The Stolen Twin

by Michele PW (Pariza Wacek)

  Look what happened to this CAT.

  If David doesn’t kill me, this infection might.

  I rubbed my chest.

  Miss Caldwell, I have seen the videotape and have spoken with David about his side of the story.

  The cops believe David. They think he’s the victim.

  Promise me, Kit. You’ll save the innocent.

  Our office is here to help you, no matter what is going on.

  No matter what.

  There are two kinds of death in the world.

  What are you going to do about it?

  I faced my friends. “There’s only one thing I can do,” I said calmly. “I’m going to find out what happened to Cat.

  Chapter 31

  “Look, it’s obvious.” I sat on the living room floor surrounded by all the papers in my paper trail and the latest email from Cat. “Cat, or whoever, believes that David, this girl in the photo and what happened to Cat as a seven-year-old are all related. So, if I discover what happened to Cat, I should be able to stop David and save this other girl.”

  “But why would they all be interconnected? It doesn’t make sense,” Brandi said.

  “I know. But this person obviously thinks so, and she seems to have a much better grasp of the situation than I do. I might as well do what she has been suggesting since day one of this mess.”

  “Does the term ‘wild goose chase’ mean anything to you?” Tommy asked.

  “I don’t know,” Elena broke in. “Kit may be right. There is something a bit suspicious about Cat’s disappearance. After all, there isn’t a file.”

  “Besides,” I said, looking hard at each one of them. “Honestly now, what are my choices?”

  No answer. Brandi inspected her nails, now painted a dark mauve. Elena shuffled through papers, Tommy studied the ceiling.

  I picked up the latest email. “Alrighty then. Let’s get down to it. Maybe we should start by tracking down this girl, whoever she is.”

  “What about that school?” Elena pawed through the papers. “Ah, here it is. The Minneapolis School for Special Children.”

  I clapped my hands together. “Perfect. That’s where I’ll start.”

  “Minneapolis is three hours away,” Brandi said.

  “And you’re pretty sick,” Elena said. “I mean, shouldn’t you be in a hospital or something?”

  “Oh, yeah. That’s where I want to be. Sitting quietly in a hospital just waiting for David to show up.”

  Elena’s worried expression deepened. “But going to Minneapolis when you’re this sick can’t be smart either. Maybe you should at least wait until you’re better.”

  “I can’t wait. This thing with the other girl is supposed to happen on Tuesday. That may be significant for me, too. I don’t know. I have to go now. Immediately. As soon as I figure out a way to get there.”

  “I could borrow my roommate’s car,” Tommy said.

  “Tommy, I wouldn’t feel comfortable driving your roommate’s car all the way to Minneapolis,” I said.

  “I didn’t think you would. That’s why I’ll drive it.”

  I shook my head. “You can’t go. What about football?”

  He shrugged. “I can miss one practice if I give the coach notice. And, if we leave now,” he glanced at his watch, “we should make it to Minneapolis by mid-afternoon. Plenty of time to discover what we need and drive back. We could probably even make it back by tonight.”

  “Great, we can all go,” Elena said.

  “No, we all can’t go. That’ll look too suspicious. It should just be me,” I said.

  “Kit, you’re too sick. I’m going with you and that’s that.” Tommy got to his feet.

  “Tommy’s right,” Brandi said. “It should just be the two of you. David might get clued in if we all go.”

  “Then it’s settled.” Tommy snatched up his coat and started down the stairs. “I’ll get the car and make a few phone calls. Maybe pack a few things in case we stay the night. Be back in a half hour.”

  I stumbled after him. “Tommy, wait.”

  He turned, hand on the doorknob, eyes cautious, watchful.

  Probably afraid I’m going to hurt him again. The thought pained me.

  I stepped closer. “Brandi told me everything,” I said. “I just wanted you to know I understand.”

  There was still so much I wanted to say, so many unspoken words between us, but I couldn’t do it. He studied the dull brass doorknob before meeting my eyes.

  “See you in a half hour.” He smiled slightly, then disappeared out the door.

  I stared at the closed door, feeling strangely empty and unsettled. Taking a deep breath, I coughed a couple of rumbling coughs and returned to the living room.

  Brandi was studying the photos while Elena gathered papers. “Tommy’s not starting anymore,” Brandi said casually.

  I paused, hand on the banister. “What?”

  “Football. Not starting in football. Missed too many practices. Playing badly in games.” She sauntered over, handing me the photos. “No chance to win the Heisman Trophy now.”

  I took the photos, my thoughts a blur.

  She smiled. “Just thought you should know.”

  I nodded stiffly. Tommy not starting? But football was everything to him. He had a football scholarship. What happened?

  “But … what … ” I stuttered.

  “You know the divorce rate is around fifty percent, don’t you?” Brandi interrupted.

  I stared at her, perplexed. “What does that have to do with a damn thing going on here?”

  “Humor me. Half of marriages don’t work, right?”

  “Right.”

  “And of those marriages that don’t work, how many are because one or the other is chronically sick or injured?”

  Understanding began creeping through my mind. “I have no idea.”

  Brandi smiled. “Neither do I. But Kit, doesn’t it surprise you that of the three of us here, you’re the one with the most chance of a satisfying, long-lasting relationship? Elena and I are pretty much zeros on the subject, and last I checked, we’re the healthy ones here.”

  “It’s more complicated than that … ” I started to say, but Brandi interrupted me.

  “Bullshit. It’s not more complicated than that. Sure, your disease is horrible. Sure, when you start to get sick, it won’t be pretty. Sure, Tommy may leave you then. But you know what, he may not leave. He’s shown remarkable resilience so far, despite you best efforts at pushing him away. Perhaps you should thank him by giving him a chance.”

  Elena touched my arm. “As the recent actions of my ex-boyfriend have proven, being healthy is no guarantee of anything positive. Why should being sick be a guarantee of anything negative?”

  I didn’t answer. I didn’t know what to say.

  Brandi pushed her hair back. “Come on. I’ll help you pack.”

  Shaken, I followed Brandi to my room. Martha intercepted me, stepping out from the kitchen, a sandwich in one hand. Peanut butter and grape jelly from the smell.

  “That school,” she paused, licked jelly off her wrist. “It’s for wards of the state.”

  I stared at her, feeling once again as though the last wisp of reality had just drifted away, leaving me in nightmare never-never land. “Excuse me?”

  She looked me at me like maybe I belonged in a special school. “The school you were talking about. Minneapolis School for Special Children? A lot of wards of the state go there.”

  Wards of the state. Could this girl be a ward of the state? “Martha, how do you know this?”

  She smiled, sucked up another drop of jelly. “You’d be amazed at what I know.”

  Still pondering, I thanked her and headed for my bedroom. I noticed she and Elena avoided looking at each other.

  ***<
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  Tommy insisted I sleep during the drive to Minneapolis. He made a little bed for me in the back seat, complete with several blankets and pillows. He even turned the heat up.

  For my part, I took a huge dose of cold and pain medicine. Just for a day. Just to dull the pain. I couldn’t be in so much pain if I was going to solve this. It was only temporary. As soon as I returned, I would see the doctor, take better care of myself. Just let me get through this first.

  Elena hugged me before I left. “I am so sorry about this,” she whispered in my ear. “Call if you need me to do anything, anything at all. I’m going to keep digging here.”

  “I’ll report the … cat to the police,” Brandi said. “I’ll tell them you left for a few days because of the stress, didn’t even see the cat or the emails.”

  I nodded, tears suddenly glistening in my eyes. What did I ever do to deserve this much kindness? I, who tried to make as few demands on people as possible, in case they started expecting more than I was willing to give. Where did all this come from?

  I hadn’t expected to sleep at all during the drive. I was way too wound up – images of the dead cat, the obsessive emails, Tommy, what Brandi and Elena had said, all flashed through my head like some strange, sick collage. But despite everything, I slept throughout most of the trip, only waking when Tommy stopped to buy gas, drinks and a map.

  “Well, here it is.”

  I scrambled over the seat to get a better look. The Minneapolis School for Special Children. Looked exactly like the photo. Even the trees were the same.

  Maybe the photo had been taken recently. But that thought was just too creepy and I pushed it away.

  Thick pines and blue spruces framed the small, red brick building. Their distinctive scent permeated the car even with the windows rolled up. A brown pick-up truck passed us, blowing big belches of smoke as it went.

  “Looks kind of dead.”

  “Yeah, well, school must be out.” I studied the windows for any sign of life. “The teachers are probably still there. Worth a shot anyway.” I coughed a few times, deep booming coughs that burned my chest. I dug out my pills and opened my water bottle.

  Tommy eyed me. “You don’t sound too good.”

  “Funny, I don’t feel too good either.” I downed my medicine, tossing down a few extra pain pills for luck.

  Tommy watched me carefully. “Those all can’t be good for you.”

  I rubbed my forehead. Definitely a fever. “I’m sure they’re not, but I gotta do something. It’s only for today – once we get to the bottom of this I can collapse.”

  Tommy half-nodded and glanced at the building again. “Got a plan?”

  “Actually, I do.” Martha had given me the initial spark this morning. I rummaged around in the back seat for a notebook and pen.

  “And that plan is … ”

  “Too complicated to get into now.” I removed the studio shot of the girl from the paper trail folder and placed in front of my notebook. “You can come in with me, just as long as you know you may have to leave.”

  “Great,” Tommy grumbled, following me out of the car. “Just what I always wanted to be. A sidekick.”

  “Sidekicks are just as famous as leads. Sometimes more so.”

  “And that makes me feel so not better about it.”

  I punched him lightly on the arm. “Hey. Things could be worse. You could not be here at all.”

  He grunted as we headed up the sidewalk covered with browning needles. We stepped around pinecones and branches. The smell of pine was even stronger out here.

  The front doors were open. The building felt oppressively quiet – why did schools in particular seem so hollow and devoid of life when not being used? Empty classrooms lined each side of the hallway. Our footsteps echoed in the stillness.

  “Where do we go?” Tommy whispered. He must have felt it too – that reluctance to break the silence.

  I shrugged. We kept walking, our footsteps sounding way too loud.

  At the corner, I looked into one of the classrooms and saw a woman erasing the blackboard. At last, a person. I tapped on the door.

  The woman turned around. “Can I help you?” She looked to be in her early forties. Her brown hair was cut in a bob, framing a creased, round, friendly face with pleasant features and patient eyes.

  I took a deep breath. Now or never. “Yes. I’m Kit Caldwell, a social work major at U of M. I’m doing a project for one of my classes, a follow-up on a ward of the state.”

  She put the eraser down, brushed off her hands. A puff of chalk dust rose in the air. “Oh, of course. You must be one of Professor Green’s students.”

  Amazing, it was actually working. “Yes, exactly. But unfortunately I’m playing catch-up big time. I have Cystic Fibrosis and as you can see, I’ve been pretty sick, so all I have is her photo.”

  Behind her round, gold-framed glasses, her eyes widened. “Oh, you poor thing. But no background sheet?”

  I hung my head, looking as abashed and embarrassed as possible. “Uh, actually, to be honest, I lost it. And I don’t normally lose things, I’m a very good student and very organized, but I’ve been so sick and I’ve torn apart my apartment looking for it and I don’t want to tell Professor Green … ”

  She came toward me, put her hand on my arm. “Sh, sh, dear. It’s okay. I know Professor Green quite well and I wouldn’t want to own up to her that I lost my school work either.” She patted my arm and smiled. “It’ll be our little secret. Come sit down and let me see what I can do.”

  I shot her a grateful look, then indicated Tommy. “Oh, this is my boyfriend, Tommy. He drove me here, but if you don’t want him to stay … ”

  She waved her hand. “No, no, that’s perfectly fine.”

  She introduced herself as Maeva Jacobson. “Now, let’s see that photo,” she said, as we sat down in miniature green plastic chairs around her desk.

  I slid it from my notebook and handed it over.

  “Why, that’s Kayla Benson,” Maeva said immediately. “One of our success stories. She’s about to be adopted.”

  I kept my eyes focused on Maeva. “On Tuesday, right?” I said hesitantly.

  She tapped the photo. “Yes, I believe it is Tuesday.”

  I wrote down a few notes, coughed a couple of times. “And do you know the family adopting her?”

  “The Terrys? Of course. Kayla’s in my class. Gretchen Terry visits her here at least three times a week.”

  Terry? As in David Terry? I arranged my features in the most neutral expression I could. “They have an older son, don’t they?”

  “Yes, he’s in grad school, I believe. In Wisconsin.” She handed me back the photo. “It’s such a shame, really. What the Terrys have gone through over the years. So much tragedy. And such good people, too.”

  I reached out to take the photo, saw my fingers close on the edge of it, but my hand was so numb I couldn’t actually feel it. “Tragedy?” I said faintly.

  Maeva sighed. “Mr. and Mrs. Terry had three children, two daughters and a son. One daughter died as an infant of SIDS. The other was killed in a car crash about five years ago. She was only sixteen.” Maeva shook her head. “So very, very tragic.”

  David had two sisters? And neither died of Cystic Fibrosis? I dropped my gaze to my notebook, busied myself putting the photo away. I didn’t want her to see my face, sure my shock would give me away.

  Apparently I wasn’t fast enough, because Maeva reached out to pat my hand. “It’s so difficult when bad things happen to good people,” she said, thankfully misreading my expression. “But as tragic as it is, some good’s coming out of it. Kayla will be going to a fine home.”

  Oh, God. Kayla. I had almost forgotten about her. I raised my head. “Is Kayla happy about it?”

  Maeva nodded, her round face breaking into a smile. “Of course, sh
e is. She’s a good kid – sweet, smart. And tough. When you look at what she’s been through in her short life, it’s nothing short of miraculous at how well she’s turned out. But all that’s behind her now. The Terrys will take good care of her. I think she’ll be good for them as well – they’ll be able to heal together.”

  I coughed, so as to have a reason to cover my face. Heal together? Was this woman writing for Hallmark? The state was happily bestowing an innocent girl on a woman who had raised two dead children and one living stalker. This was nothing short of state-sanctioned child abuse. How did it get so far in the system without ringing a few alarm bells?

  Maeva studied me, motherly concern radiating from her every pore. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay? You still sound pretty sick.”

  I rubbed my aching chest. “Actually, maybe we should continue this another day. I guess I’m not as well as I thought.”

  Maeva nodded, helping me to my feet. “You go home and rest. Take care of yourself. Kayla isn’t going anywhere, even after the adoption she’ll still be attending this school at least until spring.”

  She walked us to the door, sensible shoes clicking on the linoleum. I shook her hand, thanked her, then hurried out of the school as fast as I dared.

  “David’s mother is adopting Kayla?” Tommy said, as soon as we were outside.

  “Sounds like it.”

  “Why would she do that?”

  “Good question.” I jerked open the car door. “An even better question is what really happened to those daughters. David told me his sister died of Cystic Fibrosis, yet Maeva thinks one died of sudden infant death syndrome and the other in a car wreck.”

  Tommy slid into the driver’s seat. “This is getting weirder and weirder. And there’s still no connection to Cat.”

  I pulled out my photo of Kayla and the older woman – the one taken in front of the school. “That’s gotta be Gretchen Terry. Look at her. It’s so obvious she’s a grade A bitch. How could they be giving that poor child to her?”

  Tommy shrugged. “Kayla’s a ward of the state. You don’t become a ward of the state because your family is like the Cleavers. She’s an older child and probably dragging around some serious baggage. Her options aren’t great.”