The Doppelgänger: A Psychological Thriller Page 13
“There’s the video tape, of course. Detective Jones has evidence of you going into Dr. Williams’ house. Would you like to explain how that happened?”
Darcy shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “There must be a mistake. I’ve never been to Dr. Williams’ house.”
“Are you sure? I haven’t seen the footage but he summoned you for an interview based on the evidence.”
“I’ve never been to Dr. Williams’ house. Like I said, I don’t know him.” It was a lie.
“I haven’t been able to look at the video. Detective Jones isn’t sharing information,” He said. “You remain silent if he asks about the video. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“I think we’ve covered our bases with that. I’ll be with you to cover up for anything else.”
A knock interrupted the conversation. The door opened. Darcy saw a familiar shadow condense into Detective Jones. His piercing grey eyes looked sharply at her. Darcy looked at Mr. Adams mostly.
“It’s time for the interview.” he said in his gruff voice. The lawyer moved to the door. Darcy sat on the chair, frail as glass. She looked at the two men writing for her. Looking up made her head hurt. A throbbing pain filled one side of her head. The hunger mingled with headache and formed a smog of fear.
Darcy stood up and took a step. She felt her head would split open any moment. She was nauseous. She hadn’t eaten anything, but she wanted to puke.
Her mind was heavy with thoughts. The lawyer’s words encircled her mind. He stayed right behind her as she walked down the corridor. She was sure she didn’t meet Dr. Cleo that night. Why would she go to him?
Darcy’s feet stopped outside a room. Detective Jones opened the door. She walked through. The door shut with a thud. Detective Jones moved across the room in a feline motion and placed himself on the chair before her. He crossed his legs.
Darcy sat on a cold, grey chair. Paul Adams sat next to her, his eyes focused on Detective Jones. Darcy sensed nervousness in him. They hadn’t had much time.
The quiet room made her drowsy. She looked at empty chair that lay across the table. To her right was a mirror. Darcy glanced at the other side of the room. She was being watched. She could see nothing but she knew she was being watched.
The door opened again. The second detective emerged. She remembered him from the previous day. He was tall and had a strong, muscular body. His eyes were a deep black and his hair had been shaved off. He sat in the chair facing her. Her face was reflected in a mirror that filled one side of the room. She squirmed in her chair.
Detective Jones turned to her. He placed both his legs on the floor. He cleared his throat.
“I will begin your interview now. You have a right to silence. Anything you say may be given in evidence in a court of law. Do you understand?”
Darcy nodded. Detective Jones’ eyes turned to the notepad. He turned on the recording device that lay at the edge of the table. “Name?” He ticked his pen on the table as he spoke.
“Darcy Godfrey,” she answered instantly.
“Date of birth?”
“Sixteenth September, nineteen seventy-five.”
“Occupation?”
“Librarian.”
“Social security number?”
Darcy spelled out her social security number.
“Have you ever been convicted of a crime?”
“No. Never.”
“Drunk driving? Speeding?”
“No.”
“Family?”
“Excuse me?”
“How many family members? Parents? Siblings? Partners?” the other detective explained, gesturing with his hands.
“Two. My father and my brother.”
“Where do they live?”
“In New York.”
“Where in New York?”
“My father lives in Smithtown. It’s in Long Island.”
“And you brother?”
“New York City. Brooklyn.”
The detective wrote it down.
“What does your brother do?”
“He’s a researcher.”
“Where does he work?”
“Amb-”
Darcy bit her tongue. Adams shot her an encouraging look. Detective Jones pushed a bottle of water toward her. She opened the bottle and gulped the water. Life returned to her body. The images became clearer.
“Where does he work?” Detective Jones repeated the question. His stony eyes closed in on her. His hands moved to the table. It trapped her between the table and the wall.
“Ambrosia Labs,” she replied. She met his gaze.
“Ambrosia labs,” the detective repeated. Darcy fought the urge to close her eyes.
“When was the last time you saw your brother?” he asked, startling her.
“Last year. He visited me after Halloween.”
“How often do you speak to him?”
“Once a week, at least.” Darcy said.
“And you perhaps had a chance to meet Dr. Williams through your brother.”
She coughed.
“Detective, please refrain from putting words into my client’s mouth.” Paul broke in.
Detective Jones backed off. “All right. Where were you on the night of the murder?”
“I told you when you asked me on Monday.” Darcy said.
“How do you explain your presence at Dr. Cleo’s apartment building at exactly nine-thirty on Sunday evening?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Darcy said, turning away.
“Maybe a little clip will job your memory?” he said. He signaled the other detective. He stood up and began playing a video on his iPad. He put the iPad down on the table for Darcy to watch. The screen lit up with an image of the reception of a posh condominium. There was a concierge at the reception who nodded at one of the residents. The cameras focused on the door. Somebody walked in. It was Darcy. Her face was clearly visible coming in. Her back faced the camera when she turned to the reception. She walked to the front desk and signed the guestbook. The concierge called somebody on the phone then, smiled at her. She walked away from the frame. The video stopped.
“I spoke to the concierge yesterday. He said you came to visit Dr. Cleo Williams. He remembered calling him to confirm the details. How would you explain that?”
Darcy was silent. The detective stood up. His shadow stretched over her body. His eyes glowered. “What is your answer?”
“Please stop intimidating my client.” Paul said, standing up.
“I wish to remain silent.” Darcy said. Her fingers dug into the chair handles.
“So you’re going to be silent?” Detective Jones said, backing away. He waved his hand dismissively. His grey eyes narrowed in on her. The lines of his forehead deepened. Darcy shrunk against the back of the chair. “That makes it all more suspicious.”
“I don’t see how Dr. Williams’ murder and Darcy’s visit are linked. Many people visited the condo that day. It could’ve been anyone. Besides, Darcy was there at nine-thirty and the murder took place at ten.”
“Dr. Williams had other visitors that day,” Detective Jones said. “But Darcy was in for the duration of the murder.”
“Do you have any proof to that effect?”
“She didn’t sign out of the guestbook and there is no footage of her coming out -”
“There you go. It could’ve been someone else. For all you know, she came out before the murder. There are forty staff in that building. Twenty of them have access to the apartments. Darcy isn’t more likely than them to have committed murder.”
Detective Jones was silent. Adams flashed a grin at Darcy.
“If there’s no evidence she was present at the cri
me scene at the time of murder, there’s no basis for this case.” Paul Adams said.
“Mr. Hatter spoke to us last evening. He doesn’t remember telling you about Dr. Williams’ second visit,” the detective said. Darcy’s heartbeat grew.
“Mr. Hatter’s has a tendency to forget. He’s getting old,” she said, after a long pause.
“I don’t think he’s likely to forget about a visitor especially since you asked him to keep an eye on your apartment,” Detective Jones detective cut in.
Darcy stiffened. She had forgotten about the stalker.
“I hear you claim you were being stalked,” he whispered. His low whisper sent Darcy’s heartbeat soaring. She heard the rustling of grocery bags in her mind. The dark night. The Victorian lamp. The apartment. The shiny keys. Smokey’s faint mews resounded in her hollow ears.
“Did he-” a glottal stop cut her voice off. The light from the ceiling hit Darcy’s face. It highlighted the lines of fear etched on her skin. “I don’t know what this is about.”
“Were you being stalked?” the other detective cut in.
“I don’t see what that has to do this murder…” Adams said.
“Why didn’t you report it to the police?” The light on the ceiling swung from one end of the room to another. Darcy looked at the concrete floor, the visions changing with the motion of the light.
“Ms. Godfrey?” Detective Jones pressed.
“I wish to remain silent.”
“How many such incidents did you experience? Your neighbor said a photo frame was smashed.” Detective Jones said.
“He’s exaggerating.”
“Your neighbor said you were scared.” The second detective turned to the recording device. Detective Jones was busy writing. “You asked him to keep an eye. That doesn’t seem like an exaggeration.”
Darcy was quiet.
“You lied during our first interview. Your neighbor didn’t tell you Dr. Cleo was in that evening. I’m asking you again, what happened on Sunday?”
Darcy was speechless. His six-feet tall figure sat beside her like a cheetah. His eyes examined every flicker of her eyelashes. He backed off.
“Do you know Dr. Cleo Williams?” he pressed. She was breathless under his unbending gaze.
“I wish to remain silent.”
“You didn’t deny it outright.” Detective Jones said.
“She refused to comment.” Adams interrupted.
Detective Jones leaned back on his chair. “Who is it that you met on Sunday morning?”
“Excuse me?” Paul asked.
“You said you met an old friend on Friday. What is his or her name?”
Darcy shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “I wouldn’t like to name anybody.”
“You said it was one of your classmates from college.”
“He has nothing to do with anything.”
“I need to confirm you were together that afternoon.”
Paul shot Darcy a glance.
“Fine.” Detective Jones sighed. He stood up and made eye contact with the other detective. “Anything you’d like to add?”
He nodded.
“We’re done for now.” Detective Jones said.
“Am I free to leave?” Darcy asked.
“Based on today’s interview, you’re being bailed back. You are required to come back two weeks later. That’s October twenty-eighth. You will be notified of the outcome then. Failure to show up will invite contempt of court. Do you understand?”
Darcy nodded.
With those words, Detective Jones picked up his notepad and left. He slammed the door behind. Darcy remained in the silent room. Her mind filled with possibilities and questions.
Paul Adams and Darcy finished the paperwork and walked out of the police station.
“I’m leaving now. Give me a call if you need anything,” Adams said, handing Darcy his card. “I will represent you for the next interview as well. In the meantime, I’ll work on your case. I’ll give you a call if I need any information.”
“I understand. Do you have my number?”
“No.” Darcy gave Mr. Paul Adams her number.
“See you on Thursday.” He said and walked away.
Darcy reached home at 3:30 in the afternoon. She immediately called up work and called sick. Susan was worried because she hadn’t received a call from Darcy that morning.
Darcy collapsed on her bed and stared at the ceiling. The video that Detective Jones played replayed in her mind. Something felt off. How could she have been there?
Darcy trail moved from the ceiling to the drawer and froze. The blogger. Could it have been the blogger?
But how could she look like Darcy? Unless…unless she was a doppelgänger.
Chapter 14
Darcy stood outside her apartment building after finishing grocery shopping. The sky was dark. A familiar Victorian lamp lit the door. Darcy’s tired eyes skimmed over the scenery. Her heartbeat was stable. October chill bit into her clothes. The hair on her legs stood against her stocking. She glanced at her window. The lights were on.
She took a step. Her legs instinctively drew away from the staircase. A ton of courage sunk to the bottom of her heart and drowned. The thought of seeing Mr. Hatter again made her toes curl.
The door opened. Mr. Hatter emerged. His blue eyes shot her a piercing gaze. Darcy’s fingers instinctively reached for the railing. She moved toward the right side of the staircase. His shadow extended into the apartment building.
“You’re back?” his voice was expressionless. His eyes held her in a questioning gaze. She felt nervousness prick her body. She hated the way he was looking at her. It made her feel like a criminal. She breathing grew shallower. Her eyes enlarged. A familiar feeling spread over her chest. A flame burst before her eyes. She blinked. The image died but the feeling of shock remained.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his tone gentler.
“Hmmm…they got the wrong person.” she explained, twiddling her fingers.
“That’s good, then?” he probed.
Darcy remained silent.
“I told them about the stalker. The police ought to do their job.”
Mr. Hatter’s well-intentioned statements had submerged her in trouble.
“You didn’t do anything, right?” he asked, part hopeful and part suspicious.
“They didn’t charge me,” she said, robotically.
“Good. Good.” He flashed a constipated smile. “I’m heading out. See you later.”
She waved weakly. He passed her by. His form grew distant. Darcy sighed.
The lights were on. She had forgotten to turn them off. Her hands reached for the television remote. Her finger hovered over the ‘power’ button. The detective’s words played through her mind. She dropped the remote. It fell on the carpet.
Her aching legs walked to the kitchen. The refrigerator was empty. She browsed through a stack of leaflets with delivery numbers. She reached for her phone. It was flooded with messages. Her eyes examined the messages from top to bottom.
Susan
Where are you?
Jillian
What happened? Running late?
Susan
Half day?
Jillian
Got the interview recording. Pumped up.
Susan
Will you be taking the day off?
Jillian
Call me
Susan
Call me
Mike
Where are you?
Brian
Check the blog.
Jillian
Call me if you get this message.
Susan
I’ll drop by your apartment later
.
Darcy’s head hurt. Those were just the messages.
Darcy turned on the television. Daily news cut through the uncomfortable silence. Darcy cleared her throat. Her eyes fell on the soup Susan brought her. She turned away. She focused on the dark spot on television. A program on black holes was on.
In the darkness, she saw remnants of her unpleasant childhood. Her eyes focused on the black hole. It was sucking her deeper into her past, deeper into the past she wanted to run away from. She saw his face, again. His pale blue eyes and sadistic smile. He looked at her with suspicion.
“One, two, three…” she heard him count. His voice made her drowsy. His blue eyes inched closer. Darcy closed her eyes.
His blue eyes transformed into her mother’s. Darcy’s breath got stuck in her throat. She was hyperventilating. She wanted to open her eyes, but she was too deep in her memories. There was no light. She couldn’t see the surface.
Memories rushed into her brain. The school. The house. The fire. Familiar images filled her mind. She saw a red barn burn to the ground. She stood outside the barn, her heart filled with fear.
The sky was dark and there was no sound except the chirping of crickets. Darcy’s small body stood on a hill, looking over the red barn that was up in flames.
She ran away from the house. Nobody was following her but her heart beat violently. She ran past a deserted scenery. Acres of farms passed her by. The blades of grass looked sharp, highlighted by the moonlight. Darcy’s feet waddled through the grass.
The scene cut to her house. The house was empty. Darcy’s footsteps echoed. A beam of light emerged from the master bedroom. Darcy walked toward it. She pressed her eyes on the narrow opening. Her mother’s silent sobs filled her ears. Her mother’s small back quivered in the bedroom. Darcy couldn’t see her face.
Blonde hair spread over her shoulders. Her shoulders shook. Darcy’s breath drummed against the wooden door.
Darcy opened the door wider. Her mother turned. She saw the fear in her mother’s eyes. Tears lined her eyes. A sob broke from her throat. Darcy’s heart constricted. She couldn’t see her mother cry. Darcy took a deep breath.