Dark Illusion: A Psychological Thriller Novel

by Moison, Dana V.

  “Hi, honey, it’s Mom. We haven’t talked in so long and I miss you. I know I’m not supposed to call, but I have a feeling I may have done something wrong. A Detective Davis came over to meet me, in order to make sure that no one might be trying to harm you, you know, because of that serial murder story. She told me that you knew some of the victims and that you might be in danger! Why didn’t you tell me anything? Why did you stop calling? Well, anyhow, that’s not the point. I . . . I’m really sorry, but I almost told her . . . you know what . . . But I stopped myself just in time! I didn’t tell her anything. I’m really sorry, honey, but don’t worry. I don’t think she noticed, and she respected my request not to talk about it.“

  Kelly tried to choke back her anger and listen to the rest of the message.

  “. . . In any case, she was really nice! We were looking at old photos and nibbled on some of those homemade oatmeal cookies you like so much.“

  I hate oatmeal cookies.

  “. . . You know what, if you’d like, I’ll make two batches for you first thing in the morning and send them to you! I hope you’re not mad. Please, call me back, or at least write . . . I just haven’t heard from you in so long. Love you!“

  Kelly began coughing violently. The coughs took over her entire body, becoming worse and worse. She collapsed on the glaring floor of her lavish home. Tiny beads of perspiration began covering her skin. For a few long minutes, Kelly felt as if she were suffocating; she was gasping for air. Gradually, her breathing began to adjust and the coughing stopped, but the heat was still emanating from her body, slowly, like a dying ember.

  Kelly barely got up and then staggered toward the bathroom. She pulled a towel off of the shining towel rack that matched the other items embellishing the decorated space. She wetted it and ran it across her face and then over the rest of her sweltering body. The immediate coolness soothed her. On her way to the master bedroom, Kelly took off her clothes, leaving them scattered throughout the hall, until she remained completely naked. She fell onto her bed, curled up in a fetal position, with her face turned toward the ceiling, her eyes gazing at it with a blank look. Shortly after, they began to tear up. Was this the beginning of her great downfall? Was it possible that she had been too complacent, believing wholeheartedly that all the pieces would fall into place and complete the perfect vision that she had built in her mind?

  “You stupid hillbilly!!!“ she roared toward the ceiling.

  The spacious room replied with her echoing cry.

  Why did you do this to me, Mom? Why are you sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong?

  The tears had already dried on her cheeks; there were no new ones to replace them.

  I can’t believe that stupid cop has done this to me. Who does she think she is, going behind my back to see my mother?

  All of a sudden a frightening thought penetrated her mind.

  She couldn’t have done this on her own. Someone authorized her to do this. Unless she has a death wish . . .

  Kelly didn’t know which was worse, knowing that she was doomed because of a detective who wasn't worth the slime that stuck to her shoes, or the fact that she hadn’t tricked her as well as she’d thought. Kelly was closer than ever to giving up her dream and devoting herself to the loss, but then her inherent survival instinct kicked in. She was not going to give up.

  If she wants war, she will get war. Sharon Davis has no idea what she’s gotten herself into.

  Kelly got up swiftly, a complete contrast to the way she had arrived in bed. She marched lightly toward her closet, got dressed quickly, and went down to the basement. She passed all the mirrors surrounding the room without looking at them even once. Kelly typed in the access code to the high-tech safe she had installed there: The date of that awful day in 1990; a day she would never forget. She took out stacks and stacks of green bills and one single gun.

  If there was anything Kelly was addicted to, it was revenge.

  CHAPTER 25

  The flight back to New York lasted just a few hours, but seemed to Sharon like an eternity.

  She hadn’t been able to get hold of Rob before the flight, presumably because of the time difference, and she had been sentenced to spend the next five and a half hours without any possibility of making contact with the outside world. Even though she’d had very few hours of sleep the night before, different thoughts and scenarios were racing through her mind. She felt as if time were passing insufferably slow, minute by minute. Her only comfort was that she had a window seat.

  Sharon gazed down at the lights of the city waking up below her during takeoff and a tiny smile crept to the corners of her lips. She remembered her last visit to Arizona, at the age of fourteen, during a family vacation. That summer it had been her younger brother’s turn to choose the destination. Like any adventurous ten-year-old boy, Sean had chosen the Grand Canyon. Sharon had not been thrilled, to say the least. Even back then, she had already adopted the sarcasm and rough edges that had become an integral part of her personality as an adult, and his choice hadn’t suited her. She had felt frustrated and cheated; she couldn’t believe that her annoying parents were dragging her to spend a whole week in the middle of nowhere Arizona, along with her equally annoying brother, away from all of her friends. On top of that, during the exact same week as the family vacation trip, Jeremy Crane, the most popular boy in school, had thrown a pool party at his house, and she had been devastated when she realized she was going to miss it. In hindsight, it had only been an above ground swimming pool in the backyard of an average house in Brooklyn, but in young Sharon’s eyes it had been no less glamorous than the Oscars. Of course, her parents hadn’t agreed to cancel a family tradition. Instead, they’d promised her that she would have fun on the trip, even if she didn’t believe it. Eventually the prophecy fulfilled itself, but Sharon had never dared to admit it to her parents; after all, she’d had a stiff reputation to maintain.

  Sharon resolved to tell them the truth this weekend, even if it was twelve years later. You were right, Mom and Dad, I did have fun on that trip. And they had the ultimate proof: a photo from that trip, the one with the Grand Canyon stretching behind Sharon in all of its glory, her blonde hair glinting beneath the bright July sun while she was smiling at the camera. Her parents had framed the special photo, which had captured their moody teenage daughter cracking a smile, at long last, and had hung it on the wall along the stairs, where all the family photos were proudly displayed.

  It suddenly hit her that she hadn’t visited her parents’ house in a long time. Besides the occasional trip out to some shady crime scene, she hadn’t stepped outside the borders of Manhattan much. It was unbelievable how long it had been since she had spent real quality time with her family. She had met her parents a few weeks ago for dinner, but it had been shortened because something came up at work. She hadn’t seen her brother, now a student at Stanford University, for a few months, not since Christmas. She couldn’t recall if he had a girlfriend or not, and that made her pretty sad, because they had been very close when they were younger.

  This job was taking a toll not just on her, but also on the people closest to her, she sadly realized. Ever since she’d taken on this case, she hadn’t really had time to have a life of her own. She had dedicated her everything to finding this damned murderer, or murderess, a possibility which seemed realistic now more than ever.

  The countless hours she had spent reading the case files, which she could now recite by heart; the long nights lying awake in her bed, unable to fall asleep, in an attempt to figure out what the hell was she missing; the power struggles with her boss, followed by the way in which she had jeopardized her position; and, most of all, the deep sense of defeat each time a new victim was found. All of these had made it clear to her that this was much more than just a job. More than just a case.

  It was personal.

  Her left foot started tapping rapidly against the floor of the plane. The sudden rush of emotions tingled inside of her to the ext
ent that Sharon felt as if she needed to run a marathon to get rid of them, but the red seatbelt sign was still on.

  Can’t you just give me a break?

  Sharon wasn’t sure who she was complaining to, but the thought vanished from her mind as quickly as it had appeared, because at that exact moment a strange force held her leg and prevented it from moving.

  To her surprise, she found on her lap the hand of the man sitting next to her.

  In any other situation he would have ended up flattened on the ground, groaning in agony, but Sharon assumed this would not be acceptable on an airplane.

  “Calm down,“ he smiled. It seemed as if he were saying it more for her sake than for his.

  His grin, warm and friendly, managed to soften all of her defense mechanisms. For a moment, she forgot how to strike back.

  “I wish there were someone to tell me that every day . . .“ she admitted, surprised by her own candidness.

  “I’m Chris,“ he introduced himself, still smiling.

  “Sharon,“ she smiled back.

  The flight attendant passed with the beverage cart.

  “I would like some orange juice please, and the lady will have . . .“ he purposely spoke in a pompous, official tone.

  Sharon smiled, “Water, that’s all. Thanks.“

  After the flight attendant had served them their drinks and moved on to the next row, he turned to her.

  “What are you so nervous about, Sharon?“ His interest seemed sincere.

  Sharon focused on a distant spot out the window. “Believe me, you don’t want to know, and I wouldn’t even know where to begin.“

  She turned and looked at him. He seemed to be in his late twenties and had dark hair that complemented his blue eyes. Not that Sharon noticed.

  “Let’s start with something easier. Are you just visiting or . . . ?“

  “I was born and raised in New York,“ she answered proudly.

  “My deepest condolences,“ he teased.

  “Thanks, I could use it.“

  “How come?“

  “I got seated next to a wiseass on the plane.“

  “Wow! I’m dealing with a pro. So I guess we’re even?“

  “Seriously? If anything, it’s two to one, in my favor.“

  “Sounds about right,“ he chuckled.

  They smiled at each other. It had been so long since Sharon had a conversation that wasn’t related somehow to a murder case. It was nice.

  “So, Sharon, what were you doing in Arizona?“

  “Work stuff . . . By your response I’m guessing you’re not from New York.“

  “Not originally. I recently moved to New York for a job, but I can’t really say I’ve adapted to the big city life.“

  “New York isn’t your cup of tea?“ Her lips curled into a smile.

  “Actually, from the little that I’ve seen, it looks cool. But the last few months I’ve been so busy getting situated with my new job that I haven’t really gotten many chances to experience the city,“ he admitted. “Honestly, though, what bothers me the most is the people.“

  “Oh, really?“ she asked playfully. Am I flirting with him?

  “They’re all such egoistical pricks. Everyone in the office hates me because I’m the new guy. They haven’t even given me a chance to prove what an asshole I really am!“

  Sharon laughed out loud. The bald man in the seat in front of her turned his head back and gave her a disapproving glare. But she was still smiling.

  “Though it could be that I just haven’t gotten to know New York properly . . .“

  Sharon immediately sensed where he was going with this, but she wasn’t entirely convinced that he was actually hitting on her.

  “. . . Maybe if a cool New Yorker decided to prove me wrong . . .“

  Sharon froze. She had no idea how to react. She could barely crack a smile.

  “So, what do you say?“ He kept smiling, but it was obvious that he was nervous, too.

  She looked into his eyes for a few seconds before answering. “Okay, sure. Why the hell not?“ Sharon decided to jump at the opportunity, even if in a few days she would end up cancelling because of work.

  “Great! Here’s my card. Call me when you get some time off work.“

  “In that case, we will never see each other again. It’s better if you take my card.“

  CHAPTER 26

  “Information. How may I help you?“

  “Hello, operator, may I get the address corresponding to a phone number, please?“

  Kelly held in her hand the business card of Detective Davis. She knew exactly what to do.

  “Of course, could you please tell me the number?“

  * * *

  Sharon had finally reached the top of the staircase, which this time seemed to be longer than ever. In just a few minutes she would reach her warm bed and, most important, the telephone. She had forgotten to charge her cell phone before the flight, and now it was turned off and lifeless. She was eager to hear what Rob had found out, whether there had been any breakthroughs in the past few hours, or, perhaps, she had once again jumped to conclusions too quickly.

  In the last minute she had before arriving at her apartment door, Sharon let her thoughts drift to other things: that cute guy she’d met on the plane, her gruesome tiredness and aching muscles, and how much she longed for a warm bubble bath. She knew the latter was most likely not going to happen and she would probably have to settle for a quick shower before diving back into the case. But since she still had a few more seconds to fantasize, she threw in a good glass of wine as well. The only thing her imagination and reality had in common was the Chinese takeout she was about to order from her favorite restaurant, conveniently located just a few blocks away from her home. She was starving.

  Sharon reached her doorstep and began rummaging through her big, messy bag for her keys. What a surprise, she couldn’t find them. She started to fear that she had lost them, or perhaps even packed them in her suitcase. In that moment she felt the exhaustion and post-flight nerves more than ever. She grasped the doorknob and made a wish:

  Please, God, could you give me some slack, just this once?

  When Sharon turned the door knob, the greatest miracle happened. The door pushed open.

  Thanks!

  Sharon entered the dark apartment, dragging her suitcase behind her, and closed the door. And then, in a split second, it hit her: something wasn’t right. She never forgot to lock the door when she left.

  She immediately dropped everything and reached down to her left side, where her holster always remained close to her. But it wasn’t there.

  Damn those stupid rules that forbid boarding a flight with a visible weapon!

  Her Glock was at the bottom of the messy bag that had gotten her in this mess in the first place.

  Sharon pulled back slowly, feeling relieved that she hadn’t turned on the light yet, which gave her a certain advantage. She was so close to the door when . . .

  “If you move one more inch I’ll blow your head off.“

  Sharon knew that voice too well. Before she realized what exactly was going on, the room lit up and Kelly’s image stood before her, pointing a gun.

  A swirl of emotions rushed through her. Fear, due to the threat that had appeared without warning; confusion, in light of the fact that Kelly had broken into her home; frustration, that she hadn’t detected the danger in time; but everything, oddly enough, was diluted by the feeling of satisfaction that came from knowing that she had been right all along. She knew there had been something suspicious about this woman, and this confirmed everything.

  “Move!“ Kelly ordered her and pointed at a chair that had been placed in the center of the room. “And no sudden movements or else . . .“

  Sharon had no choice but to do as Kelly said. She tried to quickly think of a way to get out of this situation, but nothing came to mind. Kelly was the one holding all the cards.

  “And look what I found,“ she flaunted the pair o
f handcuffs that Sharon kept in her nightstand. “Not much fun when someone goes snooping through your business, huh?“

  Sharon gave her a piercing look, but did not say a word.

  “What happened? Cat got your tongue?“

  Sharon remained silent without taking her eyes off of Kelly.

  “You didn’t seem to have a problem talking to my mom. So why are you so quiet with me all of a sudden?“

  “I guess your mom is nicer than you.“

  “Oh, finally, I’m just delighted to hear your voice! And I would watch my mouth if I were you; I don’t think you can afford to be rude.“ She moved toward Sharon, threatening her with the pistol to make her hold still, and then shackled her hands behind the chair with the handcuffs. Sharon’s attempts to break free from them hurt her wrists.

  “Do you like being cuffed, or do you prefer playing the good cop in bed, too?“ Kelly caressed Sharon’s face and looked straight into her eyes: “You’re so pretty. If I didn’t already know you’re a cop, I’d have bet you were a model.“ The gentle stroke turned into an aggressive grip as Kelly sunk her claws deep into Sharon’s skin.

  “Leave me alone!“ Sharon yelled as she turned her head away to evade the harsh grasp.

  Kelly pulled back, still pointing the gun at Sharon. “What a coincidence. That’s exactly what I wanted to tell you,“ her tone rose as she spoke. “Why were you digging so deep, Sharon?“

  Where the hell did I slip up?

  “Why, for God’s sake, is your apartment filled with files about me?“ Kelly continued in an escalating eruption. “Why, in heaven’s name, did you fly all the way to Arizona just to meet my mom?“ Her wrath took over completely. Tears of anger washed into her eyes.

  Sharon thought she’d noticed a slight tremor in the firm hands clutching the gun.

  “Looks like I was right,“ Sharon answered defiantly. Even with her life in danger she could not refrain from speaking her mind.

  Kelly was ready to kill her on the spot.