CHAPTER TWELVE
Red, purple and yellow chrysanthemums float on top of the salty ocean water as dawn breaks, the current gradually taking the petals out to sea. I’d kept my composure as I scattered them, but now tears stream silently down my cheeks.
Max puts his arm around me and gently rubs my shoulder. “I’m sorry about Maia.”
“Me, too.” My lip quivers. “You know why Maia started wearing chrysanthemums in her hair? She read somewhere they’d bring her love and happiness for years to come.”
A sob rises in my throat for the girl who was shuttled back and forth between parents more interested in themselves than in her. Gossiping was Maia’s way of getting the attention she craved. A full minute passes before I can say anything else. “The good things about Maia outweighed the bad. It’s not right that we’re the only ones who know she’s gone.”
It’s been two days since I discovered the Black Widow was hiding out in Maia’s body. Since then, the police searched the Shelton house and found the evidence in her closet linking her to both Hunter Prescott’s poisoning and Stuart Bigelow’s murder.
“The Black Widow knows Maia is gone,” Max says. “She’s probably cursing Maia right now for leaving those photos of Hunter in her closet. You’d never have put it together without them.”
“That’s something, I guess. But there is one thing I still don’t understand. Why was the Black Widow at that hotel with Bigelow in the first place?” I make a face. “You don’t think...?” I can’t bring myself to finish the thought.
“No, I don’t think they were getting it on,” Max says. “I think she was the anonymous source who told him she saw somebody move Constance Hightower’s body.”
“I don’t get why she’d do that. It was her body.”
“What better way to throw Bigelow off track? The Black Widow couldn’t let him figure out that she was inside Maia’s body.”
“I guess not. But nobody would have believed Bigelow if he’d reported that, anyway.” My sigh is heavy. “I didn’t even fully believe it until the evidence was right in front of me.”
Unlike Max, who came up with the impossible theory that turned out to be true.
“I keep thinking about what Constance said about watching my back.” I’d already told him everything that went down at the Estates at Ocean Breeze. “There’s so much we don’t know. I mean, how is this mind switching even possible?”
Max doesn’t have an answer, of course.
This early in the morning, the beach is nearly deserted. In the distance is an elderly man with a metal detector who’s been combing the sand of Midway Beach for years. A few weeks ago I asked what sort of things he comes across. Mostly loose change, he answered, but he hasn’t given up on finding treasure.
“We have to keep trying to figure out who’s behind this,” Max says. “Not only for our sake, but for Maia’s, too.”
“Agreed. But if we’re going to keep working together, that means no more secrets.”
He nods but says nothing. Since the Black Widow’s arrest, we haven’t discussed his lying.
“I’m serious, Max. No more telling me one thing and doing another. Like the other night when you said you were turning in and stayed out past midnight.”
“I get it.” He looks out at the water rather than at me. “We need to trust each other.”
“Then tell me what you were doing the other night.”
“Driving around thinking.”
I want to believe him, just like I wanted to believe he didn’t know anything about Hunter when they met.
But I can’t.
Becky’s right. I don’t know enough about Max. A single call to the Greensboro police to check out his story about being a missing person isn’t enough.
After Max drops me off at my house, I get on my laptop and look up the name of the single mother who raised Max. If anybody can get rid of my doubts, she can. Before I can change my mind about calling her, I punch the number into my new cell phone. While I listen to the rings on the other end, my palms start to sweat.
If she answers, I have no idea what I’ll say. As the phone rings and rings, it seems like I won’t get the chance to say anything at all.
I’m about to hang up when a harried-sounding woman picks up. “Hello?”
“Oh, hello. Mrs. Harper?”
A pause, and then, “Who’s asking?”
“I’m sorry. This is Jade Greene calling from Midway Beach.”
“Is that supposed to mean something to me?”
“Sorry.” I realize I’m repeating myself. “I guess I thought you’d know of Midway Beach because of the carnival.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Max works at the carnival with me,” I say to complete silence. The quiet stretches for so long that I add, “Max Harper, your son.”
“My son is gone.”
“Well, yes. But just for the summer. Like I said, your son and I are coworkers at the Midway Beach Carnival.”
“I don’t know who you’re working with at that carnival, young lady,” Mrs. Harper says in a harsh, pained voice, “but I assure you it’s not my son.”
She disconnects the phone, and a dial tone rings in my ear. My chest feels so tight, I can barely breathe. Because the Black Widow was right when she said my enemies are still out there.
I just never truly believed Max was one of them.
###
AFTERWARD and NEWSLETTER FREEBIE
Afterward
Thank you for reading the first three volumes 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 this Dead Ringers boxed set, 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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Romantic Comedies
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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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