Брайан Фриман - Alter Ego

Then the wineglass tipped and fell from Aimee’s hand.

Aimee didn’t even seem to notice that it had happened. Wine soaked her slacks; the glass broke into pieces on the hardwood floor. At first she didn’t react at all. Then she put both hands on either side of the sofa and tried to get up, but as she did, she fell back. She looked dizzy and confused. Across from her, Dean got up. He didn’t jump up in alarm or concern; he simply walked over and sat down next to her. His hand reached to her face and touched her cheek.

For Cat, the whole thing was a slow-motion horror.

She stood on the roof, paralyzed. She had to stop this, but she didn’t know how. Before she could decide what to do next, her phone rang, startling her with the loud noise of “Uptown Funk.” It was her ring tone for Curt; he was wondering where she was. She reached for her phone, but as her body twisted, she lost her balance. Her feet spilled out from under her, and she toppled backward. She hit the roof, then slid past the gutter with a cloud of snow, and she was airborne.

She couldn’t help it. She screamed. She dropped twelve feet and landed in a drift that broke her fall, but the wind couldn’t cover the noise. Behind her, near the van, she heard footsteps and shouts. Looking up, overhead, she saw Dean Casperson peering out the window into the darkness and barking into a phone. Cat scrambled to her feet and ran. She tore around the curving driveway toward the front of the house, but when she saw the gate, she also could see the security guard outside. He bellowed at her to stop. The gate was opening; he was heading toward her.

Cat switched direction. She barreled into the woods, bounding through the snow like a frightened deer. She could hear the guard behind her. She didn’t dare look back; she just ran. The tree branches ripped at her arms and poured snow into her face. She slipped, got up, slipped, and sprinted again. She zigzagged through the woods until she reached the brick wall on the perimeter of the property, but the wall was keeping her inside now. There was no way to climb. No way to escape.

She ran parallel to the wall with nowhere to hide and nowhere to go. Then, like a miracle, she saw the corner where she’d jumped down into the snow. And there was Curt, on top of the wall, waiting for her.

“Run, run, run!” Curt wailed.

The guard in pursuit was faster than she was. She could almost hear his breath as he got closer. She reached the wall and leaped straight up with her arms outstretched, and Curt grabbed one of her wrists and yanked her up, nearly dislocating her shoulder. She felt herself flying. Below her, the guard’s hand grabbed her boot and tore it off, but in the next instant, she and Curt were tumbling free over the wall to the outside. Cat landed in the snow. Curt bounced off the recycling bin he’d grabbed to climb the wall. They didn’t hesitate; they were on their feet again, charging across the intersection to the school parking lot and piling into Cat’s car.

She fired the engine of the Civic and sped down the hill. Her eyes were glued to the mirror. She turned, turned again, and turned yet again, and when she decided that she’d lost anyone who might be chasing them, she swung to the curb with the engine still running. She hit the speed dial button on her phone and felt a flood of relief when Serena answered on the first ring.

“It’s me! Aimee needs help!”

Dean Casperson answered the door.

He didn’t look surprised to see Serena flashing her badge at him. He gave her a friendly smile and cocked an eyebrow as he watched three separate squad cars with flashing lights stream into the driveway in front of the rented estate.

“Mr. Casperson, my name is Serena Stride with the Duluth Police,” she said. “Where’s Aimee Bowe?”

“Aimee? She came over here to chat, but she wasn’t feeling well. I asked Jungle Jack to take her home.” He added with a smirk, “Your name is Stride? Are you married to the lieutenant? I have to say, the man has spectacular taste.”

Serena ignored the comment. “Please move aside, Mr. Casperson. We need to search this house.”

“Search it? What exactly are you looking for? And don’t you need a warrant for that?”

“I’ve got a credible report of an assault in progress in this house,” Serena told him.

Casperson shrugged and moved out of the doorway. “Well, come inside, then. I’m afraid you’ve been misinformed, but do what you have to do. Try not to break anything around here, okay? It’s a rental.”

Serena swung around and waved to Guppo, who waddled into the house behind her, accompanied by three other police officers. “Check every room,” she told him. “Question the staff and see what they know about what’s been happening here tonight. Show them photos of Rochelle Wahl and Peach Piper, too.”

“Peach Piper?” Casperson asked curiously. “Who’s that?”

“You knew her as Haley Adams. Before she was murdered.”

“What about this other girl? Rochelle?”

“I don’t have time for this right now, Mr. Casperson. Where were you and Aimee Bowe talking?”

“Upstairs, but I told you, she’s gone.”

Serena saw the staircase leading to the second story, and she took the steps two at a time. Half the doors upstairs were closed, and she went down the hallway, opening each door and looking inside. The rooms were all empty. Then, at the end of the hallway, she twisted a knob and found a door that was locked.

“What’s in here?” she called to Casperson as he came up the stairs behind her.

“My bedroom and private study.”

“Is this where Aimee was?”

“Yes; it’s a good place to talk.”

“Why is it locked?”

“I always keep it locked. I keep sensitive materials in here. Scripts, contracts, that kind of thing.”

“Please open it,” Serena told him.

“If you’d like.”

Casperson took a key from his pocket and undid the lock on the study and opened the door. Serena pushed past him. The large room was empty. A log fire burned on the wall beside her, crackling and spitting sparks onto the hearth. The air was warm. Soft jazz played from overhead speakers. She saw an open door leading to a master bedroom, and she went inside and searched it. No one was there.

She returned to the study, where Casperson stood next to the wet bar, refilling a glass of whiskey and adding an ice cube. Her eyes noted the details around the room. She saw the leather sofa and went over to it and put her hand on the end of the cushion. It was wet. She recognized the fruity aroma of wine. She spotted the glint of a tiny shard of glass on the wood floor.

“What happened here this evening?” Serena asked.

“Aimee came over to talk. She had some wine, but she started feeling dizzy, so she made it an early night.”

“Where’s her wineglass?”

Casperson stared at her with practiced nonchalance. “Like I said, she was dizzy. She dropped it, and it broke. I cleaned it up and threw away the pieces.”

“If I tested the glass fragments, what would I find?” Serena asked.

“What would you find? Sad remnants of a Chateau Margaux Bordeaux, I guess.”

“Anything else?”

“Like what?” Casperson asked.

“Drugs.”

“Oh, please.”

“Do you have any drugs here?” Serena asked.

“The strongest thing you’ll find in this house is Xanax. I have trouble sleeping.”

“Did you spike Aimee’s wine with it?”

“I’m sorry, is this a joke, Detective? Of course not. However, what Aimee does is up to her. I have no idea whether she took anything before she got here. And she used my bathroom while I was here, so for all I know, she dipped into my medicine cabinet. The fact is, I don’t interfere with how other actors cope with this business.”