Skin and Bone: A Psychological Thriller

by T. L. Keary

  The picture was taken in Ezra’s living room. His dad is in the background, about to head up the stairs, his older brother behind him. They perfectly photo-bombed what would be an adorable picture.

  I trace one finger down Ezra in the picture, smiling contently.

  Seeing him the other day had been amazing. Actually getting to talk to him was enough to make my heart race. But touching him when he hugged me? It had been enough to make all the sacrifices of the past few months worth it.

  “See you Friday, Ez,” I promise him as I set the picture on the mantle.

  Chapter Six

  Sawyer

  She looks like me. She’s pretending to be me. She’s ruining everything in my life.

  She quit my job.

  She moved all of my things out of my apartment. She put them in a new one.

  I’d had my bag with me when I blacked out. In it were my car keys. The keys to my apartment. My wallet with my ID and my bank cards.

  She’s got my laptop, the one with all of my passwords saved to it. She can get into my bank account. She can check my email. She can even get on my social media and post as me.

  I sit on the cot and look at the black TV, feeling my stomach sink.

  She looks just like me.

  She has everything she needs to become me. Except my DNA I guess, but who would ever think to check that, when she has everything else that is me?

  “Why are you doing this?” I ask again for the fiftieth time. She’s got a camera in here watching me; I assume she’s also listening.

  But there’s no response.

  I wonder if I’m going to die in this box. I have food for a while. I’m guessing about four weeks’ worth. And the water will last me longer than that, so long as I go easy. I don’t know how I’m getting fresh oxygen, but I haven’t suffocated yet.

  So, I guess I could survive for a month and a half or so if I really ration. About forty-five days.

  I’ve been in here for three.

  A tear finally pushes its way to the surface and rolls down my face.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  Chapter Seven

  I hum to myself as I look into the mirror and finish getting ready. I’ve curled my hair into soft waves, they stretch down my back, light and airy. I apply one last coat of gloss to my lips. I check the time and grab my purse. Checking I have the keys, I head outside and slip into Sawyer’s silver Mercedes.

  The engine purrs and I put it into gear and pull out onto the road.

  Careful not to jostle it too much, I reach up and press the button on my necklace. It’s a simple piece, a gold chain with a few seemingly innocent bobbles on it. One of them contains a tiny camera that transmits to my phone.

  I’ve gotten very familiar with cameras and recording devices over the last few years.

  I drive the eight blocks down the road and curl into the parking lot of Chucks.

  I climb out, straightening my skirt.

  It hugs down my thighs, but stretches to my knees so as to not come off too strong. I wore a light pink top, because Ezra always seemed to stare at her the most when she wore pink. Locking the car, I head to the front door.

  My eyes lock on Ezra the second I turn around the corner. Instantly my heart is racing, but it’s the good kind of anxiety, the kind that reaches down through your stomach, all the way to your toes.

  He looks up at me from under his dark eyelashes, and from the set of his lips and the tension in his shoulders; I know he’s wary.

  “Hey,” I say cautiously, holding my purse with both hands, making myself look small and vulnerable. “I’m glad you came. I might have had a dream last night that you didn’t show and I just ate dinner by myself.”

  “You know I wouldn’t do that to you,” Ezra says. And the look in his eyes tells me that he’s a little hurt that the thought crossed my mind.

  “I know,” I say, pushing the words forward just a little faster than necessary. “It was just a dream. You ready to eat?”

  He just nods and pulls the door open for me.

  Nothing has changed around here. I’ve only ever eaten here twice, but it’s still the same set up of green walls and wood trim, dark booths and the smell of greasy food.

  “Hey, Ezra,” the hostess greets him with a warm smile. “Two of you?” Her eyes shift to me and she takes a moment to look me over and weigh my worth.

  I know jealousy when I see it.

  “Yeah, thanks, Tiff,” he says.

  “Right this way,” she says. She grabs two menus and walks off into the dim light of the restaurant. She takes us toward the back of the building and leaves us with only a quick smile for Ezra.

  Ezra takes his menu and looks it over, not saying anything.

  I grab mine and pretend I’m considering the options. Sawyer has Celiac Disease and thus can’t eat anything with gluten. Thankful for me, more and more establishments are making gluten-free options. There’s a small section at the bottom of the menu and I opt for a salad.

  One more reason to hate her. Her diet makes it easy to keep off those fifteen pounds I had to work so hard to lose.

  “I haven’t been here in forever,” I say, looking up at Ezra. He doesn’t look up at me, though. He keeps his eyes firmly fixed on the menu. “You still go for the double bacon and extra fries?”

  That does draw his eyes up to mine and I hate that I can’t read the expression in his eyes. They drop back down to the menu. “Well, you hit thirty and suddenly you can’t get away with burgers every other night.”

  My stomach sinks just a little. I was trying to be complimentary. Because even though he’s not eighteen anymore, he’s still in incredible shape.

  Thankfully, the waitress comes then and takes our orders. Ezra gets the chicken and the roasted veggies.

  “How did your house hunt go?” he asks when she leaves, because Ezra is anything but awkward and rude.

  “Um, good, I guess,” I say, acting shy and a little embarrassed. “I actually moved into my new place on Wednesday.”

  His eyes widen a bit at that, and I see all kinds of guarding in his eyes. “That was quick. Not too many architecture firms here in town. Are you commuting?”

  I shake my head. “I’ve been working toward building my own clientele the last year or so. I finally got to the point where I could strike out on my own.”

  He looks at me like he’s trying to read the truth off my face. Which makes my heart beat faster. I have to lean back a bit, trying to put some distance between us.

  There are no scars. I paid tens of thousands extra to be sure there wouldn’t be.

  But still, I’m afraid he’s going to see something; that something will be off. Ezra spent a lot of time looking at this face.

  But it’s been thirteen years since he got a close look.

  I’m counting on that heavily.

  People change as they age.

  “I’m just a little surprised that this is where you chose to go out on your own,” he says, and my dread deepens a little more. “You seemed pretty anxious to get out of here before.”

  I fold my arms on the table and look down at its surface, hoping to portray a little vulnerability. “I guess the grass always looks greener on the other side when you’re that young. I’ve enjoyed living in Bellevue, but I guess it’s just kind of worn me out. The traffic. The people. There’s a lot of ambition and money going on in that city. And while a part of me loves it, another part of me says I’ve done everything I went to that city to do. I guess I’m just looking to move on to another phase of my life.”

  Ezra lifts his head, but his eyes never leave mine. He’s quiet for a long moment and I give him his time to sort through his thoughts.

  The waitress returns with our food and then leaves when she’s made sure our drinks are full.

  “What about you?” I ask as I stab my fork into my salad. “What have you been up to in the past seven years?”

  “Just kind of the same,” Ezra says, cutting a knife through
his chicken. “Dad is officially retiring at the end of the year, so I’ll fully take over then. I’m already running ninety percent of the operations.”

  “How big is the crew now?” I ask after swallowing.

  “We’ve got fourteen guys going on the main crew, another twenty between the sub-contractors.”

  I nod. The Knox family has been in the building and real estate business for forever. His father runs a construction company. Ezra grew up swinging a hammer and moved on into management a few years after high school.

  It’s why he’s never left Snohomish. He’s tied into the family business.

  “Well, my my.” I hear a voice and turn to see a familiar face walking up. She’s got to be forty pounds heavier than the last time I saw her, but those red curls and those bright eyes could be no one else but Shelby Joseph. “If that isn’t the surprise of my month. Ezra Knox and Sawyer James having dinner. It’s like a flashback to high school.”

  Shelby stops at our booth, putting one hand on the back of Ezra’s bench and her other on her hips that are screaming she’s birthed more than one kid.

  “It’s a surprise to us all,” Ezra says, sitting back. “Sawyer’s just moved back to town.”

  “Well, who can blame her?” Shelby says, flashing me a wink. “Home is where the heart is. And where the still single ex is.”

  She winks and while it sends a thrill racing through my blood, Ezra runs a hand through his hair, looking exceptionally uncomfortable. “Good to see you, Shelby.”

  “See you two around,” she says with a mischievous smile and turns away. She walks across the building and sits in a booth with a man I don’t recognize. She has two young children with her and I see a car seat pushed to the far end of the booth.

  Some of us figure life out in a hurry. The rest of us take a decade to sort things out.

  “I’m sorry, Ez,” I say, glancing in Shelby’s direction. She’s watching us like we’re the most exciting thing to happen in her life since her last birth. “I didn’t mean to cause drama by asking you to dinner.”

  His eyes shift up to mine and he slowly chews a bite as he stares at me. It’s hard to read what’s going through his head, but I’m pretty sure that’s a hint of anger and maybe annoyance. “It’s okay,” he finally says.

  I offer him a smile and nod.

  For a few minutes we eat in silence. I don’t know if it’s comfortable for him or not. It certainly isn’t for me. My brain is going through my script at a million miles per second, making sure I say the right things at the right time.

  “We’re going to be able to be friends, right?” I ask, letting my fork hover over my plate. “I mean, I know things got kind of dark at the end. But that was a long time ago. We’re adults now. We’re going to see each other.”

  Ezra looks up at me, his eyes intense and wary once more. “I don’t know, Sawyer. You and I were never really friends.”

  Hands and lips and intense looks, always. Laughs and tickles and curious touches.

  That’s what Sawyer and Ezra were.

  “We’re not hormonal kids anymore, Ez,” I say, offering him a sad little smile. “And maybe if we can find some kind of normal it will help us both.”

  I can lie to him if it helps get where we need to be. To where we can move forward.

  Ezra looks at me, still intense and unsure.

  But I see his expression lightening. He wears everything on his sleeve. It’s one of the great things about him. You never have to guess where you stand.

  “Sure,” he says. “We can try.”

  I let a smile spread on my lips. “Good. Cause friends help each other move furniture, right?”

  It’s the dawning of the sun when a smile suddenly breaks out on Ezra’s face. He closes his eyes and shakes his head with a laugh.

  Maybe this is working after all.

  “Sure,” he says, placing his elbow on the table and resting his chin in his hand. “What time and where’s your new place?”

  Would you look at that? Everything is working according to plan.

  Chapter Eight

  Sawyer

  I’ve never considered myself a person who clings to hate, but I’m beginning to cling to it like it’s the only thing keeping me from going insane.

  The TV flickers on again, only this time, I’m not looking at a body cam. It’s a camera set up on a bookshelf, positioned very carefully. I’m seeing a living room full of my stuff. There’s a cute little kitchen off to the side. I see a hall and down it, all three doors are open. There’s a bathroom, and at least one of them is a bedroom. The other looks empty.

  It’s nearly impossible to tell time in this metal box, but by my estimation of how often I’m sleeping, and using the toilet, I’ve been in here for a week. A week of nothing but seeing that TV come on, watching that woman living my life, masquerading as me, wearing my face.

  I stand in front of the TV, my hands on my hips as I wait to see what kind of madness she’s going to show me today.

  I hear huffing and a curse, and then the door swings open, hard. A second later, I walk in the door backward, carrying a long, large, flat box. At the other end of it is Ezra, just like he said he would help when they went to dinner the other night.

  “Let’s just lay it down here in the living room,” she says, carefully walking backward into the room. She passes just in front of the camera, but she’s a decent enough actress that she doesn’t look at it.

  “Careful,” Ezra says as they lower it. They get it to the ground without too much trouble. “Nice. I think I can get the other two myself. You can start getting this one open.”

  “’K,” she says, biting her lower lip and heading into the kitchen.

  Ezra disappears back outside, and the woman walks back into the living room with a knife.

  My gut turns cold as she looks up into the camera, very deliberately, and smiles.

  “Shit,” I curse. I don’t even realize I’m swaying back and forth, moving faster and faster. My fists are balled up together and I’m pressing them into my lips as I watch the TV.

  She drops to her knees and begins cutting the box open and a few moments later, Ezra walks back in with two smaller flat boxes.

  “You said you needed help moving furniture,” he huffs as he stands them up against the kitchen island. “I feel like this is a guilt trap.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says innocently, but with a hint of a smile as she pulls the assembly instructions out and opens them to the first page.

  “Don’t try to pull that one on me, Sawyer,” Ezra says with the shake of his head. “I still remember that time you tried to put your first desk together on your own. You didn’t even look at the instructions. It came out all backwards.”

  “Are you trying to tell me I don’t know how to read?” she says in false accusation as she starts sorting out numbered parts.

  Ezra huffs a laugh and shakes his head. “I’ll be right back.”

  He ducks out the door.

  She does this little laugh.

  My face contorts in a scowl.

  A minute later Ezra walks back in, a tool belt around his waist and a screw gun in his hand. He pulls the trigger three times fast when he walks in, making her yelp in surprise.

  She totally faked it.

  “Easy there, He-Man,” she says with a playful scowl. “They included all the tools I need, right here in this bag of parts.”

  “And if you don’t want to be re-tightening everything in one week, you’ll let me do it my way.”

  “No, no, no, Ezra,” I say out loud, resuming my pacing, even though I can’t take my eyes away from the screen. “Don’t you flirt with her. Don’t fall for it.”

  But he smiles as he drops to his knees beside her and starts sorting through all of the parts and pieces for a new dining table.

  I’d had one. She got rid of it.

  She’s good. She’s got this all planned out.

  And considering what she chooses
to show me, I know exactly what’s going on.

  It was never really about you.

  This is all about Ezra.

  I knew I’d broken Ezra’s heart when I broke up with him before starting college. We were good together, we’d been happy. But his refusal to leave town and the fact that he got so angry about me changing his plan for our life together was just too much. He was happy living here in Snohomish, knew he was going to take over his dad’s company since Davis had his own thing.

  I didn’t hate Snohomish. I just wanted options.

  Ezra had planned out our entire lives together while we were in high school. For a while I thought it was what I wanted as well. But as other kids talked about their college plans and their future careers, I knew I needed to chase my dreams, too. I wanted the college experience. I didn’t want my fate decided when I was only eighteen years old.

  Ezra was happy where he was.

  It wasn’t that I didn’t love him anymore. It was just that love wasn’t enough.

  So I’d kissed him goodbye after laying it out clean and simple. But it hadn’t been that clean or simple. He’d begged. He’d cried. He’d gotten angry. He’d tried to bargain.

  I told him it wasn't enough, because he kept talking in circles that landed us right back to where we were.

  I won’t forget the look on his face when I glanced back over my shoulder as I headed for my car.

  I could see all that love in Ezra’s face. But I could also see his hatred.

  Eventually I had to avoid coming back into town. Because I would always somehow run into him. And every time, in his eyes, I still saw the same thing.

  He still loved me.

  He hated me for leaving.

  And there I am in front of him, come back to the town he will never leave. I’ve gone home. There I am, smiling at him, flirting with him. Spending time with him.

  I see it in Ezra’s eyes. That wariness he’d shown over the last two encounters is starting to weaken. It’s beginning to melt.

  “Don’t let your guard down, Ez,” I breathe into my hands.