My Sister, Myself. Alice Sharpe
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“Tell me,” she said, not meeting his eyes. “Just get it over with. My father—”
“It’s not about your father,” he said, interrupting. He took a deep breath. “It’s about your sister.”
“My God, what has she done?”
“It’s not like that,” he said quickly. He scanned the diner out of habit before lowering his voice and leaning over the table. “I don’t think her ‘accident’ was an accident,” he said with a knot in his throat. “I think someone purposely tried to run her down.”
Tess gasped softly. “What are you saying?”
“I think someone tried to kill her.”
Chapter Two
Tess ran her hands up and down her arms, aware for the first time that she wore a blouse so new there were probably tags still hanging down the back on the inside, attached to the label at the neck. She’d been in the process of dressing for work when the call from the Oregon police came. Dressing for work meant turtlenecks and lab coats. She didn’t know how she’d come to choose the red silk; no doubt it just happened to be the first thing her fingers came in contact with.
And now it draped her body in soft, vulnerable, fragile wisps, and she wished she’d chosen something substantial, something strong…like body armor.
At any rate here she was twelve hours later sitting in a diner with a stranger, learning things about her family—a family she hadn’t even known existed—that went from bad to startling and back again. The unmerciful overhead lights in the diner made the headache building behind her temples all the worse.
She got up abruptly, registering the startled look on Ryan Hill’s face as she did so. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. He’d been talking, but his words had morphed into Swahili. She knew she couldn’t sit still another moment. Digging in her shoulder bag—she’d left the duffel in her sister’s hospital room—she produced a ten-dollar bill and slapped it on the table, then hurried through the restaurant and out the door, pulling on her coat as she walked, aware that he was following, embarrassed to be acting like a drama queen, but doing so, anyway.
The night air was cold and wet and fresh, salty with the nearby sea, invigorating, just what she needed. She pulled her lightweight coat close about her body, shivering despite herself, head tilted down against the rain. It might be wetter than usual in San Francisco this year, but it wasn’t cold like this, the wind didn’t bite at you, the raindrops didn’t ricochet off the sidewalk and nip your skin.
Ryan Hill’s long-legged stride being twice hers, she’d known he’d catch up with her quickly if he wanted to. He didn’t grab her arm, for which she was grateful, just hunkered down and slowed his gait to match hers, staying right by her side. His presence was reassuring.
Eventually they reached the corner, and she had a decision to make. To the left lay the hospital and her sister, lost in a coma, unaware Tess had come to see if her existence could possibly be true. To the right lay the ocean, albeit some way off. She turned right, which meant she was walking more or less into the wind. Her hair whipped around her face and plastered her damp clothes against the front of her trembling body.
“You’re going to freeze to death,” Ryan finally said. “Hell, I’m going to freeze to death.”
“I know,” she said. And then after a few more steps, head still down, added, “Go on, talk.”
“Let me know if you can’t make sense of what I’m saying through my chattering teeth,” he said.
She smiled down at the glistening sidewalk. “Okay.”
“I was talking about your sister. How much did you hear me say?”
“Not much.”
“Then I’ll start over, but this time you’re getting the abbreviated version for obvious reasons.” He paused, she guessed to organize his thoughts, then proceeded. “Katie came to see me after Matt died. She thought the department was making him a scapegoat or maybe that he’d been framed. She was in complete denial, unwilling or unable to see the facts. Her dad couldn’t have done something so awful. He just wouldn’t. She was adamant.”
Tess’s lips twisted into a wry smile as her sister took on dimensions as a human being, evolving from an injured figure to a real live woman. She liked knowing this about Katie—that she was loyal and true. “Go on,” Tess said.
“I refused to help her,” Ryan said, his voice ragged. “I refused. My career was on the line. I was Matt’s partner and Matt was crooked, ergo, I was suspect, an internal investigation was probing into both of us. I think Matt sent me off chasing phantoms that night not only to get me out of the way but to make sure I had an alibi. Anyway, the department told me to stay far away from this case. The Lingfords are a prominent family in the community despite the rumors of shady dealings, and the D.A. is unwilling to point a finger in their direction until there’s proof. Vince Desota hasn’t made a single move to indicate guilt, but sooner or later—if he’s guilty—he’s bound to let something slip to someone, and the detective on this case has his ear close to the ground. Plus there are other people connected with the family. Or it could have been an attempted art heist, the fire a diversion that went awry. I told Katie to be patient and trust the system.”
He stopped talking as he touched her elbow and guided her around another corner. The wind hit with renewed ferocity, blowing open Tess’s coat, biting through the silk blouse. A hotel lobby opening to the street lay a few steps ahead. Ryan pushed open the door. She paused only a second before sidling past him.
The steamy heat of the lobby hit her with a bang. She stopped and took a deep breath.
“There’s a bar over in the corner,” he said, taking her elbow and steering her toward the lounge as he spoke. “We’ll get something hot to drink.”
He chose a small, round table and as she took off her wet coat, longing for a towel to pat dry her hair, he went to the bar and came back with two stemmed glass mugs of Irish coffee, the cream floating on top like melted clouds.
They both wrapped their hands around the hot glasses and breathed in the fragrant brew.
“What happened next?” she asked.
He picked up the conversation as though it hadn’t been interrupted for several minutes and said, “Your sister said she understood.”
“Just like that?” The thought flashed across Tess’s mind that Katie wouldn’t have given up that easily. Tess knew she wouldn’t have.
“Just like that. I was relieved. But when I tried to call her the next week, her number had been disconnected and there was no new listing. I went by her place and found that she’d moved out the week before. Ditto at the latest place she told me she’d been working, a lounge out at the city limits.”
“A lounge?”
“She tends bar. Hell, she does lots of different things. Your dad said she couldn’t make up her mind what she wanted.”
Tess sat there and tried to absorb this. She’d spent her entire life knowing exactly what she wanted to do. The idea that someone who looked just like her could be so different