The Other Twin. Nan Dixon

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      The noise came from the second floor.

      It had been a week since she’d helped Nathan measure. Since then, the work crews always arrived at seven thirty and they only worked on the first floor. This noise was next door. A chill raced over her skin.

      Cheryl threw on yesterday’s shorts, tucked in the T-shirt she’d worn to bed and grabbed her phone. Slipping her feet into her Keds, she hurried to the kitchen.

      The carriage house apartment had two doors. The main door led to the outside steps and down to the Fitzgerald House courtyard. The kitchen door opened into the interior of the carriage house’s second floor.

      Holding her breath, she put her ear to the kitchen door.

      Bang. Bang. Bang.

      She dug out the dead bolt key from the kitchen drawer and paused in front of the door. The key jangled in her shaking hand. Who was back there? Thieves? A homeless person?

      Forcing herself to breathe, she shoved the key into the lock. For Josh and the Fitzgeralds she had to be brave. The Fitzgeralds had done so much for her—saved her. It was her turn to stand up for them.

      Before turning the key, she punched in 9-1-1 on her cell phone, but didn’t hit Dial.

      Inhaling, she unlocked the door and twisted the knob. Nothing.

      She pulled and tugged, then put her foot on the door frame and yanked. The door gave way with a soft whoomp. She stumbled, clutching the knob to stay upright.

      In the dark hall, she waited for her eyes to adjust and her heart to stop pounding.

      A screech of wood on wood came from around the corner. So did a sliver of light.

      Cheryl tiptoed silently toward the light. Her childhood had taught her well. She touched the scar next to her ear. Mama had been a mean drunk.

      Before she rounded the corner, she heard a deep voice swear. Her phone clattered to the floor. As much as she wanted to escape to the apartment and throw the bolt, she didn’t. She snatched up her phone and held her thumb over the dial button.

      “Who’s here?” she called.

      Silence.

      She turned the corner. The door was ajar, weak light leaking out. “I’ve called the police.”

      “Now, why would you do that?” A man moved into the hallway, blocking the light.

      All she could see was big. Big man. Big shoulders. Big hands fisted on his hips.

      “Get out before they arrive,” she whispered through chattering teeth.

      “Cheryl.” The man moved closer.

      The man knew her name. He rushed toward her.

      She turned to run, pressing the dial button on her phone.

      “Wait,” he said.

      She knew that voice. “Nathan?”

      “Did you really call the cops?” he asked.

      She looked at her phone. The call had already connected.

      She pulled it to her ear. “I’m sorry. I didn’t...”

      Nathan’s hands slapped against his thighs.

      “Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?” a woman asked.

      “I...I don’t have one. I dialed accidently.” She forced the words out.

      “Are you sure?” the woman asked.

      “Yes.”

      There was silence on the line. Then the operator asked, “Do you need help?”

      “I heard a noise, but it’s nothing.” At least she hoped it was nothing. What was Nathan doing here?

      After the woman checked one more time, she hung up. What if they sent a patrol car anyway? The Fitzgeralds might decide she wasn’t worth all the trouble she always caused. She shivered. Only last year, Gray and Abby had saved her and Josh from her brother-in-law, Levi.

      “You didn’t convince me nothing was wrong. And I know everything’s all right.” Nathan smacked the wall. “I’ll be lucky if I’m not in jail within the hour.”

      She jumped. “Why are you here? You worked until almost nine.”

      And not just last night, but for the entire week since she’d helped him measure. Not that she was checking on him. While tucking Josh in bed, she’d glanced out the window and Nathan’s truck had still been in the lot.

      “I’m... I just...” Nathan shrugged. “I want to live here while working on this project.”

      “Here?” she squeaked. No way.

      “Yeah. In the carriage house.”

      She hated the idea of Nathan living next door. Even in the dim light she caught his blush. “Why?”

      “You saw how slow I am.” He paced into the room and then back. “This is the first major project I’ve handled for the company.”

      “I don’t understand,” she said.

      “Story of my life.” His fingers rattled against his jeans. “If I’m living here, I can work more hours.”

      “But no one’s lived here in years,” she said.

      He waved her over. “What do you think?”

      She nodded, wanting him to walk in front of her. No way was she letting him get between her and the door.

      He rolled his eyes and held up his hands like he was harmless.

      He wasn’t harmless, but she followed.

      A trouble light hung off a fixture, the orange cord dissecting the room. The apartment was a mirror image of hers. The kitchens backed up to each other and the closed door was probably one of the two bedrooms. Sitting in the middle of the living room was a canopy bed that used to be in her apartment.

      “What was the thumping?” she asked.

      “I moved the bed to access the water valve.” He indicated an open panel in the living room wall.

      “That’s a strange place to put water valves.”

      “It’s probably here because the carriage house didn’t have running water when it was built.” He crouched next to a wrench.

      A wrench could do a lot of damage. Cheryl made herself smaller, less of target. And hated her actions. Her hands formed ineffective fists. All the good years with Brad and she was back to her childhood. Because of Levi.

      “You’re shivering.” СКАЧАТЬ