Page 108 of Mirror Image
My eyes go right to the drink in front of him.
He notices and holds it up. “That’s the beautiful thing about a G&T. Who’s going to notice if you skip the G?”
Memories explode in my head, shattering into a hundred jagged-edged possibilities.
“That night?” The two words are as profound a question as I’ve ever asked.
There’s a slow nod from him. “I was good at hiding it. So highly functioning that no one knew except for me.”
I can scarcely believe what I’m hearing. The man I’ve known and hated for a decade is disappearing before my very eyes, and I have no words to describe just how unnerving I find this. Him being an alcoholic does not, under any circumstances, excuse what happened in the ER. But it goes a long way to explaining how it happened—and why. It allows me to see the gray nuances between the black and white I’ve always painted him to be. He’s hardly a good man. But maybe . . . just maybe . . . he isn’t the complete monster I thought he was.
“As for you,” he continues, oblivious to my inner monologue, “maybe my opinion has changed. A little. Maybe.”
“Okay . . . so then what’s with the Big Bad Wolf routine these last couple of days?” I ask, incredulous. “Why work so hard to convince me—and everyone else—that you’re still an ass?”
“Oh, make no mistake about it, I’m still an ass. I’m just an older, wiser ass. Which makes me a little more judicious about where and how I apply that particular trait.” He glances back out at the water, shimmering under the brilliant Miami moon. “Okay, enough of the confessions. You gonna tell me what this is all about? Are you having second thoughts about admitting Sam Kinski?”
“Um, no. And anyway . . . She’s gone.”
All traces of humor leave his face. “What do you mean, ‘She’s gone’? Did someone discharge her?”
“When she said she wanted some fresh air, her nurse, Shannon, wheeled her outside to sit in the gardens for a little while. She went in to get Sam a bottle of water and when she got back, the wheelchair was empty.”
“Jesus.” He scrubs a hand over his face, the motion raking through the stubble shadowing his jaw. Away from the hospital’s fluorescent glare, he looks steadier, more self-possessed—the years have only carved his features in deeper.
I exhale. “Then she texted me a few hours ago asking to meet at a local park.”
Hazel eyes steady on mine, he leans forward on both forearms. “You went?”
I nod. “I did.”
“Right. So what did she say to you?”
“She gave me some information.”
When I don’t immediately continue, he waves a hand at me. “Care to elaborate?”
I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the possibility that he won’t believe me. Or, worse, that he won’t care. Well, either way, it’s too late now; I have no choice but to trust my enemy. Not if I have any hope of taking down the man who was once my mentor. On the drive here, I debated whether to tell Kellogg about Sam being Mary. Or is it Mary being Sam? There’s no doubt in my mind who the woman on that park bench was, but I have no concrete proof, so I choose to bypass that part and skip right to the thing that she’s entrusted me with.
I say a silent prayer and start at the beginning.
“Julian knew Sam. He’s always known Sam. He knew she and Mary were twins. He treated them both—for more than a decade.”
David’s body has gone completely still. He doesn’t even blink for several long seconds. I’m about to ask him if he’s all right when he finally speaks.
“She told you this?”
“Essentially, yes.”
“And you believe her?”
“I do. But, more to the point, she gave me Julian’s journals. It’s all in there. One journal for each girl for each year from age five to eighteen.”
At this he sits up straight, brows arching high. “Wait, wait, wait—you have his journals? As in his patient case notes?”
“Yes. I’ve just skimmed some of the parts she highlighted for me. Once I realized what it was I was reading, I knew I was in over my head. That’s when I decided to come here. To you.”
He rubs the bridge of his nose. “Seriously? Okay, so, confidentiality violations aside—”
