Page 59 of Don't Trust Her

An alarm wails.

I run.

ChapterThirty-Six

My breathing is still erratic, and I can’t stop shaking. The house alarm sounded nearly an hour ago, and I’m still flustered. They must be on to me. There’s no other reason for them to change the code. Maybe I went too far with something. Wore that ugly tank top one too many times? Said something to Peter that clued him into the fact that I’m not his annoying wife? Maybe it was too much change. She’s such a stick in the mud, she might have more rigid routines than he does.

Or maybe the new code has nothing to do with me. They might change it regularly just because. Could be why Peter keeps a record in his wallet. How would I know how often rich people change their expensive alarm codes? People in the mobile home park definitely don’t have cameras and security systems. At least, not in the one I’ve always lived in. Not one person has that kind of luxury, and even if they did, all the people involved in criminal activity would pressure them into getting rid of it. That’s the kind of neighborhood I know. The Dr. Peter Londons of the world are a mystery to me.

After parking on the street near the hotel—I don’t want the van on camera there, either—I close my eyes and try to calm down. If anyone finds me running on their video footage, they’ll think I’m Angelina. They won’t know to come after me. If anything, it’ll give Angie another reason to question her sanity.

This is actually a good thing. Sure, I can’t get into their house anymore, but it can work out for the best. My twin is already teetering, questioning her mind. This might work in my favor.

My pulse slows and almost reaches normal. Now I can head inside, walking with square shoulders and a confident gait. Everything is good. Better than good. And I’ll be able to get back into the Londons’ house easily enough. Just need to get my hands on Peter’s wallet again. Easy-peasy lemon-squeezy.

I take a few deep breaths and try to get into the Angelina mindset. Once I’m feeling like a snooty housewife, I fling open the van door then waltz into the hotel lobby, smiling at the doorman and other employees I meet along the way. I can’t even feel anyone watching me as I make my way to the room.

All I need to do is order some food, get a nap, and maybe have another bubble bath in the jet tub. Then I’ll be ready to mark out my plan. I already know the first step is meeting Peter for coffee in the morning so I can get my hands on his wallet. I need the garage code so I can jump Angelina in the house. Anywhere else is too dangerous. Someone could see me.

If I can’t get the wallet without him noticing, I might need to come up with a backup plan. I’m not sure what that would involve. It’ll be far riskier. That much is certain. But it isn’t anything I can’t handle. I’m up for any challenge those two throw my way.

I unlock the room and pause. Now it’s unsettling that Ican’tsense anyone watching me. After setting off the alarm, I should be on someone’s radar. Maybe I got away with it. By all accounts, it was Angelina running away from her own house. The woman who has been slowly unraveling for the last couple of weeks.

Inside, I kick off my shoes. My feet ache from running, and I can’t wait to climb into the tub.

Someone is sitting on the middle of the bed.

Peter.

My heart leaps into my throat and I let out a scream. Release a long string of profanities, half of which the goody-two-shoes in front of me probably has never heard before.

“Surprised to see me?” He cocks an eyebrow.

I cover my heart with both hands and struggle to find my voice.

“Didn’t think I knew about you staying here and ordering all your meals, did you?”

Does he think I’m Angelina? Or has he figured out who I really am?

“Cat got your tongue, Jane?” He smirks, with an evil glint in his eyes that I never guessed him capable of. Maybe I underestimated the anesthesiologist.

“How did you know?”

He straightens his back. “I watch my credit cards daily. You wouldn’t believe the things my wife buys behind my back. Butyoutake the cake.”

I clear my throat. “I mean, how did you know my name?”

“I always know what’s going on around me. It took me almost no time at all to figure you out. I knew something was up the first time we met. Although, I have to admit, it took me a little while to figure out what was going on.”

“How?” I inch backward toward the door.

Peter shakes his head. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Sit at the table.”

I hesitate.

He whips out a gun from behind him.

“What the—”

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