“No one. I just got my stuff and walked out.”
“What room were you in?”
“366.”
She glanced over at me, her gaze uneasy, and looked back at the computer, typing something. “Why are you coming to me now? Why didn’t you come before?”
“I don’t know. I guess it didn’t bother me before, but then I went to see Karen and she wasn’t home.” I bit my tongue, unsure of whether or not I should say what was on my mind. Finally, I decided to come out with it. I met her gaze again. “Her neighbor said we got into an argument. Karen went inside to get a gun and had passed out. I don’t know. I don’t remember any of this.”
“Where is Karen? Is she in the hospital?”
“No.” I shook my head. I didn’t want to tell her anything about Karen right now.
“Is she not home? Is she in Florida? She goes there when she needs to get away. You know Karen doesn’t like to hang around when things get rough.” She shot me a pointed look. “If you two got into an argument, I wouldn’t be surprised that she went over there.”
“Maybe.”
“What was your fight about?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’m having a difficult time helping you here, Eva.” Debbie rubbed her temple with the tips of her fingers.
“I just . . . what if it wasn’t me who went to Karen’s house?” I licked my lips. “What if it was someone else?”
“Someone else like who?”
“I don’t know. Someone else.”
“But your neighbor said she saw you.”
“I know.”
“So who would it be?”
“Someone who looks a lot like me.” I shrugged. “Someone like my sister.”
“Eva.” Debbie sighed heavily, dropping her hands. “I know how badly you’ve always wanted a sister, but come on.”
“I’m just saying, it’s possible.”
“Is it though?” She shot me a look as she opened the first drawer of her desk and took out a file. She opened it and started reading. “Age five, Eva Guerra suggests she saw a girl who looks just like her playing in the park. Age ten, Eva Guerra chased after a family in the mall, losing her mother in the process, because she saw a girl who looked just like her and believed it was her sister. Age fourteen, Eva Guerra claims she saw a girl at a Halloween party who looked just like her, but she couldn’t be sure since they were both in costume.” Debbie shut the folder and looked at me sympathetically. “I’m sorry, but you have an ongoing history of believing this.”
“So you’re saying I’m crazy.” I batted away the tears that pricked my eyes. “You’re saying I’m making all of this up.” I stood up. I couldn’t believe after everything, she was still lying to me. “I shouldn’t have come.”
“Eva, wait. I don’t want you to leave like this. I know how upsetting this is to you, but you need to hear it.”
“I don’t want to. I get it. I’m crazy. I’m bipolar, maybe more. Maybe I’m imagining all of these alternate realities of my life. Maybe I’m doing it for attention. Maybe I’m doing it so Karen can take pity and listen to me. Maybe I’m doing it because I wish I had you as a mom and not Karen. Maybe I’m looking for ways to make my life better, the way we all are.” I wiped my face. “You know who believes me? Dr. Thompson. He believes me and he’ll vouch for me.”
“Oh, honey.” Debbie lowered her gaze.
“What?”
“Dr. Thompson is missing.”
“What?” My heart jumped to my throat. “What do you mean missing?”
“He and his son went on an adventure to climb Mont Blanc and there was an avalanche. They haven’t reported any survivors.”
I stumbled back with the news and ran out of her office, taking my phone out and dialing his cellphone in the process. Straight to voicemail. Fuck. It was just my luck that the only impartial person in the entire world who could vouch for me had now gone missing, or worse.
Chapter Nineteen
Adam
She was drunk when I finally saw her in The Manor. Drunk and alone. I wondered how often she did this. It was clear that the bottle in her hand was her own. We didn’t keep Jameson in stock in The Manor. It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy it from time to time, but on the rare occasion I allowed himself a drink, I chose Glenfiddich. I crossed my arms and pressed my side against the doorframe, just watching her.
“Fuck all of them,” she said, taking a shot. “Fuck all of them.”
“You may want to slow down.” My voice made her jump. “You’re going to pass out, or worse, throw up all over our kitchen.”
“I don’t throw up.” She turned to face me.
Even with a scowl on her face, she was incredibly beautiful.
“You might throw up.” I pushed off the doorframe and walked over to her. “And then you’d have to clean it up because I sure as hell am not cleaning up your vomit.”