Chapter 6: The Woman Who Looked Like Me
I couldn't look away from the screen.
The woman sitting in my living room wore my gray sweater.
My hair fell over one shoulder in exactly the way mine had that winter.
Even the small gold necklace around her throat was mine.
But it wasn't me.
I knew that.
My mind rejected the image even as my eyes recognized every detail.
“That's not possible,” I whispered.
Detective Harris didn't respond.
The video played again.
The woman sat on my couch with her hands folded in her lap.
Daniel Cross stood behind her.
Brenda sat across from them.
The camera angle was from the hidden clock on the wall.
I watched myself—someone who looked exactly like me—turn toward Brenda.
I couldn't hear the beginning clearly because the audio crackled.
Then the fake version of me spoke.
“I told you I don't want any part of this.””
My blood went cold.
That was my voice.
Not similar.
Mine.
Harris paused the recording.
“Do you recognize the clothes?””
“Yes.””
“Do you own that necklace?””
“Yes.””
“Was this your living room?””
“Yes.””
“Then explain it.””
“I can't.””
He leaned back.
“Have you ever met Daniel Cross?””
“No.””
“Have you ever seen him?””
I hesitated.
Then the memory came.
The man across the street three weeks ago.
The man I'd seen outside my house.
“No,” I said.
“Not knowingly.””
Harris studied me.
“What about four months ago?””
“No.””
“Were you taking any medication around that time?””
“No.””
“Were you drinking?””
“Never enough to forget something like this.””
“I'm not accusing you of drinking.””
“Then what are you asking?””
“Whether it's possible you were there and don't remember.””
The question hit me harder than I expected.
I stood.
“You think I was hypnotized?””
“No.””
“Drugged?””
“We don't know.””
“Then how am I sitting there?””
“We'll find out.””
I looked at the woman on the screen.
“She says she doesn't want any part of this.””
“Yes.””
“That means she was involved.””
“Maybe.””
“Then why doesn't she sound like me?””
Harris stopped.
I pointed toward the laptop.
“Play it again.””
He did.
I listened more carefully.
The woman's voice sounded like mine, but something was wrong.
The rhythm.
The breathing.
The way she pronounced certain words.
I tilted my head.
“She isn't me.””
Harris watched me.
“What makes you say that?””
“I don't say ‘I told you’ like that.””
He raised an eyebrow.
“You're sure?””
“Yes.””
I listened again.
Then I heard it.
A tiny hesitation before one word.
Something I had never done.
“She learned my voice.””
Harris looked at the forensic officer.
“Can you verify whether this was manipulated?””
The officer nodded.
“We can run voice analysis.””
“Do that.””
I stared at the screen.
“Someone was trying to make this look like me.””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
“That's the question.””
The video resumed.
Brenda leaned forward.
“You don't have much time.””
The woman who looked like me answered.
“I told you Leo stays out of it.””
Daniel laughed.
“Children are leverage.””
My heart stopped.
The recording ended.
I covered my mouth.
“Play that again.””
Harris did.
Daniel said it clearly.
*Children are leverage.*
I looked at him.
“He knew about Leo.””
“He knew enough.””
“Four months ago.””
Harris nodded.
“That means Leo was part of their plan from the beginning.””
I sank into a chair.
My son had been nine years old when this started.
Someone had been planning around him for months.
Someone had watched him.
Studied him.
Waited.
And I hadn't noticed.
The forensic officer suddenly called from the other side of the room.
“Detective.””
Harris walked over.
I followed.
The officer had enlarged a section of the video.
“Look at the reflection.””
In a mirrored picture frame behind the couch, the woman's face was visible from a different angle.
Her features were slightly distorted by the curve of the glass.
But the outline was wrong.
Her jaw was narrower than mine.
Her ear was different.
And when she turned, the hairline didn't match.
“She isn't Sarah,” the officer said.
“I know.””
“She may be wearing prosthetics.””
I stared.
“Like a disguise?””
“Possibly.””
Harris zoomed in.
There was a faint line near the woman's temple.
A makeup seam.
Someone had constructed a resemblance.
My resemblance.
“What kind of person does this?”” I whispered.
“Someone who wants witnesses to believe something that never happened.””
My phone buzzed inside the evidence bag.
Harris went still.
“That shouldn't be happening.””
The officer checked it.
“It was powered off.””
“Then who activated it?””
No one answered.
A second buzz.
Harris carefully opened the bag.
The screen was on.
One new message.
No number.
A photograph.
I recognized the location instantly.
Leo's hospital room.
My son was sleeping.
A blanket covered him.
His stuffed rabbit sat beside his arm.
The photo had been taken from inside the room.
My chest seized.
“They're in the hospital.””
Harris grabbed his radio.
“All units to pediatric wing. Lock down the floor now.””
Officers ran out.
I followed.
Harris caught my arm.
“You stay with me.””
We moved through the house toward the waiting vehicle.
My mind was racing.
“Could they hurt him?””
“We're getting there.””
“What if they're already there?””
“They won't get near him.””
“You don't know that.””
“I know my officers.””
We reached the hospital less than ten minutes later.
Security had already locked the pediatric floor.
Two uniformed officers stood outside Leo's room.
I ran to the door.
He was still there.
A nurse was checking his monitors.
I nearly collapsed with relief.
“Mom?””
Leo's eyes opened.
I rushed to him.
“I'm here.””
He smiled weakly.
“You came back.””
“I always will.””
I kissed his forehead.
The nurse stepped aside.
“He's stable.””
I nodded.
Then I noticed something.
The stuffed rabbit was gone.
Leo always slept with it.
I looked around.
“Where's Bunny?””
Leo frowned.
“I had him.””
The nurse looked toward the bedside table.
“He was there.””
“He's not now.””
I searched the floor.
Nothing.
Then an officer entered.
“Detective Harris.””
“What?””
“We checked the camera footage.””
“And?””
“There was someone on this floor.””
“Who?””
“A woman.””
My stomach dropped.
“What did she look like?””
The officer hesitated.
“Like Sarah.””
I felt the world tilt.
Harris looked at me.
“That wasn't you.””
“No.””
“Where did she go?””
“Elevator.””
“When?””
“Three minutes ago.””
Harris was already moving.
I grabbed his arm.
“Bunny.””
He looked at me.
“She took Leo's rabbit.””
He immediately radioed the elevators.
“Find her.””
We raced downstairs.
The lobby was crowded.
People moved through the glass doors.
Visitors.
Doctors.
Nurses.
Families.
One woman pushed a stroller.
Another carried flowers.
A man spoke on his phone.
Then I saw her.
Across the lobby.
Gray sweater.
Dark hair.
Gold necklace.
My face.
She was holding Leo's stuffed rabbit.
“That's her!””
The woman looked up.
Our eyes met.
For one second, neither of us moved.
Then she ran.
Officers shouted.
People screamed as she pushed through the crowd.
Harris took off after her.
I followed until an officer stopped me.
“Stay back!””
I watched the woman sprint toward the side exit.
She dropped the rabbit.
An officer grabbed it.
The woman disappeared through the door.
Outside, another patrol car screeched to a stop.
But she was already gone.
Harris returned several minutes later, breathing hard.
“We lost her.””
“Did you get a plate?””
“No.””
“Anything?””
He held up a plastic bag.
Inside was the gold necklace.
“She dropped it.””
I stared.
It was mine.
The exact necklace I kept in my jewelry box.
The necklace I had lost six months earlier.
I had assumed I'd misplaced it.
Apparently, someone had taken it.
Harris looked at me.
“Now we know how they made the disguise convincing.””
I touched the glass over the evidence bag.
“They stole my things.””
“Yes.””
“Clothes.””
“Probably.””
“My voice.””
“Maybe recorded.””
“My jewelry.””
“Yes.””
“They were building a version of me.””
Harris nodded.
“A version that could commit crimes without you being there.””
I looked toward Leo's room.
“And make me look like a dangerous mother.””
“Yes.””
Then another thought came.
“What about the medical records?””
“What about them?””
“They're building a fake history of me.””
Harris understood immediately.
“So anyone who sees the footage later will believe the woman is actually you.””
“And if they have footage of her giving Leo the medication…”
“They could claim you did it.””
My stomach turned.
“Exactly.””
He looked at the evidence bag.
“They may have already recorded it.””
I felt sick.
“Then why let Leo survive?””
Harris didn't answer immediately.
Finally, he said, “Because a living victim can tell us what really happened.””
I shook my head.
“Then they didn't know Maya would call me.””
“Or they did.””
I stared at him.
“What?””
“What if the call was part of the plan?””
I shook my head.
“Maya was terrified.””
“I'm not saying she wasn't.””
“She saved Leo.””
“She may have.””
I frowned.
“What are you suggesting?””
Harris's voice lowered.
“Someone may have wanted you at the park.””
“Why?””
“To put you in the middle of the scene.””
My mind raced.
Brenda called it a prank.
Leo was unconscious.
I arrived hysterical.
Police found medication with my name.
If they'd arrived before the ambulance, what would they have seen?
Me beside my drugged son.
A prescription under my name.
Brenda accusing me.
Maybe that had been the real plan.
Not to hide me from the police.
To put me in front of them.
Then I remembered something.
“Maya.””
Harris turned.
“What about her?””
“She knew.””
“Knew what?””
“She called me when Brenda told her not to.””
“That makes her a witness.””
“She was afraid of her mother.””
“Yes.””
“But if this was planned…”
I stopped.
The thought was horrible.
“What?””
“Maya could have been expected to make the call.””
Harris stared at me.
“No.””
“I don't know.””
“That girl was crying.””
“I know.””
“She was terrified.””
“I know.””
“Then don't turn her into part of the plan without evidence.””
His tone was firm.
I nodded.
He was right.
Maya was a child.
She didn't deserve to carry any more fear.
Then my brother called.
Mark.
I stared at the screen.
Harris motioned for me to answer.
“Hello?””
“Sarah.””
His voice shook.
“Where are you?””
“At the hospital.””
“I need you to listen carefully.””
“What?””
“Don't trust anyone.””
My chest tightened.
“Mark, what did you do?””
“Nothing.””
“Then tell me the truth.””
“I am.””
“You lied about Cincinnati.””
“I know.””
“You knew Brenda was planning something.””
“Yes.””
“You knew about the recordings.””
“Yes.””
“You knew about Daniel.””
“Yes.””
I closed my eyes.
“Then what are you hiding?””
Silence.
“Mark?””
Finally, he whispered:
“Dad didn't die naturally.””
I stopped breathing.
“What?””
“Our father.””
My legs went weak.
“What are you talking about?””
“Mom didn't either.””
I couldn't speak.
Our parents had died years apart.
Our father had suffered a heart attack.
Our mother had died after a long illness.
I'd never questioned either death.
Mark continued.
“Brenda found something in the old family records.””
“What?””
“She thinks someone caused both deaths.””
I felt a chill.
“Who?””
“I don't know.””
“You said she found something.””
“She found an old insurance policy.””
“What does that have to do with this?””
“It names a beneficiary.””
My heart began pounding.
“Who?””
“Daniel Cross.””
I stared at Harris.
He heard enough from my expression to understand that something had happened.
“Mark,” I whispered, “why would Daniel Cross be named on our father's insurance policy?””
“He wasn't.””
“What?””
“He was named after Dad died.””
I couldn't breathe.
“By whom?””
Mark's voice cracked.
“By you.””
I froze.
“That isn't possible.””
“I know.””
“You've lost your mind.””
“No, Sarah.””
He sounded terrified.
“You need to remember.””
“Remember what?””
“There was a night four months ago.””
I looked at the laptop.
At the woman wearing my face.
At the recording I couldn't remember.
“What night?””
“The night you disappeared.””
My blood ran cold.
“I never disappeared.””
“You did.””
“For how long?””
“Eleven hours.””
I stared at the hospital floor.
“What happened during those eleven hours?””
Mark didn't answer.
“Mark!””
His voice came barely above a whisper.
“You went to Daniel.””
I shook my head.
“No.””
“You gave him something.””
“No.””
“You begged him to leave Leo alone.””
“No.””
“Sarah…”
I heard fear in his voice.
“You need to look at your old bank statements.””
“Why?””
“Because four months ago, someone transferred fifty thousand dollars out of your account.””
I swallowed.
“Who?””
“You.””
I couldn't speak.
Mark continued.
“And tomorrow morning, the bank is going to receive a second transfer.””
“For how much?””
A long pause.
“One hundred thousand dollars.””
My heart stopped.
“From where?””
“Your mother's trust.””
The call ended.
I lowered the phone.
Harris was staring at me.
“What did he say?””
I looked at him.
“My brother says I disappeared four months ago.””
Harris went silent.
“He says I met Daniel Cross.””
I swallowed.
“He says I transferred fifty thousand dollars to him.””
Then I looked through the glass at my sleeping son.
“And tomorrow, another hundred thousand is supposed to disappear.””
Harris's face hardened.
He reached for his phone.
“Then we're not waiting until tomorrow.””
I looked at him.
“What do we do?””
He stared toward the hospital elevator where the woman wearing my face had vanished.
“We find out who you were during those eleven missing hours.””
And somewhere in the evidence room downstairs, an officer was already opening a sealed box recovered from my house.
Inside, according to the preliminary report, was a key.
A motel key.
And on the tag was a room number.
*Room 214.*
May you like
Beneath it, someone had written one name in black ink:
*SARAH.*
