Mistaken (12 page)

He had several hours before she would return.
More than enough time to find something.
   Her office would probably be the best place to start. He wasn't too keen on rummaging through her bedroom right away anyways. Crossing the living room, Trey turned the handle to her office. It was a small room with one window on the far wall, and two white bookshelves on either side of it.  Two matching writing tables sat across from each other on the adjacent walls. One had a laptop sitting on it. The other, which was closest to him, was scattered with various papers, and folders. An even coat of dust had collected on them and they looked like they hadn't been disturbed in ages.  Or at least in the last year…

His eyes scanned the dusty stack of papers as he closed the door behind him. He recognized his brother's handwriting on a few of the loose sheets. Trying not to completely disturb them, Trey lifted the corners of them. A few appeared to be business letters, with a dark bold company header reading " Level-Up Concepts" at the top. There were a couple of programming books hidden underneath them. It didn't come as a surprise to Trey that he had gone into that type of work. His brother had been into computers ever since they were younger. A bit of a nerd even.

There had been more than a few times that Trey had gotten in fights over someone picking on Jamie for his fondness of all things science and technology. During middle school especially, his brother seemed to be an easy target for bullies. And despite being the exact same size, Trey wasn't. But he had also made his presence known to bullies within the first week of sixth grade.

A few meat-headed eighth graders had decided to beat up his brother behind the bleachers after they saw him reading Popular Science during P.E.  one day. Trey still remembered the day Jamie sat down on the bus next to him with a black eye, and dirt scraped over his cheeks. After interrogating him for the entire bus ride home, he had managed to get the names of his brother’s assailants, then set to work on revenge.

That night while their mom was watching TV, he sneaked outside with garden gloves, trimming shears, and a plastic shopping bag. A sinister grin grew on his face as he clipped off the leaves of poison oak that were growing in the woods behind their house.  The next day, he made his brother point out his assailants in the locker room before gym class.

By that afternoon all three boys were in the nurse's office in complete agony after somehow getting poison oak on their nether regions.  When Trey saw one of them waddling onto the bus he could have sworn he saw tears in the kid’s eyes.  Jamie's face went white with panic as he saw Trey’s mouth curl into a smirk and yell out,
“That’s what happens when you don’t wash your undies!”

“Alex, he is twice your size!”
Jamie hit his brother on the arm and braced himself as he watched the other kid turn around. The boy's face turned six shades of red in a matter of seconds as he glared at Trey, lunging at him down the aisle. Jamie had been right; he was twice his size. Like a large bull storming down the aisle past several gawking students. But Trey was faster. He stepped out of the way right as the other kid reached for him, letting him fall onto his face.

“Fuck with my brother again and I'll do worse than put poison oak in your underwear, asshole!”
Trey yelled, before his shoe connected with the kid’s nose in a loud crunch. He had gotten suspended for two weeks. But those three left the twins alone for the rest of the school year. Toward the end of high school, Trey was too busy getting into trouble to even know what his brother was going through at the time. Trey remembered how ironic it felt, that until the day they were separated, he hadn't realized just how much of a stranger he had become in Jamie’s life.

Trey's hand moved to the small drawers on either side of the desk. Nothing notable was inside the left drawer. Some pens, pencils, and loose change. In the other, there was an old concert ticket that was yellowing around the edges.  Midtown Festival. He picked it up, examining it. On the back Dillan's name was scribbled over a phone number. The infamous mosh pit incident, Trey smiled to himself. He spotted his dad's watch towards the back of the drawer as well. His fingers ran over the cracked glass thoughtfully, before returning the concert ticket and shutting the drawer.

He turned his attention to the other desk, and the laptop that sat open on top of it. Sitting down in front of it, he pressed the power button on the computer, watching the screen flicker on. The main screen loaded, and there was a picture of Dillan and Jamie kissing on the background. A second later, her email program popped up automatically, updating the inbox. The computer dinged several times as a few new messages appeared in the inbox.

He didn’t want to pry, but as her inbox populated it was all too tempting to bypass.  His eyes scanned the subjects. The first one read "Re: Missing therapy appointment", and was from a Dr. Rosenthal.  He hesitated, but clicked the message, opening it in another window.

Dillan,

While I am sympathetic to your situation, and your job, I cannot grant you any more refills of your prescription without another session. Please contact my office ASAP to schedule a session so that we can reassess your treatment plan and get back on track. You've canceled the last four sessions and I still granted you refills, but I cannot keep doing so.

Sincerely,

Dr. Grace Rosenthal

He closed out the email and marked it as "unread", then in the search field, typed in Jamie's name. Thousands of search results came up. Trey started with the most recent. Several were from friends trying to reach out to Dillan, and it appeared that most those emails had gone unanswered.  The older ones were emails back and forth between her and Jamie.

He couldn’t bring himself to read them. They probably wouldn’t hold any answers and he didn’t want to violate her privacy even more than he already had. After turning off the laptop, he checked the drawers of her desk, finding nothing of interest except a small brass key. He picked it up, turning it over in his hand and examining it. Looking around the room he didn't notice anything with a lock though. Maybe it didn’t really go to anything.

Trey's eyes fell on the closet door with curiosity as he stood up, gripping the key in his palm.  He turned the handle and opened it, switching the light on as he grabbed the pull-string. In the far left corner, nearly hidden by winter coats and an umbrella, was a large black trunk with a brass lock on the front of it. The key had to go to it.  Looking behind him, as if he expected Dillan to burst in right then, Trey suddenly felt wary. What would he find in there? Maybe it was just her winter wardrobe...but he had a feeling there was something more in there if it was hidden away in the dark crevices of her office closet.

He grabbed one of the handles on the side of the trunk and pulled it out of the closet, dragging it to the middle of the floor. Trey's fingers fumbled nervously with the key for a second before he heard it click into place inside the lock.

CHAPTER TWELVE

“Alright Dillan... what’s going on?” Kay cornered her in the break room as Dillan was attempting to make herself a cup of coffee.

“It’s a long story... walk with me.” Dillan groaned, rubbing her temple as she headed back toward her office.

“So, you are definitely nursing at least a small hangover today...But what else is going on?” Her friend raised an eyebrow as they walked down the beige hall, their shoes clicking against the black slate tile. Dillan's estimate had been perfect. It had been nearly three hours to the second since she had initially seen Kay outside of her office.  She smirked to herself, absently swirling the stirrer around her coffee cup before she settled down behind her desk. Kay leaned against the wall, her arms folded over her chest. Her eyes were glued to Dillan, waiting for her explanation.

“I did drink last night... not too much. I have been working with my doctor to better figure out my dose for PTSD so that’s more likely as to why I am a little foggy today. Anyways, the last few days I have been spending time with Trey,” Dillan started, taking a sip of her coffee before continuing, “Last night we were at Finley’s and things were okay, we had a couple drinks and we were talking about Jamie....”

“Dillan, I’m sorry but I’m going to stop you right there. Why is Trey still at your apartment? You don’t know this guy and I’m sure that Jamie had a reason for not telling you about him.” Kay's lips scrunched into a disapproving frown. Dillan sighed; she expected this type of reaction. She had just hoped for something different.

“But he is still Jamie’s brother. I couldn’t just kick him out after dropping that kind of news on him, Kay.” Dillan said.

“Fine, I get that…but it’s been a few days now, and past those few things, you don’t know much else about him. Or the reason that he was estranged in the first place.” Kay tried to reason with her. “And it can’t be healthy having your dead fiancé’s twin hanging around, Dillan.”

“Kay… I know you mean well, but I’ve got this under control.” Dillan sighed. At her words, Kay’s eyes narrowed into small slits.

“Do you not remember standing me up the other night? And isn’t this your second time being late this week!?” Kay questioned her.

“I’m sorry I did that to you, but I was having a bad night. Maybe that still doesn’t make up for it, but I am sorry. It may not seem like I am trying…but I am handling things the best that I can.”

“You’re hung-over Dillan....I'm sorry, but how exactly does that count as handling anything? I know this isn't the first time you have come in like this...and if you think Jason hasn't noticed it before, you're wrong.” Her friend’s voice dug into her as Kay leaned against the desk, staring at her sharply. Dillan's eyes shot to her boss's office across the hall, then glared at Kay. Her face grew hot as anger and embarrassment rose up within her.
Does she really have to bring this up here? Kay knows nothing about what I am going through. She is just an outside observer, making quick judgments that she feels are the right ones.
Dillan’s fist balled up against her desk.

“Screw this. I'll finish my work from home today... I'm not going to sit here and be lectured by you on how to deal with losing Jamie, or how to deal with his brother showing up.”

“Dillan, I wasn't trying to lecture you.” Kay’s voice softened.

“No, instead you were calling me out as some mentally unstable alcoholic while we are at work.” Dillan’s eyes flickered toward Kay.

“That’s not what I meant…” Her friend said. It didn’t matter how Kay meant it though, the hurt was evident in Dillan’s eyes as she looked away and reached for her bag.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Kay.” Dillan mumbled as she pushed past her and headed for the elevators. All she could think about was locking herself in her office at home.

I’ll get in some peace and quiet, finish this work…then finally get a chance to talk with Trey.
Dillan could feel her pulse slowing as she neared the exit. With Jason, as long as she brought in everything tomorrow, surely he would understand about her ducking out so early.

Everything will be fine.

***

Trey’s chest ached with sadness as he stared down at the black and white newspaper clipping in his hand.  The headline read, “Local Man Killed in South Midtown”. The picture below it showed medics pushing a covered gurney, with the caption, “Jamie Mcfayden, 28 years old, was pronounced dead on the scene early Friday evening, police currently have no leads”. He was completely overwhelmed with the findings Dillan had hidden inside the trunk. Several articles about the murder that were just like the one he was holding were stacked in a pile in one corner. He thumbed through them, but they all basically said the same thing.

Dead on the scene... fatally shot... no leads...

He put them aside, then pulled out a manila folder with Jamie's name written on the tab.  A stack of papers was stapled together inside. Falk County Police Dept. It was a copy of the police report from that night.  With a deep breath, Trey began reading the first page.

“Jamie  McFayden, 28 year old Male, D.O.A. at  7:35 PM, Friday  June 12, 2009 Cause of death determined to be  severe hemorrhaging and blood loss caused by two .45 caliber bullets entering his chest cavity and  fatally injuring multiple vital organs. A neighbor contacted emergency services at 7:25PM after she reported hearing gunshots and a woman's screams coming from Apartment 503. Dillan Canton, 28 year old female, girlfriend of the deceased, was transported to Midtown Hospital for psychiatric treatment due to exhibiting symptoms of severe psychological shock. Canton is not believed to be a suspect, but still will be questioned upon release from hospital. No eyewitnesses have come forward. All residents of the Ripley Apartment Complex are being questioned.”

The next several pages showed similar information. Nothing new. The police had no clues as to why someone had killed his brother. Nobody had gotten a good look at the killer aside from a statement from Dillan, stating she had seen the back of a large male figure just exiting the apartment when she came into the room. If his suspicions were right, they wouldn't have found them anyways, no matter how hard they searched. Carlos, or whoever he had sent to do it, left town that very same evening. Trey wondered how long it had taken the cops to give up the search.

He picked up another folder that had been sitting underneath the first, and a few papers fell out of it and into his lap. They were hospital discharge papers with Dillan listed as the patient.  He put them back into their folder, stacking them on top of the rest of the papers before looking at the remaining contents of the trunk. There were a few men’s shirts and sweaters folded neatly in a pile. He guessed that they were his brother’s. He also saw a teddy bear holding a valentine's heart, a stack of birthday cards, and a snow globe with two penguins kissing in the middle of it.

Trey was turning over the snow globe to read the inscription that his brother had written with permanent marker when he heard a door slam.