Impostor (7 page)

CHAPTER 9

O
ver the next few days, Linda and Ronald didn’t leave my side. They followed me wherever I went—to every checkup and every X-ray. One of them always spent the night at my bedside. I wasn’t used to having someone care for me like that.

Even Devon visited me every day after school. He always told me funny stories from our—it was strange thinking of it like that—childhood. Sometimes it made me wonder if my own brother would have been anything like Devon if we’d grown up together. I couldn’t even remember the way he looked. My mother had burned every photo of him and my father. It was just one more thing on the long list of things I resented her for.

I bounced my legs, my feet hitting the bed frame.

“Dr. Fonseca will be here any moment. You can’t wait to get home, can you?” Linda’s face was alight with joy.

That was an understatement. After three days of being confined in a hospital room and made to sit through a barrage of useless medical tests—the work of Dr. Fonseca—I felt about ready to burst. I didn’t care where I went. My nose couldn’t take another day of disinfectants and sterility. The smell was burned into my brain forever.

“We’re so glad that you’ve recovered so quickly. Even the doctors said it could take weeks but you proved them wrong,” Ronald said. He and Linda shared one of their private smiles. When they looked at each other that way, I couldn’t help but feel like an intruder. What they had was something I’d never witnessed before, something I desperately wanted.

Witnessing their happiness and hope was like a constant punch in the gut. I couldn’t help but be reminded of how it was all built on lies that were destined to crumble. I knew our actions were necessary in order to find the killer, but I wished there was some other way.

With a knock, the door opened and Dr. Fonseca stepped inside the room. His fingers fumbled with the patient file as he stopped beside my bed. He greeted the family before he turned to me. The edges of his eyes were tight, as if it cost him a great deal to look at me. “How are you feeling today?” he asked. Of course, he already knew the answer.

“I’m feeling great,” I said. “I feel like I’m ready to go home.”

Dr. Fonseca browsed the patient file, though he wouldn’t find anything there that he didn’t already know. Major had ordered him to release me today, so that was what would happen.

“Is everything all right?” Linda rose from the chair and stood beside Ronald, who wrapped an arm around her.

Dr. Fonseca looked up from the papers and smiled tightly. “Yes, the blood test results are good. She’s in good health. But she shouldn’t overstrain herself.” He turned his attention to me. “Lots of rest. No extracurricular sports, and no gym at school. Otherwise, I don’t see any reason why we should keep you here.” The truth was he couldn’t wait to get me out of the hospital. I knew it must be hard for a scientist to encounter a freak like me, who made him doubt everything he thought he knew.

“It’s incredible,” Linda said, unaware of the tension gripping Dr. Fonseca’s body. “She’s recovering so quickly. It’s a miracle.”

“A miracle,” Fonseca repeated. Coming from his mouth it sounded like a curse. “You’re probably right. I’ve never encountered anything quite like this.” I was the only one who noticed the anxiety in his voice and the way he said “anything” with an emphasis on
thing
, like I wasn’t human. If he’d been allowed to, he’d have loved to do tests on me. He’d tried to keep one of my blood samples, despite the orders from the FEA to forward everything to them. Major was furious when he found out. I wished I could have witnessed that episode, but I’d had to settle for a secondhand account from an agent disguised as a nurse.

Fonseca’s eyes hovered somewhere over my head, never meeting my own. “You can go home now,” he finally concluded.

Linda zipped the tote bag shut. She’d already packed it an hour ago.

We left the hospital as a family. Ronald led me with a gentle hand on my back as though he was afraid I’d collapse or disappear.

I was silent during the drive to my new home, trying to memorize every detail along the way. The map hadn’t lied; Livingston was an exceedingly small town. We passed row after row of houses with the same anthracite shingles, beige double garages, and patios decorated with flower beds. Vans with visible child seats were parked in front of every other home and I caught the occasional glimpse of a swingset in a backyard, and yet there weren’t any children playing in the streets. Had their parents forbidden them to go outside while a killer was on the loose?

After just a few minutes we pulled onto a street with the same sort of two-story houses that filled the rest of town, only these were much newer versions. Ronald stopped the car in the driveway. As we piled out, I could feel their eyes on me, waiting for a reaction, a sign of recognition.

I’d seen the house in photos but, of course, they hadn’t given me a sense of home the way it would have meant to Madison. The red flowers in the flower beds lining the front walkway were withered, and from the looks of it, the grass in the front yard hadn’t been mowed in a couple of weeks.

“Do you remember?” Linda asked, her voice hesitant. Ronald played with the keys in his hands as he stared anywhere but at me.

I nodded slowly. “It’s all a bit hazy but it’s coming back.”

This wasn’t what they’d wanted to hear. I knew this wouldn’t be the last time I said something they hadn’t expected. The front door of the neighboring house opened and a middle-aged man with a paunch stepped out, holding a garbage bag. The old I-have-to-bring-out-the-garbage-but-really-I’m-snooping trick.

He strolled toward his trash can, only to stop with badly played surprise when he spotted us. I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes. He dropped the bag into the trash can before ambling over to us. He looked at me with barely disguised curiosity.

“How are you? I didn’t know you’d come home today,” he said. I could see the curtains shifting in a few of the other houses.

“She’s fine but she’s tired,” Ronald said curtly. He squeezed my shoulder and gave Linda a meaningful look. She took my hand and, after shooting a tight smile at the neighbor, dragged me toward the front door.

“Looks like your lawn could use a trimming, my friend,” was the last I heard from the neighbor before Ronald stepped into the hall and closed the door.

Inside, the house oozed comfort and love. Everything was colored in warm beige and yellow tones, and family photos covered almost every surface. Light streamed through the huge, arched windows. The overstuffed sofas were beige, too, and looked comfortable enough to sleep on.

“Do you want to go up to your room?” Ronald asked.

They probably hoped I’d know where to find Madison’s room. Major had said I shouldn’t push the amnesia too far or it would hinder me from investigating, but how far was too far? I tried to recall the floor plan of the house that Kate had drawn after she’d raided Linda’s mind, but it was one thing to see it on a piece of paper and another thing to actually be inside the house.

Tentatively, I ascended the staircase. The fluffy carpet softened my steps and I noted it would make sneaking out of the house to meet Summers or Alec easier. With Linda and Ronald keeping such a close watch while I was in hospital, I hadn’t gotten the chance to communicate with either of them.

At the top of the stairs I was greeted by a long corridor with three doors on either side. Madison’s door was on the right, but which door? Devon’s room was beside mine, that much I could remember. I glanced over my shoulder at Ronald and Linda, who followed on my heels. They watched me like I was a toddler about to take her first steps. I was touched by their constant monitoring, but it opened endless possibilities for me to slip up.

Thankfully, Ronald chose that moment to take pity on me—or maybe he just couldn’t stand the waiting anymore—and opened the door in the middle. The room was much bigger than any of the ones I’d had back with my mother, and it was spotlessly clean and smelled fresh and faintly flowery.

A vase with white roses waited on the desk beside the bed, the same white roses that decorated the pattern of the blankets and the two large photos hanging on either side of the bed. They must have been Madison’s favorite flower. A huge black and white cat lay curled on the pillow—Fluffy. His eyes opened to watch me warily. I walked over to him but as I got close enough to touch him, he jumped off the bed with a hiss, bristling. He scuttled out of the room as if the devil was after him.

A tingling started in my toes and traveled up my ankles. I pressed my legs together, turning away, hoping they hadn’t seen the panic on my face. The tingling disappeared as fast as it had come.

Ronald and Linda hovered in the doorway, watching me anxiously. Would Fluffy’s reaction make them suspicious? Linda let out a nervous laugh. “He hasn’t been himself since you left. I bet if you open his can tonight, you’ll be his favorite person again.”

“He smells the hospital on you. He’ll come around soon,” Ronald added.

I touched the soft rose petals. They felt like velvet. “They’re beautiful. Thank you,” I whispered. That raised a smile from both of them as though I’d given them a beautiful present just by acknowledging their gift.

“We’re having chicken casserole for dinner,” Linda said. I could feel her and Ronald’s eyes on me, waiting for a reaction. What did they expect? Was chicken casserole a cue for something important? Their faces fell.

“Your favorite food, remember?” Linda asked.

“Sorry. Yes I remember. I’m just tired.” It wasn’t even a lie. Pretending to be someone else 24/7 was already more tiring than I’d expected. Linda came toward me and kissed my cheek. “Get some rest. We’ll be downstairs if you need anything.” With one last look, they closed the door.

My legs quivered, forcing me to plop down on the bed. The mattress was much softer than the one I was used to at the FEA, and it smelled like roses. Linda probably bought rose-scented softener just for Madison—for
me
. I longed to change back to my own body, to feel the pressure lifted off my shoulders, but I knew that wasn’t an option.

My eyes fell on a smattering of photos in a framed collage on the wall over the bed. I got on my knees to get a closer look. The photos showed Madison with her family, on the beach, with Devon on swings. Several of them showed Madison with another girl. Ana—her best friend.

I dragged myself toward the desk and sank into the chair. Madison’s laptop looked brand new and took almost no time to load. After logging on to the FEA homepage, I clicked on the file to access my e-mails. Three were new. One from Holly with a smiley face and lots of exclamation points in the subject line, one from Major titled
IMPORTANT,
and the last from Alec, without any subject heading at all.

I opened Alec’s first.

Tess—Keep your guard up. Anyone could be the killer. See you tomorrow. Remember—we don’t know each other. Alec

Jeez, couldn’t he have said a few nice words? So typical.

I clicked on Major’s e-mail, which managed to be even shorter.

Meeting @ Summers’s house. Tomorrow 11
P.M.
sharp. Expect status update.

Major never bothered with pleasantries. And what did he mean by “status update”? Did he think I’d found any clues already? I hadn’t even started searching—not really. Though I was already sure neither Devon nor Ronald had anything to do with the murders.

I opened Holly’s e-mail last, but it was several pages long and I only skimmed through it.

I miss you so much . . . How’s it going?? . . . Headquarters is boring without you . . . Everyone seems to be busy with something, except for me! . . . Louis is filling in for Summers but Variation training with him is even less fun . . . Kate is as mean as ever . . . Stay safe!

I shut the window with the e-mail, logged out, and closed the laptop. I’d read her update in detail later. For now, I needed to gather information.

Maybe Madison had kept a diary. That could give me hints about her reasons for breaking up with Ryan and tell me if she’d noticed anything strange. Pushing the chair away from the desk, I opened the only drawer. Rummaging through it uncovered nothing but two old pocket calendars, some blank writing pads, and a few faded movie tickets. Madison had been very tidy—unless Ronald and Linda had cleaned before I came home. Besides the vase of roses, the laptop and a stack of school books were the only items on the desk.

Where would I keep a diary if I had one? I got down on my hands and knees and peeked under the bed, but apart from a forgotten sock and something that looked like a toy mouse for Fluffy, there was nothing. I doubted Fluffy would come back to retrieve his toy. From the looks of him, he might never set foot in this room again.

Sitting on my haunches, I looked around the rest of the room, trying to suppress my growing feelings of guilt. Madison was dead and here I was, completely invading her privacy.

A few shoe boxes were piled up inside the open closet. I crawled over to them and opened the one on top. I was greeted with more photos of Madison with friends, particularly Ana. One of them showed Madison with the other cheerleaders, and I recognized one of them as Kristen Cynch, the killer’s second victim. Had she and Madison been friends?

I set the box on the ground and opened the next one, which was filled with old picture books. I brushed my fingers over the cover of
The Very Hungry Caterpillar
. The pages were crinkled with use. Linda and Ronald must have read it often to Madison when she was a child. I hesitated for a moment before I finally put it away.

I went through every single box, nook, and crevice but nothing gave me a hint about why Madison had broken up with Ryan, or about her relationship to any of the other victims. I felt slightly defeated, but what did I expect?

• • •

That evening I had my very first family meal. Dinner with Linda, Ronald, and Devon was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. Everyone waited for the others to finish eating, shared the details of their days, laughed at one another’s jokes. I couldn’t believe I got to be a part of it.