Chapter 4: The Woman at the Door
Vanessa didn't blink.
The woman standing in the restaurant doorway looked almost exactly like the photograph on Vanessa's mantel at home.
Same dark eyes.
Same high cheekbones.
Same small scar near her left eyebrow.
Same black curls falling just past her shoulders.
The only difference was that the woman in the photograph had been wearing a white hospital gown.
Vanessa had told me her sister, Simone, died three years ago.
I'd attended the funeral.
I'd stood beside Vanessa while she cried into both hands.
I'd watched a casket lowered into the ground.
Yet Simone was standing twenty feet away.
Alive.
Watching us.
The woman slowly removed her sunglasses.
“Vanessa,” she said.
Vanessa stumbled backward.
“No.””
The woman took another step.
“Yes.””
Derrick whispered, “Oh, my God.””
I turned toward him.
“You knew?””
He shook his head quickly.
“No. I swear.””
Vanessa's breathing became shallow.
“Simone died.””
Simone looked at her.
“You let everybody believe that.””
Vanessa grabbed the edge of the table.
“You were dead.””
“No,” Simone said quietly.
“I was hidden.””
The words hit harder than a scream.
I looked from one sister to the other.
“What is going on?””
Neither answered.
Simone looked at me.
“Marcus, you need to leave with me.””
Vanessa stepped between us.
“No.””
Simone's expression hardened.
“You've had three years.””
“Please.””
“You've had three years to tell him.””
Vanessa's eyes filled with tears.
“Not here.””
Simone glanced around the restaurant.
“Then where?””
I stepped forward.
“Somewhere isn't going to make this less insane.””
Simone nodded.
“You're right.””
She looked directly at me.
“Three years ago, Vanessa tried to have you killed.””
The room seemed to stop.
Vanessa gasped.
“That is not what happened.””
Derrick's chair scraped backward.
I stared at Simone.
“What did you say?””
Simone's jaw tightened.
“She hired someone to make your car crash.””
Vanessa covered her mouth.
“Simone, stop.””
I looked at Vanessa.
“You tried to kill me?””
“No.””
Her answer came instantly.
“No, Marcus. Never.””
Simone reached into her handbag.
Vanessa lunged toward her.
“Don't.””
Simone stepped away.
She pulled out a small envelope.
“Then explain this.””
Vanessa froze.
Simone held it out to me.
I didn't take it.
“What is it?””
“Something I should have given you three years ago.””
Vanessa whispered, “Marcus, don't.””
I took the envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
A black sedan.
My black sedan.
The photograph had been taken at night.
There was a deep dent across the driver's side door.
I turned it over.
A date was written on the back.
Three years ago.
The same week Vanessa's sister supposedly died.
“What happened to my car?”” I asked.
Vanessa shook her head.
“Nothing.””
I looked at Simone.
“Tell me.””
Simone's eyes softened.
“Your brakes were cut.””
My fingers tightened around the photograph.
I remembered that night.
I'd been driving home from the airport.
The brake pedal had gone soft.
I had barely managed to steer onto the shoulder.
At the time, the mechanic said it was a hydraulic failure.
I had believed him.
Vanessa had hugged me afterward.
She'd cried.
She'd told me she couldn't imagine losing me.
I looked at her now.
“You knew.””
She shook her head violently.
“No.””
Simone said, “She knew.””
“Stop lying about me!”” Vanessa screamed.
Several people turned.
A server approached cautiously.
“Is everything okay?””
I looked at the server.
“No.””
Vanessa wiped her face.
“Marcus, please listen to me.””
“I am listening.””
“You're hearing her version.””
“Then give me yours.””
She opened her mouth.
Nothing came.
Derrick suddenly spoke.
“Vanessa didn't do it.””
I turned toward him.
“You're defending her?””
“I'm telling you what I know.””
Simone laughed bitterly.
“You don't know anything.””
Derrick looked at her.
“You weren't there.””
“I was.””
“Then why did you disappear?””
Simone's face changed.
For the first time, fear crossed it.
I noticed.
“So you two know each other,” I said.
Derrick shook his head.
“Not like that.””
Simone looked at him.
“You promised.””
Derrick's face went pale.
“Don't.””
I stepped closer.
“Promised what?””
Derrick looked at Vanessa.
Vanessa whispered, “Derrick, don't say anything.””
He closed his eyes.
Then he said, “I wasn't supposed to fall in love with her.””
The confession landed differently than everything else.
Vanessa stared at him.
“You said you wouldn't.””
“I can't keep lying.””
Simone's voice sharpened.
“You've already lied enough.””
I looked at Derrick.
“Why did you get involved with my wife?””
He swallowed.
“Because Vanessa came to me.””
“When?””
“Three months ago.””
“Why?””
“She said you were dangerous.””
I almost laughed.
“Dangerous?””
“She told me you had threatened her.””
Vanessa looked at him.
“I never said that.””
“You did.””
“I said you scared me.””
“That isn't the same thing.””
I turned toward Vanessa.
“So you told him I was dangerous.””
“I was scared.””
“Of me?””
“No.””
“Then of what?””
She looked toward Simone.
And I realized the answer was standing right beside us.
Simone stepped forward.
“Vanessa was scared of me.””
Vanessa shook her head.
“You're lying.””
Simone's voice became quiet.
“You know I'm not.””
The restaurant fell silent around us.
I looked at the two sisters.
One supposedly dead.
One supposedly betrayed.
And somewhere between them was the truth about my life three years earlier.
I held up the photograph.
“Why did you disappear, Simone?””
She looked at Vanessa.
Then at me.
“Because the person who ordered the accident found out I survived.””
“Who?””
Simone's eyes filled with tears.
“Your wife.””
Vanessa's face went white.
“No.””
Simone reached into her bag again.
This time, she pulled out a phone.
“I recorded the conversation.””
She pressed the screen.
A woman's voice filled the air.
Distorted by static.
But unmistakably Vanessa's.
“If Marcus survives, finish it.””
My heart stopped.
Vanessa staggered backward.
“That isn't me.””
Simone looked at me.
“I thought you'd say that.””
Then the recording continued.
A man's voice answered.
“What about your sister?””
Vanessa's recorded voice replied:
“She'll never talk.””
Simone stopped the recording.
Nobody moved.
I looked at Vanessa.
Her lips were trembling.
Then she whispered something that made no sense.
“That recording was made after Simone died.””
I frowned.
“How could she record something after she died?””
Vanessa looked at her sister.
Simone looked back.
And suddenly, neither of them seemed surprised.
They had both been waiting for me to ask the wrong question.
Because the real question wasn't who had recorded the conversation.
It was who had been pretending to be dead.
Simone leaned closer to me.
“Marcus, that wasn't Vanessa's voice.””
I stared at her.
“Then whose was it?””
May you like
Simone's eyes shifted toward the restaurant's private dining room.
“Your mother-in-law's.””