so as not to arouse suspicion, Sande supposed.
The exchange continued on benignly about what a great neighborhood Alma lived in, how she had known everyone on the street for ages. Sande sat stone still, utterly dumbfounded, while she then chatted on and on about her garden, and the relationship the two of them had seemingly developed.
“You’re sure it was only two months ago that Sande moved in next door?” O’Brien looked to Sande. “I was thinking three?”
Before Sande could decide what he wanted her to say, Alma shook her head with complete confidence. “Absolutely not. It was Labor Day weekend. You said you didn’t know a soul in the neighborhood and that Nancy wouldn’t be back for several more weeks.”
“Wait. Yes,” O’Brien allowed, “I think you’re right. Nancy had to go to Dallas.”
Alma’s forehead furrowed. “Dallas? I thought she was in San Diego?” She turned to Sande then, a mix of confusion and suspicion in her eyes. “You took her place at the firm here while she did your work out in San Diego. I’m sure that’s what you told me.” Her head wagged again. “I’ll never understand this whole life-swap thing. People don’t like to take risks anymore. They want to try everything out before they make a commitment.”
Total numbness had overtaken Sande. Life swapping? What was she talking about?
Alma studied her for a long moment. “You act like you don’t even recall staying here. Are you sure you’re all right?”
Sande froze. How did she respond to that?
“Sande was quite ill,” O’Brien interjected quickly. “The medication has made the past few days a little hazy.”
The older woman nodded in understanding, but her expression indicated she was less than convinced of their story.
Fear snaked its way up Sande’s spine. What if the woman called those men back and told them she had been here? Had they given Alma Spears a card? She hadn’t mentioned that, but maybe she’d been asked not to say anything. Confusion and fear had wrapped around Sande in so many layers she couldn’t draw a breath. Her heart thumped hard against her sternum.
After a few minutes more casual back and forth, they had obviously extracted all they were going to get from Alma Spears. They had learned that Sande supposedly filled in for Nancy at Peyton and Wyatt, an accounting firm in Chicago where Nancy was employed. Maybe someone at the firm would recognize Sande. Would know where she’d lived before coming to Chicago. Would remember if she had any family or friends.
“Thank you, Alma.” Sande produced a shaky smile as she used the woman’s first name in hopes of not rousing more suspicion. She suddenly couldn’t wait to get out of the woman’s house. Being there felt strange…disconcerting. The more the woman said the less real any of it felt to her. She needed air.
Once back on the sidewalk, she drew in a deep, ragged breath. She felt dazed and even more confused than when they had arrived. “This is impossible. Her story can’t be true.”
O’Brien escorted her to his car. “First thing we do is find out where Nancy Childers has really been the past two months. And if you actually filled in for her at Peyton and Wyatt.”
“We’re going to talk to her again?” Sande wished she felt something, even the slightest flicker of recognition, where Nancy Childers was concerned. But there was nothing. Not a single thing about Alma Spears felt familiar, either. If Sande had ever met one or the other, she had absolutely no recall.
“Not yet.” O’Brien opened the front passenger door of his sedan. “But we will talk to both those ladies again, count on it.”
One thing kept Sande hanging on at this point. Lucas Camp had said the Colby Agency was the very best in the business.
She had to believe that.
She had to believe in something.
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