drove away from the apartment. Then the setting changed. It was a hotel and a series of shots through a window. The gap in the curtains wasn't big, but it was enough to get a few clear shots of Katka in her underwear.
“Where is she?” I asked, annoyed that this wasn’t the first thing out of his mouth. “You said you hadn't found either of them, but you know where Katka is.”
“I said you needed to know what I found,” he corrected. “I never said I didn't find anyone.” He leaned forward, folding his large hands on the desk. “And that's not Katka. It's Livie.”
I put the picture on the desk and tapped the picture that clearly showed a tattoo I knew intimately. “Livie doesn't have any tattoos. Katka got that one. It's their initials. Trust me. I've seen it up close and personal.”
“She's registered under Livie Dusek,” he said.
“So they're staying together,” I countered stubbornly. “They're twins.”
“Only one woman is in that room, Mr. Westmore.” Max spoke in a firm, no-nonsense tone, as if that would get through to me. “I did my job. Talked to people at the hotel, at the apartment building, at the places where you said Livie and Katka both worked. No one has ever seen them together. Ever.”
I opened my mouth, then snapped it shut again. I'd never seen them together either. Of course, there were any number of good reasons for that.
“There aren't any pictures of the two of them as adults.” Max gestured towards the grainy newspaper photo. “That's the last picture I've been able to find of the twins together. And there's no record of a Katka Dusek or Duseková in any orphanage in the Czech Republic. Or any paper trail of any kind for her. Only for Livie Duseková.”
“They have passports. Applications for green cards.”
He shook his head. “There aren't any for Katka Dusek.” He pulled out another piece of paper. “But I do have this. And I don't think you'll need a translation to know what it is.”
I picked it up in numb fingers. He was right. I didn't need to read it to know that I was holding a death certificate. And the name on it was clear. Katka Duseková.
“Here's the name of the hotel.” Max scribbled something down on a piece of paper. “And I can keep investigating if you'd like, figure out why she's pretending to be her sister.”
I shook my head. “No, that's fine. I'll take it from here.” I stood. “Send me your bill.”
I was still in a daze as I walked out of the PI's office. Why would Livie pretend to be her dead sister and sleep with me? Was the whole closed-off, no-sex thing just an act? But why? It didn't make sense. She didn't have anything to gain from it. And Katka...my Kat.
My heart twisted painfully.
She was real. She had to be.
A theory was slowly forming in the back of my mind and it would explain everything, but I wasn't sure I wanted to be right. I didn't know enough about it though to know for sure. I did, however, have someone I could ask.
Chapter 2
Blayne
Back in the car, I quickly texted Samuel that I needed the rest of the day off and then drove several blocks to Dr. Fraser's office. With my mother's fondness for anti-anxiety drugs, it was beneficial to have a psychiatrist on the family payroll. Growing up, we'd all been told that if we ever felt the need for therapy, Dr. Fraser was our only option. I'd only gone twice, forced there after an incident my freshman year that had resulted in expulsion from one of the city's most prestigious private schools. She wasn't my favorite person in the world, but as far as shrinks went, she knew her shit.
As always, when the name Westmore was given, other appointments were pushed back and I was sent right in.
“It's not about me,” I said as I sat down.
Dr. Fraser nodded, not put off by my abrupt statement or lack of greeting. She didn't look much different than she had the last time I'd seen her. A little more gray in her dark hair and a few more wrinkles around her eyes, but that
“Where is she?” I asked, annoyed that this wasn’t the first thing out of his mouth. “You said you hadn't found either of them, but you know where Katka is.”
“I said you needed to know what I found,” he corrected. “I never said I didn't find anyone.” He leaned forward, folding his large hands on the desk. “And that's not Katka. It's Livie.”
I put the picture on the desk and tapped the picture that clearly showed a tattoo I knew intimately. “Livie doesn't have any tattoos. Katka got that one. It's their initials. Trust me. I've seen it up close and personal.”
“She's registered under Livie Dusek,” he said.
“So they're staying together,” I countered stubbornly. “They're twins.”
“Only one woman is in that room, Mr. Westmore.” Max spoke in a firm, no-nonsense tone, as if that would get through to me. “I did my job. Talked to people at the hotel, at the apartment building, at the places where you said Livie and Katka both worked. No one has ever seen them together. Ever.”
I opened my mouth, then snapped it shut again. I'd never seen them together either. Of course, there were any number of good reasons for that.
“There aren't any pictures of the two of them as adults.” Max gestured towards the grainy newspaper photo. “That's the last picture I've been able to find of the twins together. And there's no record of a Katka Dusek or Duseková in any orphanage in the Czech Republic. Or any paper trail of any kind for her. Only for Livie Duseková.”
“They have passports. Applications for green cards.”
He shook his head. “There aren't any for Katka Dusek.” He pulled out another piece of paper. “But I do have this. And I don't think you'll need a translation to know what it is.”
I picked it up in numb fingers. He was right. I didn't need to read it to know that I was holding a death certificate. And the name on it was clear. Katka Duseková.
“Here's the name of the hotel.” Max scribbled something down on a piece of paper. “And I can keep investigating if you'd like, figure out why she's pretending to be her sister.”
I shook my head. “No, that's fine. I'll take it from here.” I stood. “Send me your bill.”
I was still in a daze as I walked out of the PI's office. Why would Livie pretend to be her dead sister and sleep with me? Was the whole closed-off, no-sex thing just an act? But why? It didn't make sense. She didn't have anything to gain from it. And Katka...my Kat.
My heart twisted painfully.
She was real. She had to be.
A theory was slowly forming in the back of my mind and it would explain everything, but I wasn't sure I wanted to be right. I didn't know enough about it though to know for sure. I did, however, have someone I could ask.
Chapter 2
Blayne
Back in the car, I quickly texted Samuel that I needed the rest of the day off and then drove several blocks to Dr. Fraser's office. With my mother's fondness for anti-anxiety drugs, it was beneficial to have a psychiatrist on the family payroll. Growing up, we'd all been told that if we ever felt the need for therapy, Dr. Fraser was our only option. I'd only gone twice, forced there after an incident my freshman year that had resulted in expulsion from one of the city's most prestigious private schools. She wasn't my favorite person in the world, but as far as shrinks went, she knew her shit.
As always, when the name Westmore was given, other appointments were pushed back and I was sent right in.
“It's not about me,” I said as I sat down.
Dr. Fraser nodded, not put off by my abrupt statement or lack of greeting. She didn't look much different than she had the last time I'd seen her. A little more gray in her dark hair and a few more wrinkles around her eyes, but that
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