The Good Twin(54)

“Hi,” he called out to me when he heard the front door open, then shut. I managed a mangled “Hi” back, then hurried into the bedroom. I couldn’t face him—not yet. I undressed and stepped into the shower, making it as hot as I could stand. A few minutes later, Ben stepped into the bathroom. “You okay?”

“Sure,” I answered. “I just felt grimy.”

“Any change with your father?”

“He’s the same. Listen, I’m beat. I’m going straight to bed when I finish in here.”

“Well, nothing new there,” he muttered as he left the room.

“Fuck you, fuck you. Fuck you!” I wanted to scream. Instead, I said nothing.





CHAPTER 37

I didn’t hear from Mallory for ten days. During that time, Dad’s condition worsened. I’d called in hospice, and we all knew it was just a matter of weeks now. Thoughts of my father had filled my head during this period, enabling me to distance myself from ruminating about my sister and my murderous husband. Seeing Ezra had helped, also. I wanted to tell him about Mallory, about Ben, about their plot against me, but I didn’t.

Mallory called me at the gallery. “Are you okay?”

“Just super. I have a sister I didn’t know about, a husband who wants to kill me, and a father who’s dying. Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

There was a beat of silence, and then, “I just got off the phone with Detective Saldinger. I’ve set it up for Ben to take me to meet the man he hired. To . . . you know.”

“To kill me, you mean?”

“Yeah, that. Saldinger and his partner are going to stake out the place. If the hit man leaves after us, he’ll grab him at the meet site, before he gets to his car. If not, then he’ll follow the guy home. And I’m going to wear a wire.”

I wished I could say that my chest lightened, but it was too filled with despair over my father for this news to make a dent. “When’s it happening?”

“In two nights.”

I couldn’t help myself. She was still my sister. Before hanging up, I said, “Be careful.”



Three days later, I got a call from Detective Saldinger. “Can you come into the station? I need to go over some things with you.”

“I’m working with a customer now. It’ll probably be an hour or two.”

“Come as soon as you can,” he said.

I hadn’t heard from Mallory since her meeting with the hired gun last night, and so I had no idea how it had gone. I’d hoped she would have called me right after it had finished, but I couldn’t blame her for keeping a distance. I’d certainly been chilly to her when we’d last spoken. I tried to give my customer my full attention—she was one of my regulars and important to the gallery—but I confess that I probably rushed her more than I normally would have. As soon as she left, I grabbed my coat and told Sandy I was leaving.

New York had been going through a cold spell that seemed unending at this point. It had snowed last night, and although the roads had been plowed and the sidewalks shoveled, brown slush was everywhere. I was glad I’d worn boots to work, although once again, I hadn’t planned to be walking anywhere today, and the thin heels and slippery walkways made for slow going. By the time I arrived at the police station, I was chilled through and through.

“Cup of coffee?” Saldinger asked once I was settled in the interview room.

“Love one, thanks. Just black.”

He left the room, and five minutes later returned with two steaming cups in hand. He placed one before me, then sat down at the table. “Did Mallory tell you where she was last night?”

“She told me a few days ago she would be meeting with the man Ben hired, but I haven’t heard from her since. Did you catch him?”

“Afraid not. We had the place staked out, but he never came back to the street. After a few hours, we searched the building, but there was no trace of him. The only thing we know is that he’s a former army sniper. We’re trying to work with the army to see if they can point us to someone in the New York area who might fit Mallory’s description of him.” He opened up a folder and pulled out a picture of a man. “Actually, Mallory drew this for us. I don’t suppose you recognize him?”

I shook my head. “So, does this mean you’ll just arrest Ben?”

The detective gazed at me kindly. I hadn’t really looked at him closely when I was here last, but now I saw his strong jawline, his aquiline nose, but most of all, his eyes. They seemed to say that everything would work out.

“We could. But we really want to get everyone who’s involved.” The detective leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “Have you spoken much to your sister since you were here last?”

“No, just once, when she told me about the meeting.”

“Mallory was wired, and we have a recording of the meeting. It’s clear Ben paid someone to kill you and that Mallory was part of the plan. The hit man is supposed to provide Ben with a picture of your dead body when it’s done. We have enough to arrest Ben and Mallory right now, but then we don’t get the hit man. You’re a one-off for Ben. Maybe not so with the guy he hired. If he’s someone who does this for a living, we want to lock him away. Maybe Ben will give him up. Maybe not. We’d prefer not to leave it to chance.”