CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The paramedics rush out of the arcade rolling a stretcher carrying Hunter as Officer Wainwright helps clear a path to the ambulance. Hunter is hooked up to an IV. He’s pale, gaunt and as still as death.
A murmur travels through the crowd like a shiver. The revolving light on top of the ambulance sweeps over the boardwalk. Most everybody is a teenager. The Drama Queen Twins, our nickname for two former cheerleaders who make everything about them, cling to each other and sob. Maia is at the entrance to the arcade with some other employees, talking among themselves. Becky stands off by herself, shaking like a leaf caught in a sandstorm.
I weave through the mass of humanity to my friend’s side. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know.” Her hand covers her mouth. “I saw it all, Jade. The arcade wasn’t closed yet so I went in to check if Porter was working while I waited for you. It was bad. I’ve never seen anyone suffer that much.”
The ambulance siren pierces the night, sending a fresh stab of fear for Hunter through me. Disbelief, too. I’d seen him only a few hours ago, and he was perfectly fine.
“Let’s get out of here.” I take an unresisting Becky gently by the arm and guide her through the crowd to the parking lot behind the carnival. The siren grows fainter and fainter and fades to nothing before we reach the car. Becky is still trembling.
“You better let me drive.” I put out my hand for the keys and unlock the passenger door. By the time I settle behind the wheel and turn the key in the ignition, Becky’s hugging herself and rocking.
“It’ll be okay, Becks. The doctors will figure out what’s wrong.” I’m trying to convince myself of that as much as her.
“It was awful. Like he’d been poisoned or something.”
In my mind’s eye, I see Hunter hurrying toward the concession stand. He’d said he needed to talk to Adair, but it’s not out of the realm of possibility that he’d ordered something to eat while he was there.
Becky shakes her head. “But of course I know that’s ridiculous.”
Is it? If Adair was that angry at me for hanging around her boyfriend, she could have been livid at Hunter. During lunch, Max’s dislike for Hunter had rumbled like the waves that roll into Midway Beach. Either one of them could have sprinkled his food with something.
“What is it, Jade? You look like you thought of something.”
The beginning strains of a Murder by Death song ring out. Becky’s ring tone. The song usually reminds me of how Becky and I share a love of indie rock. Tonight the band’s name conjures up other images. Becky clicks on the phone.
“Hey, Mom.” Becky makes an effort not to sound freaked out. She listens for a while, then says, “Don’t worry. I’m getting ready to leave now. I‘ll be home as soon as I drop off Jade.”
I put the car in reverse and back out of the parking spot. As Becky finishes the call, I’m navigating the dark streets of Midway Beach.
“Don’t ask me how, buy my mom knows what happened at the arcade,” Becky says. “She wants me home. She kind of skipped worry and went straight to panic.”
I’ve got a different worry. It involves whether Max and Adair are at his place right now plotting to wreak more havoc on Midway Beach. Since I’d committed the address I found on his employment papers to memory, there’s one way to find out
Making my voice as casual as possible, I say, “How about I let you off at your house and get the car back to you tomorrow morning?”
“No, no. That’s okay. I’m fine to drive now. And I have a dentist appointment at nine a.m. tomorrow.” Becky, in fact, sounds stronger by the moment.
“I’ll get the car back to you in plenty of time.”
“It would be easier for me just to drop you.”
Max’s place is three or four miles from where I live, too far to travel by bike so late at night. There must be something I can say to convince her to let me have the car. “I insist.”
“You never insist on anything. What’s with you, Jade? You aren’t telling me something.”
I’m not telling her a whole hell of a lot. I’m tempted to blurt out everything, but Becky reacts poorly whenever I mention anything to do with my lost forty-eight hours.
“I’ll make you a deal,” I say slowly. “If you let me take the car, I’ll explain everything in the morning.”
“Everything? Even what’s going on between you and Max Harper?”
Something makes me take my left hand off the wheel and covertly cross my fingers before I answer. “Even that.”
“Don’t make me regret this, Jade.”
She does, though. After I drop her off, Becky walks up the sidewalk to her house, repeatedly casting worried glances over her shoulder.
The address listed on Max’s employment form is in a section of town where tourists rent houses and condos by the week. The closer they are to the ocean, the more the vacation rentals cost. The place Max is renting is in a duplex about a mile from the beach. One of the units is dark while the other has a porch light shining.
I circle the block slowly, searching for Max’s white pickup truck or the blue Mazda Miata that Adair drives. I can’t spot either vehicle. To be on the safe side, I park three blocks from the duplex and skulk through the night, sticking to the shadows.
Clouds obscure the moon, blacking out the stars the same way they did on the night I disappeared. The street is eerily quiet with no traffic or signs of life from the neighborhood houses. If a black cat slinked into sight, the scene would be set for horror.
Thick bushes line the sidewalk, the perfect place for someone—or something—to hide. I brace myself for the unknown to jump out at me, like the clown did at the funhouse.
“Stop it!” I chastise myself. “There’s nothing to fear but fear itself.”
I grimace. Did I really quote FDR? Mr. Tannehill, who taught me A.P. history senior year, really should have graded me higher than a D.
A faint rustling disrupts the quiet.
Nothing is behind me except a plastic bag blowing end over end down the street with the wind. Was that the cause of the noise? Or was it a nocturnal animal moving through the night? No, wait. A street light casts a glow over a tree-lined yard. At the edge of the light is the shadow of a person, perhaps lurking behind a tree.
Telling myself it’s someone out for a walk or possibly even my mother making sure I’m okay, I pick up my pace. After a few moments, I look back over my shoulder to make sure I’m not being followed. The shadowy form moves quickly through the yards, staying just out of the light, closing the distance between us. No way could Mom move that fast.
Run! my mind screams. I pump my arms and churn my legs. My heartbeat reverberates in my ears. How could I have put myself in a position for history to repeat itself? I’m worse than the brain-dead girls in the horror movies.
I really am Too Stupid To Live. But I want to live. Desperately.
I was never the fastest girl on my high school soccer team, but I have decent speed. I risk another glance over my shoulder to see if I’m gaining ground. While I’m directly under a street light, whoever chases me is doing a great job of staying out of sight. I can barely make out the dark shape of—
Bam! I collide with something solid. Not something. Someone. The air whooshes out of my lungs. I gasp for breath as I look up into the shadowy face of a human barricade.
It’s the guy calling himself Max Harper.
A terrible theory grips me. It was impossible to tell if the person chasing me is male or female, but it must be Adair. She and Max are in this together, plotting to recapture me and take me back to that clown.
My heart squeezes with panic.
“It’s okay, Jade.” His hands are still wrapped around my upper arms. “It’s me. Max.”
I wrench away from him, stumbling and almost falling to the sidewalk. I need something—anything—to defend myself. I reach into my shorts pocket and pull out my only weapon.
“Really?” Max balances his hands on his lean hips.
“The keys again?”
I need to buy a pocket knife, at the very least.
“C’mon, Jade. I thought we were past this. Put the keys down.”
“Not on your life,” I choke out past my clogged windpipe. I’m not sure of my next move. Becky’s car is behind me, but so is Adair. If I don’t do something fast, though, Max and Adair will have me cornered. “I won’t let you and Adair get away with this.”
“Adair? What are you talking about?”
“She’s chasing me.” I check the dark expanse of sidewalk and street behind us. There’s no sign of Adair, no sign of a shadowy figure, no sign of life.
“She can’t be. I dropped her off at her house five minutes ago, and that’s miles from here.” He sounds like the epitome of reason. Like Becky. And Roxy. And everybody else who doesn’t believe I vanished back in February.
“If you’re trying to make me think I’m crazy, it won’t work.” My breaths are ragged. “Somebody was chasing me!”
“Calm down.” Max waves the air with his palm. “I believe you.”
He’s trying to win my trust by agreeing with me. But I can’t trust him. I can’t trust anybody. My heart feels like it’s going to pound through my rib cage. “Don’t pretend you’re my friend.”
“Friendship has never been what I want from you.” He quirks an eyebrow and takes a step forward.
Really? He’s flirting with me now? I back up as heat that I want to attribute to anger flashes through me. “Stay away from me.”
“Relax. I’m on your side.”
“You’re a liar.” It’s probably not the smartest thing to say, considering the street remains dark and empty of life, but I won’t continue playing this game with him. If he tries anything, I’ll put my keys through his eyes. Reaching into the back pocket of my shorts with my left hand, I take out the missing person flyer, unfold it and extend it to him. “Here. Explain this.”
He takes the paper and gazes down at it, lines creasing his forehead. I can’t tell for sure under the artificial light, but it seems like his face turns even paler than usual.
“So you’re the one who was snooping through my backpack,” he says.
“It doesn’t matter where I got the flyer. What matters is you’ve been lying to me.”
The moon peeks out from behind a cloud. Max looks almost inhuman with his midnight black hair and alabaster skin, like one of those impossibly good-looking mannequins in a clothing store. He indicates the duplex with a nod. “I’m renting a place right over there. There are some things I should tell you, and I’d rather not do it in the middle of the street.”
“You’re crazy if you think I’m going anywhere with you.”
“Suit yourself.” Max walks toward his duplex, taking the flyer with him. The message is clear that I need to follow if I want answers. I hesitate for the space of a few second before I head after him, clutching the keys tightly in my hand. The right side of the dwelling has a porch light on. Max heads for the left unit, which is mostly in darkness. He lowers himself onto a bench spacious enough for two.
The duplex isn’t spooky at all, unlike the funhouse or the cabin in the woods. But there are no homey touches. No doormat imprinted with the word Welcome. No flowers in a hanging basket. No sun catchers on the windows. No nefarious clown lurking in the darkness.
I join him on the bench, careful that our bodies don’t touch. “What do you need to tell me?”
“I didn’t decide to try to get a job in Midway Beach until I’d played tourist for a few days.” His gaze zeroes in on me with that narrow focus. “Until I heard about what happened to you.”
“Why would anybody in town tell you about me?”
He stretches his long legs in front of him, as though we’re discussing nothing more serious than the weather. “I talked to people, asked questions. You of all people should know how gossip spreads in Midway Beach. When I found out about you, I started to think I was on the right track.”
My head was starting to hurt. “You’re not making sense.”
My heart beats three times before he answers.
“You’re not the only one who went missing and lost hours.” He pauses for long moments before he continues. “I think what happened to you happened to me, too.”
###
AFTERWARD and NEWSLETTER FREEBIE
Afterward
Thank you for reading the first volume of the Dead Ringers serial, which has been a wild ride for me. The idea of a young woman missing memories of her abduction gripped me and wouldn’t let go. All nine 25,000-word volumes are now available individually and in boxed sets.
If you enjoyed Illusion, it would be a great help to me if you went back to the book’s page and left a review. Thanks again for letting my world be a part of yours.
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COMPLETE LIST OF DEAD RINGERS BOOKS
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Boxed Sets
OTHER eBOOKS BY DARLENE GARDNER
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Romantic Comedies
Romantic Mysteries
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Darlene Gardner left her life as a newspaper sportswriter behind for love, romance and mystery. She has written more than 35 books, from this serial for the indie market to single-title romantic comedies and emotionally charged family dramas for traditional publishing. Visit Darlene on the web at www.darlenegardner.com
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