David Morrell - Double Image

“But-”

“Happy New Year.”

“… Happy New Year.” Conscious of the heavy box of Tupperware in his hands, Coltrane watched Jennifer walk to the curb, get in her BMW, and drive away. She didn’t look back.

ONLY AFTER HER HEADLIGHTS VANISHED OVER THE HILL DID Coltrane nudge the door shut. “Lock this for me, will you?”

“Sure,” Tash said. “I have the uneasy feeling I got in the way of something. Are the two of you…”

“It’s complicated. We’re trying to see if we can work things out again.” He climbed the stairs toward the living room.

“This misunderstanding couldn’t have helped any.” Tash followed. “Is she the friend you mentioned, the one who emphasized that this was the time of year to concentrate on new beginnings?”

“I’m afraid so.” Coltrane felt terrible about what had happened. “I suspect this wasn’t the kind of beginning she had in mind. I’ll call her first thing tomorrow.”

When they entered the dining room, Tash faltered. “These strings of beads on the walls…”

“Yes, they’re unusual, aren’t they?”

“But…” Tash shook her head, baffled. “They were in one of the photographs downstairs. One of the nudes.”

“Rebecca Chance used to own this house.”

“ What ?”

“After she disappeared, Randolph Packard bought the place and kept it exactly as it was when she lived here.”

“What in God’s name is going on?”

“That’s what I was hoping you’d be able to tell me.”

“Never mind the wine,” Tash said abruptly. “Have you got any scotch?”

Worried about her manner, Coltrane poured it. “Do you want ice or-”

“No.” Tash grabbed the glass and took two quick swallows. She closed her eyes, then opened them. “Now you can add ice and water.”

“Are you okay?”

“No.”

Coltrane waited.

“I’m scared.”

Coltrane nodded.

“But I don’t know what scares me more, the man who’s stalking me or the photographs you showed me. I’m even afraid of this house.”

“Why on earth-”

“It makes me feel like I’m being dragged back in time. Rebecca Chance is here. I can sense her. I also feel Randolph Packard.”

“But he loved her. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“Hold me.”

“What?”

“I’ve never felt so alone and scared. Please, hold me.”

Momentarily, Coltrane found it impossible to move. Hoping that his trembling wouldn’t betray him, he moved close, stopped face-to-face with her, and put his arms around her. He did it gently, not pressing himself against her, simply holding her. Closing his eyes, he felt her head sink against his left shoulder. He smelled sun and salt water in her hair. He tried to control his breathing as she raised her own arms and put them around his back. Then he couldn’t subdue his trembling any longer, but it didn’t matter, because Tash was trembling also, holding him tighter. They were pressed against each other. He felt the rise and fall of her chest. He started to become erect, afraid that she would notice. Then her shoulders heaved, and all at once she made a sound that might have been a sob. As his erection diminished, she gently pushed away from him, wiped a tear from her right cheek, and gave him the saddest smile he had ever seen.

“Thank you.”

“There were a lot of times when I felt alone and afraid,” Coltrane said. “Anytime you need a shoulder.”

“It’s strange. I met you only this afternoon, but already I feel you’re a friend.”

“Same here.”

Tash leaned to kiss him on the cheek, but her stomach rumbled, and she looked down, abashed. Unexpectedly, she laughed.

So did Coltrane.

“That’s twice,” Tash said.

“Twice?”

“That I laughed today. Thanks to you.”

Her stomach rumbled again, and she laughed again.

“We’d better get some food into you,” Coltrane said.

Tash’s smile was no longer sad.

As they heated food on the stove and in the microwave, Coltrane made a decision about an idea that he had been debating. “Have you got Walt’s phone number?”

Tash looked up from gravy she was stirring. “Two. One at the sheriff’s station and the other at his home. I have them memorized in case I need him in a hurry.”

“This late, he’s probably off duty. Give me his home number.”

“Why?”

“I think I know a way to trap the man who’s stalking you.”

Tash looked mystified after she told him the number and he picked up the phone. For the first time, he noticed the flashing red light on the answering machine, presumably the message that Jennifer had said she left. Continuing to feel terrible about the misunderstanding, he pressed numbers.

Three rings later, a recognizable male voice answered. It sounded a little huskier, perhaps because of alcohol. “What’s up?”

“This is Mitch Coltrane again.”

“Swell.” Immediately, a possible implication hit Walt. “Why? Has something happened to Tash?”

“She’s fine. That’s not why I’m calling. Are you on a cellular phone?”

“No.”

“Good. There’s less chance of anybody eavesdropping. When we spoke earlier, you said you were going to Tash’s house tomorrow – to search for hidden microphones.”

At the stove, Tash watched him, more confused.

“You should have mentioned those microphones when nobody else was with you,” Walt said. “You made me sound as if I didn’t know my job.”

“That wasn’t my intention.”

“And what about now?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Is Tash listening now?”

“No, she’s in the bathroom,” Coltrane lied.

“So what about the microphones?”

“I’ve got an idea I’m still working out. Ideally, it would be better if you didn’t search for the microphones. But in case somebody used a scanner to eavesdrop on the cellular phone you had earlier, you have to do what you said you were going to do. Otherwise, he’ll get suspicious.”

“What are you talking about?”

“If you do find hidden microphones, don’t disconnect them all,” Coltrane said. “Leave a few, as if you hadn’t found them.”

“Are you telling me how to do my job again?”

“Listen to me. The plan I’m trying to put together won’t work unless whoever’s after Tash overhears her talking about her travel schedule for the next few days.”

“Another trap.”

“Not quite. I haven’t thought all of it through yet,” Coltrane said. “When I see you tomorrow, we’ll talk about it.”

“When you see me tomorrow?” Walt asked. “Wow, that’ll certainly give me a reason to wake up cheery.”

Coltrane set down the phone.

“Why did you lie that I was in the bathroom?” Tash asked.

“Walt’s manly feelings get hurt if I make suggestions when you’re around.”

“He means well,” Tash said.

“Oh, I don’t doubt he’s determined to help.”

Tash studied him. “You’ve got me curious about this plan you mentioned.”

“A couple of years ago, I did a photo assignment for the LAPD Threat Management Unit. I hid outside the house of a woman who was being stalked. In the middle of the night, I managed to take a photograph of a man pouring gasoline on her lawn.”

The reference to gasoline made Tash wince. “Yes, you mentioned that when you spoke to Walt earlier.”

“The woman was able to identify the man from the photograph,” Coltrane said. “He was someone she’d dated twice several years before. My photograph put him in jail.”

“And?”

“Suppose there are microphones hidden in your house. If he’s been overhearing you talk about your schedule, that explains how he’s been able to follow you so closely and get pictures of you wherever you go. So tomorrow you’ll talk about your schedule one more time – to someone on the phone or to Walt at your house or whomever,” Coltrane said. “Then you’ll go about your business, and we’ll hope that he takes the bait. Because this time, there’ll be another photographer wherever you go.” Coltrane pointed at himself. “I’ll stay back far enough to take pictures of anybody in the area, with emphasis on people with cameras. After a couple of locations, if the same face shows up in the photographs…”