The Stranger in the Mirror(19)

“Tell me more about her,” I say, despite my previous hesitation. She seems to want to talk about Beth, even need to talk about her, today.

Gigi smiles now. “A spitfire. Always knew what she wanted, and nothing was going to get in her way or stop her. Oh, the blowups she and Ed used to have! But just as passionate as she was about her ideals, that’s how passionate she was about her family. I’ll never forget, one time we were having coffee after church and a man was giving Ed a hard time about the allocation of funds for the building committee—they were both on the board. This man started raising his voice to Ed, and Beth, who was only ten years old at the time, came stomping up and told him he’d better speak to her father with respect. Told him he was not being a good Christian example at all.” Gigi laughs. “That shut him up, I’ll tell you.”

I swallow the lump in my throat, trying not to imagine Beth’s last moments on earth fighting off a rapist.

Lost in her memories, Gigi continues. “We had high hopes for her. She wanted to be a lawyer, and she would have done it too. She always was one for the underdog.” She sighs. “I don’t know. I’ll always wonder if we were too hard on her. She was seeing a boy who was nineteen, and we thought he was too old. If we’d known she was going to go off on her own like that . . .”

I reach out and hold her hand. “It’s not your fault. Of course you couldn’t have known. Terrible things happen sometimes. I wish they didn’t. But please don’t blame yourself.” I stop, suddenly worried I’ve gone too far, but her expression is still kind.

“You’re such a sweet young woman, Addy. Thank you. For the most part, I forgave myself a long time ago. The truth is, he was too old for her, and none of us could have known what would happen. But Ed, I think Ed still feels like he failed her. You know, a father feels he should be able to protect his daughter.” She pats my hand. “I’m glad he found you. Since you’ve come to us, a little bit of the spark is back in his eyes.”

I take her hand in mine and hold on to it, but inside I’m afraid. It’s wonderful having people care about you, and I know how lucky I am to have Ed and Gigi. But what will happen if it turns out that the sweet young woman they think I am is really anything but?





??16??

Blythe




The waiting room of the private detective’s office suite looked a lot like how Blythe had imagined it. Gray walls with peeling paint, generic framed art hanging on them, and a wooden coffee table piled with out-of-date magazines. There was no receptionist, and a sign on the inner door announced “With Client.”

Blythe hadn’t known who to ask for a referral until she remembered that her friend Elaine had hired someone to follow her husband, whom she suspected—correctly, as it turned out—of cheating. Jim Fallow had provided Elaine with enough proof to negotiate a favorable divorce settlement, and she’d assured Blythe that Fallow was as good at his job as he was discreet.

The door opened, and a woman wearing dark sunglasses walked past Blythe. Suspicious wives must be this guy’s specialty. When Fallow came out, she was surprised by how well-turned out he was. She chided herself for buying into the stereotype of too many old movies. No rumpled, ill-fitting suit for this detective; he wore pressed black dress slacks, a white button-down shirt, and a well-tailored camel jacket that appeared to be cashmere. He was handsome, with salt-and-pepper hair, and seemed to be in his early forties. Whatever money he saved on the modest office, he obviously didn’t spare on his personal appearance.

“I’m Jim. You must be Mrs. Oliver.” He shook her hand warmly and motioned for her to come inside.

“Blythe, please. Nice to meet you.”

In his much more stylish interior office, he led her to a small round table with two comfortable chairs and invited her to sit.

“Can I get you anything to drink? I’ve got coffee, tea, sparkling water.”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

He leaned back and gave her an appraising look. “What can I do for you?”

“I’d like you to look into someone for me.”

He waited for her to continue. She shifted in her seat. “The thing is, my son is engaged, and his fiancée claims to have amnesia.”

“Claims to?”

Blythe shrugged. “I don’t mean to be suspicious, but I’ve learned over the years that you can’t always take everyone at face value. Our family is quite wealthy, and there have been a few occasions on which people have tried to get close to my children for that very reason.”

“And you think that’s what this woman is doing?”

She shook her head. “No, not really. I think she is likely sincere in her affection and she probably does have amnesia . . . which is a problem unto itself. I guess I’m saying either she has something to hide, in which case she’s pretending not to remember, or she really doesn’t remember, which means somewhere there are people missing her. Maybe a husband, a child. I’d rather find out before my son becomes legally bound to her.”

“I understand.” He wrote something on the pad and then looked at Blythe. “If she does in fact have amnesia, and if she isn’t able to recall anything at all, we can still discover plenty using only her name and hometown.”

“We don’t know any of that.”