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“Nope.”
Hopefully she’s right. “Did I… do anything?”
“Like what, Mommy?”
I take a deep breath and try to find the right wording for a three-year-old. It’s hard enough for me to figure out what’s going on, although now that I know my lookalike found me, the pieces are starting to fall into place. “Did I say anything that sounded different? Anything that didn’t sound like me?”
“You always sound like you,” she says. “Can I have the ice cream now?”
I don’t know why I expected to get more from her. “Yes. I’ll come with you.”
She smiles and hops to the stairs.
Peter’s already making cones for the kids. Obviously he knew I’d be unable to say no to them after the day we’ve had.
I ask Owen the same questions I just asked Sophie, and his answers aren’t much different. Apparently neither of them even had an inkling the woman who picked them up wasn’t their mom. But they also both insisted she didn’t harm them at all.
After all the ice cream in the house is eaten, I insist the kids get a bath. They assume it’s because they’re sticky. Tonight, I don’t care about that. I want to make sure they don’t have any marks under their clothes. Once I see that with my own eyes, I’ll feel better.
I toy with the idea of letting the police know about the woman impersonating me, but I’m not sure they’ll believe me. And what if they arrest me by mistake? No, it’s too big of a risk. I’ll need actual proof.
Once the kids are in their beds sleeping, I finally start to relax.
Peter wraps an arm around my waist as I stand in Owen’s doorway watching his little chest go up and down. “Want some wine?”
I shake my head. “I feel like it would make me more edgy. I’m already about to jump out of my skin.”
He kisses my cheek. “The kids are safe. Nothing happened to them, and now they’re with us where they belong.”
“Unfortunately, I still don’t feel better. Someone managed to take them from school and convince everyone she was me. The woman obviously knows a lot about me, including my schedule.”
“And the purple shirt in our hamper?”
“Yes! How did she get in here? Did she get a key? Find the code to the garage?”
“Will you let me pour you some rosé? It’s a new brand one of the doctors at the hospital was raving about.”
He knows I won’t turn down a glass of rosé. I relent, and we go downstairs. While Peter opens the glimmery bottle, I tell him everything I’ve learned about doppelgängers in the last couple hours.
If he doubts my theory, he doesn’t indicate it. At least that’s better from his remarks earlier.
He’s back on my side.
“What do you think of the wine?” he interrupts me, not even trying to hide his attempt to change the subject.
I give it another sip. While my senses feel dulled tonight, it’s still probably the best wine I’ve had the pleasure of drinking. “Your friend was right.”
“I’ll have to let her know.”
Her? Why do I assume his colleagues are men? And why does it bother me? I’m normally fine with it. But then again, other days he hasn’t questioned my sanity. And why was he discussing wine with this woman?
These are all questions I don’t have the energy to ask. That’s not true. I could get my voice to speak them, but I’m not sure I could handle the answers right now.
He refills our glasses and turns on a comedy. I sip the sweet drink but can’t focus on the show. Not when there’s someone out there trying to mess with my life. With my kids. She’s gone too far, and I’m going to figure out what’s going on no matter the cost.
Peter gets a call from the hospital and pauses the show to take it.
While he’s out of the room, I pull out my phone and start searching social media for pictures of anyone who looks like me. It’s a long shot, but it’s all I have at the moment. I start by looking at the neighborhood group. Don’t find anyone new. Then I start checking my friends’ and family’s friend lists. But I only get through a few before Peter returns.
