on the brink of madness, desperate to be believed. His resolve, his determination—the look in his eyes that no human on earth could fake—had finally rested all doubt, all suspicion from her mind.
“I don’t know what to say,” she said finally.
“I’m going to need you to come to the precinct,” he supplied. “We haven’t spoken since Benjamin's murder and there’s a lot of ground to cover.”
“Now?” she gaped. “It’s the middle of the afternoon and my store is struggling as it is.”
Groaning, he planted his hands on his hips. ”Can you make it in after you close up for the day?”
“Yes, it would be around nine, though...”
He didn’t seem thrilled but agreed, stating, “Fine.”
“You’re going to arrest Lucas?”
He held her gaze, narrowing his eyes in a way she didn’t like. “I’m moving slowly and carefully on this. I’ll act on the warrant as soon as I get it. I’ll need your statement. I’m not going to rush this. The case I hand over to the D.A. is going to be airtight.”
“And Tucker?”
“The paternity angle is the biggest lead I’ve had. I’ll get him back, Holly, but I can’t say that’s going to happen until I bring Lucas down to the station and get my forty-eight hours out of him.”
She clenched her teeth together, feigning a smile, and walked him to the entrance door, which she opened for him.
“I’ll see you at nine tonight,” she said, holding the door.
Cody held her gaze for a long moment before saying, “See you then,” and stepped out onto the slick sidewalk.
From the glass door, Holly spied him trekking towards his truck, which was parked grill-to-snow bank. It wasn’t until he reversed out of the spot and drove off that she stampeded through the store, plowing her fingers through her hair and fighting the terrible panic riling up her throat.
Things had gotten worse, much much worse and not just for Lucas.
If she sat down with Cody, it would only be a matter of time before he discovered all of her lies. At this point, Cody believed his partner was behind this, but all that would change if he learned the many ways in which Lucas had covered for Holly—hiding the .32 caliber bullet, sabotaging the security feed of Holly outside Room 112, pocketing the Joint Will, which Benjamin had altered.
She knew how it would look. Cody would believe she was just as guilty as Lucas and they would both be arrested.
And what killed her was that neither had done it. She had grappled with Lucas’s guilt and innocence, but the fact of the matter was that she knew he hadn’t done it. She had seen it in his eyes.
Holly needed answers, real answers. And she needed them before nine o’clock.
Suddenly, an idea struck her, but it was so insane, so farfetched, so desperate... that it just might work.
Scrambling for her cell phone, she hoped like hell she wasn’t losing her damn mind and dialed.
When the line opened up, she blurted out, “I have an idea, but you’re going to think it’s crazy.”
Chapter Nineteen
The Lakes Motor Inn.
It wasn’t ideal.
Diamonds would’ve been ideal, but when Holly had proposed the club as their rendezvous point, Lucas had grown tense, his tone deepening through the receiver as he’d detailed the bizarre news that Diamonds, along with its sleazy owner, Ron Conover had gone up in flames. No one had seen it coming, least of all the hookers, many of which had been rushed to the hospital with second and first degree burns.
An explosion? Holly had asked, stunned from where she’d been pacing in her store, visions of shattered glass raining over her.
Just like the garage, he’d said, connecting the same dots.
Holly scanned the shallow motel lobby, its plastic chairs, the vending machine, and the stained carpet. The front desk was unattended so she tapped the bell on the counter a few times, having been prompted by the handwritten sign next to it—Strike me twice and I’ll be nice!—then glanced over her shoulder through the glass door where golden light was pouring through, a precursor to dusk.
Her bag felt heavy on her right shoulder so she slung it over her left and stared at the doorway behind the counter where she presumed the clerk would emerge.
She felt jumpy.
An anxious minute later an orange-haired punk wandered in from the back room, twisting his nose ring and hiking up his baggy pants, just as the entrance door behind her banged open and Lucas stepped in from the cold.
She sensed more than saw him nearing her, awkwardly diverting her eyes and not quite being able to look at the punkie clerk either.
“A room, please,” she mumbled, thumbing through her cash.
The kid snickered and Holly didn’t have to meet his gaze to know he was sizing her up as well as the tall, blue-eyed man who had stepped in beside her. “By the night or the hour?” he asked.
She glared at him, struggling to admit that by the hour would be just fine.
“Thought so,” he said, sure of himself as he punched the cash register keys. “I’ll take fifty for the deposit and you can pay on your way out.” Staring at him as if she wasn’t amused was enough to get him to clarify, “It’s twenty-eight an hour.”
She was about to question the steep deposit but decided against it, handing him the exact amount. He smelled it for some reason—probably high off his ass—and plucked a pink, plastic dildo off the wall-rack, which she realized had a room key attached.
“Room 14, but it’s on the second level,” he explained. “Stairs are to your left outside.”
Holly didn’t know whether to grasp the metal key or the dildo, but the kid hadn’t left her much choice. The key was pinched between his thumb and index finger so
she grabbed the phallic tchotchke, avoiding Lucas’s strangely optimistic gaze, as she walked to the glass door and slapped it open.
If it was cold outside—and it was frigid—the temperature didn’t pull the hot flush from her cheeks as she started down the walkway towards the stairs, Lucas trailing behind her at a cautious distance.
Once they reached the second floor balcony and found Room 14, she fumbled fitting the key into the lock thanks to the weight of the dangling dildo, which worked against her.
“Asinine,” she grumbled when the door finally opened.
It didn’t smell quite like she’d expected—nothing like stale cigarettes and bleach or the offensive pine scent of any given car freshener.
As she eased skeptically into the motel room, Lucas locking them inside so no one could accidentally stumble into what they were about to do, Holly got the general impression that the Lakes Motor Inn was pretending to be a quaint bed and breakfast—paisley curtains lined the windows, the carpet cream though matted badly, the bed crisply made, its florally comforter pleasant enough. When she peeked in the bathroom, flipping on the light, which caused the fan to shudder louder than a jet engine, she noted that the sink and bathtub were spotless, papered soaps sat on the counter, and tiny bottles of shampoo covered the ledge in the shower stall. The toilet lid was down, which for some reason helped her to breathe a bit easier.
She turned for the bedroom and found Lucas staring at her. He seemed both exhilarated and terrified—his blue eyes widening, his face drawing long as though sickened with arousal.
Holly hadn’t told him about Cody, the timeline, that the detective was angling to arrest him, that meeting Lucas here was a last ditch effort to clear his name, one she had little faith would work. Maybe she should’ve warned him, detailed the stakes, but convincing him to come had been difficult enough. He was still on edge—the dark result of Holly having threatened his life, of Lucas retaliating, of gunfire and Holly fleeing his apartment without so much as a glance over her shoulder.
“You think this will work?” he asked.
“Do you?”
They stared at each other for a beat until Holly mentioned, “Diamonds would’ve been better.”
Lowering his gaze, he nodded. When his eyes snapped up again, he asked, “What if I can’t control myself? I mean... if this works then I won’t really be here.”
“I know,” she said quietly, wishing she had her revolver, which she’d abandoned in favor of running from his apartment. “Is there anything...” she began, not entirely sure how to phrase her question. “Do you think there’s anything I can say, anything you’re so connected to that if I say it, it’ll bring you back?”
Lucas thought hard, his mouth pressing into a thin line, his eyes shifting. “I don’t think I’ve lost any time on the job.”
“I could say...” Trailing off, she wracked her brain. “What’s a police code?”
“Tell me there’s a One Eight Seven in progress.”
She let out a nervous laugh. “Okay.” Then, when it occurred to her, she asked, “What’s a One Eight Seven?”
“Homicide.”
Her voice a whisper, she repeated, “Okay,” and turned for the bathroom.
“I’m going to want you.”
She cracked a smile. “Let’s hope, or else this won’t work.”
Nodding, Lucas glanced at the floor, but again stopped her before she could slip into the bathroom. “Should I... I don’t know, take my clothes off?”
Thrown, Holly tempered her reaction so he wouldn’t feel awkward, and thinking fast on her feet, said, “Maybe you should leave your clothes on, give me some place to go in case you don’t start talking right away.”
“Right, good,” he said, clearly embarrassed. “Good point.”
She felt for him as she hovered in the doorway, not quite ready to slip into Rose’s lingerie. “I don’t know how this is going to go and I don’t know how it works, but...” Hunting for the right words, she came up with, “Try not to fight it?”
Turning for the bathroom, Holly paused for the third time when he asked, “If thinking I’m with you causes me to... or this other part of me to... whatever switch takes place. Then why hasn’t it happened when I’ve seen you? For instance at your sister’s house on the night of the murders and then at your store?”
Considering his question, which was more than valid, she pulled her bag off her shoulder. “We’re out of options here, Lucas. You’ve been in the habit of sleeping with Rose and thinking she’s me... we have to have some faith that this is going to work.”
“Right, sorry,” he said quickly and began slowly pacing the room, clapping his palm to his fist as if working up some kind of nerve.
Reassuringly, she told him, “I’ll be out in a sec,” and gently closed the bathroom door.
Taking her time, she began stripping down, tucking her boots beneath the sink, hanging her coat on the door rack, folding and stacking her clothes on the toilet. Nude, she studied her reflection in the mirror, straining to see her twin.
Though she looked exactly like Rose, Holly felt lost. She had no way of knowing for sure how her sister had behaved around Lucas—her prowess, confidence, attitude. If their aim was to get him to switch into some alter ego who knew about the affair and every dark deed that had transpired because of it, then Holly would have to embody Rose’s vibe in order to coax Lucas’s other self out.
Why did all roads lead to Holly becoming her sister?
She forced a smile, but it looked like a grimace, and then rummaged through her bag for the lingerie. She stepped into a gaudy, zebra print thong lined with magenta lace around the hips and sparkling rhinestones along the seam. The matching bra was even worse and as she pulled it on she discovered it failed to cover her nipples.
“Shit,” she muttered, glancing down at the terrible garment. It wasn’t that she was too busty for it; this was simply its trashy design. Why hadn’t she examined the lingerie more closely at the house? Or at the very least packed a few more options?
Lastly, she swiped on Rose’s lipstick—Ravenous Red—and fluffed her hair, dousing her locks with hair spray, also Rose’s. She had found black eyeliner in her sister’s closet as well, so she drew thin lines along her lashes and then stepped back to assess her overall appearance in the mirror.
She looked like a truck-stop hooker.
Perfect?
Taking a few deep breaths that did nothing to calm her nerves, she cracked the door open and locked eyes with Lucas who was standing at the foot of the bed like a lost child.
She hadn’t exactly thought this far ahead. She felt the urge to say something—she should break the ice before this got painfully awkward, shouldn’t she?—but nothing came.
As she widened the door, his gaze traveled the length of her and because of it her chest tightened self-consciously. Realizing she had begun to slouch—as if any posture could shield her bare breasts—she willed herself to straighten her back confidently as she took a few shallow steps into the room.
As awkward as she felt, when Lucas’s expression shifted subtly—assured arousal washing away trepidation—her anxiety faded as well.
Was he now the man who had spent countless nights with her sister?
Advancing on her, he breathed, “Holly,” and found her hips, grazing his warm hands around her as if they’d done this a million times.
Was it working?
She urged him back, shot him a coy smile though it felt contrived, and suggested, “Let’s get comfortable.”
Impatient or perhaps misunderstanding, Lucas wrapped his mouth around her breast, stunning her.
After a frozen moment, she urged him off again, letting out a breathy laugh, and guided him to the bed where she shoved him to sit.
But he was tangling with her, his hands squeezing her waist, groaning as he glanced up the length of her, pulling her between his splayed legs.
Testing him, she said, “We’ve been seeing each other for awhile...”
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“You haven’t left him,” he pointed out, which relieved Holly for no other reason than it confirmed she was talking to the part of Lucas who knew the answers they both needed.
“I’m working on it,” she offered, wrapping her head around the fact that while Lucas believed he had been involved with Holly, he thought she was living her sister’s life—married and with a son.
Turning cross, he challenged, “I don’t think you are, not other than fantasizing.”
“Do you remember the night of the 12th?”
“Why?”
“Tell me about it,” she prodded. “We weren’t together that night or were we?”
“It was a long night.”
Attempting to be firm as she leveled with him, she stated, “I know about your friendship with Roberta-”
“It’s just a friendship.”
“I know.”
“You think I was with her that night?”
“I think you know something,” she pressed, angling over him, Lucas responding by leaning back on his elbows. “I want to hear it.”
He snorted a laugh as though he couldn’t believe her. “I was headed to your house that night. We had plans, remember?”
“So you drove over?” she questioned.
“Almost, but Roberta called me. Lie down.”
Ignoring him, she asked, “What did she say on the call?”
Lucas was kneading her thighs so she shoved him playfully, but the attempt backfired. He pulled her onto him. The next thing she knew, she was straddling him, Lucas gazing up at her, his hands rushing over her body.
“She was a mess that night,” he explained. “You’re fault, by the way. You gave her way too much.”
“Drugs?” she guessed, “Coke?”
“What else?” After a beat of admiring her figure, he went on, “She was worried about your father-in-law.”
“Why?”
“Probably because she’d been sneaking into Benji’s room and Warren was catching on. I don’t know, she wasn’t making sense. She wanted me to go to the resort, but she wasn’t talking straight. She thought you were there. She was acting crazy. So I rerouted, but didn’t get that far.”