Don't Go Home

by Janelle Taylor

  The panic returned. Perhaps he was talking about Margot after all.

  I saw you in some Center City bar all over some guy ... Margot sure did get around, Mia thought, Norman Newman intruding in her thoughts.

  She picked up her cup of coffee to feign nonchalance. “You must be confusing me with someone else,” she said, trying to shake her arm from his grip. Someone like my identical twin sister, she added silently.

  He tightened his hold on her. “You already tried that lie on me, remember? Right before you proved yourself a liar by kicking me and taking off.”

  Wait a minute. Margot had kicked this man? Because he’d been hurting her? Chasing her? Was he the reason that Margot had gone into hiding? Or perhaps this guy was one of her boyfriends? He was certainly the type. Six-feet-two, leanly muscular, and very good looking, with a shock of thick, chestnut brown hair and deep blue eyes, he was the kind of man Margot would go for. And the kind of man Mia wouldn’t even think would look twice at her.

  “You changed your clothes, I see,” he said, his gaze raking her up and down. “Sweats and a paint-splattered T-shirt hardly seem your style. But as I told you earlier, I’d recognize you anywhere.”

  “I’m not who you think I am,” Mia said wearily.

  “Stop lying!” he growled. “For one damned second, stop your lies. I saw you in Chumley’s last Saturday night with Robert. Right before he was killed. And you’re going to tell me what happened.”

  Mia froze. Killed?

  Someone had been killed?

  Someone Margot had been involved with?

  Was this what Margot had been referring to on the phone?

  Oh God, oh God, oh God. Margot, what did you get yourself mixed up in?

  He stared at her. “Even without all that makeup, it’s you. I’ll never forget your face. Never.”

  Men rarely did forget Margot’s face, Mia thought absently. But instead of gazing at her the way men usually did her sister, he looked as though he wanted to spit on her. He slowly sat down on the stool next to her, his hard thigh pressing hers against the wall. “I want answers, now,” he repeated, his hand still on her forearm.

  “I’m going to tell you again,” she said. “You’re confusing me with someone else. I’ve never seen you before in my life.”

  That was the truth. If she had seen this man before, she would not have forgotten. On the scale of men, Norman Newman was on one end, and this guy was on the other.

  He raised an eyebrow. “You saw me a few hours ago, when you kicked me in the shin and took off. Maybe you’d like to see the welt that your spike heel left.”

  Why had Margot kicked him? Were they dating? Had they gotten into a fight? A lovers’ quarrel? Did lovers kick each other and run off?

  Despite the many questions she had, she wasn’t going to tell him that she had a twin. Not until she knew what his relationship to Margot was.

  And not until she knew why her sister had been frightened enough to leave town and go into hiding.

  He sat so close to her she could smell the soap he used. “Last Saturday night, you were all over my brother in Chumley’s. Okay, my brother was all over you. Twenty minutes later, he’s dead in the parking lot.” His grip tightened. “I want to know what happened.”

  The color had drained from Mia’s face. “Your brother—”

  “Don’t play dumb, Can—whatever your name is.”

  “I’m ... sorry about your loss,” Mia said. Despite everything that was transpiring, the man had lost his brother. Even though she and Margot weren’t close, if she lost her sister, she’d be as devastated as she’d be were they the best of friends.

  Where are you, Margot? What did you do? Who is this man?

  “All his money was still in his wallet,” the man said quietly, his eyes downcast. “Robert still had his wedding ring, his expensive watch. You two got into a fight in the parking lot, and you stabbed him, right? He fought back, and you kept stabbing him. Was it self-defense? He probably had too much to drink, and you got into an argument. Is that what happened?”

  Oh, God.

  His dark blue eyes shone fiercely. “Or your boyfriend or husband came looking for you and caught you together in the parking lot and attacked Robert. Was that how it went down?”

  Mia shrank away from him. She had never seen a man so angry. Never.

  She glanced up at the teenagers behind the counter. Between the music blaring and a group of college students laughing in one corner, her conversation with this man couldn’t be heard, and no one was paying them any attention. He could wrap his arms around her neck and strangle her, and no one would notice.

  “Tell me what happened!” he growled again.

  Mia swallowed. “I’m going to tell you for the last time. I’m not who you think I am.”

  The man’s shoulders slumped. His hand still on her arm, he reached his other into his back pocket and pulled out a brown leather wallet. “Here. This is my nephew. He just turned two. He’s now fatherless.”

  Mia could have sworn she saw tears well in his eyes. But then he blinked hard, and the cold desperation returned.

  “His name is Robbie,” he said so quietly that Mia wasn’t sure she heard right. His hand loosened on her arm as he stared at the photograph.

  Should I make a run for it? she wondered. Scream bloody murder? For all she knew, this guy was a psychopath and was making up everything.

  I didn’t do it, Mia. I swear ... I have to go away ...

  He wasn’t making it up. Mia would bet on it.

  But what if he had killed his brother and was trying to frame Margot?

  Don’t be taken in by his good looks and expensive clothes, she told herself. You were taken in by that once before.

  And those tears she thought she saw could have been staged.

  Don’t trust him, not for a second. Only the truth will get you the answers you seek, but be careful, Mia.

  “My name is Mia,” she said.

  His head whipped up, and he stared at her. “Mia,” he repeated.

  “I’m going to be honest with you,” she continued. “I have an identical twin sister—”

  His hand tightened on her arm. “Stop it! Stop lying!”

  “I’m not!” she shouted. She lowered her voice. “I’m telling you the truth. My sister called me about an hour ago and told me she didn’t do it and that she had to go away for a while—”

  “Didn’t do what?” he asked frantically. “Didn’t kill Robert? Is that what she was talking about?”

  “I don’t know! I don’t know anything!”

  “What else did she say?” he asked.

  “Nothing. Margot was frantic and upset. The entire conversation lasted no more than thirty seconds. I jumped in my car and drove to Center City to see if I could catch her, but she was gone when I arrived at her apartment.”

  He was staring at her, clearly trying to determine if she was telling him the truth.

  “My sister is not a killer,” she added with conviction.

  “Why should I believe you have a twin sister?” he asked. “How do I know you’re not playing me? How do I know you’re not this Margot and that you didn’t just wash off the makeup and put on your gym clothes to try to fool me?”

  Mia couldn’t think of a single thing to say. She was so tired, and this situation was so complicated, so fraught with danger. Completely out of her league.

  “I’ve already dealt with you once tonight,” he snarled. “You nailed me hard in the leg and ran away. That makes you guilty. Otherwise, you would have stayed to talk to me.”

  “You’re not exactly easy to talk to,” Mia said angrily. “How would you like to be accused of murder, a murder you know nothing about.”

  “I have a reason to be upset,” he said. “And I know exactly how it feels to be suspected of murder.”

  Mia gasped and stared at him. Who the hell was this man? What was she dealing with here?

  “The police,” he said wearily. “You saw what happened at
Chumley’s. I can understand why they’re suspicious of me.” He closed his eyes for a moment and hung his head, letting out a deep breath full of sorrow.

  Why? Mia wondered. What happened at Chum-ley’s? Why would the police suspect this man had murdered his own brother?

  Mia reached for her own wallet and pulled out a photograph. “I’m not lying about having an identical twin sister. Here’s a picture of the two of us. It’s a few years old, but it’s us.”

  The photo was actually five years old, taken during a rare get-together in which she and Margot had sat for a few shots in one of those black-and-white photo booths. Mia had asked Margot for help in choosing a wedding dress from a boutique in the mall, and Margot had surprisingly agreed. Usually, her sister didn’t have time.

  Mia bit her lip as the memory flooded her. Margot had flurried through the boutique, selecting a bunch of dresses for Mia to try on, and when Mia had come out of the fitting room in the first one, Margot, sitting on a little stool in front of the panel of mirrors, began to cry. “Oh, Mia, you look so beautiful,” she’d breathed. Mia had been shocked at first to see Margot so moved, but then the sisters had flown into each other’s arms and hugged and cried, and it had been clear that they hadn’t been crying tears of joy over the wedding details. They’d been crying for their losses, including the loss of each other.

  Dress and veil chosen, they’d then headed for the food court for lunch and had passed the photo booth. Sitting for the photos had been Margot’s idea. When the little black-and-white foursome of shots appeared in the slot, Margot had split them, taking two for herself and giving Mia the other two.

  Mia and Margot had spent a few afternoons together since then; but Margot hadn’t liked David, and the sisters had barely seen each other during the last five years. This past year, Mia had called her sister often, wanting to talk about the divorce, wanting to reconnect, wanting to open up about the differences that had always kept her and Margot from being close; but Margot had always been too busy, and Mia had finally stopped trying.

  “So you weren’t lying,” the man said, snapping Mia out of her memories. She’d almost forgotten where she was for a moment. The man let out a deep breath and removed his hand from her arm. He gestured to Margot in the photo. “That’s her and that’s you,” he said. “Right?”

  He’d easily picked out Margot, glammed out as usual. Mia had been wearing an easy-to-remove button-down plaid shirt that day and her usual lack of makeup.

  “Mia.” He seemed to be trying out the name on his lips. He stared at the photo for a few more seconds, then handed it back. “And Margot. What’s your sister’s last name?”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary information,” Mia said, looking him in the eye.

  He glanced at her. “Let’s head over to the precinct. It’s just a few blocks from here. We’ll tell them about Margot’s phone call and—”

  Whoa. Whoa. “No police.”

  “Why not? If you’re so sure she’s innocent, she has no reason to be hiding, does she?”

  Mia sucked in a breath. “I’m not betraying my sister before I know what’s going on.”

  He shook his head and looked at her in exasperation. “My brother is dead. Do you understand that? Dead. I think that’s a little more important right now.”

  “I’m very sorry about your brother,” Mia said. “But I don’t believe that my sister had anything to do with his death. She may have been in the wrong place at the wrong time and it looked bad to you, but I know she wasn’t involved in his murder.”

  “What makes you so sure?” he asked.

  “I know my sister,” she said. But the moment the words were out of her mouth, she knew it was a lie. She didn’t know Margot. Not at all.

  “Well, I don’t know her,” he said. “I want to go to the police and tell them what happened today, that I found her and she ran. You probably can think of some place she’d go to hide.”

  “I’m not betraying my sister!” Mia yelled. “I’ve told you that!”

  And even if she would betray Margot, she had no idea where her sister would go to hide. No idea at all.

  “We have to go to the police,” he said through gritted teeth. “I finally have some proof that she’s connected to Robert’s death. It’s the only link I’ve got, dammit.”

  So the police didn’t think Margot had anything to do with the murder? Then why did this man?

  “I’m not going to the police,” Mia said. “And that’s final. Not until I’m sure she’s safe, that she’s not being set up—”

  He raised an eyebrow, and the hard expression returned to his dark eyes. “If the two of you have nothing to hide, why are you afraid of talking to the cops?”

  “Look,” Mia said wearily. “Get this through your head—I don’t know anything. I hadn’t talked to my sister for a couple of weeks before tonight. I don’t know why she’s so afraid, why she felt the need to go into hiding. I assume because you accused her of murder the way you accused me when you thought I was her.”

  He was silent.

  “My sister isn’t a killer,” Mia said quietly.

  “So let’s go to the police,” he said again. “Let them find her and bring her back for questioning. If she’s innocent, she’s got nothing to worry about. Why should she be out there hiding and worrying when she could be safe at home?”

  He was manipulating her. Once, Mia would have fallen prey to it, given him what he wanted. But Mia had been married to a master manipulator. She would never let anyone speak down to her again or try to twist the facts or lack thereof. She’d been a fool once, and she’d paid dearly. She wasn’t going to play with her sister’s life now.

  “I want to find out what happened just as much as you do,” Mia said. “Maybe we can put our heads together and do some investigating on our own, figure out how my sister met your brother, what their relationship was.”

  “How do I know I can trust you?” he asked. “How do I know you won’t run the second I turn my back?”

  She could tell he was a man who didn’t trust anyone and never had. “Because I want to know why my sister is in hiding as much as you do. You want to find your brother’s killer, and I want to clear my sister’s name. We need to work together.”

  Those dark blue eyes stared at her. “Okay,” he said. “Okay.”

  A blast of warm, muggy air hit Mia in the face as they left the coffee lounge. “Margot lives there,” she said, pointing across the street at her sister’s high-rise.

  He glanced at her, then at the building. “I’ve been looking for your sister all week, and she’s been right in there the whole time?” He let out a harsh laugh and shook his head. “I live three blocks from here, straight up Bridge Avenue.”

  “Well, now I know where you live, but I don’t even know your name,” she said.

  “Matthew. Matthew Gray.”

  Mia nodded. “Mia Anderson. Anderson isn’t my sister’s last name, by the way.”

  He nodded. “I don’t know you well, Mia Anderson, but I’m under no illusions that you’re careless. You’re staying at your sister’s, I assume?”

  Mia nodded. “Maybe she’ll—”

  “Call? Come back?” he finished for her.

  Her gaze on the sidewalk, Mia let out a deep breath. “I was going to say ‘come back.’”

  “If she does, will you tell me?” he asked.

  “I don’t even know how to get in touch with you,” Mia said.

  He reached into his wallet and withdrew his business card. Matthew Gray, President and CEO, Gray Enterprises. “My home phone number and cell number are on the back.”

  He gestured ahead for her to cross the street, and they walked in silence across Bridge Avenue to Margot’s apartment building. “I’ll see you upstairs,” he said.

  Mia had no idea if she could trust this man, if she should trust this man. But a small part of her did. In any case, if she was in any danger upstairs, Margot’s eagle-eared neighbor would surely call management and
the police.

  She nodded, and they headed inside. As they waited for the elevator, an older couple gave Mia what was clearly a dirty look.

  Your neighbors certainly don’t like you, Margot, Mia thought. Or approve of you. She wondered if the couple figured Margot was returning home with yet another man.

  What is your life like, Margot? Mia wondered. Suddenly, the wild city life that Margot led seemed lonely instead of glamorous. Mia would rather have busybody old Mrs. Wriggles talking her ear off and gossipy Jill Clark on the other side than have neighbors who looked down their noses with both jealousy and condemnation in their eyes.

  How different our lives are, Mia thought. Then again, our lives have always been vastly different.

  The elevator pinged open, and the two couples rode up in silence. Mia felt the eyes of the older woman on her. When the other couple got off on the sixth floor, Mia let out a breath she hadn’t even known she was holding.

  “I’ll see you to the door,” Matthew said.

  Mia glanced at him, and he held her gaze. She nodded and led him to apartment 17K. She opened the door so it was slightly ajar, then turned to say good night.

  “I’d like to get started on our investigation right away,” Matthew said. “I don’t quite know where to begin, but I’ll give that some thought tonight. How about if I meet you here tomorrow morning at nine. If that works for you.”

  Mia nodded. “Nine tomorrow morning is fine—”

  She froze at the sight of a large manila envelope under the door. “What’s this?”

  Matthew shrugged. “Open it.”

  Mia picked up the manila envelope. There was nothing written on the front or back. She slid a finger under the seal and pulled out a folder.

  And gasped.

  Inside the folder was a short typed note, a wad of cash, and two black-and-white five-by-seven photos.

  Of Margot kissing a man in a crowded bar. Of the same man with his arm around her shoulder, his tongue darted in her ear.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  Mia was shaking. The folder dropped from her hands, and its contents fluttered to the floor. Matthew kneeled and picked up a photo.