The Missing Twin. Pamela Tracy
me one positive about being here,” Angela urged. It was a game they’d played since Celia was two.
Face crunched, Celia—basically a good kid—gave in. “Well, I want to explore all that land behind our cabin. Maybe I’ll find an arrowhead or piece of pottery. Besides, we could use a little sunshine. You don’t think my father...”
Angela put a hand on top of Celia’s. “No, your father has no idea we’re here.”
Buck Topher had told them to change their history but to keep it close to the truth. Figuring out what to tell Celia as she grew from infant to beautiful young lady had been heartbreaking for both Angela and her twin sister: Celia’s real mother.
Celia thought her dad wanted to kidnap her. In truth, her father was behind bars thanks to Angela and Marena. And despite the fact that Marena was Richard Hawking the Third’s wife, he’d put a hit on the twins. In the years they’d both been in the witness protection program, Buck Topher never said, “I think it might be safe now.”
Looking across at her niece, her pretend daughter, Angela hurt for the life Celia lived. She longed for safety and stability. On the day Buck finally called her and said it was over, Angela could tell Celia the truth. Then, Angela could go back to her real name: Sophia Erickson. And, best of all, she’d be reunited with her twin sister, Marena. They’d never go back to their old lives but they’d finally be able to build new ones.
“Your father hasn’t a clue,” Angela said again. “And we’ll be fine.”
The waitress brought their drinks, took their meal order and disappeared. Angela took out her iPad and searched for information on the local middle school.
“It’s small,” Angela noted.
Celia made a face.
Angela ignored her. “Classes resume January ninth. That will give us time to get you some clothes and figure out how you’ll get back and forth.”
Scorpion Ridge Middle School was small, only two hundred students.
The diner door swung open, sending a bell ringing, and many of the patrons looked up. Some smiled; some did not. The man in the door looked like the law but wasn’t in uniform.
“Hey, Jake,” called the older woman who’d greeted them. “Take a seat.”
The young waitress didn’t wait for him to order. Once he’d sat at the counter, she poured coffee and said, “Cheeseburger and fries?”
“Sounds good.” He had a rich voice. Authoritative. It matched his rugged face with its deep lines near his eyes and mouth. Angela figured he was about her age and had seen a lot. He had those eyes.
Yup, cop.
Two men at a booth by the window got up, gave him a dirty look and left.
Yup, cop. In the past ten years she’d gone out of her way to avoid contact with the police. She’d never as much as gone over the speed limit. Just going to see the sheriff this morning had almost instigated a panic attack. She’d had to head right to a grocery store right after to buy chocolate just to calm down.
“Mom.”
Angela started. “What? Did you say something?”
“You’re staring off into space. Or maybe you’re staring at the man who just sat at the counter.”
“I don’t stare at men.” And she definitely wasn’t staring at a second man who’d just walked through the door and joined the cop. This one might be safer, though. He was wearing a Bridget’s Animal Adventure shirt. Angela figured he worked at the habitat on the edge of town.
Celia sighed. “Maybe you should.”
Angela almost spewed the tea she’d been sipping. Yeah, she’d love to involve a man in her life. He’d get a kick out of hearing about the people who wanted her dead.
She might never be able to lead a normal life: be a wife and soccer mother, join the PTA, introduce herself by the name she was born with.
“We should definitely come to this diner more often,” Celia said. “There’re lots of good-looking guys, of all ages.”
“Eat,” Angela ordered as their food arrived. The waitress went back for more iced tea and a bottle of ketchup.
“Maybe I could work there,” Celia said, pointing at the second man’s shirt. “I love animals. Someday I’ll have a dog.”
They had a cat. A big gray, seven-toed longhair named Silverado who thought six thirty was wake-up time, who couldn’t be trained to not walk on kitchen countertops but was always available to snuggle when the dark brought bad memories.
Sometimes Angela wondered if she’d do it all again. She’d been so indignant all those years ago; nineteen years old and thinking she could right the world.
It was Angela who had accidentally figured out that her father and brother-in-law were involved in fraudulent investments. They were stealing not only from moneyed friends but from acquaintances who were scrimping by, hoping that investing with Melvin Erickson today would mean a safe tomorrow.
They’d defrauded Angela’s nanny!
When Angela had first gone to the police, she’d thought it was a simple scam. She’d been so wrong.
Looking across the table at Celia, Angela wondered if she’d really known the price, would she still have done it?
“You’re off in your own world again and you’ve not eaten a bite,” Celia scolded. “You always do this when you’re wishing yourself back in time.”
Angela didn’t bother denying it. From the time Celia was four, she could tell when Angela was engaging in a heated internal dialogue. It was eerie.
“I was just...”
“Wishing for a normal life,” Celia finished.
“Yes.”
“I wish you would tell me more about when you were growing up. The things you and your sister would do.” Celia’s words were directed to Angela, but she still watched the boy who’d spilled his water. He watched her, too, only not as blatantly.
Celia didn’t need to know that Angela had convinced her twin to join her in exposing their father’s Ponzi scheme, or that their testimony had also revealed a larger money-laundering operation spearheaded by Richard Hawkings the Third. By coming forward they had put a target on their backs so big it could be seen from the heavens.
When the dust had settled and the twins left Illinois, no one had said goodbye let alone thank-you.
TO FIND HER SISTER, Angela Taylor needed to do what she’d spent the past ten years avoiding: become part of the crowd.
The Scorpion Ridge New Year’s celebration took place at the town’s animal habitat. It made sense, Angela acknowledged. Bridget’s Animal Adventure or “BAA for short,” as the cashier informed her, was number one in the things-to-do category on the town’s website.
“I love zoos,” Celia said.
They’d walked around zoos many an afternoon, wiling away hours while Angela had planned their future and tried to keep an active two-, three-, four-and all the way to ten-year-old happy. It had been a few years since they’d done this particular outing.
“Last time I asked if you wanted to go to the zoo, you told me no,” Angela observed.
“That’s because it got boring. This zoo is not boring.”
Angela could guess the difference. There were no moms walking around pushing strollers. This was obviously a party. While some visitors wore everyday attire—what Angela called “blending in clothes”—there were also