Dead Ringer

by Mary Burton

  It was early afternoon when Nicole sat in Carnie Winchester’s office and flipped through the pages of the prospective parents. The couples all looked so happy. The descriptions all conveyed their palpable desire for a child.

  All were quite capable of giving her child a good home.

  She’d narrowed her list down to three couples. She couldn’t put into words how she’d narrowed the search. She just knew.

  The Latimers. The Davidsons. And the Snyders. They all lived in Richmond. All spoke of love, quality parenting, stable marriages, and nice homes. The Latimers had a son, Billy, who was eighteen months old. The Snyders owned a jewelry shop. The Davidsons had a golden retriever.

  They were all perfect.

  So why did she feel more frightened than she did when she first walked in here?

  Nicole cupped her hand under her belly and rose. She crossed the room and moved to the picture window. Frost covered the glass. The sky was gray and it looked like the city would get more snow.

  The baby kicked as if to remind Nicole that she was waiting for her to make a decision.

  The door opened. Carnie stood in the doorway. She held two cups of tea. ‘I thought you could use a break.’

  Nicole’s shoulders sagged with relief. ‘I wish that would solve all my problems.’

  Carnie closed the door. The two women met halfway and Nicole accepted the hot cup of tea. Decaf. Herb. Just as she’d asked for the other day. Carnie had remembered.

  ‘So have you made any progress?’ Carnie always kept her voice light and soothing.

  ‘I’ve narrowed the pile to three.’

  ‘May I look?’

  ‘Sure.’

  Carnie sat on the couch, sipped her tea as she stared at the profiles. She nodded. ‘They’re all very good families. They all desperately want a child.’

  ‘I can see that.’ Nicole faced the window. ‘Then why can’t I choose one?’

  ‘It’s a big decision, Nicole. Maybe the biggest you’ll make in your life.’

  ‘I’m paralyzed, Carnie. I’ve always been able to make decisions. Now I can hardly decide which pair of shoes to wear, let alone who should raise my child.’

  ‘This situation is difficult even in the best of times. Toss in a bucket of hormones and it’s that much harder. Ease up on yourself.’

  ‘Do you have kids?’

  A bit of light faded from her eyes. ‘No.’ She sighed. ‘As I told you, I’m adopted. My past is a huge mystery. Having a baby just feels like genetic roulette to me.’ She offered a wan smile. ‘It was a big issue for my husband and I. He wanted lots of kids. We divorced over it.’

  Nicole’s back ached and her breasts felt like melons. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. Do you think my baby will feel this way?’

  ‘My adoption was closed. Yours is going to be an open adoption. Your baby will know how to find you. My guess is that you’ll be good with sharing information when the time comes.’

  Nicole smoothed her hand over her belly. ‘Of course.’

  Carnie studied Nicole. ‘Can you tell me about your baby’s father?’

  Nicole stiffened. Even now, talking about Richard sent a bolt of fear through her. He was dead, couldn’t hurt her. But an illogical part of her brain whispered that he could somehow return from the grave and harm her. ‘I figured you read the papers last summer.’

  ‘I did. But I want to hear it from you.’

  Nicole straightened, annoyed at her fear. ‘My husband, Richard, was the most romantic man I’d ever met when he first strolled into my photography studio. So charming. So handsome. So funny.’

  She dropped her gaze to her thumbnail and studied the rough cuticles. Richard would have been furious if he had seen her right now. For an instant, fear tightened her chest and she had to remind herself that he was dead. Gone.

  ‘After we married everything slowly started to change. He started monitoring my cell phone calls and e-mails. He’d drop in at work and insist I have lunch with him. And then he began hitting me.’

  Carnie traced the rim of her cup. ‘I’m sorry.’

  So was she. ‘He started to hit me more and more. The last time was the worst. He …’ She stopped, still not able to put the event into words. Counseling had helped enough that she could say the word. ‘He raped me. The baby was conceived then.’

  Carnie’s face tightened with sadness. ‘I can’t imagine what you’ve been through.’

  ‘I ran here to Richmond. I moved in with my friend Lindsay O’Neil and she hid me. The rest was covered by the papers. Richard found us. Nearly killed Lindsay.’ Nicole’s heart rate quickened. The baby kicked. ‘So here I am unable to love the child growing in my belly.’

  ‘You can’t say that you don’t love this baby. You’re bringing it into the world. You’re seeing a doctor and you want the best for the child. You’re more maternal than you realize.’

  ‘So why do I just want this damn pregnancy over with? I want my career to get restarted. I want my life back!’

  Carnie smiled. ‘That’s very normal, Nicole. My partner is pregnant with her fourth, and she’s ready to jump out of her skin. All she can talk about is seeing her toes again and sleeping on her stomach.’

  ‘So I’m normal?’

  ‘You’re very normal.’

  The tension eased from her chest and she was able to sip her tea. ‘Thanks, Carnie.’ She glanced at the profiles, still not ready to decide.

  ‘Sleep on it. Another day or two won’t matter.’

  That made her feel better. ‘Thanks.’ She checked her watch. ‘I’ve got to run. I have an appointment to take pictures of a couple and their dog. All three are wearing matching red sweaters.’

  Carnie laughed. ‘Sure.’

  Nicole grabbed her coat and purse and headed out. When she stepped out the front door, the cold hit her across the face. She turned up her collar and fished her keys out of her pocket. She hurried down the sidewalk and climbed into her car. Breath puffed from her mouth. She stuck the key in the ignition and turned on the engine. Then she turned the heat on full blast. For several minutes it blew cold air. Her toes felt numb. She glanced in her rearview mirror. Someone had written a message on her back windshield. The roughly scrawled letters were backward and hard to read. She got out and waddled around to the back of the car.

  Written in the frost was Hi.

  Most likely a kid had written it. Much like ‘Wash Me’ or some other nonsensical statement.

  But it reminded her of something Richard would do in the early days. A simple gesture that no one but her would ever see as a threat. It had been his way of letting her know he was following her. Tracking her.

  A chill passed down her spine. She stared at the word until the back window defroster melted it from sight.

  Allen sat at the small workbench. An overhead light shone down on the large magnifying glass. He rubbed his dry eyes and stared at the tiny gold oval pendant. With engraver’s tools, he carefully started to write the first letter. He added an extra swirl to the R, paying close attention to the loop at the end of the letter. His engraving skills were expert.

  His first charms, way back in the beginning, had been crude and sloppy. Like a child’s. But he’d been a child in so many respects then. It had taken years to hone his skills. He’d started preparing for this moment in Alaska, the frozen land where he’d fled to so long ago to escape the demons. He’d thought that up there he could begin anew. But the demons had followed.

  The first woman in Anchorage who had caught his attention had flowing black hair like Her. The woman had been a waitress. The first hint of winter – Termination Dust, snow on the distant mountains that encased the city around the bay – had arrived. The wind had been blowing and the air possessed a chill like nothing he’d felt before.

  For one moment he’d stopped short, his breath frozen in his chest as he’d watched her. The hair had reminded him of the woman he’d loved and despised.

  The woman’s skin wasn’t smooth or pale. It was
olive and pockmarked. And she didn’t smell like fresh peaches, but of old cooking grease.

  But her hair had captivated him. It had allowed him to pretend that she was someone else.

  After he’d paid for his meal he’d waited across the street in the cold for her shift to end. He’d waited for nearly three hours.

  When she emerged bundled in a parka and smoking a cigarette, he had watched her move down the street to a lot where her car was parked.

  She was unlocking the door to her beat-up VW Bug when she’d seen him. He’d smiled, slid his trembling hands into his pants pockets.

  Pale moonlight had washed over her face. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘Sorry,’ he’d said, careful to keep his body relaxed. ‘I saw you in the restaurant. Waiting tables. I thought you were someone I knew.’

  She’d frowned her distrust. ‘I don’t know you.’

  His gaze had slid to her slim neck, where he imagined he saw the throb of her pulse in the hollow. ‘My name is Jack.’ That had been a lie. He’d not given his real name in so long. ‘I didn’t mean to scare you.’

  Allen had kept his posture relaxed and dropped his gaze before raising it again. He’d wanted her relaxed so he could get closer. He’d just wanted to touch the soft skin of her neck.

  The woman had remained suspicious. She’d unlocked her car door and tossed her purse inside. ‘It’s fine. Have a good night.’

  She’d started to lower herself into the front seat. He’d clenched his fists in his pockets. He hadn’t wanted her to leave. Not yet. ‘Hey, can you suggest a good place to stay tonight? Someplace not too expensive.’

  She’d shrugged. ‘There’s a motel at the edge of the city. It’s called Trail’s End. Low prices. Fairly clean.’

  He’d edged a few steps closer. ‘Thanks. Now, which way do I head out the main road to get there? I still get turned around here.’

  Impatience had darkened her eyes. She’d gotten in the car and closed the door. Dismissing him. Rejecting him. An old rage that had lain dormant inside him had flickered and caught fire. In seconds, it had rumbled inside him.

  She’d fumbled for her ignition key.

  He’d forced a smile and knocked on the glass. To keep her calm, he’d stepped back.

  ‘Hey, I’m sorry to keep bothering you, but I still don’t know how to get there from here.’

  She’d rolled down the window, feeling more relaxed now that she had the car to protect her. ‘Just follow this road. You can’t miss it.’

  ‘Right, thanks.’ He’d watched as she turned her attention to the keys in her hand.

  Bitch. How dare she? He was trying to be nice.

  With her attention distracted, he’d lunged toward the car and grabbed hold of her neck, her pulse throbbing under his calloused fingers.

  Her gaze had shot up to him, panic glistening. A surge of desire had shot through him and he’d squeezed harder. She’d dropped her keys and reached up to his hand trying to pry his hands from her neck and clawing at his skin.

  The pain had pissed him off and he’d squeezed harder, making her cough. Tears had rolled down her face. He’d never felt more powerful than he did at that moment. Then the life had drained from her eyes.

  She’d passed out. He’d opened her door and lifted her out of the car. He’d put her in the back bed of his truck and covered her with a tarp before driving back to his place in the woods.

  For sixty-two days he’d kept her. Those had been good times. And then the day had come to send her home. He’d strangled her and left her body in the woods for the animals.

  Allen’s mind refocused on the charm in front of him. The engraver’s tools shook in his unsteady hands. Even now the memory had the power to excite him.

  He blinked and stared through the magnifying glass at the charm. He drew in deep breaths and tried to calm himself, but he couldn’t. His hands weren’t steady enough to finish the work tonight.

  ‘It’s okay. There’s still time. No rush.’

  He studied the R. He smiled.

  ‘Rachel isn’t going anywhere.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  Wednesday, January 16, 1:30 P.M.

  Kendall pulled into traffic and ten minutes later was crossing the Huguenot Bridge, which took her to the south side of town, where her parents and she had lived. Gray, overcast clouds hovered above as she turned into the neighborhood that had been built fifty years ago.

  Each house was different from the one next to it, a sign that the houses had been built individually over time, rather than all at once by a single developer, like the newer neighborhoods. The yards were large and the trees tall with thick trunks.

  She found the mailbox that had THORNTON on it and pulled into the gravel driveway. Her heart pounded in her chest as she stared at the tri-level. The winter sky dulled the house’s white color, making it look tired and worn. Boxwoods and a pine tree offered a touch of color in garden beds that were otherwise stripped of greenery.

  Kendall got out of the car and crossed the uneven slate sidewalk to a set of steps that led to the front door. She climbed the steps and rang the bell. Seconds passed and there was no sound. For a moment she thought Mrs Thornton hadn’t heard her and she was tempted to ring the bell a second time. She smoothed damp hands over her skirt.

  Then the lace curtains covering a large picture window to her left fluttered. Seconds after that the door opened.

  Standing in the doorway was a tall, heavyset elderly woman who was wearing wire-rimmed glasses. A gray pageboy framed her round face. She greeted Kendall with a wide grin. ‘Kendall Shaw. You are a sight for sore eyes.’

  Kendall smiled. ‘Mrs Thornton.’

  The screened door creaked open. ‘You call me Jenny. Now get yourself in here out of that cold.’

  Kendall stepped over the threshold and was greeted by a rush of very warm air. The house smelled of mothballs and fried eggs. ‘Thank you for seeing me.’

  Jenny closed the front door and motioned for Kendall to sit on a couch covered with an afghan. ‘You could have knocked me over with a feather when you called. Can I get you anything to eat or drink?’

  ‘No. No. I’m fine.’ Kendall sat.

  Jenny eased into a wing chair across from her. ‘I’m sorry I never made your mother’s funeral. I was in the hospital then.’

  ‘The flowers you sent were very nice.’ She tried not to let her impatience show, but it was a struggle to make small talk. ‘I hope you’re feeling better.’

  ‘I am. Thank you for asking.’ She grinned. ‘But you didn’t come here to talk to an old lady about her heart.’

  Kendall shook her head, relieved by her directness. ‘No. I came to talk about my mom and my adoption.’

  Jenny swallowed. ‘Irene and I used to be such good friends. I never thought we’d ever not be friends, but when she moved across the river we just lost touch.’

  ‘Why did she move?’

  ‘She said she and your dad liked the schools over there better.’ Jenny shook her head. ‘There was more to it than that, but when I pressed her, Irene wouldn’t say.’ She reached into her pocket and pulled out a stack of photos. ‘I dug these out right after you called.’

  Kendall accepted the pictures. The images were of Kendall and her mother. Kendall couldn’t have been more than three. Irene was beaming, but the toddler in her arms was frowning and staring off into the distance as if lost.

  ‘I took those.’

  Kendall felt as if she held a precious link to her past. She traced the outline of the child Irene held. ‘Why do I look so sad?’

  Jenny shifted as if she wasn’t sure how to answer. ‘I don’t know. You were very clingy and fretful those first weeks with Irene. She said you cried a lot and would have terrible tantrums.’

  Kendall scooted to the edge of her seat. ‘Can you tell me anything about my birth family? I’ve been to the adoption agency, but a search is going to take months, possibly years. Did Mom say anything?’

  ‘Your mom and dad had t
ried for years to have children. Did your mom ever tell you about the baby she had long before you were born?’

  Kendall shook her head. ‘No.’

  ‘Irene had a baby when she was twenty. Just a year before she married your dad. It was born out of wedlock. She said the baby died of a heart problem days after it was born. She never could get pregnant again.’

  Kendall glanced at the picture of a much younger Irene. There was no hint of sadness in her smiling eyes. ‘I never knew.’

  ‘It broke her heart, not having a child. She wanted to adopt but your dad didn’t. She worked on him for years to change his mind. Finally, he gave in and they submitted their paperwork. They thought it would be years before a baby would become available, and then out of the blue they got a call in the middle of the night about a little girl who needed fostering. They went right then and there and got you.’ Jenny smiled. ‘I’d never seen your mom so happy. And your daddy, despite his misgivings, was as pleased as punch.’

  ‘Where did I come from?’

  ‘Your mom never did say. She said it was best to leave the past buried.’

  Kendall’s hopes dashed. ‘She never told you anything?’

  ‘Well, I do know you came from someplace close.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Your mom called me before she left to go get you. Said they’d gotten “the call.” That was around midnight. They were back by the next morning. That’s when I took that picture of Irene holding you.’

  ‘And Mom never said anything about my birth family. I was three. I had to have spent some time with my birth family.’

  Jenny pressed her hands to her lips as she seemed to force her mind to the past. ‘I remember you were wearing a little blue dress, white socks, and brown lace-up shoes. There was a stain on the dress. Irene threw it out.’

  ‘Do you know what it was stained with?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘And you smelled like apples and cinnamon.’

  Kendall clung to the details as if they were precious gems.

  ‘I asked Irene a few times about where you came from. She was very tight-lipped about it. And then out of the blue, Irene announced that you three were moving across the river. I remember she seemed rattled when she told me you all were leaving. Within two weeks the house was sold and you three were gone.’