Chapter 7 - The Woman in Room 714
By midnight, the story had split into two impossible directions.
Either Sophia Sterling had been attacked because she helped my mother.
Or someone wanted the police to believe my mother had attacked Sophia.
The initials on the hotel mirror were too perfect.
Elena Marie Carter had been my mother's maiden name.
Almost nobody knew the middle name.
Victor did.
Martin Vale did.
Dad did.
Sophia did.
Grant might have learned it from records.
The list of suspects was small enough to be frightening.
Reyes ordered Mom to remain inside Sterling Hall until the hotel evidence could be processed.
Mom did not argue.
She sat in the breakfast room wrapped in a police blanket while a paramedic cleaned the cut on her hand from the broken champagne glass she had stepped on earlier.
I sat across from her with an ice pack against my ribs.
Dad had been taken to another room for questioning about North Lake Holdings.
Grant remained in the library with Vale.
Victor and Diane were somewhere downstairs.
The mansion was full of police, but I had never felt less safe inside it.
"Did you ever threaten Sophia?"
Mom looked at me.
"No."
"Fight with her?"
"Yes."
"About what?"
"You."
I almost laughed.
"Everyone apparently fights about me when I'm not in the room."
"Sophia wanted me to tell you the truth years ago."
"And you said no."
"Repeatedly."
"Maybe she was right."
"She was."
I looked at my mother's hands.
They were older than I remembered.
Veins stood beneath the skin.
Her left thumb had a faint burn scar.
Fourteen years had happened to her body even though they had not happened in my memory.
"Where did you live?"
She seemed surprised by the question.
"Many places."
"Name one."
"Portland, Maine."
"For how long?"
"Two years."
"What did you do?"
"Bookkeeping for a fishing company."
I tried to imagine my mother walking through a grocery store in Maine while I was choosing wedding invitations.
"Another."
"Cleveland."
"How long?"
"Eleven months."
"Job?"
"Payroll for a medical supplier."
"Another."
"Tucson."
"Another."
"Boise."
"Another."
"Savannah."
"Did you ever have friends?"
She smiled sadly.
"That was dangerous."
"Did you ever date?"
Her eyes widened.
"Claire."
"I'm asking because I don't know anything about fourteen years of your life."
She looked down.
"No."
"Why?"
"Because I was married."
I stared at her.
"Dad thought you were dead in public."
"I didn't."
That answer hurt in a new way.
"Did you see him?"
"Once or twice a year."
"Only that?"
"Sometimes less."
"And you both lived with that?"
"We lived with what we thought would keep you alive."
I rubbed my forehead.
"I don't know whether to admire you or hate you."
"You can do both."
The answer almost made me smile.
Then a police technician entered holding a tablet.
"Mrs. Sterling?"
"Yes."
"We recovered a partial video from the hotel corridor outside Sophia Sterling's room."
Reyes joined us.
The technician placed the tablet on the table.
The video showed a hallway timestamped 10:42 p.m. the night before.
Sophia's door was visible at the far end.
At 10:46, a person in a hotel uniform approached.
The figure wore a cap low over the face.
At 10:47, Sophia opened the door.
There was no struggle.
She let the person in.
At 11:03, the door opened again.
The uniformed figure left carrying a black handbag.
Sophia did not appear.
The technician paused the image.
"We enhanced the reflection in this picture frame."
The mirrored glass showed part of the person's face.
My blood turned cold.
It looked like my mother.
Not similar.
Not vaguely related.
It looked exactly like her.
Same jaw.
Same eyes.
Same silver at the temples.
Mom stood so fast that her chair tipped over.
"That's not me."
Reyes's expression did not change.
"Where were you at eleven last night?"
"With Henry."
"Where?"
"North Lake property outside Danbury."
"Anyone else see you?"
"A caretaker."
"Cameras?"
"Yes."
Reyes immediately ordered verification.
I stared at the frozen reflection.
"It looks exactly like you."
Mom's breathing became shallow.
"I know."
"Could the video be fake?"
The technician answered.
"Possibly manipulated, but we won't know until the original file is analyzed."
Mom leaned toward the image.
Then she whispered a name.
"Evelyn."
I looked at her.
"Who?"
"My sister."
The room went silent.
"You have a sister?"
Mom closed her eyes.
"Had."
"What do you mean had?"
"Evelyn died when we were nineteen."
I stared at her.
"And she looked like you?"
"We were identical twins."
For a second, I could only hear the low hum of the refrigerator.
"You had an identical twin and never told me?"
"She died before I met your father."
"How?"
Mom's face changed.
"Car accident."
Dad appeared in the doorway just in time to hear it.
"What about Evelyn?"
Mom pointed at the tablet.
He came closer.
The moment he saw the reflection, all color left his face.
"No."
"You knew she had a twin?"
He nodded slowly.
"Elena told me when we were dating."
"Why did nobody ever mention her?"
Mom answered.
"Because my family stopped talking about her after she died."
"Why?"
She looked at Dad.
Then at Reyes.
Then back at me.
"Because Evelyn died with Victor Sterling in the car."
My mouth went dry.
"But Victor is alive."
"He survived."
"And she didn't."
"That's what I was told."
Reyes leaned forward.
"Who told you?"
"Victor."
The silence that followed felt like a door opening.
Mom sat again.
"We were twenty-one, not nineteen."
She corrected herself automatically, then looked disturbed by the error.
"I always say nineteen."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
Reyes asked, "Did you see Evelyn's body?"
Mom shook her head.
"Closed casket."
My stomach dropped.
The pattern was too obvious.
A car accident.
A body nobody saw.
A family that stopped asking questions.
"Was the coffin empty?"
Mom whispered.
"I don't know."
Grant's words returned.
Ask your mother what's in the coffin.
Then ask her who put it there.
I looked at Mom.
"Which coffin did Grant mean?"
Her eyes met mine.
"Maybe not mine."
Reyes stood.
"We need cemetery records for both burials."
Dad's phone vibrated in an evidence pouch on the table.
An officer checked the screen.
"It's an incoming call from a blocked number."
Reyes nodded.
"Put it on speaker."
Dad answered.
"Hello?"
For three seconds, there was only breathing.
Then a woman's voice spoke.
"Henry."
Dad gripped the edge of the table.
Mom went white.
The voice sounded exactly like hers.
"Who is this?"
The woman laughed softly.
"You know."
Mom stood.
"Evelyn?"
The breathing stopped.
Then the caller said something that made my mother collapse into the chair.
May you like
"You always were the slower twin."
The line went dead.
