And Now She's Gone(94)
If she had succeeded in killing Sean last night, she would never have had the chance to be her again. Now that her fear of Sean had diminished some, she saw “her” standing at the end of a long hallway, waiting on the top of the newest one-more-mountain, ready to reclaim Natalie Grayson once and for all.
Soon.
Today, though, Gray guzzled margaritas as she hooted at the male strippers in Thunder from Down Under. Today, she played video poker and got her fortune told. The fullback from the Los Angeles Chargers winked at her. And she clapped as nine red sevens popped onto the wheel of her one-dollar slot machine.
“You are so freakin’ lucky,” Clarissa said.
“I’d sleep with that football player if I were you,” Jennifer said.
“I love it when you smile,” Zadie said.
For the moment, being Grayson Sykes was like standing in a clean kitchen as light glinted off the fixtures. For the moment, being Grayson Sykes was like feeling new snow melt on her flushed face. Being Grayson Sykes right then felt … good. And powerful. And meant to be.
Later, she stood in the open window of her hotel room, with the lights of Vegas behind her and the Miyabi Evolution slicer clutched in her free hand. And she took a deep, deep breath, a breath that moved past her lungs and into the molecules that made her, and then she exhaled, slowly, deliberately … and imagined killing her forever love.
Before leaving Las Vegas that Sunday, Gray received a text message from Ian O’Donnell. He had received a bill in the mail yesterday from Mail Boxes Etc.
“Looks like Isabel Lincoln’s box is in Vegas,” Gray explained to her companions.
“So…” Clarissa frowned. “We’re … stopping?”
As the taxi sped east on Charleston Boulevard, Gray found the ribbon of keys Mrs. Tompkins had given her—the set that included a mysterious key that Gray hoped would open this mailbox.
Clarissa pouted in the front passenger seat. Her face was swollen from all the alcohol she’d consumed, and her eyes looked like buttons on a rag doll. “I can’t believe you’re working.”
The taxi pulled into a strip mall parking lot with a doughnut shop, a vitamin store, and a Mail Boxes Etc. Cars crawled in and out of parking spaces, and the driver lucked into a spot right in front of the bakery.
“Dude,” Clarissa whined, “like, why are we here?”
“Party’s over, Clarissa,” Jennifer said. “I know it’s like asking water not to be wet, but stop being a brat.” Her skin was flushed—two mimosas and a Bloody Mary had that effect. The all-nighter with Dylan, the hedge fund broker, had also pushed blood to her face.
“I want a bear claw.” Jennifer tottered to the entrance of the doughnut shop.
Gray shouted, “Chocolate glaze!” at Jennifer’s back.
The blonde gave a thumbs-up.
Every Mail Boxes Etc. looked the same—small stations for stationery, bigger stations for packing materials, a long counter, and mailboxes. This kingdom was lorded over by a bored-looking woman wearing glasses and a polo shirt flecked with tape, cardboard, and marker.
Gray approached the clerk with a smile. “I haven’t been here in a while and I can’t remember my box number.”
The woman turned to a computer, then asked, “Name?”
Gray’s mind raced. “It could be under my name or my roommate’s. I’m Isabel Lincoln.”
The clerk’s fingers punched at the keys, then paused.
“My roommate is Elyse Miller,” Gray added.
The clerk went back to punching keys, then said, “Box three nine one eight.”
Box 3918, one of the larger mailboxes, sat at the end of the row closest to the packing tape. Gray stuck the mystery key into the lock and turned. “Yahtzee,” she whispered.
On top of the pile of envelopes was a small spiral-bound notebook.
Gray flipped through the pages.
Belize … Belize City … apartment in Ladyville $650!! 2bd 1 bath but too close to police station … Buttonwood bay? $750 … Unclaimed b … 5k Ermond 501-223-0010
Gray snapped pictures of these pages. Who is Ermond?
Some of the envelopes in the box had already been opened. Like the envelopes from the State of Alabama and the City of Los Angeles. An envelope from Live Scan was still sealed—Gray didn’t open it because she already knew that the fingerprints belonged to Elyse Miller. Instead, she looked into the already open envelope from the State of Alabama.
A birth certificate … for Elyse Lorraine Miller, born in Mobile, Alabama, on January 12, 1973 to Ruth Gaines and Walter Miller.
The manila envelope sent by the Superior Court of California was thick with legal-looking documents.
PETITION FOR CHANGE OF NAME …
The Court Orders the name of the birth certificate OR the current legal name IS CHANGED TO …
Isabel Lincoln. Gray’s hands shook. She knew about these types of documents; she had her own set. But her documents had a SEALED stamp across the top.
So, who were Hope and Christopher Lincoln, the people listed on Isabel’s birth certificate? Adoptive parents? Gray’s amended birth certificate had become page two of her original birth certificate. The cabin in Idyllwild, that’s where the amended certificate was. Isabel had separated the pages. It was not an easy thing to petition for a new identity. How did any of this fit into Isabel Lincoln’s disappearance now?