Narcotics? “What exactly were they giving me at that place?”
“At Keystone you were given pretty high doses of lithium. Your last toxicology reports also showed Tegretol and Depakote, which are used when a person shows resistance to lithium. Before you were admitted to Keystone blood test showed traces of Prozac, heroin, you name it. You were a walking time bomb.” “What?” Her jaw slackened. “Why in the hell were they giving me all of that? I don’t recognize half of those drugs.” He hesitated. “The lithium was still being administered because they thought you were Michelle.” Josie lowered her gaze. William braided his hands together. “What do you about your sister?”
Josie sighed. “The question is what do I know about Michelle that’s true.”
“Okay, let’s start there. Lithium is usually prescribed to patients for a wide range of things: bipolar disorders, manic depression, and even those with chemical imbalances.” He gave her a few seconds for the information to sink in. “It’s too bad you don’t know anything about your biological parents. A lot of times, these things are genetic.” “So, Michelle…?” “…has a long history of mental illness.” He stood and returned to the kitchen. Josie wiped a stray tear from her eyes. “Just because someone struggled with mental illness doesn’t mean they’re evil.”
William returned and placed all he’d prepared onto the table. “Michelle might be the exception to the rule. I’ve been reading Michelle’s medical chart, and it isn’t pretty. Given the circumstance, you’re more than welcome to read it for yourself. My big question is how she managed to pull off this whole switcheroo.” Josie placed her elbows on the table and lowered her head into the palms of her hands. “I’m getting a migraine.” “You still get those?” She gave him a sad laugh. “As far back as I can remember.” “Well, let’s get something into your stomach. Who knows, maybe you’re just hungry.”
She nodded and was grateful when plates were brought to the table. Minutes later, she had a little bit of everything piled in front of her. She undoubtedly looked like a pig, but she was way past caring. It had to be the best meal she’d ever tasted.
Josie moaned in ecstasy with each bite while she started to believe that she could quite possibly devour everything that he’d set on the table.
William, however, leaned back in his chair and sipped coffee. “As flattered as I am about you enjoying the meal, I’d feel better if you’d slowed down and take your time.”
She nodded, but couldn’t do it.
“How about we talk about Michelle some more,” he said, seeking to slow her down through conversation. “How long did she stay with you before…?”
“Before I lost my mind?” she finished for him.
“That’s one way of putting it.”
“It’s the only way to put it.” She leaned back and took a slow sop of her orange juice. “My father’s funeral was June 20 of last year. That was the first time I’d ever laid eyes on my sister.”
“How did she find you?”
Josie set her glass down and drew a deep breath. “She said that about a month before my father’s death, a friend of hers brought her an old jazz CD of mine and commented how much we looked alike. From there, she claimed that she did some research on the Internet and was able to find my bio.”
“Your biography mentioned your parents?”
She nodded. “And where I was from. So later when my father’s death made one of the papers, she figured it was the best opportunity to meet me.”
“It just fell into her lap. How convenient.” Disgust dripped from his voice.
“It seemed innocent enough, plus I’d just lost the last family member I had, so I guess I leapt at the possibility of discovering another one.” Josie shrugged as her gaze fell to her empty plate. “No one wants to be alone.”
An uncomfortable silence fell over the table, and Josie regretted sharing so much.
When he, at last, reached across the table and took her hand, she was surprised by the comfort his touch gave. So much so that she was humbled by it. “Don’t beat yourself up,” he said gently. “You did what anyone in your position would have done.” She wasn’t sure if she agreed. “Okay, so you met her at the funeral and then what?”
Josie removed her hand from his to reach for more bacon. “Well, both of us always knew that were adopted, but had no idea that we were twins or had been separated, so we tried to research our adoptions.” She shrugged again. “Who knows, maybe there were other siblings.”
William studied her over the rim of his coffee mug and pretended that his heart didn’t tug at her forlorn expression. “Were there?” “Our adoption records are sealed.” She reached for the biscuits. “Apparently our biological parents don’t want to be found.” He lowered his cup. “I’m sorry.” She refused to meet his eyes. “Josie, you know you didn’t do anything wrong?” She grew still. Too still.
William’s gaze narrowed. Is there something that she’s not telling me? The silence became deafening before he probed gently. “Josie?” A tear raced from her lashes, but she quickly wiped it away. “I know you,” he said. “You’re not to blame for any of this. You have to know that.” “I’ve got take something for my head,” she moaned.
He sighed with relief. She wasn’t keeping something from him; it was another migraine. “Let’s get you that shot first. It should also help with your headaches.” Josie shook her head. “I need some Tylenol or morphine. Something. I don’t feel too good.” He rushed back to her side. “Are you feeling nauseous?” Josie frowned and clutched her stomach again. “Yes…no….I don’t know. I-I think I just need to lie down.” “Sounds like you’re experience withdrawal symptoms. If you let me, I’ll help you upstairs.” She nodded and allowed him to loop an arm around her.
Minutes later, Josie sat still while William administered the methadone, then instructed her to lie down. When she was finally alone, guilt churned in her belly. She had to get out there…and soon.
Images she had long tried to suppress sharpened into focus. She saw Michelle’s boyfriend, Daniel, and could still feel the weight of a gun in her hand. He never looked at her. Never knew what she was about to do. Josie lifted the gun as if she was in a trance, aimed, and fired a single shot in the center of his chest. “Oh my God,” Josie turned and sobbed into her pillow. “What have I done?”
Chapter 20
Michelle spent the rest of the day tearing through boxed at the Ferrell Estate and looking for Josephine’s birth certificate or adoptions papers. However, after eight hours of digging all she had for her efforts was a splitting headache.
“I’m never going to find that damn thing,” she huffed, and stood up from the floor of what had once been Josephine’s old bedroom. “It’s probably in France somewhere.” She kicked a box in frustration.
Her anger quickly reached a boiling point. “This is all Ambrose’s fault,” she seethed. All his gifts and confessions of love meant nothing. She asked him to do one little thing. Like kill her sister, and he couldn’t even do that.
Michelle kicked another box, but then smiled with satisfaction. “I hope you rot at the bottom of that damn lake.”
Her thoughts raced to Detective Delaney, who was turning into a major pain in her backside.
They’re going to get you.
“They can’t prove a thing.” Her eyes darted to the room’s elegant splendor. “I’m not giving all this up without a fight.” She moved away from the boxes and paced along the plush carpet. “I need a new plan.”
It doesn’t matter. They’re going to get you.
“Not if I have something to say about it.”
What can you do? You let Josephine slip through your fingers.
She grounded her teeth.
If Josephine were out of the picture, then you wouldn’t have to leave town.
“But where in the hell is she?” Again, Michelle cursed Ambrose. If he’d just done what he was supposed to, she wouldn’t be in this situation.
You had a chance to kill her, too,
you know.
“She was supposed to kill herself,” she corrected, then wondered again how Josie survived after losing so much blood. “Those slashes were deep. I saw them.”
The memory of Josephine lying so still in the sauna and staring at her slashed wrists flashed through Michelle’s head. Josie’s expression had looked amazingly composed and serene; but in her eyes, Michelle read horror.
At the time, Michelle laughed. It had been so simple, she thought. Well, with Daniel’s help anyway.
“I’m going to miss dear Danny,” she amused. “Having him around did have its benefits. After all, it’d been his idea to slip Michelle’s lithium to her twin sister. It sounded impossible until Michelle’s noticed Josie’s frequent migraines. Danny, in his infinite genius, had the lithium pills made to resemble Josie’s beloved Excedrin tablets.
However, the lithium had little to no effect. So, they upped the ante. The next pulls they transformed were Prozac and OxyContin.
They’d struck the jackpot.
Since all the pills were mixed together in Josie’s bottle and could be taken in any combination, Josie was putty in their hands.
Michelle was amazed how receptive Josie was to suggestion. But whereas Daniel wanted to simply extort money from Josie, Michelle wanted it all, and without splitting it down the center with him.
Even that plan almost blew up in your face.
“I handled it,” she retaliated, as she stormed out of the bedroom and down the long hall to the staircase.
It was still a close call.
“Close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.” She chuckled while she descended the spiral staircase. Minutes later, she reached the bar in the study and made herself a drink.
For the umpteenth time that day, she regretted having let go of the hired help. Of course, it was the third crew she’d fired since she’d been there.
Since Josie had initially returned to Georgia to bury her father and settle the estate, she’d given his employees a sizable severance package. She had no intentions of staying Stateside for long.
Michelle changed all of that.
She glanced around her opulent surroundings and snickered. “It’s like taking candy from a baby.”
Josie is still out there somewhere.
Michelle rolled her eyes, but conceded that the voice had a good point. “I have to find her.”
She’ll go to the police before you find her, then it’ll all be over.
Seething, Michelle turned to exit the room, but instead her attention was drawn to the stacks of paper crumpled under her feet. She started to kick them aside, but her gaze zeroed in on the title Deed of Property.
“Well, what do we have here?” she asked, kneeling. She scanned the paper. “More property,” she said under her breath and shook her head. “The rich just keep getting richer.”
In the past few months, Michelle was stunned to learn just how much land Josephine’s adoptive parents had owned in Georgia alone. There was the estate in which she was currently residing in Alpharetta, a cabin at Lake Lanier, a high-rise in Buckhead, and now this house in Pine Mountain.
Plenty of places to hide.
Michelle frowned as she stared at the deed. Could Josie be hiding out at one of these places? “I think its time I paid a visit to these properties…including this Pine Mountain.
Trisha Turner sobbed endlessly as she sat in an interrogation room. In her mind, she couldn’t stop replaying the memory of seeing her husband off to work that morning.
The door finally swung open. A tall Asian and an even larger, broad-shouldered black man strolled into the room. Something about their severe expressions had a sobering effect on her.
“Sorry to have kept you waiting,” the woman said. “I’m Detective Ming Delaney and this is my partner, Detective Tyrese Simmons.” Trisha nodded her greeting but wiped at her tears. Both detectives took seats on the other side of the table. “I don’t understand why I was brought here.”
Simmon’s thick lips slid into a smile while he braided his fingers in front of him. “We think there might be a connection between your husband’s murder and one of our cases.”
“Murder?” Trisha’s sniffles gradually diminished. “You don’t think that it was an accident?” Her eyes darted to each cop and her heartbeat accelerated at their hesitation.
“Mrs. Turner, your husband was shot in the back of the head.” Delaney began in a soft lilt. “Do you know of anyone who might have wanted to cause your husband any harm?”
“Shot?” Trisha’s hands crossed her heart. She couldn’t believe the line of questioning. “Why everyone loved Ambrose. He was a kind and brilliant psychiatrist.”
“Yes, I’m sure he was,” Delaney conceded, but her gaze locked on to Trisha’s and wouldn’t let go until it penetrated her soul. “But how was his behavior in the last week?”
Blinking, Trisha lowered her hands to her lap.
“What is it, Mrs. Turner?” Simmons asked.
She shrugged as she thought about. “Well, he’d been a little distracted—but I’m sure it was just because he’d lost a close and dear colleague at the institute this past weekend.”
“Distracted how?” Delaney asked.
Trisha struggled with how to describe what she meant. “Ambrose is…was sort of anal about schedules. He woke up every morning at five-thirty. He jogged, he expected meals served at a certain time—you could set your watch by him.” She twisted her hands. “But lately…”
Silence stretched as she detectives waited for her to continue.
“It’s been longer than just these last few days. He had trouble sleeping and occasionally would go out for long drives. So I assumed that…” She couldn’t hold it together any longer and buried her face in her hands.
Neither officer consoled her, but they gave her all the time she needed to pull herself together.
When she at last quieted down, Delaney asked, “What did you assume?”
“That he was seeing her again.” Trisha glanced up to see the cop’s stoic expressions. “Your husband was having an affair?” Simmons asked. Shame blanketed her body. “I’m not sure, but possibly. “You said ‘again.’ Did he have one in the past?” Delaney asked. “He…used to have a mistress.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “but he swore he…had ended it sometime ago.”
Ming watched as tears slid down the widow’s face. She couldn’t help but imagine how distraught she would be if anything ever happened to Conan. But she did know what she would do if he ever cheated on her.
“Did you believe him?” Tyrese pressed.
Trisha hesitated.
Ming read that she was weighing whether to tell the truth or let sleeping dogs lie. “Let’s just say that he didn’t end it. Do you think this woman might want to cause him harm?” An awkward laugh burst from her chest. “Why? Ambrose is harmless.” Ming and Tyrese didn’t answer. “What?” Trisha asked. “You know something I don’t?” “We’ll ask the question.” Ming knew by the way the woman’s body jerked that she’d inadvertently ruffled Trisha’s feathers. Simmons took the reins. “Where was your husband going this morning, Mrs. Turner?” “To work.” “Does he always to work with a packed suitcase and an airline ticket to Brazil?” Trisha blinked. “His flight was at ten o’clock this morning.” Ming added gently. “He wasn’t on his way to work.” The widow’s tears dried instantly as her shoulders drooped. “That bastard.” Ming leaned forward. “Can you still not think of anyone who might want to harm your husband?” “He was probably with her that night,” Trisha said, as if she hadn’t heard Delaney. “With whom?” Tyrese and Ming asked in unison.
“I should have left him a long time ago,” Trisha rambled. “But he was such a good provider. I’ve been out of the work force for over twenty years, and what would all my friends think if I couldn’t hold my marriage together?”
Ming frowned and was momentarily thrown for a loop by such a Dark Ages comment. “Let’s slow down, Mrs. Turner. What night was he with someon
e else?”
Trisha crossed her arms. Anger radiated from her. “Friday night,” she said in a sharp clipped tone. “I heard him leave the house around midnight. He was only gone for a couple of hours. He probably thought I wouldn’t wake up.”
Dr. Bancroft was murdered early Saturday morning. Ming glanced over at her partner to see if the same suspicion had crept into his thoughts. “What time did he return home?” “Three o’clock. I remember because I read the clock on the nightstand. Tyrese reached inside his jacket for his small notepad. “But you suspect that he was with his mistress?” “Most likely.” Trisha’s lower lip trembled, a sign that a barrel still raged inside of her. “Do you know who she is or where we might be able to find her?”
“A few years ago, I hired a private detective to follow him around. I thought if my suspicions were correct, that I could leave him with a clear conscience. But I never did.”
Delaney and Simmons waited patiently.
“I have a file on the affair at home if you want to see it.” Trisha blew her nose and struggled to pull herself together. “Do I know who she is? How can a woman ever forget the name of the whore who’s made a mockery of her marriage?” Ming fought the urge to comfort the distraught woman, but she encouraged her to take her time. Trisha nodded, gathered herself, then finally responded. “Her name is Michelle…Michelle Andrews.”
Chapter 21
Despite it being a convenient way to avoid William, Josie grew restless from lying in bed. She needed to come up with a plan. She couldn’t just let Michelle still her life. She sat up and watched the fading sunlight slide through the blinds.
How on Earth had she allowed someone to do this to her? Just as quickly, she realized that she had allowed anything.
As the soft rap on the door, she turned to see William ease into the room. It magnetic eyes captured her attention, but when he smiled his lips triggered a memory—one when she and William lay naked in front of fireplace while his lips kissed every inch of her body.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, bursting her memory bubble.
Josie glanced away. “Better.”
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