“Sure, I’ve got her card here somewhere…” There was a pause, and then he returned, reading off a local number and email address. “I was going to set up a date with her. Do you want me to mention you’re in town?”
“Oh, no,” Alice replied quickly. “I definitely want to surprise her.”
Another few calls to directory assistance, and some enthusiastic Googling later, and Alice had an address. Crescent Heights. It was an older area above the main sprawl of the city, full of steep winding streets and houses buried in a lush tangle of tropical-looking trees. She slowed the car, idling by the curb as she approached the house on what was now her third loop around the block. A large Spanish-style building, it was set a little way back from the road with two cars in the driveway and separate mailboxes on the front lawn, suggesting that it housed more than one apartment—and that the residents were home.
This time, Alice came to a stop just up the street and waited, eyes fixed on the green-fringed entrance. As stakeouts went, it was low-tech, she knew: a bag full of bakery goods, a cardboard cup of herbal tea, and nothing but the radio for company. But as an hour drifted by, Alice refused to let her focus waver. She could just march up to the front door, demanding answers and a full confession, but what good would that do? She wanted to know the fabric of Ella’s life now: her fake career, the new set of disposable friends, the lies she was telling this time around. So she watched, flicking between classic rock and a strangely soothing country station, until just before one p.m., Ella emerged.
Alice sat forward, her last pastry suddenly forgotten in her hand. Ella was skipping down her front steps, head bent as she rummaged in a large leather bag. Her hair was the first thing Alice noticed. It was longer now, of course, but the formerly middling brown color was gone, replaced with a vibrant auburn red that fell in sleek, glossy waves. She was dressed smartly, but in a more eye-catching ensemble than she used to wear around Alice: a vivid purple ruffled top, a structured white pencil skirt, chunky gold jewelry. There were high heels, and the designer purse, but more than those shiny accessories, a certain confident strut in her walk that Alice had never seen before.
She looked like a different woman.
Alice squinted, just to be certain, but Ella’s face was unmistakable, even from a distance. She’d found her.
Ella climbed into her car and, a moment later, reversed out of the drive. Alice waited a few precious seconds and then started her own engine, easing after Ella as she headed off. Soon she would know everything.
***
Alice kept watch for four days, until the front seats of her rental car were littered with takeout wrappers and gossip magazines, and she’d seen for herself the new life Ella was crafting, out here in the sunshine. It was a good one: early-morning trips to a gym nearby, dressed casually in loose-fitting sweatpants and a high, bouncing ponytail; the stop for coffee at a hippie-looking corner café on her way back. Then it was home, for a shower and change into one of her chic, eye-catching outfits, before she headed out for her day. Ella didn’t seem to have a normal job, and she spent her days in a mismatched pattern of leisurely pursuits: working on a laptop in another coffee place; shopping the boutiques of Santa Monica; spending an afternoon tucked in a bookshop, browsing a stack of reference books as Alice loitered in the children’s section a safe twenty feet away. There were meetings too, a couple of lunches at upscale restaurants, printed pages strewn across the table, and a more casual coffee date that might well have been a social engagement—Alice observed them all, with fascination and a growing sense of resentment.
It had been seamless, she was coming to realize—Ella’s transition to another city, a newer, more perfect life. While Alice had been scrambling to prove her innocence and deal with the wreckage Ella had left, she’d been here: basking in the ease and comfort that nearly a hundred thousand pounds of stolen funds could provide. Alice had allowed herself to feel warmth, even sympathy, imagining the loneliness that Ella must feel. Now, having watched her spend a lazy afternoon picking out expensive bed linens, she wondered if Ella deserved any such charity at all.
“Target has arrived. Eighteen twenty-one Melrose.”
The metallic tone of her tracker device was like a friend by now. Alice turned left, and carefully slowed the car as she approached the row of neat shops and pretty cafés. Sure enough, Ella’s car was there on the side of the road, waiting for her.
“Thanks, Greta,” Alice murmured, finding her own space and managing a quick parallel parking endeavor. Naming her GPS locator might have seemed strange at first, but after approximately thirty hours in each other’s company, Alice regarded the small device with thanks and affection.
She’d lost Ella immediately, that first day out, watching with despair as she disappeared across a crowded intersection while Alice was caught by a quick change of lights. Alice had been briefly downcast, until Flora jokingly suggested she invest in some sort of tracking device. The array of discreet devices available at the nearest electronics shop was baffling to Alice, but she happily invested three hundred dollars in a sleek little pebble she affixed to Ella’s back bumper that night. Now, it didn’t matter if she fell behind in a traffic jam, or took a wrong turn or two, because she would always get there in the end. Wherever Ella was, she followed. Including Purrfect Partners, pet supplies. Alice watched, puzzled, as Ella emerged from the shop hoisting an armful of bags. She threw them in the boot, and then drove away again, picking the now-familiar side streets Alice knew would take her home.
Since when did Ella have a pet?
Alice went as far as her usual spot, just up the street from Ella’s house, and watched curiously as she unloaded the bags. For some reason, an animal jarred with Alice’s other information. Pets were permanent, they meant roots and commitment, not the temporary life Ella usually led.
Her phone rang, and when she reached for it, it was Flora.
“Have you talked to her yet?” she demanded immediately.
“No, I’m still gathering information.”
“Alice!”
“What?” she protested, eyes still on that front porch. “I need all the data I can get. After all, I can’t trust her to tell me anything.”
She’d always wanted a front porch. A back one too, with a rocking chair, or some kind of love seat. Somewhere to doze in the afternoon sun, just relaxing—
“It’s getting creepy,” Flora informed her bluntly. “You need to just confront her.”
“She’s wearing the prettiest dress today,” Alice replied instead, a touch wistful. “She had lunch at a lovely restaurant too. Some kind of salad, it looked like. She sat on the front terrace, in the sun and read a book for an hour.”
Flora made a noise of frustration. “Alice, you’ve seen enough! You probably know what kind of underwear she’s wearing. Just go over there and face her.”
If Alice’s old debit bills were correct, then she did know the style of Ella’s lingerie: imported Italian silk. She paused. Perhaps Flora was right. “OK, I’ll talk to her.”
“Today,” Flora added.
Alice glanced down. “This evening,” she amended. “I need to change my clothes. I can’t meet her looking like…Well, like a crazy stalker.”
Flora laughed. “God forbid. But promise me you’ll do it? You can’t stay out there forever, just trailing her around. It’s not healthy.”
“I know.” Alice sighed. “I’ll talk to her tonight.”
It wasn’t so simple. Alice tried to get some rest that afternoon and calm herself, but she could only toss, restless, as if she were facing a dreaded exam and not the very thing she’d been working toward for months now. Afternoon sunlight seeped through the drapes as Alice tried to play out every possible scenario in her mind, but there was just a vague outline where Ella’s reaction should be. After all this time studying her every move, Alice still had no idea of the inner workings of her mind, and that, in itself, sent her nerves into a flustered tangle.
What if she didn’t k
now the real Ella at all?
***
By the time she passed her keys to the valet and climbed the front steps that evening, Alice was a mess of anxious anticipation. Her device had tracked Ella to that same hotel Alice had visited before, and as she walked quickly through the polished lobby and out to the bar, she wondered whether it was a sign. In the dusk light, the terraces were almost romantic: adorned with candlelit tables, the bar open and spilling stylish patrons out into the courtyard. Alice paused a moment, searching through the crowd for Ella’s vivid hair. She had deliberated too long over her own outfit for the evening. After all, what was the dress code for confronting the woman who had stolen you identity? In the end, Alice found herself reaching for the one garment that would guarantee her some confidence: the ever-stunning red dress. But now, poised there on the steps, Alice was struck by a terrible thought. She’d mimicked the purchase from Ella’s own wardrobe. What if Ella were wearing hers too?
Then Alice caught sight of Ella’s familiar frame across the crowd, dressed in the luxuriously casual style that almost seemed mandatory in this city: a white silk tank top and tangle of delicate necklaces over black jeans. She was sitting alone at a corner table, her demeanor quiet, almost contemplative, as she waited, surrounded by noise and laughter.
Steeling herself with one final breath, Alice made her way across the floor.
This was it.
“Hi, Ella…Or is it Angelique now?” Alice slid into the seat opposite, fixing her with an icy look. Her heart was racing, but she forced herself to breathe evenly, watching Ella’s face for any reaction.
And, oh—her reaction.
Ella froze. She blinked at Alice, her glossed lips dropping open slightly, and an expression of sheer panic flitting across her face.
Alice reached across and helped herself to a sip from Ella’s cocktail, relaxing now. “Don’t worry,” she said, almost conversationally, reveling in the fact that, for once, she was the one in control. “I haven’t called the police. Nobody knows you’re here but me.”
“But…” Ella sucked in a breath. “How…?”
Alice smiled. “You’re not the only one who can keep watch, you know. I’ve been looking for you ever since you left England. You have excellent taste in hotels,” she added, gratified by Ella’s obvious surprise. “Although they weren’t exactly…hospitable toward me, in Rome. But Positano was lovely, of course. Thanks for that tip.”
She sat back, still playing the part of some casual observer, even as triumph surged, hot in her veins. In front of her, Ella was struggling to regain some sort of composure, glancing quickly around and taking a few deep, even breaths.
“It’s…good to see you,” she managed at last, giving Alice a hesitant smile.
“I’m sure,” she replied, droll.
“No, I mean it. I…I wondered how you were doing.”
“After you ripped me off, stole all my important documents, and left me wading through debt collectors?” Alice snorted. “I’ve been just wonderful, thank you for asking.”
Ella blinked at the bitterness in Alice’s tone. She took a drink from her cocktail, seeming to steady her nerves, then she reached for her bag. “You’re right. You deserve an explanation, I just have to go to the bathroom—”
“Don’t,” Alice cut her off. “Crescent Heights, isn’t it? I could have the police there before you even make it back. I know you like running,” she added. “But I’m guessing you’d rather leave with a few bags, and that animal of yours.”
Ella settled back in her seat.
“So, what do you want?” She said it calmly, meeting Alice’s eyes with an even stare. Whatever element of surprise Alice had enjoyed was gone, but instead of steeling herself, or seeming defensive, Ella just sat there, casual and open.
“I want answers,” Alice replied. Around them, people jostled and chatted, voices ringing out with laughter, but to her, they were completely alone. “Why you did this?” she asked, unable to keep the intensity from her tone. “Why me?”
Ella gave a rueful smile. “Why not? You had a perfect credit record, plenty of savings…”
Alice shook her head. “Then why feign the friendship? You didn’t bother with Illana, or Patrick, or any of your other victims.”
Ella widened her eyes. “You have been busy.”
“See, that’s what I don’t understand.” Alice shook her head. “You didn’t need to pretend to be friends with me to take everything, so why even bother? I could have caught you out at any time!”
“But you didn’t. At least not then.” She gave Alice a grin, wide and too familiar. “I should have known that once you had a project, you wouldn’t give up on it.”
“Don’t do that.” Alice tensed.
“What?”
“Act like you used to, like her. Ella Nicholls doesn’t exist.”
Ella tilted her head slightly, studying Alice. “Is that what you think—that it was all a lie?”
“Wasn’t it?” Alice glared back.
“No. Not at all.” Ella gave a slow smile. “The details, yes, but everything else—the day-to-day stuff? That was real.”
Alice raised an eyebrow. “And I’m supposed to believe that?”
Ella shrugged. “Probably not. But it’s the truth. Why—you think I could have kept up a complete fabrication for that long? God, Alice,” she laughed. “I’m good, but I’m not that good.”
Alice stared across at her, suddenly lost. She’d been prepared for almost everything, but she hadn’t thought of this. How could she get the answers she wanted, when she didn’t know whether to believe a single word Ella said?
As if reading her expression, Ella reached across the table and took hold of Alice’s hands. “No bullshit, Alice; I’m telling you the truth. Why would I even bother lying anymore?” Her gaze was direct and sincere. “You found me; it’s done. The least I can do is tell you what you want to know.”
Alice looked back, still uncertain. But what alternative did she have? She’d gathered every bit of data possible, studied the patterns and dates until there was nothing left to learn, but in the end, Ella’s own words were the only thing that could give her some kind of explanation.
“Everything,” Alice replied at last. “I want to know everything.”
Chapter Thirty-four
They moved to a more discreet table along one of the balconies. Alice ordered a drink but left it untouched on the heavy white linen tablecloth between them. It was unnerving, how easy it was to look at Ella and think of her simply as the same friend she’d used to be. Even with the superficial changes in clothes and hairstyle, the other, deeper details hadn’t altered—the way her nose crinkled when she smiled, the flash of her eyes as she followed the crowd, every unconscious expression and cadence to her voice.
Despite herself, Alice began to relax.
“So, where do you want me to start?” Ella casually crossed her legs, the way she had a dozen times back in London, before.
“The beginning,” Alice replied, meaning whatever had set Ella on this path of lies, but instead, Ella nodded.
“OK, the yoga class.” She took a long breath, as if bracing herself. “The first thing you need to know is I didn’t pick you out to target, not like the others. You have to believe me.” Ella fixed Alice with a plaintive stare. “That was all accidental. I mean, we got talking, and it was fun, you know? I’d only just moved to London and become Ella, and, well, it was lonely.” She was picking up speed as she spoke, starting hesitantly, but gaining confidence as the story came tumbling out. “It was just so nice to be able to relax, and be myself—or, close to myself,” she added with a knowing grin. “I had money from the last…projects, and to begin with, it really was just about being friends.”
“And then?” Alice asked, trying to stay unmoved even as Ella’s words gave her a small measure of relief.
Ella sighed. “Then I realized what a good prospect you were. The flat deposit sitting there, your savings, the credit record…I don�
��t target people who’ll find it hard to clear their names,” she added. “If I start with someone with a perfect record, then it’s easy for them to prove their innocence. The banks just refund everything.”
“That’s your justification?” Alice asked, her voice rising. “For everything you put me through?”
Ella shook her head quickly. “No, that’s not what I’m saying, I just…” She exhaled, rueful. “I don’t know what I’m saying really. I never thought I’d have to explain this to you.”
They fell silent for a moment, the more sedate conversations of the diners nearby drifting around them in a low murmur.
“So, you decided I would be a good prospect?” Alice prompted, reaching for her cocktail after all. The drink was too bitter, but Alice barely registered it; she just kept her gaze fixed on Ella.
She nodded. “After that, well, it was simple really. The same thing I usually do, only easier this time because I had all the personal information.”
“My important document folder.”
“Exactly.” Ella exhaled. “And then it didn’t matter that I meant it, because I had to go, before the first bills started arriving, and you realized something was wrong.”
Alice stared at her, waiting for more. None came. Was this it?
She couldn’t believe that the big explanation she’d been dreaming of had come down to such an underwhelming tale. Could it have really been so simple, not the scheming and secret plans she’d imagined?
Alice felt her hopes dissolve. Yes, Ella had been practiced in her various criminal arts; that didn’t make Alice’s theft any more significant. It wasn’t so special, after all.
She wasn’t so special.
“You’ve been doing this a long time.” It was a statement, not a question. Alice took a long gulp from her drink. She felt disorientated, Ella almost shrinking in front of her until she was just a stylish woman with a wary look in her eyes. Not a criminal mastermind or glamorous thief. Just Ella.
Ella nodded again. “A girl needs a skill in life,” she quipped, almost bitter. “Well, this is mine.” She paused. “You didn’t get in much trouble, did you? I figured somebody like you…They would get things straightened out pretty quickly.”
The Liberation of Alice Love Page 36