Adrianne Byrd - Deadly Double

Chapter 20

Michelle spent the rest of the day tearing through boxed at the Ferrell Estate and looking for Josephine’s birth certificate or adoptions papers. However, after eight hours of digging all she had for her efforts was a splitting headache.

“I’m never going to find that damn thing,” she huffed, and stood up from the floor of what had once been Josephine’s old bedroom. “It’s probably in France somewhere.” She kicked a box in frustration.

Her anger quickly reached a boiling point. “This is all Ambrose’s fault,” she seethed. All his gifts and confessions of love meant nothing. She asked him to do one little thing. Like kill her sister, and he couldn’t even do that.

Michelle kicked another box, but then smiled with satisfaction. “I hope you rot at the bottom of that damn lake.”

Her thoughts raced to Detective Delaney, who was turning into a major pain in her backside.

They’re going to get you.

“They can’t prove a thing.” Her eyes darted to the room’s elegant splendor. “I’m not giving all this up without a fight.” She moved away from the boxes and paced along the plush carpet. “I need a new plan.”

It doesn’t matter. They’re going to get you.

“Not if I have something to say about it.”

What can you do? You let Josephine slip through your fingers.

She grounded her teeth.

If Josephine were out of the picture, then you wouldn’t have to leave town.

“But where in the hell is she?” Again, Michelle cursed Ambrose. If he’d just done what he was supposed to, she wouldn’t be in this situation.

You had a chance to kill her, too, you know.

“She was supposed to kill herself,” she corrected, then wondered again how Josie survived after losing so much blood. “Those slashes were deep. I saw them.”

The memory of Josephine lying so still in the sauna and staring at her slashed wrists flashed through Michelle’s head. Josie’s expression had looked amazingly composed and serene; but in her eyes, Michelle read horror.

At the time, Michelle laughed. It had been so simple, she thought. Well, with Daniel’s help anyway.

“I’m going to miss dear Danny,” she amused. “Having him around did have its benefits. After all, it’d been his idea to slip Michelle’s lithium to her twin sister. It sounded impossible until Michelle’s noticed Josie’s frequent migraines. Danny, in his infinite genius, had the lithium pills made to resemble Josie’s beloved Excedrin tablets.

However, the lithium had little to no effect. So, they upped the ante. The next pulls they transformed were Prozac and OxyContin.

They’d struck the jackpot.

Since all the pills were mixed together in Josie’s bottle and could be taken in any combination, Josie was putty in their hands.

Michelle was amazed how receptive Josie was to suggestion. But whereas Daniel wanted to simply extort money from Josie, Michelle wanted it all, and without splitting it down the center with him.

Even that plan almost blew up in your face.

“I handled it,” she retaliated, as she stormed out of the bedroom and down the long hall to the staircase.

It was still a close call.

“Close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.” She chuckled while she descended the spiral staircase. Minutes later, she reached the bar in the study and made herself a drink.

For the umpteenth time that day, she regretted having let go of the hired help. Of course, it was the third crew she’d fired since she’d been there.

Since Josie had initially returned to Georgia to bury her father and settle the estate, she’d given his employees a sizable severance package. She had no intentions of staying Stateside for long.

Michelle changed all of that.

She glanced around her opulent surroundings and snickered. “It’s like taking candy from a baby.”

Josie is still out there somewhere.

Michelle rolled her eyes, but conceded that the voice had a good point. “I have to find her.”

She’ll go to the police before you find her, then it’ll all be over.

Seething, Michelle turned to exit the room, but instead her attention was drawn to the stacks of paper crumpled under her feet. She started to kick them aside, but her gaze zeroed in on the title Deed of Property.

“Well, what do we have here?” she asked, kneeling. She scanned the paper. “More property,” she said under her breath and shook her head. “The rich just keep getting richer.”

In the past few months, Michelle was stunned to learn just how much land Josephine’s adoptive parents had owned in Georgia alone. There was the estate in which she was currently residing in Alpharetta, a cabin at Lake Lanier, a high-rise in Buckhead, and now this house in Pine Mountain.

Plenty of places to hide.

Michelle frowned as she stared at the deed. Could Josie be hiding out at one of these places? “I think its time I paid a visit to these properties…including this Pine Mountain.

Trisha Turner sobbed endlessly as she sat in an interrogation room. In her mind, she couldn’t stop replaying the memory of seeing her husband off to work that morning.

The door finally swung open. A tall Asian and an even larger, broad-shouldered black man strolled into the room. Something about their severe expressions had a sobering effect on her.

“Sorry to have kept you waiting,” the woman said. “I’m Detective Ming Delaney and this is my partner, Detective Tyrese Simmons.” Trisha nodded her greeting but wiped at her tears. Both detectives took seats on the other side of the table. “I don’t understand why I was brought here.”

Simmon’s thick lips slid into a smile while he braided his fingers in front of him. “We think there might be a connection between your husband’s murder and one of our cases.”

“Murder?” Trisha’s sniffles gradually diminished. “You don’t think that it was an accident?” Her eyes darted to each cop and her heartbeat accelerated at their hesitation.

“Mrs. Turner, your husband was shot in the back of the head.” Delaney began in a soft lilt. “Do you know of anyone who might have wanted to cause your husband any harm?”

“Shot?” Trisha’s hands crossed her heart. She couldn’t believe the line of questioning. “Why everyone loved Ambrose. He was a kind and brilliant psychiatrist.”

“Yes, I’m sure he was,” Delaney conceded, but her gaze locked on to Trisha’s and wouldn’t let go until it penetrated her soul. “But how was his behavior in the last week?”

Blinking, Trisha lowered her hands to her lap.

“What is it, Mrs. Turner?” Simmons asked.

She shrugged as she thought about. “Well, he’d been a little distracted—but I’m sure it was just because he’d lost a close and dear colleague at the institute this past weekend.”

“Distracted how?” Delaney asked.

Trisha struggled with how to describe what she meant. “Ambrose is…was sort of anal about schedules. He woke up every morning at five-thirty. He jogged, he expected meals served at a certain time—you could set your watch by him.” She twisted her hands. “But lately…”

Silence stretched as she detectives waited for her to continue.

“It’s been longer than just these last few days. He had trouble sleeping and occasionally would go out for long drives. So I assumed that…” She couldn’t hold it together any longer and buried her face in her hands.

Neither officer consoled her, but they gave her all the time she needed to pull herself together.

When she at last quieted down, Delaney asked, “What did you assume?”

“That he was seeing her again.” Trisha glanced up to see the cop’s stoic expressions. “Your husband was having an affair?” Simmons asked. Shame blanketed her body. “I’m not sure, but possibly. “You said ‘again.’ Did he have one in the past?” Delaney asked. “He…used to have a mistress.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “but he swore he…had ended it sometime ago.”