The Stolen Twin

by Michele PW (Pariza Wacek)

  A man in a suit? Who would that be? I unlocked the door and opened it.

  “Miss Kit Caldwell?” The man wore dark sunglasses. I had never seen him before.

  I blinked a few times, the bright light tearing into my skull. “Yes?”

  “Is that you?”

  Like I needed this right now. “Am I speaking a foreign language here? Yes.”

  He thrust an envelope at me. “You’ve just been served.” I took the envelope automatically, still not sure what had just happened. He pivoted and strode down the stairs.

  Standing there, holding the envelope, blinking painfully in the light, I began to get a bad feeling I had just been duped. “Wait a second,” I called to the man’s ramrod straight back. “What do you mean served?”

  “Open it and read it.” He didn’t turn his head or slow his pace. Now I felt stupid.

  Slowly, I rotated the envelope in my hands. It was from the Riverview Police Department. Could this be about my complaint? Were they actually taking me seriously? Through shaking hands, I ripped open the envelope and yanked out the piece of paper.

  It was a restraining order. Against me. Ordering me to stay away from David Terry.

  Chapter 24

  “You did what?”

  Elena stared at me, astounded. We were in an empty classroom in the Humanities Building. I had always liked the Humanities Building. As official sponsor of music and art students, it presented many interesting and odd-shaped rooms in which to study, or in this case, discuss restraining orders.

  “At the time it seemed like a good idea,” I said lamely.

  If anything, Elena’s expression became even more shocked. “You’re trying to tell me you actually thought going after David with a knife would be a good idea?”

  I worried a corner of my notebook. “Well, I’d had a few drinks first.”

  Elena started shaking her head. “I don’t believe this.”

  I didn’t either, which is why I went in search of Elena as soon as I pulled myself together. After finding her at the Union, we headed over to humanities since I didn’t want to discuss this in public.

  Elena tapped her pen against the desk. “Why didn’t you call me last night?”

  “Because you were at that party. The one I wasn’t invited to.”

  “You shouldn’t have listened to Brandi. You should’ve come. Then you wouldn’t be in such a mess.”

  I rubbed my temples. Although the headache had faded, it still hurt. “If I’d known that I was going to get myself into such a mess, I would’ve come.”

  Elena shook her head again, then picked up the restraining order. “So, this talent for getting into messes – have you always had it or is it a recent development?”

  I made a face. “I wish I knew. You know, what I don’t understand is how he even got a restraining order on me. I mean, I registered two complaints against him. Wouldn’t they at least call me or something? Get my side of the story?”

  Elena frowned. “I know. That doesn’t make sense. Or how fast he got it. I mean, it’s his word against yours. Unless … ”

  I perked my head up as she trailed off. “Unless what?”

  She pondered, her expression considering. “I’m going to check on something,” she said abruptly. “I think you should stay here and rest. You don’t look too good.”

  I coughed. “I don’t feel too good.”

  She half-smiled, slipped her jacket on and disappeared out the door. Her books remained, piled precariously on a chair.

  I studied the closed door, contemplated my tight chest and pounding head, then decided to visit the vending machines. If nothing else, it would be a distraction.

  Settling on two cans of 7-Up, Fritos and trail mix, I headed back to the classroom to make myself comfortable on the table. Luckily I had brought my bag with me so I had a makeshift pillow.

  It took Elena a while to return. I had started to drift off when the squeak of the door opening jerked me to a seated position.

  She hadn’t come alone. Tommy stood behind her. My stomach knotted. I had trouble breathing – my breath had gotten stuck in my tight, sore chest.

  We stared at each other, his green eyes dark and hooded. He wore his football jersey, the red accenting his blond hair. My nerve endings started sizzling, tingling down to my fingertips.

  I crossed my legs, attempting to put on my best Brandi’s I-don’t-give-a-shit look. “What are you doing here?”

  His stony expression never wavered. “Elena asked me.”

  Elena studied us both, swiveling her head from side to side. “I think we need a time out. Right now, we have to focus on Kit’s immediate problem, which is this restraining order, not your unresolved issues. Unless you don’t want to hear what I found out at the courthouse.”

  That got my attention. “Are you kidding? What?”

  She paused dramatically, making sure she had our full attention. “Well, for starters, there’s a little matter of proof. And I’m not just talking about the bandage on David’s neck.”

  A cold prick of fear jabbed my spine. “Proof?”

  Elena crossed her arms and studied me, eyes unreadable. “A videotape.”

  Silence. The cold spread throughout the lower half of my body. “A videotape?” I asked in a weak voice.

  Elena sighed, shedding her jacket and pulling up a desk. It rattled in protest as she dragged it over. “Apparently he videotaped the entire encounter.”

  I closed my eyes. This couldn’t be happening. “Oh God.”

  Tommy slid behind another desk. “Videotaped? How could he have done that?”

  Elena shrugged. “I guess he had a hidden camera set up in the living room.”

  My mind spun, stuck in a replay of last night. Every move, every word recorded for the world to see. “Oh, my God, now I see why he said those things.”

  Elena looked at me sharply. “What things?”

  My headache roared back with all its hangover glory. I rubbed my temples. “That he never stalked me. That he’d broken up with me and I couldn’t accept it.”

  Tommy stared at me. “He said that?”

  I nodded miserably.

  Elena plucked her bag from the floor and rummaged through it. “Well, that explains a lot.”

  I stopped rubbing my temples and looked at her. “It does?”

  “Yep.” She pulled out a file folder and opened it. “It says you threatened David with a knife, insisting he was stalking you. He tried to reason with you. You then held the knife to his throat and ordered him to admit he was stalking you. It was only after he did that you left.”

  Tommy’s eyes popped open. “That’s what happened?”

  I stared at the ceiling, feeling more and more like a freak. “More or less.”

  “Jesus, Kit. You could’ve been killed.”

  I smiled – a cold, humorless smile. “Not likely. I’m the one who had the knife.”

  “Oh, yeah. Like it would have been so tough to disarm a sick, drunk woman half your size.”

  “Hold on. To your corners,” Elena interrupted, holding her hands up. “I think we’re getting a wee bit off the track here. Yes, Kit did a stupid thing and it could’ve ended up much worse for her. But, to be honest, what did happen was pretty darn bad.”

  I slunk down in my seat. “Thanks for the pep talk.”

  Elena shot me a look. “Kit, I don’t think you’re quite grasping the severity of this right now. Let me put it to you this way. You filed a complaint against David based on the hard evidence of a few emails that any attorney who passed the bar could defuse without breaking a sweat, and on some anonymously sent packages. You also didn’t have his last name right when you first made the complaint. And the detective assigned to your case hasn’t been able to get a hold of Martha to verify your story.”

  “He hasn�
�t even tried,” I muttered, my stomach filling with ice. “There’s been no messages or anything on the answering machine. I don’t even have a stupid case number yet.”

  “Whatever. Still a black mark on your side of the board. Now, on David’s side, he has a videotape showing you in his apartment threatening him with a knife unless he admits that he’s been stalking you. He has charmingly explained to the court that you are actually the one stalking him, and part of your strategy is to make the authorities think he is the one stalking you. And, unfortunately for you, this videotape backs up his story and not yours. Becoming clearer to you now?”

  The ice had started overflowing, flooding the rest of my body. “Yeah. Bad. I got it.”

  “I think it’s pretty safe to say that your credibility has left the building. Actually, it’s probably packed its bags and is on an airplane headed to Miami right now.” She sighed. “Wish I could join it.”

  I buried my head in my hands. “What should I do?”

  Elena sighed. “I’m not really sure. Let me make a few calls, see what I can find out.”

  “Wait a second,” Tommy said. “You guys are focusing on the gloom and doom for what reason? It’s not like we don’t have a case here. Remember, we’re the good guys. We have plenty of witnesses who have seen David being a violent asshole. Like me.”

  “Yeah, won’t that neutralize the whole bad thing?” I asked, perking up. “I mean, we do have a bunch of witnesses. Like Martha. And Brandi. She was there when he showed up at the Union along with Bridget and Jamie and what’s-her-face.”

  Elena tapped her pencil against the desk. “That helps. We’re going to have to get all those people to testify for you.”

  “I’ll testify,” Tommy said. “The way he was when we confronted him about the last name issue. He’s clearly unstable.”

  “But, did he admit anything, though?”

  Tommy paused. “Well … ”

  Elena brushed her hair out of her face. “That’s what I thought.”

  I went back to rubbing my temples. “Wonderful.”

  Elena ruffled through the file. “No one ever said being a good guy would be easy. Switching gears, why do you think he took the time to set up a hidden camera in the first place? How could he have known this would happen?”

  “I don’t see how he could,” I said. “Although he is pretty paranoid.”

  “And manipulative,” Elena added. “But still. To have the foresight to turn it on even. Seems pretty extreme.”

  I glanced at Tommy. He appeared to have developed a sudden fascination with the wall. “Tommy?”

  He snapped his head around. “What? I agree. He’s paranoid.”

  I eyed him. “Is there something you’re not telling us?”

  “What? No. Why would you think that?” He shifted in his chair.

  Elena studied him, equally as suspicious. “’Fess up, Tommy. What’re you hiding?”

  Tommy tried to look offended. “Why’d you think I’m hiding something?”

  “Because you’re a shitty liar, that’s why,” I said.

  Now he did look offended. “I am not.”

  “Tommy, just spit it out and be done with it,” Elena said. “This isn’t the time to be hiding things.”

  He picked at a scratch on the desk surface. “It’s nothing, really.”

  “If it’s so nothing then why don’t you say it?” I said.

  He sighed. “It’s just … I think I know why he had a hidden camera in his apartment.”

  I leaned forward. “And, the reason is … ”

  “We … sort of had a little … chat with him.”

  “We?” Elena asked.

  “Chat?” I asked.

  Tommy’s eyes darted around the room before settling on the ceiling. “Me and some of the guys on the team. We happened to run into him near his apartment and told him it’d be better for his health if he left you alone.”

  I sat back. “Ah. Just happened to run into him at his apartment.”

  Tommy started to grin. “Well, it was easy once I knew where he lived.”

  “Was this Tuesday?” Elena broke in.

  Tommy’s grin slipped a few notches. “Ah … ”

  Elena rested her forehead on her hand. “So that’s where Brad was.”

  “Well … ”

  “This is just super,” I interrupted. “Now you and I can have matching restraining orders.”

  “Oh, he didn’t actually know it was us,” Tommy said.

  “He didn’t?”

  “No, we wore ski masks.”

  I stood up and began pacing. “And why does that not reassure me?”

  Tommy folded his arms across his chest. “Look, there’s no problem here. He can’t prove anything or I’d have heard about it by now.”

  “He was probably hoping Kit would lead you back there and you’d slip up and say something incriminating,” Elena said.

  “Then he could get you kicked off the team and off your football scholarship,” I said. “Nice going. Instead, I get a restraining order.”

  “Oh, now it’s my fault you decided to get drunk and stupid last night,” Tommy said.

  Elena held her hands up again. She was starting to resemble a referee. “All right, all right. At least we know now why he was taping last night.”

  “And we also know that you better watch yourself.” I pointed at Tommy. “He’s obviously looking for a way to screw you too.”

  “You know, I think you’re probably the last person in this room who should be giving out dealing-with-David advice,” Tommy said.

  I stalked back to my coat. “Whatever. I’m outta here.” I was sick of the whole mess – sick of talking about it, sick of being in the middle of it, sick of this constant bickering with Tommy and sick of the heavy, clogging feeling in my chest. And if that weren’t enough, I still had that stupid paper to write this weekend.

  Elena looked like she wanted to say something, then changed her mind. She paused, bit her lip. “I’ll call you once I know more.”

  I started to cough. Damn chest. “Thanks,” I said when I could. I didn’t look at her, focusing instead on gathering my things.

  She slid out from behind the desk and came toward me. “We’ll get through this, okay?” She squeezed my arm. “The good guys always win in the end, right?”

  I opened my mouth to say something sarcastic, but then saw she was teasing me. “Yeah, right.” I half-smiled and moved to leave, making a point of not looking at Tommy as I passed him. “Good luck tomorrow.”

  “Thanks,” he muttered. I didn’t touch him, but that didn’t stop the electricity from sizzling between us. Would I ever get over him?

  Chapter 25

  Back when I was a senior in high school, I took a class called Efficient Reading. It was a college prep course, covering things like speed reading and time management. It also covered study skills, giving such helpful advice as transferring notes to three by five index cards so you could study at all times, even while brushing your teeth. Most of that was wasted on me, since I’ve never even owned three by five index cards, much less studied while brushing my teeth. I wished it had covered other important keys to success, such as: the time to discover you’re having a midterm is NOT when the teacher’s assistant is handing you the exam.

  Worse yet, the exam was essay format – not multiple choice, where I at least had a shot at guessing the right answer. Dreadful way to start out the week.

  The weekend prior, I had alternated between forcing myself to work on my lit paper and stuffing myself with over-the-counter cold remedies. Although I managed to finish the paper, my war on disease was about as successful as the war on drugs – along with a tight chest and cough, I now had a runny nose. Definitely a cold. Great.

  Flipping through the test, I wondered if I could fake my way thro
ugh it. But no, I hadn’t paid enough attention in class for even that. I could talk to the professor about retaking it. Of course, then I would be stuck in the same situation as my eighteenth century lit class – trying to cram with crappy class notes and zero concentration.

  And what about my other classes? Was I going to walk into all of them this week only to find I had papers due and exams to take?

  It hit me then that I could fail all my classes. In fact, that was more of a possibility than passing them. I had never been in this position before. I had always been a good student, never great, but good. And now for the first time, I was staring at a midterm where I didn’t know the answer to a single question, while carrying a paper not worth the ink it was printed with. How did I manage to do this to myself?

  On top of that, I saw no way out. Even if I buckled down and did nothing but study for the rest of the semester, which I knew I couldn’t do under present circumstances, I didn’t think I could salvage my grades. It looked like I had only one option – and I didn’t much like it.

  Wanting to hide my lack of preparation, I stayed at my desk, fretting and listening to the sound of pens scratching on papers for nearly the entire hour. I then nonchalantly shoved my blank exam in the middle of the pile before escaping for the door. Humiliating.

  Almost as humiliating as having to drop my classes, I thought while heading over to the admissions building. I never thought I would ever be in this situation. I felt like such a loser.

  Arriving at admissions, I discovered yet another problem. I couldn’t drop all my classes. In fact, because it was so late in the semester, I couldn’t even drop one class without permission from the dean of students. Great. I still needed to talk to him about my complaint, but now with this restraining order and David’s videotape ... would he even believe my side of the story?

  I had another option. I could get extensions on my classes without involving the dean. However, I would still need permissions from each of my professors to do that. And I would still be stuck finishing the classes at some point. This was definitely falling into one of those no-win situations. Damn David.