The Look-Alike, page 1
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Special thanks to Linda Collings, Ph.D., M.P., for her assistance in the creation of The Look-Alike. She deepened my understanding of the persecutory delusional disorder, and brought to life how the disorder affects the lives of both the afflicted and those who love them.
Thanks to my publishing team at St. Martin’s Press, particularly Jennifer Weis, and to my agent, Scott Miller. I appreciated the guidance, encouragement, and understanding more than you know.
And as always, thanks to my family for the love and support. I couldn’t do it without you.
PROLOGUE
Tranquility Bluffs, Wisconsin
Winter, 12:06 A.M.
Sienna Scott nearly tripped over the body. With her hood up and head down against the driving snow, she couldn’t see more than a few inches in front of her feet.
It was the blood that stopped her, although she didn’t realize that’s what it was, not at first. No, stopping short had been an automatic reaction to coming upon something she immediately recognized as wrong. The move had been so sudden and unexpected, she lost her balance on the slippery walkway and fell to her knees, her gloved hands sinking into the dark snow.
She began to right herself and froze, staring at her gloved hands. The gloves were white. They matched her parka and the snow-covered landscape around her. Only they weren’t. White. Not anymore.
Red. Dark, ugly red.
A sob broke from her throat, the sound guttural. A girl, sprawled on the path. Unmoving. Stained by the same red as her gloves. It felt to Sienna as if she might never breathe again. The seconds ticked past, her heart thundering against the wall of her chest, then the air barreled into her lungs, filling them to bursting.
She released it on a scream that shattered the night.
CHAPTER ONE
Tranquility Bluffs, Wisconsin
Ten years later, 11:45 A.M.
Whenever Sienna Scott thought back to that night—and that was more often than she cared to admit—a single, horrific image jumped out at her, of deep red creeping across brilliant white. As if the entire event had coalesced into a single, terrifying mental photograph.
Sensory memories always accompanied the image. Of every hair on her body standing up in awareness that she had stumbled upon something terribly, horribly wrong. And of cold. Bitter, cutting clear to her bones.
Sienna hunched deeper into her coat, gloved hands curled into tight fists in her pockets. Her heart beat wildly in her chest, same as it had that night. She stared at the spot—where the walkway passed an alcove at the back of the Humanities building. Nondescript. No marker. Nothing to indicate the most shocking crime in the college’s history had occurred here.
How could such violence be erased in ten short years?
God, she wished she could erase it. What would it take to strip the event from her consciousness? Ten years on an entirely different continent hadn’t done it.
But those years away had changed her. One didn’t forget the unforgettable, but time and distance diminished its impact. Memories faded. Details grew fuzzy, then escaped altogether, disappearing into the ether.
“Sienna Scott?”
Sienna looked up. A petite woman in a light blue down jacket and matching hat stood not three feet away. Blond curls peeked out from under the knit cap and her blue eyes were wide with surprise.
“Oh, my God,” she said. “It is you.”
“Kim?” Sienna smiled. “Kim Meyers?”
“Peterson now. Going on two years. My goodness, you look even more like your mom than you used to.”
Sienna had wondered how long before someone would comment on how she was the mirror image of her beautiful, auburn-haired mother. It used to bother her, the speculative looks, the feeling that they were just waiting for her to go off the rails. As if by inheriting her mother’s features and coloring, she had inherited her mental illness as well.
But the truth was, back then she had been watching and waiting herself. Terrified that her mother’s present was her own future.
Not anymore. She was her mother’s daughter. Not her clone.
“Thanks, Kim. So what are you up to besides being married? Still helping your parents run the restaurant?”
“Gosh, no.” She laughed and shook her head. “After working at The Wagon Wheel my whole life, that was the last thing I wanted to do. I work here on campus. Hey, didn’t I hear you’d become a chef?”
“Sure did.” Sienna smiled. “Fell in love with food. Who knew?”
Kim laughed again and Sienna remembered that she had been that kind of girl, exuberance and giggles, twenty-four seven.
“Wait!” she said, and clapped her gloved hands together. “I just thought of something. If you’re going to stay around, you should talk to my folks. They’re planning to put the restaurant up for sale.”
“No kidding? The Wheel’s an institution here.”
“They’re tired of running it and want to retire and move to Florida. I don’t want to take it over and neither does Rob.” Kim looked at her watch. “Crap, I’ve got to go, I’m late. Welcome home, Sienna. Call me.”
Sienna watched her hurry off, then turned and started for the visitor parking lot. The Wagon Wheel for sale? She had thought of opening her own place, had even fantasized about it being located on Main Street in Old Town. And now, the perfect location could be dropping in her lap? Right off the bat?
Sienna reached her rental car, climbed in, and started it up. While the engine warmed, she flipped down the visor, peered into the mirror. Her mother’s heart-shaped face and classic features stared back at her with large, wide-set green eyes.
She couldn’t believe she’d spent all those years running away from who she might be instead of enjoying who she was. Years wasted on fear.
That was then. Sienna smiled at her reflection, then closed the visor. It wasn’t now.
And she meant to prove it to everyone who thought otherwise.
Starting with her brother. Half brother really, though she’d never thought of him that way.
She grabbed her cell phone and punched in his number.
He answered, sounding worried. Of course he was. Almost ten years older than she, he’d made protecting her his job, from the day she came home from the hospital.
“Half-pint? You okay?”
She supposed she should have warned him she was coming. He’d never liked surprises. “I’m fine. Just excited. I have news.”
“News?” She heard a rustle, probably him checking his watch, doing the math. “What time is it there?”
“Same time as it is in Tranquility Bluffs.” At his silence, she went on. “I’m here, Bradley. In Tranquility. I’ve come home.”
CHAPTER TWO
12:20 P.M.
Sienna eased into the parking space in front of the repurposed storefront that housed her brother’s Old Town office. The sign above the door read: SCOTT PROPERTY DEVELOPMENT. RESIDENTIAL & COMMERCIAL.
She flung open her car door at the same moment her brother strode out. They met at the sidewalk; he pulled her close in a big bear hug. For a moment they stood that way, then he held her at arm’s length.
“All grown up,” he said with a grin. “Making all your own decisions.”
She smiled back at him. “That’s the way it’s supposed to be, right?”
“Maybe so, but you’ll always be my little Half-pint.”
“Following you around, wanting to do everything big brother could do. I know I made you crazy.”
“And that’s the way that’s supposed to be. C’mon, let’s go inside.” He laid his arm across her shoulder. “It’s too damn cold out here.”
It was her first time in his office. The interior was an attractive blend of modern meets north woods. The open concept was broken up by a conversation area arranged around a gas fireplace; the reception desk; and three large wooden worktables, big enough to spread out maps and blueprints. The gleaming wooden floors were dotted with area rugs in coordinating colors and patterns.
On the walls hung framed photos and plans from the projects his firm had spearheaded. Among them: upscale condos in Madison; a New Urbanism community near Belvidere, Illinois; and concept renderings of a resort proposed for Door County, right on Lake Michigan.
Over the years, he’d talked about his work, but she hadn’t realized the scale of these projects.
She met his eyes over her shoulder. She noticed that the hair at his temples had gone gray since she’d last seen him. “These are amazing.”
“Thanks.” He smiled and crossed to stand beside her. “I’m especially excited about the Door County project. It’s totally my baby, and is the most expansive—and expensive—development I’ve p
“You’ve done so well, Brad. I’m really proud of you.”
“I couldn’t have done it without Dad’s help.”
Their dad; it was hard to believe he’d been gone five years now. “That’s not true. You had the brains and determination, and he believed in you.”
“He was the first one who did.” His voice thickened. “I miss him.”
Tears stung her eyes. “I do, too.”
He cleared his throat. “And how about you? A classically trained chef? Le Cordon Bleu? Damn, girl, I’m proud of you.”
Sienna knew she was beaming. She couldn’t help it. It had been the first time in her life she had truly let go of her doubts and let passion lead her. “Tell you the truth, I’m proud of myself.”
“You should be. I know Dad would be, too.”
“That means a lot, Brad. Thank you.”
“How about a cup of coffee?”
“God, yes. I didn’t sleep on the flight, and I’m pretty close to being toast right now.”
He turned to go, then stopped and looked back at her, expression serious. “Why didn’t you let me know you were coming?”
“I thought you’d try to talk me out of it.”
He nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I would have. I’ll get the coffee. We’ll talk.”
She watched him go, then sat, choosing a spot on the cozy love seat in the conversation area. She turned her gaze to the fireplace and its flickering flames. The two of them were so different. Not surprising, she supposed. Not only was he ten years older and a male, he was the product of their father’s first marriage.
He hadn’t had it easy, shuffled between the two households, dealing with one mother who was angry at her ex-husband and resentful of his new wife, and one who suffered from persecutory delusions and was constantly in and out of treatment.
It was amazing he’d turned out as grounded as he had. She smiled to herself. Ditto for her.
He returned with two beautiful cappuccinos and a plate of small biscotti. “So fancy,” she said, surprised.
“I let Liz talk me into one of those Nespresso machines that do everything but drink the beverage for you. I remembered you used to like these.”
“I still do. Thanks.”
He handed her a cup, then took the seat opposite hers. Suddenly tongue-tied, she dunked a biscotti in the frothy drink and took a bite. She sensed him watching her, waiting. She’d obviously come a long way for something; no doubt he was curious what it was.
She didn’t want to go there, not just yet. For this moment, it felt good just being here, reconnecting with him. Besides, she was pretty sure he wasn’t going to be happy with her decision.
He broke the silence. “How’s Mimi?”
Sienna thought about their paternal grandmother, a tiny dynamo who refused to accept “No” or “I can’t” from anyone, including herself. Mimi’s influence had been exactly what Sienna’s then eighteen-year-old self needed.
“Really well. She said to tell you hello and that she loves you.”
“I’ll have to give her a call.”
“She’d like that.”
They fell silent again. Sienna took another sip of her coffee, then broke the silence. “What time’s Liz coming in? I’m looking forward to seeing her.”
“She’s not.”
Sienna frowned at the brusque reply. “Is she ill? Or—”
“She left me.”
“Oh, Bradley. I’m so sorry.”
“On our fifth anniversary. How’s that for a kick in the gut?”
“When you visited, you seemed so happy.”
“We were. Then.” He stood and crossed to the fireplace. He stood, back to her, hands jammed in his pockets, spine ramrod straight. “She said she couldn’t take Viv anymore.”
Brad had never called his stepmother by anything but her given name, because he’d never thought of her as his mother. Yet, because Sienna had been hiding away in England, the role of her mother’s chief caregiver had been forced on him.
Guilt pinched at her. Hard. She stood and crossed to him, laying a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“Isn’t it? If I’d been here to help—”
“When he died, Dad entrusted her care to me.” He stepped away; she dropped her hand. “Not to you.”
“Maybe that wasn’t fair?”
“Whatever, Sienna. It’s done.”
Which didn’t absolve her of responsibility. “Well, I’m here now.”
“And she’ll enjoy seeing you.”
“You misunderstand, Brad. This isn’t a visit. I’m staying.”
“Staying?” he repeated, brow furrowing again. “How long?”
“Permanently.”
He looked her in the eyes. “Is this a joke?”
The question stung. “No. Why would you even think that?”
“C’mon, sis. We both know it’s not healthy for you to be around your mother.”
“I can handle it.”
“That’s what Liz said, and she wasn’t the focus of Viv’s delusions.” He looked her in the eyes. “She hasn’t let them go, Sienna. She still believes my mother and her family are out to punish her by hurting you. They ‘drive by’ the house. They’ve ‘bugged’ her phone in an attempt to trace your calls to her. She routinely searches for hidden cameras. I can go on if you’d like?”
“Don’t bother. It’s all standard Mom.”
“You’re sure you’ve thought this through?”
“Obviously.”
“Really? Not obvious to me.” He made a sound of frustration. “But why would it be? I didn’t even know you were coming.”
Another prickle of guilt. “I should have told you. I see that now, and I apologize.”
“What about living arrangements? You’re welcome to stay with me but, again, a little notice would have been nice.”
“I’m staying at the house.”
“The house?”
“With Mom.”
For a moment, he simply gazed at her in that measured way of his. Then he shook his head. “You can’t be serious.”
“Dead serious. She’s my mother, and that’s my childhood home.”
“That’s right, she is your mother. The same one you ran away from.”
“Dad sent me away.”
“You didn’t put up a fight, did you?”
“No,” she agreed, “I didn’t. But that was then. And I’m not that girl anymore. I’ve grown up, Brad.”
She could see he was struggling with the idea. She went on, “Don’t you want me here?”
“You’re my sister, my only sib. Of course I want you nearby.” He drew a resigned-sounding breath. “Mimi was okay with this?”
“She encouraged it. She knew how important it was for me to do this.”
“A ‘can’t move forward before you go back’ sort of thing?”
“Yes.”
He dragged a hand through his hair. “I guess I get that. But you can’t surprise Viv the way you did me. I have to give her a heads-up. This could trigger an episode.”
With her mom, almost anything could trigger an episode. A thrumming started in her temple, like a silent drumbeat, pounding out a warning. It was a call she hadn’t heard in a long time. “Seems to me an episode is unavoidable, whether you give her a heads-up or I simply show up on her doorstep. And the fact is, I’m here. What am I going to do? Hide?”
“It’s your decision, sis.” He paused, then went on. “But there’s one more thing I think you should know.”
“What’s that?”
“They’ve reopened the investigation. A couple weeks ago.”
CHAPTER THREE
The night of the murder
The man seemed to come out of nowhere. He emerged from the blinding snow like some sort of monster, and for one, terrifying moment, Sienna thought it must be the killer, come back for her. As she opened her mouth to scream again, the beam of a flashlight blinded her.
“Campus police,” he called. “Stay where you are.”
Sienna nodded and hugged herself. As if in a dream, she saw him kneel beside the body, check her pulse. Heard him swear softly.
That muttered curse proof the girl was dead.
