by Ivy Smoak
But I had a long drive to figure it out.
I looked in my rearview mirror, the blue and red lights growing more distant by the second. Merry Christmas, Detective Torres. Giving him a clean arrest was the least I could do after cutting off his thumb.
I pressed my foot down harder on the gas. I needed to cross the Canadian border tonight. Just in case my plan failed and it was my face all over the news instead of Aiden’s.
Chapter 34
Wednesday
I couldn’t look away from the TV in the dingy motel room. My murder had made national news. Scratch that. I’d crossed the border into Canada two days ago, which meant it had made the international news. But it was Aiden who was getting all the credit. He was becoming notorious for my crime. My plans. My brilliance. I would have felt cheated, but he was also taking the fall for me. And it was hard to feel cheated when all I felt was guilt. I regretted turning him in. We could have just escaped together. I hated how much I missed him. I hated how the guilt made my stomach feel like it was twisting in half.
He's A. Stop it. You couldn’t trust him.
But that didn’t mean he deserved this. My plan had been too good. They were already talking about the death penalty. And I couldn’t let that happen. I’d made him a promise, and I was going to keep it.
The sun was peeking through the blinds. This wasn’t how I wanted to spend Christmas morning. I’d promised Snuggle Muffins great things. And I was going to keep that promise too. But first, I had to fix what I had broken.
Originally I thought I might kill Aiden once I got my answers, but then I’d switched gears and framed him. And now that I’d framed him so well? I was switching gears again. Aiden had given me the greatest Christmas gift of all – my freedom. I wanted to give him his freedom back too. It was Christmas, after all.
“Wake up, Snuggle Muffins.” I rubbed his tummy. “It’s Christmas morning!”
He blinked up at me and wagged his little tail.
“I got you a present. I promise more will come later.” I placed the neatly wrapped gift down in front of him.
And he bit it. Almost like he knew he was going to hate what was inside. He shook his head back and forth, really getting into destroying his only Christmas gift.
“Stop it.” I grabbed the present away from him and tore the paper off. It was an adorable little Santa costume.
He growled at it.
“Don’t be that way. You already agreed to the plan. And you’re cute, but this will make you extra cute.”
After several attempts, I finally wrassled him into the outfit. I flicked the little jingle bell on the end of his hat and he sighed. “See. You look adorable.” I peppered his face with kisses and he looked considerably less upset.
“It’s go-time.”
I lifted him into my arms and took one last look at the crappy motel room. If today went as planned, we’d be in a nice hotel tonight. And a permanent residence in a few weeks. A new life. A fresh start. I closed the door behind us and made my way down the rickety steps.
Christmas morning was always eerily quiet, no matter where you were. Families were tucked inside their homes, cozy and warm. It felt like Snuggle Muffins and I were the only ones in the world outside this early on Christmas morning.
We got in the car and Snuggle Muffins watched me silently from the passenger seat.
“It’s going to work,” I said.
I still felt him staring.
“Fine. It’ll probably work. Happy?”
He sighed.
I didn’t know why he didn’t have more faith in the plan. It was Christmas, after all. And if anyone deserved a Christmas miracle, it was us.
I pulled the car out of the motel’s parking lot. We’d already hit all three addresses in Canada that were on our list. The first two from Detective Torres’ phone had been useless. One was a police station, where he’d probably listened in on Sophia’s questioning. The other address was in a neighborhood similar to the one I’d left behind. A house with a “sold” sign out front. A cute little place on Cherry Lane. And a complete and utter dead end.
But the third address? The one that Aiden had given me? I’d only had to stake the place out for two hours before I realized I’d hit the jackpot. It was Sophia freaking Tremblay’s new place. And I mean brand new. A custom home. Enormous. Gorgeous. And…bought with my money. It was easy to figure that out with a quick Google search. The only owner’s name on record was Dr. Noah Collins. He’d used my money to buy my replacement this house. Months ago. He’d been planning my death for months. The only question was…had she already given up her old identity? Was she already me? Did she have my money tucked away somewhere in her ginormous home?
Those were all questions that I couldn’t find the answers to online. I needed to get inside. I stared at the huge house. There were still Amazon packages piled at the front door that had been there yesterday. Sophia apparently had no worry of theft or anything malicious happening in her fancy neighborhood. She was just spending my money all willy nilly, strutting around with my face and my bank account without a care in the world. Well, she was in for a rude Christmas surprise.
I looked down at Snuggle Muffins.
He sighed.
“You got this boy. It’ll be the performance of a lifetime.”
He yawned.
“Keep it up, cutie.” I pulled down the hood on my black hoody to hide my identity as much as possible, slipped Detective Torres’ gun into the back of my black leggings, and grabbed Snuggle Muffins.
The plan was simple. Snuggle Muffins adorableness was going to distract Sophia. I placed Snuggle Muffins down next to the Amazon packages. “Stay,” I said. “Look cute. Be You.”
He wagged his tail.
Such a good dog. I rang the bell and then ran as fast as I could to the back of the house. Which took a stupid amount of time because the house was so freaking huge.
I pulled out a bobby pin and went to town on the back-door’s lock. I wasn’t an expert. But I’d been practicing picking locks in my cheap motel room. The lock clicked in record time. I smiled as I opened the door. No squeak, thanks to the brand new hinges. I tiptoed through the laundry room, down the hall, and peered toward the entranceway.
Sophia had her dirty hands all over my sweet Snuggle Muffins. It was one thing to touch my husband. And my money. But my dog? Hell no.
I tiptoed up behind her, looked both ways to make sure all the neighbors were still snug in their beds dreaming of sugar plums, and whacked her in the back of the head with my gun. Snuggle Muffins jumped out of her arms before she was able to fall on top of him.
“Good boy.” I patted his head and looked around the neighborhood again. The coast was clear. “You grab one ankle. I’ll grab the other.”
Snuggle Muffins sat down instead of assisting me. But it was okay. He’d already done his part. I pulled her unconscious body into the house and closed the door.
After making sure she was tied securely to a kitchen chair, I stared down at her. Just like I’d seen through her kitchen window the other day, her face wasn’t covered in bruises like the picture Detective Torres had shown me. Her face was perfectly fine. Exactly like mine. Almost. It was like staring into a mirror. The question was…why had she worn makeup that looked so much like bruises? I could only think of two possibilities. Either she wanted to trick the local police station with a great makeup job. Or Detective Torres was trying to trick me. I was banking on the first option. My plan depended on it.
“Let’s split up,” I said. “You search downstairs. I’ll search upstairs.” Snuggle Muffins and I went off in different directions to go find what we needed.
It didn’t take long for me to find a duffel bag stuffed with cash. Stupid Canadian cash, but cash just the same. At least it looked pretty.
And Snuggle Muffins was waiting for me downstairs with Sophia’s purse. Tucked inside her purse was both her ID and mine - the one she’d used to steal my money. The house was under my husband’s nam
e. She had my face. The only thing in the house hinting at her real identity was her old ID. What an idiot. I placed the wallet down on the counter.
I had everything I needed now. Except my answers. I slapped Sophia’s face, trying to wake her up. It was strange hitting myself. But I knew she wasn’t me. I slapped her again.
She slowly opened her eyes. The shock on her face was priceless. One of my favorite Christmas presents ever.
“I like what you’ve done with the place,” I said and looked around the kitchen. There were Christmas decorations galore. Everything was so perfect. Overly perfect. She reminded me of Charlotte.
She stared at me, her eyes glued to my face. My face. Not hers.
“Ensley,” she said slowly.
“Oh good, you know who I am. So I can skip the question where I ask if you were sleeping with my husband.”
“He didn’t love you.” She tried to move, but I’d tied her up pretty tightly to the kitchen chair. “He never did.”
I thought she’d be at least a little regretful. I was kind of expecting an I’m sorry. Weren’t Canadians supposed to be super polite? “I’m not so sure. He at least loved me more than he loved you. Why else would he make you look like me?”
She glared at me. “You better untie me. Noah’s coming home this morning. We’re going to spend Christmas together. He’ll be here any minute.”
“Sounds like fun. I’ll be out of your hair as soon as you answer a few questions for me.”
She didn’t agree. But she didn’t disagree either.
“What happened to the bruises on your face?” I asked.
“You have no idea what’s going on,” she said.
“I think I do. I think you didn’t want the local police to know you looked like me until I’d been disposed of. Because…that would be suspicious if there were two of me walking around.”
She looked surprised.
And her surprise made me feel relieved. It seemed like I had gotten it right. “You were waiting for Noah to tell you I was dead before you let anyone see you. Right?”
She glanced toward the hallway, like she was hoping Noah would come in and rescue her.
I’d actually felt sorry for her a few days ago. I thought my husband hurt her too. But she was just…faking it? Faking my pain? Faking being me? “Were you working with Detective Torres?”
“Who?”
Her accent fell out of her mouth weird. My mouth. My mouth was never meant to talk with a Canadian accent. It grated on my nerves. “Detective Damien Torres. Were you working with him?”
“No. I literally have no idea who you’re talking about. I swear to God, Ensley, if you don’t untie me right now, you’re going to regret it.”
“What about A?”
“A?”
“A stands for Aiden. I know you were working with him.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know any Aidens. Noah was going to make it painless, you know. But when he finds out about this? He’ll make your death so slow. Unless you untie me right now. I’ll tell him to kill you fast if you let me go.”
This woman was seriously bad at negotiating. “Are you T?” I asked, ignoring her.
She shook her head. “My name is Sophia.”
I swallowed hard. I know your name, you idiot! But I didn’t know if I believed her. She looked like she was probably a natural blonde. Her breasts were too big. Oh, and she had my fucking face and had slept with my husband. She was clearly an idiot.
“Look, I’m sorry, okay? You can have your money back. It’s all here. In the basement. Just over there.” She gestured with her head behind her.
Wow. This bitch seriously thought I was going to willingly go in her basement while she tried to free herself? I’d already found my money underneath her bed. And her sorry didn’t cut it. She wasn’t sorry. She fucking stole my face. That wasn’t something you do on a drunken whim and later regret. It was a huge choice. Sleeping with my husband. Robbing me blind? She wasn’t sorry. “Last chance to tell me something I don’t know already. Or I’m going to gag you.” I lifted a piece of fabric. I didn’t necessarily need the answers from her. I still had another way of getting them.
She started shaking her head back and forth. “You’re going to regret this, Ensley. Boy are you going to regret this. Noah’s going to be here any second and…”
“Noah’s dead.”
Her jaw dropped. “No.” She shook her head. “He can’t be. How?”
“Dead is such a gross understatement. He was murdered actually.”
“What? You’re lying. He said you were a liar.”
I laughed. “I’m sure he said a lot of things about me. But I’m not lying. Noah’s been murdered. Haven’t you seen the news?”
“I don’t watch the news.”
Of course you don’t. What had Noah seen in this woman? Oh right, he saw me. Because she had my freaking face.
“Who did it?” Sophia asked.
Dumb question. “It’ll all be clear soon. I need to make a quick phone call. Do you mind being quiet?”
“Who killed him?” she said, her eyes staring daggers at me. They were one of the only things about her face that didn’t match mine. And they looked stupid with my face.
I shoved a piece of fabric into her mouth and tied it around the back of her head. She’d given me nothing. But I’d still get my answers.
I picked up Sophia’s phone from her purse and dialed Detective Torres’ cell number. I wasn’t sure if he’d have it back. Maybe it would be in evidence. Or maybe in the trash with his thumb. Who knew? But I wanted to talk to him. Dialing 9-1-1 didn’t seem personal enough. I stepped away from Sophia as she screamed against the gag. I doubted he’d be able to hear her. But better safe than sorry.
“Hello?” said a groggy voice.
Thank God. “Merry Christmas, Detective Torres.”
“Ensley? Is that you? Are you okay?”
I should have been the one asking him that. Wow, he really was a bad detective. He was worried about me. Me. “No.” My voice trembled. It was easy to fake it when I was looking at my doppelgänger tied up to a chair.
“We got your husband’s murderer. It’s safe to come back now. You’re safe.”
“No.” I kept my voice uneven and sobbed. “You have the wrong guy.”
“What do you mean?”
“Aiden’s innocent.” I pretended to sob again. “I framed him. It was me. I killed my husband. Because he hurt me, Detective Torres. And you didn’t help.” No one had helped. No one had cared. Until Aiden. I glanced over at Sophia. She was straining against the ropes, trying to get free. For the first time since I’d tied her up, she looked truly horrified. “It was me.”
All I heard was his breathing for a few seconds.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“It’s…it’s too late.” I kicked the fake tremble of my voice up a notch. “And I don’t regret killing him. But I’m so sorry that I hurt you. I’m so, so sorry.”
“Ensley, where are you?” His voice sounded more icy than concerned. Probably because I’d cut off his finger.
“It doesn’t matter,” I croaked. “It’s too late. I can’t live like this.” I pulled the gun out of the back of my leggings and stared down at it. “I can’t. I can’t.”
“Take a deep breath. I need you to tell me where you are right now. We can have a nice long talk about all of this when I get there.”
I shook my head, my eyes still on the gun. “I have your gun. I thought it would be good to call you. Have this recorded so that no one thought you were the one that killed me.” I turned the gun toward myself. Just one click away. Would it hurt less through my forehead or heart?
“Ensley, put the gun down,” he said.
I sniffled. “Will you answer a question for me if I do?”
“Yes. If you put the gun down and tell me your address. I’ll answer whatever you want.” He didn’t sound upset anymore. He sounded desperate.
�
��Okay.” I put the gun down on the kitchen counter. “Who is T? And who’s A?”
“That’s something we can talk about in person. If you tell me where you are.”
“You said you’d answer my question first. I’m going to shoot myself in the head if you don’t.”
“Ensley…”
“I went through your emails, Detective Torres. Who are T and A?” I picked the gun back up. “I’ll shoot myself unless you answer honestly. Do the letters stand for Tremblay and Aiden?”
“No. Now please tell me where you are. I can come get you. We can go down to the station to talk.”
“I know you were working with them.” God, I just wanted answers. Why did no one ever tell me what I needed to know? “Just admit it. What does the truth even matter now? I’ll be dead.”
“I wasn’t working with Sophia or Aiden. Put the gun down, Ensley.”
“Then who are T and A? I swear to God…”
“Tucker and Adeline.”
Tucker and Adeline. The names seemed to roll around in my head until they stopped. Adeline Bell was the first suburban housewife serial killer. And Tucker Reed was the second suburban housewife serial killer’s boyfriend. He was also Detective Torres’ friend and former partner. It would make sense if he was still in contact with him. Asking for more supplies made sense. But the other email? That they had A and the plan was a go? Oh my God. “You found Adeline?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Give me your address and I’ll tell you…”
“How?” I screamed into the phone. It was easy to sound crazy when he was driving me crazy by withholding information.
“She just bought a new house in Canada. We’re going to stop her before she strikes again. Now you promised me your address, Ensley.”
Ah, the sold house on Cherry Lane. Not such a dead end after all. So T stood for Tucker. And A stood for Adeline. Which meant Aiden hadn’t been working against me. Neither had Detective Torres. It was good news. It meant I was about to make the right choice.