The Third Twin (17 page)

I didn’t want to bring this up, but now I realize I have no choice. If someone thinks I saw Casey’s killer, I might be the
one who needs help. “Because I think someone’s been stalking me. Us.”

He looks interested. “What do you mean ‘stalking’ you?”

“There have been a few things.” I tell him about the speeding ticket and the strange car at WaterRidge. He frowns at the story but doesn’t say anything. I’m guessing murder is a little more serious than trespassing at an office park after hours. “And then our gardener found these just outside my sister’s window.” I reach into my bag and hand him the baggie full of sunflower seeds.

“I’m afraid I don’t follow,” he says, examining them.

“Someone has been sitting outside the window,” I say. I picture a figure crouched in the shadows, silently cracking seeds as Ava gets dressed just on the other side of the glass. “Watching us.”

“We’ll take a look at these and see what we find,” the detective says, pushing them to one side. He leans toward me. “Do you feel like you’re in danger?”

I suddenly feel very exposed. “I … I’m not sure. I haven’t exactly seen anyone. It’s just that there are so many weird coincidences lately.”

“Make sure you call me—or 911—if you think you’re in any immediate danger.” He shuts the folder with an air of finality. “I tell you what. You give us a quick DNA sample and you can be on your way.”

I hesitate. “DNA sample? For what?”

“To eliminate your profile.” He clasps his hands on top of the folder. “We found some trace evidence under Casey’s
fingernails. We’re thinking maybe he scratched someone during an altercation that night. If you didn’t struggle with him, then your DNA won’t be there. Right?”

“Right,” I say. I realize that this interview
is
being watched, because a technician comes into the room as soon as I answer. “But my DNA is probably all over that car.”

“Well, then the profile will just eliminate your DNA from the scene,” Detective Naito says.

The lab tech puts on a pair of latex gloves as I watch, my mind racing. We have nothing to hide, but I’m not sure that handing over something so personal is such a good idea. “Maybe I should wait and ask my dad about this.”

The lab tech looks at Detective Naito. “You can legally consent to a DNA test,” he says. “But we can put you in holding until we get in touch with your parents, if you’d like.”

“It’s just my dad, and he’s out of town. In South Africa—and he’s hard to reach right now.” The last thing I want is for the cops to bring Dad into this.

He shrugs. “Then it might take a while, but you’ve got nowhere to go, right?”

Everything feels like it’s spiraling out of control. “I don’t know.…”

“Look,” the detective says, leaning forward in his chair. “We’re going to get a sample one way or the other. You can either hang out here for the next several hours while we get in touch with your father or we can do this in the next thirty seconds and you walk on out of here. What do you say?”

“A quick cheek swab and it’s done,” the tech says. “Not
even painful.” She flips the cap off the Q-tip and leans in toward me. “Open up.”

I can’t think of any more excuses, so I open my mouth and she rubs the swab quickly along the inside of my cheek.

“See?” she says as she caps the swab and then strips her gloves off. “Couldn’t be easier.”

I watch her walk out of the room, and I feel strangely violated. “Can I go now?” I ask Detective Naito.

“Sure,” he says, standing up and pushing his chair back. “But don’t go far. We might have some more questions for you.”

Ava’s car isn’t in the driveway when I get home, and I can feel my agitation starting up again. I must have gone through the conversation twenty times in my head but I can’t figure it out. Yes, the person in the photo looked like Ava, but the quality of the picture wasn’t that good. I even thought I saw Ava at the food trucks that night. There must be thousands of girls who look like us in the dark and from far away. To think anything else is just crazy.

I sit in the car and dial Ava’s number, but it goes straight to voice mail, so I hang up without leaving a message. I text her to call me, and then climb out of the car and go into the house. I can hear Cecilia’s TV on in the kitchen, so I quietly walk down the long hallway toward our bedrooms. I open Ava’s door, not even sure what I’m looking for in the messy room, until I spot the speeding ticket on top of a pile of papers on her desk. I fold it up, put it in my pocket, and pick my way through the mounds of discarded clothes to the closet. She has no organizational system at all, so I flip casually through
the rack. My fingers touch the soft leather before it even registers, and I pull the jacket slowly out of the closet, glancing toward the open door to make sure nobody’s watching me. I pull it toward me and get a faint whiff of Ava’s perfume over the smell of new leather. Just holding it freaks me out, so I shove it back into the closet and smooth the clothes around it until I’m satisfied that it looks like it hasn’t been disturbed.

I try to calm down. Ava buys new stuff all the time. It’s no big deal. It’s just a coincidence that she has a new red leather jacket. And that it looks just like the one that the mystery girl was wearing in the photo right after Casey was killed.

“What are you looking for?” Ava asks from the doorway.

I jump back like I’ve been shocked. “Jeez, you scared me.” I was going to tell her everything—about what the cops know and the photo, but now I’m not so sure. “I was looking for those jeans I borrowed last week. I think I might have left five bucks in the pocket.” I casually reach in and pull the jacket out, like it’s no big deal. “This is nice. When did you get it?”

“I don’t know. A couple of weeks ago, I guess. There was an end-of-season sale at the mall.” She looks up at me, but I don’t see anything in her eyes that’s giving her away. “You want to borrow it? I haven’t even worn it yet.”

I look down and see that the tags are still hanging from the sleeve. Has she really not worn it? If she did wear it that night, why would she lie about it? “Maybe,” I say, putting it back in the closet.

“So, what happened?” she asks, flopping down onto her bed.

“Well, they didn’t arrest me. Yet. And it has nothing to
do with the fake ID.” I watch her face closely. The face I’ve trusted as much as my own all my life. Until now. “They wanted to ask me some questions about Casey.”

Ava picks some of the polish off her fingernails, putting the scraps of color in a little pile on her bed. She doesn’t meet my eyes. Is that a sign of guilt? “Yeah?” I’m searching her face for clues, but she looks totally unconcerned. “Good thing you have nothing to hide, right?”

“That’s what they’re trying to find out. I even gave them a DNA sample. To eliminate me. Us.”

Her eyes go wide, but now I can’t tell if it’s all just an act. “So what do we do now?”

I’m about to answer when we hear the front door open and a booming voice calling our names.

“Daddy’s home!” Ava shouts, scrambling off her bed to greet him.

I glance at her open closet and catch a glimpse of the red jacket pushed way to the back, which gives me an ache in the pit of my stomach. Dad’s home, but I’m not sure I’ve done enough. We’re keeping secrets from each other, and I’ve never felt so alone.

“I’m sorry,” the woman on the phone says, her voice wary and a little suspicious. “We don’t give out that kind of information. License plate lookups are done only for law enforcement or licensed private investigators.” She pauses. “What did you say you need it for?”

I can feel my heart pounding, even though it’s what I expected her to say. The speeding ticket was sent to us, which means the driver must have a copy of the fake ID—but the car might be registered to someone else. Someone who might help me figure this out. There’s no way that all of these random Alicia sightings are coincidence—someone is doing this on purpose. “There’s a car blocking my driveway, and I wanted to see if I could get in touch with the person who owns it before I have it towed.” I’m surprised at how smoothly this comes out. Almost like I didn’t practice it for an hour this morning.

“Have you tried leaving a note?”

“No. I haven’t,” I say. “Thank you for the advice.” I hang up the phone and stare at the screen. Now what? Aside from Detective Naito, I don’t know anyone in law enforcement. I open my desk drawer and pull out his card. As I stare at the phone numbers, an idea starts to form. I pick up the diamond
A
pendant that’s sitting on my desk and fold my hand around it. Alicia would do it. The worst they can do is say no.

My hand is shaking as I call the DMV’s number again and pray someone else answers this time. I say a silent thank-you when a gruff male voice answers the phone.

“Hi,” I say, pitching my voice higher than normal. “I really hope you can help me. I’m the assistant to Detective Jim Naito in San Diego County, and our computer system has totally gone down. He needs me to get some information on a license plate number right away, and until the computers come back up, there’s no way I can get it for him.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, exactly like the first woman. “We don’t give out that kind of information.”

“I know,” I say as sweetly as I can. “As someone in law enforcement, I’d never ask you to break the rules, but I’m seriously in trouble here.” I give a quiet sniff into the phone and let my voice waver a bit. “I just got this job, see, and I’ve got a baby girl at home to take care of, and my no-good husband ran off with his receptionist, so she’s all I got. If I can’t get this one little thing for the detective in the next five minutes, I’m pretty sure he’ll fire me.” I pause and can tell that he’s still listening. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to help me,” I say. “It’s just that I’m so desperate to save my job—”

“Hang on,” he says wearily, and the hold music comes on.
I let out a deep sigh and relax a tiny bit. He might actually do this. “Look,” he says, coming back on the phone, “they could have my ass for this, but I’ve been where you are, so I get it. What’s the license plate number?”

I tell him, and he clicks back off the line. I can feel my heart pounding as I hold the phone to my ear and wait through the hold music.

“Okay, here’s what I can do,” the guy says. “I can’t give you an address, but I can get you a phone number. Will that help?”

“That would be great! Thank you so much. I really, really appreciate this, and so does my daughter, Katie.” I wince at that last part. I might be going a little too far with this.

He reads off the numbers, and I write them down on a scrap piece of paper. “You’re the best!” I say, as bubbly as possible.

“No problem,” he says. “You stay safe out there.”

“You too.”

It doesn’t take long to do a reverse lookup on the Internet to get that answer and more questions: Who does Ava know in Oceanside, and why is she using that address?

“Oh. My. God!” Ava screams just before the front door slams so hard that my window rattles.

I stick my head out of my room in time to hear Cecilia yell about not slamming the door. Ava pounds on the wall as she walks down the hallway, with Maya right behind her.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“Asshole!” I hear, followed by a sharp bang, and I reach the doorway to her room in time to see her throw the second of a pair of stilettos hard at the wall.

“What is it?” I ask. Cecilia is right behind me, looking concerned.

“Dylan Harrington, that’s what! He cheated on me—can you believe that? With a junior from Claremont! She’s not even that cute!” Ava’s hair is messy, and her face is red as she looks for something else to throw.

“I knew he was trouble,” Maya says from the corner of Ava’s bed.

Ava whirls on her. “You thought he was hot!”

“Hot, but trouble,” she insists.

I glance pointedly at Cecilia, but Ava doesn’t take the hint. Cecilia’s not supposed to know about Dylan because Ava didn’t go out with him. Alicia did.

“One of his friends posted that he was up in Cardiff with some girl, and sure enough, we went there, and they were totally making out under lifeguard tower number four.”

Cecilia shakes her head, a scowl in her eyes. “Seriously, Ava, again with the boys. When are you going to learn they’re not worth it?” I relax a little. I’m sure Cecilia can’t keep up with who Ava’s seeing.