The Possessed Page 4

  “Okay, when did this happen? What time?”

  “One-thirty pm.”

  “I was insulating someone’s garage at that time. I was there from one o’clock until three-thirty.”

  He scoffed. “Where’s your proof?”

  “Seriously?” My stomach churned at his cruelty. “If you’re just trying to break up with me—”

  “Oh, we’re broken up, you better believe that.”

  That remark felt like he’d slapped me across the face and laughed about it. “You lying bastard. I’ve got a check from a client that proves I was working.”

  “Did that person time stamp it? No? I didn’t think so.”

  He must’ve suffered some kind of psychotic break. Or a major case of paranoia had messed up his mind. Either way, he was obviously dealing with some mind-scarred issues that wouldn’t let him see reason or think clearly. As much as I hated him right now, another part of me wanted to help him, needed him to consider things logically, so he’d realize I hadn’t accused him of committing a crime.

  With his free hand, he removed his phone from the front pocket of his jeans and tapped the screen a few times. A scared, yet determined look came over him.

  “What are you…are you recording our conversation?” I asked, puzzled by his precaution.

  “I’m protecting myself. People will see the truth. I won’t let you kill my career.”

  My entire body clinched as if I’d stepped in quicksand and was afraid to move lest I sink deeper into the muck. I felt as nauseous as if I’d downed as much vodka as Lilah had last night.

  “Leave my office, Jocelyn, or I’ll call the cops.

  “I’ll leave,” I said, tears now blurring my vision. “But I want you to admit you’re breaking things off with me, not because of these lies but because of—”

  “And you’re still denying the truth,” he said, exasperated. “Jocelyn…” He met my eyes with a rage-ridden glare as he pointed at the doorway. “Get the fuck out of my office!”

  Those vindictive words made my insides crawl and set my nerves on edge. Part of me wanted to curl into a ball and pretend none of this happened. The other half wanted to tell him to go to hell and that I was better off without his lying and scheming.

  With tears running down my face, I turned around to open the door, only to remember that I still held the grilled-cheese sandwich I’d brought for him. I wanted him to know what he was missing in blowing me off, so I spun around, hurried over to his desk and set it down before whirling around, scuttling out of his office, and shutting the door behind me.

  I swept through the doorway and whipped the door shut behind me. More hot tears spilled down my cheeks. How could he have ended things so abruptly without giving me a chance to prove him wrong? Obviously, he wanted out of the relationship. He called things off in a brutal fashion, so he wouldn’t have to see or hear from me again.

  I leaned against the wall, wanting to move, to get away from Jake and his deceit, but my heart ached so deeply that I couldn’t budge…until I saw a gorgeous, raven-haired young woman turn the corner.

  When she saw me, a startled expression took hold of her as she came to an immediate stop. She wore hip-hugging lavender jeans and a tight pink T-shirt that accentuated a perfect hourglass figure. The crimson lipstick on her pouty lips opened and her turquoise blue eyes widened. Before setting her eyes on mine, she’d seemed easygoing and confident, but once we’d locked eyes, she looked unhinged. No one with a clear conscience acted so guiltily.

  As though realizing she stared my way, she lowered her head to the phone in her hand, turned in the other direction, and vanished around the corner.

  Jake’s absurd accusation circled my brain while I wondered why this beautiful woman took one look at me and went back the way she’d come. Could those two situations be related? Had she been heading to Jake’s office? Had Jake insinuated that I’d accused him of rape because he’d been seeing this woman, and the rape charge was an easy way out of our relationship?

  There was only one way to find out. I darted after the woman.

  4

  I didn’t want to think Jake had used such a disgraceful excuse to dump me, because whenever we’d argued in the past, he’d always respected me and never lashed out, so his behavior was out of the ordinary for him. Besides, intuition told me this woman had information I needed…that is, if I caught up to her. I picked up speed.

  Soon enough, I took the sharp turn and came upon the woman standing in front of the elevator, tapping her foot and waiting for the number above the car door to stop moving. She looked in my direction, only to stagger in place at the sight of me.

  I slowed to a stop about five feet away from her.

  The elevator chimed. The door opened.

  She started toward it.

  “Don’t try it,” I said, blocking her entry.

  She cringed, looking me up and down. “What’s your problem? Let me in.”

  Unmoving, out of breath, I shook my head. “You saw me and bolted. Why?”

  “Look, I don’t want any trouble.” But her hands curled into fists at her sides.

  I stepped back to show I didn’t intend to harm her. “Are you seeing Jake Tilburn? Is that why you were walking toward his office?”

  “I’m in his class. So what?”

  The elevator door closed, and she winced, possibly because I’d prevented her from leaving.

  “So you admit it, huh? You’re seeing him.”

  “Yeah, so he could tell me why I got a crappy grade on my essay. I thought I deserved at least a B.”

  “But you saw me and decided not to visit him? Why?”

  “Because of what you said and did.”

  I’d never seen this woman before, so I had no idea what she meant. “What do you mean?”

  “That he tried to rape you.”

  “That didn’t happen! Who told you that?”

  “No one. I saw it happen. I was in his class yesterday. By now, everyone on campus knows what you did.”

  Her words felt like a mallet crashed against my head. “You saw it?” How was that possible? I couldn’t have been in two places at the same time. So why did everyone think I’d accused Jake of rape at the same time I was knee-deep in fiberglass? “And what did I say?”

  She drew her neck back as though convinced I’d just escaped a mental asylum. Instead of answering my question, she pulled out her phone. “I recorded it.” She tapped the camera icon on the screen. “I’ll show you.”

  My mind reeled at that thought. This can’t be happening.

  She hit another button on the phone and presented it to me.

  On screen, Jake stood on a wide stage in Albert Hall, talking about how Abraham Lincoln had suggested freeing black slaves in the United States and sending them to Liberia a decade before the American Civil War. A door slammed in the background, and as he began talking about the importance of the Lincoln-Douglas debates, the camera angle swept to the left and captured...me walking down the steps with deliberate, but purposeful strides, my arms and legs sashaying in what I could only describe as an overtly sexual manner. When I reached the floor, my face was mangled, enraged. I rushed up the stage steps to the left, stomped up to Jake, and waved my index finger in his face.

  He stopped speaking and a curious grin overcame him as he turned to me. “Jocelyn, what are you—”

  I slapped him across the face so hard the crack made practically every student in the hall gasp. “You fucking bastard!” I screamed, my voice sounding hoarse yet lively. “I’ll get you fired. I’ll sue you. I’ll fucking ruin your life!”

  Jake rocked on his heels before righting his balance. He put a hand to his cheek before lowering it a moment later. “What’s gotten into you?”

  “You…” I shouted. “You tried to rape me!”

  More gasps and voices flowed from around the hall.

  “What?” he asked, stepping backward as though I’d swatted him across the face again.

  Now watching t
he recording, I wrapped a hand across my mouth, shocked at the proceedings. The real me hadn’t stormed into Jake’s seminar and interrupted him. I hadn’t slapped him. And I certainly hadn’t accused him of raping me.

  I shook my head, trying to find some explanation for this trickery, but this woman had recorded everything live. I couldn’t detect a set-up. The video looked realistic, except, when I looked closer at “myself”, I noticed that I wore dusky eyeshadow and dark red lipstick. I’d teased my hair, wore a tight grey blouse that emphasized my breasts, and a black leather skirt that was too high on my thighs. A black leather purse bopped against my thin arms.

  But my arms were a little thicker than what appeared on the screen. And didn’t the camera add ten pounds? In this instance, I seemed to have lost ten pounds. Plus, I didn’t own clothes like that, and I had no interest in wearing such a brazen outfit.

  On screen, Jake stepped closer to my double, clutched my upper arms, and cocked his head as though confused by the muscles he held. He took a step back, his brow furrowed.

  “Nothing to say, huh?” my doppelganger asked on the screen. “Like rape is no big deal. Just something to do on a fucking rainy day? Everyone will know what you did. You’ll pay for this, you rapist bastard!”

  On screen, I spun around, jumped off the stage, and rushed up the steps and out of the hall.

  The woman was me, only different. She was more confident and more charismatic.

  In other words, exactly like my sister.

  Noelle exercised daily at the local gym. She didn’t have an educational background to lean on, so she spent most of her time off sculpting her body: making sure her muscles were tight and firm, while also using the best cosmetics to enhance her facial features that would also discourage wrinkles.

  Could she have impersonated me? Well, it certainly seemed she’d done just that, but what could have convinced her to do so? And if she’d done this yesterday, why hadn’t she mentioned it to me last night? Surely, the anger that gripped her wouldn’t vanish ten hours later. There had to have been some semblance of rage lingering inside her. So why had she joked around without the least bit of anger or frustration? How could she go from assaulting Jake and accusing them of rape and then joking around with me later?

  And how did she know him? Or his position at the college, much less his class schedule? I’d never even mentioned him to Noelle. For all she knew, I didn’t have a boyfriend.

  My breath cut short, and my heartbeat thrummed to the sound of my pulse. I’d told Jake I had a sister, but I didn’t specify that she looked exactly like me because I didn’t want him anywhere near Noelle. If he liked me, he’d find my sister way more attractive, tons more exciting, and willing to do things that I wouldn’t do before marriage. If I’d introduced them, he wouldn’t hit on my sister, but I’d only known him three months, and while we were growing closer, we were both so busy that we hadn’t really spent enough time in each other’s presence to build a solid foundation for our relationship.

  My fear lay more in whether seeing Noelle would turn him on and make it easy for him to see Noelle…when he looked at me. It had happened many times. Same with guys hanging around me, hoping to get closer to Noelle. In those instances, my sister always told me about their ulterior motives, but it still hurt. I didn’t want either case to happen again, and I’d hoped that if I spent enough time with Jake that maybe he’d grow to like me enough not to have eyes for someone else. Thinking about this now made me realize how I’d been lying to Jake and living in fear. I didn’t want to live like that. We both deserved better.

  Without giving further thought to my actions, I pulled out my phone and called him. His line rang five times before his voicemail kicked in. I had too much pride than to leave a message, so I hung up.

  Past experience had persuaded me to save face. Growing up, my sister had more guys buzzing around her at any given time than I’d have interested in an entire decade. Even though we’d left high school six years ago, our roles hadn’t changed: I was still the geek, and my sister was still the cheerleader, the focal point of every man’s fantasies.

  And Noelle, who had a massive inferiority complex, felt compelled to get as much attention as possible. I truly doubted whether she knew the difference between flirting and simply chatting with men. Both came so naturally to her that they intertwined and became part of any given conversation.

  Despite all that, she was my sister, and up until middle school, we’d been tight: pitching the tent in the backyard during the summer months and playing “would you rather”, switching gifts on our birthdays to get exactly what we wanted, trying to confuse our doctor and dentist about our identities, and so many other harmless, fun-filled adventures. Even with this latest development, I didn’t want to believe my sister had impersonated me and accused my boyfriend of rape.

  “That’s not me,” I said.

  She shrugged as if to say, “Okay, but everyone thinks that’s you.”

  That meant the school would be investigating me and would probably contact me soon about the allegations. My vision skewed, my gut twisted, and perspiration broke out across my brow.

  The elevator dinged, and this time, the woman didn’t miss her chance to leave me behind.

  My thoughts returned to Jake. Why hadn’t he considered that this wasn’t me? He knew I had a sister. Why hadn’t he considered that? Granted, he didn’t know her age, but still. Besides, I certainly hadn’t given him any reason to think that I’d hit him or accuse him of rape. Why hadn’t that registered? Why had he just assumed I’d attempted to sabotage his career?

  If I tried to return to his office, he wouldn’t listen to anything I’d say and maybe call the police. As much as I wanted him to know the truth, I couldn’t approach him. It would only make matters worse. There was nothing worse than being falsely accused, especially when you couldn’t defend yourself and set the record straight.

  Everyone on campus knows what you did.

  I pulled out my phone and logged into my business profile on Facebook, only to discover that Noelle had hacked it and posted the video there soon after she’d confronted Jake. Furious at the idea that prospective customers may have seen the video, I quickly deleted the video from my account and contacted admin at Facebook to do likewise.

  How much damage had it caused? At this time of day, I’d usually have received a couple of calls from prospective clients, but I hadn’t gotten one call since yesterday afternoon…since the moment Noelle slapped Jake. In all likelihood, some potential clients had seen the video, noticed “my” unhinged state, and decided to avoid my business. I prayed they hadn’t shared it.

  My sister had not only tried to destroy my love life, but she’d gone out of her way to obliterate my career as well.

  5

  I spent the rest of the afternoon trying to recall anything I’d said or done that would have turned my sister against me. But I’d come up with zilch. When I got home, the eerie situation in my bedroom came to mind, but I had more pressing issues than worrying about a blanket sliding away from my body or some pounding in the walls.

  I entered the house and promised myself that I would try to listen to whatever Noelle said with an open mind. I suspected she was upstairs in the bathroom, no doubt touching up her makeup. When I spotted Lilah sitting on the sofa, nursing a cocktail, I suspected she’d try to draw me into conversation. That often happened when she sat around all day without human interaction. To avoid that possibility, I acknowledged her with a nod and strode toward the stairs without uttering a word.

  “Mortgage is due,” Lilah said, not bothering to tear her gaze away from a television game show. “Same with the electric, gas, water, and trash bills.” She reached over, grasped her glass of liquor, and took a healthy sip as ice cubes clinked.

  “Thanks for getting the mail,” I said, surprised that she took that much initiative. I’d set up all our bills to come due on the same day of each month so I could handle our obligations at the same time. It seemed
she hadn’t even acknowledged how our bills got paid every month. “I’ve taken care of it.”

  Climbing the steps, I scanned the bottom floor but didn’t see John Doe anywhere. Usually, upon my arrival at home, no matter where J.D. might be lying around, he’d get up and lumber around until he found me. This time, he didn’t make his presence known.

  “J.D.?” I shouted and came to a stop.

  “Why do you insist on breaking the silence to call upon a canine?”

  “The same reason you take him for walks and feed him every morning. Because I love him.”

  “I don’t love—”

  “Yes, you do.”

  Lilah rolled her eyes and flicked a wrist my way, but she didn’t dispute my claim.

  John Doe rambled out from the den and into the corridor, his tongue hanging out of his mouth. Then he spotted Lilah and lowered his head before spinning around and trotting back into the den. He’d often respond that way whenever she’d been drinking, but ordinarily, he’d just overlook her existence.

  Surprised by his response, I turned to my mother. “Is he scared of you?”

  Lilah drew back against the sofa cushions. “No, he’s angry at the world. He’s old and despises the sensation of aching bones.”

  I ignored her sarcasm. Still, if I got home while J.D. was upstairs, he’d always appear at the stairs to greet me, since he’d prefer not to make his way to the lower level. This time, however, he looked excited to see me…until his gaze settled on Lilah.

  “Honestly, Jocelyn, how would I know if he’s upset? He’s a dog. He doesn’t speak. Remember?”

  “You’re right, I seem to remember that being in the owner’s manual the day we got him.” Hadn’t I meant to avoid a conversation with her? Then again, after the day I’d had, I needed to speak with someone, even if it meant accepting or doling out insults.

  “Oooh,” Lilah said, spinning around to cock an eyebrow at me as she practically sank into the cushions. “Did I hear a hint of arrogance in your tone?”