Another Sliding Door
By A. Rhea King
Author's Note: Epilogue to 'A Fistful of Skeletons'
It had been a slow night for the lab, and Officer Randy Belachi was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. The words on his Kindle kept blurring and unblurring. He had been considering for some time now getting up and getting a cup of coffee. That left two problems however – the reception desk of the lab unattended, and the fact he'd actually have to move his weary body.
The phone ringing made the words become suddenly clear. He snatched up the receiver.
"Front desk."
"Have you seen Stokes?" night supervisor D.B. Russell demanded. He never said 'hello' when he called the front desk. He reserved that greeting for in person.
"Nope."
"When you see him, tell him I'm looking for him."
"Sure."
Russell hung up. Randy looked down at his Kindle to try reading again. He only got one sentence read when he heard the elevator open. He looked up, watching the person step off. He smiled, watching Nick approach the desk.
"Hey Nick. Russell's looking for you."
"I was… What?"
Randy smiled. "Russell just called up here looking for you. You should give him a call."
Nick smiled but it wasn't Nick's smile. Randy couldn't quite put his finger on how he knew that, but this smile was completely wrong.
"I'm looking for—"
Randy knew something was wrong now. Nick's accent was a thick, deep Southern drawl rather than a light Texan accent. And then there was—
Before Nick could finish or Randy could question him about the strange changes, Hodges burst into the room proclaiming, "I am a genius, Nick! I have solved your barrel roller case!" Hodges offered up a bow with a roll of his hand. "King of the lab!"
Nick chuckled.
"King of morons," Randy almost said under his breath.
Hodges shot him a glare, but it was short lived as he went on. "The tarry substance on his arm was actually—"
"There you are," Randall said as he rushed into the reception area, carrying two field kits. "We have to go." He pushed one of the kits, presumably Nick's, into his hand. "We have six bodies, and an exploded house." Randall started for the elevator. He didn't notice that Nick didn't follow him as he continued, "It was a small explosion I'm told, but—" Randall stopped, looking back at Nick. "Come on, Nick!"
"D.B, I think—" Randy began as Nick started with, "I can see that—"
Russell cut them both off. "Do not tell me how backed up with work you are. Greg just tried that and I don't care. We are all backed up. Let's go."
Nick looked helplessly to Randy, and that's when years of being a police officer kicked in and his instincts told him there was a problem.
"D.B., I really don't think he's—" Randy started.
"Do not encourage him, Randy. Nick, come on."
He looked at the faces around him, then down at the kit he held.
Randy tried again. "Sir, I—"
"You two are really trying my patience tonight, know that? Nick. Now. Let's go."
With a shrug Nick followed Russell.
Hodges started to walk away.
"Lab rat," Randy called out.
Hodges turned, glaring at him. "Hodges. Or David. Or Mister—"
"When did you last see Nick?"
"Here. Same as you."
"I mean before you came up here."
"I… In Q.D. Why?"
Randy nodded. "Thanks." He picked up the phone, punching in a number.
Hodges walked away, leaving Randy to do his work.
#
Russell got into the Denali and sat his kit down in the back. He started the car and turned to speak to Nick – only to find him standing outside of the Denali, staring at him.
"What?" Russell asked.
Nick said something Russell couldn't hear. He rolled the window down.
"What?"
"I think there's been a misunderstanding," Nick told him with a deep Southern accent.
Russell stared back at him. "What kind of misunderstanding?"
"Well, I think you want me to go work with you but—"
"Nick, get in the vehicle. If this is a joke or a bad mood, I don't care. We are up to our armpits in calls tonight and I do not have time for this."
Nick started to protest.
"Get in the car, Nick."
Nick's mouth hung open for half a minute. He snapped it close, got in, and sat his kit between his feet.
"Mister, I think—"
"Oh for Pete's sake, Nick. Drop this… Whatever this is tonight." Russell threw the Denali in reverse and backed out. He drove down the parking garage ramp. "What has gotten into you tonight? You were cranky when you came to work, something about that D.A. you love so much, and then you messed up a simple blood type test, and now you're acting and talking strange. And why are you wearing that wig?"
"Wig, sir?" Nick asked.
"You sound like you're from Alabama. Why? And why are you wearing a wig? What's with the long hair?"
"I… Well, I… Oh man!" Nick started to chuckle. "I get it now! This is a hoot! Oh man this is a hoot!" Nick held his stomach as his laughter grew louder.
Russell was confused. "What is so funny?"
"You… And Nick… I think… Oh…" And that was all Russell could understand. Nick laughed he began crying. He waved his hand at Russell. He attempted to speak but it only came out as a jumble of sounds.
Russell let out a frustrated sigh. "Crazy kids."
#
Randy stood outside the men's bathroom, staring at Sara.
"You're sure?"
She answered, "I know what I saw."
Randy glanced at the door. He reached out to push the door open.
"So, wait, Randy. You're going into the men's bathroom to find Nick and you can't wait because..."
Randy looked at her.
She grinned. "Is this a prank? Are you going to pull a prank?"
"No. This is not a prank, Sara."
"Well, Randy, this is really weird, and you don't do weird. Ever."
"If my hunch is right we have a problem tonight and it starts with him. Just wait here and if he runs, stop him."
"Why would—"
Randy was in the bathroom before she could finish.
No one was standing at the sinks, but he saw two pairs of shoes under in bathroom stalls. He unsnapped the safety strap on his holster.
Randy cleared his throat. "Nick?"
Silence.
"Nick Stokes."
From behind one of the stall doors came a very suspicious, "Yeah?"
#
Nick stopped laughing by the time they reached the crime scene, but he was still drying his tears. The laughing fit did nothing to make Russell any happier with him. He stopped a little too hard at the edge of the debris field, grabbed his kit, and got out. He didn't look back to see if Nick was following.
Russell approached the fire marshal.
"Russell," the marshal greeted him.
"Russell. It is Russell, isn't it?" Nick called out. "We need to talk."
The fire marshal glanced back but Russell didn't. He heard Nick stop behind him and clear his throat.
"So we think the fire—"
"Russell, was it?" Nick asked.
Russell turned. "Not now, Nick." He turned back to the fire marshal. "Go on."
"I was saying, we think the—"
Russell's phone started ringing with Nick's ringtone. He heaved a heavy sigh and turned to tell Nick to stop calling him. Nick had his hands in his pockets and wore such a wide grin that it would have been easy to believe he had been behind the fire that caused the house to explode.
The phone stopped ringing.
"Why are you calling me?" Russell asked. "What is wrong with you tonight? You are acting… Like you don't even know how to do your job. I have half the mind to fire you on the spot!"
"Ah, now, there's no need for that, sir. I mean, this whole thing has been a hoot, but firing my—"
The ringtone started again. Russell dug his phone out, thinking that maybe the ringtone was somehow associated with another name. However, the screen read NICK STOKES. He looked at Nick, who hadn't moved or stopped grinning.
"Let me guess." He pointed at the phone. "Nicholas Stokes is calling you? I can tell. That look says it all."
"How are you…" The phone stopped ringing. Russell looked at it. Within seconds the phone began ringing again. Russell answered it. "Russell."
"Where are you?" Nick's voice asked.
Russell dropped his field kit. "Nick?"
"Yeah. Where are you? We have a problem."
"Where are you, Nick?" Russell asked.
"At the lab, where you left me. Where are you?"
"At a crime scene, with you."
"Naw, man. That ain't me!"
"Who are you?" Russell asked the imposter.
"Dean." He stuck out his hand. "Dean Nolan"
Reactively Russell shook his hand.
"Is that Nick?" Dean pointed at the phone.
"Ye-Yes."
Dean's smile exploded. "Ah… I've waited my whole life to meet him. Even before I knew his name. I'd be obliged if you'd take me back to that building. I showed up tonight to meet my brother. I'd like to do that now, if it's all the same to you."
"Wow, Russell… This is a strange one," the fire marshal said.
Russell nodded, because he didn't know what else to do. Nothing in his life prepared him for something quite this strange.
#
But then, nothing in his life had prepared him to be sitting in between two men identical – one grinning happily and swearing they were twins, the other staring suspiciously at him and rejecting the idea.
"I do not have a twin brother," Nick repeated for the twentieth time.
"Yes you do, Nicholas. Me."
"No. I would know if I had a twin brother. I'm pretty sure that's something my mother would have remembered having."
Dean wagged his head. He stood up, surprising Nick, Randall, Detective Brass standing at the door, and Under Sheriff Ecklie sitting across from him. Nick's hand went to his gun, everyone else went on guard. Dean hesitated, staring at them, his hand half way around his body.
"Shit, fellas… I could cut the tension in here with a steak knife!"
"You show up at our lab, claiming to be Nick's twin brother, which he doesn't have," Brass told him. "We aren't exactly falling for this."
"Easy there fellas." Dean motioned them down, the same as he would an upset dog. "Easy. I was getting my proof. Just… Relax."
He reached slowly around to his back pocket and pulled out folded papers. He sat down and the room relaxed. He slid the papers to Nick.
Nick opened the papers, looking each over, laying them out as if they were evidence in a case. He sat back, his hard stare on Dean seeming frozen. No one spoke. Russell felt as if he shouldn't even breathe. This was Nick's pissed off stare. The one where he tore apart the suspect and left them scrambling for the weak alibi they just dropped. This was the one which—
"I want a DNA test."
Which was calm. Russell slowly turned his head, staring at Nick. Nick wasn't angry? He suddenly realized Nick was starting to believe this man.
"A DN… I'm sorry, but that's not something I can afford."
"I'm not asking you to pay for it. I—"
"We cannot afford that, Nick," Ecklie told him.
"I think we can make an exception," Russell said. Because he suspected that Nick might be starting to believe this man and the DNA test would be the only thing stopping him from trusting this doppelganger.
"Okay. Let's do the DNA test," Dean said.
Nick got up and left, without a word. It left Russell, Brass, and Ecklie looking at each other, none of them sure what the next action should be. Nick returned wearing gloves and with a capped swab. He walked over to Dean and stopped moving. The two stared into each other's eyes as if the close proximity had awakened some primitive creature in them, one that recognized the other half for what it truly was. It made Russell even more convinced this DNA test had to happen.
"Nick," Russell quietly said. "The DNA test."
"Open your mouth," Nick said.
Russell had expected the command to be harsher.
Dean complied and Nick swabbed his cheek. He capped it, then pulled a pen and index card from his back pocket. He sat those down in front of Dean.
"Write down how I can contact you and then you're free to leave. If this turns out positive, I'll be in touch."
"I've waited thirty-seven years for tonight," Dean told him with a smile. "I can wait a few more days."
Nick slowly nodded. "That was my thought too."
"If we're going to do this, Nick, shouldn't you run more than a cheek swab?" Ecklie offered.
Nick left without answering. Ecklie inhaled and it was loud in the silent room. He looked at Dean.
"I want blood too," Ecklie told him. "Write down what he asked. I'm going to get someone for that."
Before Ecklie reached the door Dean happily told him, "Take your time, sir. I got all night."
Ecklie looked back at him, at the smile on his face. Everything about him so closely mirrored Nick, but only closely. His smile was lazier, his accent was thicker, his hair was longer, there were tattoos on his arms. They were different, but not enough that this could be an accident.
Ecklie walked out. Russell gathered the papers, looking at them. Two birth certificates, two boys, similar names, same date – twins. There was a copy of a newspaper article about a woman who died two days after giving birth to twins. She left behind a daughter along with her boys. There were a couple photographs of either Nick or Dean as children, and at these ages the two were easily mistakenly identical.
Russell looked at Dean. He watched him write for a couple of minutes.
"He was never told he had a twin brother."
Dean stopped, looking at him. "I know."
"You know?"
"Yeah. When I finally found his parents, I guessed that on my own. It was likely they never told him as unhappy as they were to meet me."
"So you thought you'd drop into his life and expect this to go great?" Brass asked.
"Oh, laws no! I mean, I had hopes it would but before I came I read about Nick in the papers and all those articles in those journals he published. I got the impression he's smart, smarter than me, and I guessed that in his line of work he'd make sure all the p's and q's were in order before he'd believe me. I'd expect nothing less from my brother."
"He's not your brother yet," Russell told Dean.
"Yes he is. He just doesn't believe it yet. But I read up on DNA and it won't lie."
With that, Russell had nothing left to say. Apparently, Brass didn't either because he left the room. Dean went back to writing.
#
Russell walked into his office and stopped. Nick was slouched in a chair, staring at a piece of paper.
"Are those the DNA results?" Russell asked.
Nick nodded. Russell walked around his desk and sat down, watching Nick. His eyes never left that piece of paper.
"Henry ran a STR and a PCR, twice. The DNA kept hitting on my profile. Greg didn't believe it, so he ran it four times. He even tried some new test that came out, but it just hit on my profile."
"Dean is…" Russell stopped. There was a miniscule chance that someone in the world could have the same DNA as Nick, but to also look exactly like him was like waiting for a raindrop from a sprinkle to land in a thimble. The odds were just too extreme.
"He really is my twin brother. Someone my parents never told me existed. When I tried to call them tonight, I hung up because I was…" Nick grimaced and looked out into the lab. "They never told me. They never fucking told me."
"Nick."
He looked at Russell.
"Nick, speaking as a father, I have to say I can see both sides of this. I'm sure that your parents had a reason for not telling you. I don't know if it was good or bad, but if I had a reason not to tell either of my children, I know that reason would be good in my mind. But you have a right to be mad at them! They didn't tell you about this part of your life and they should have, at least before you were almost forty."
Nick smiled, but it faded fast. He looked at the paper.
"But none of that really matters right now. Only this does." Nick lightly rustled the paper. "And a man who looks like me."
"Yes. You know what… Why don't you take some days off? We've got things under control for a while. Go get to know your brother, Nick. Find out what his life has been like all these years."
"Yeah?"
"You bet. Go on."
"Thanks Russell."
"Sure. Let me know how things work out, or if you need anything. Just call."
Nick got up and hurried out. Russell smiled, but he was left to wonder what would happen when the two brothers sat down for the first time.
#
Nick hadn't been this nervous in a long time. He hadn't felt butterflies fluttering around his stomach for years. Or that all familiar stone of uncertainty smack dead in the middle of his chest.
He was startled when Dean slid into the booth across from him. His brother smiled, and Nick returned it.
"Hi," Nick said.
Dean nodded a little. "Howdy."
Nick nodded. "So… You know where I grew up. Where'd you grow up?"
"Georgia."
Nick laughed.
"Nick," the woman sung.
He ignored her. Nick's new brother was far more important than some voice in his head.
"What?" Dean asked him.
"Ever since I was eight I wanted to visit Georgia."
The woman sounded frustrated when she snapped, "Nicholas Stokes!"
His next question was serious. "Do you know why our parents separated us, Dean?"
Dean sobered and shook his head. "My ma said we, my sister and I, were on our own when they adopted us from a place in Georgia. I was four then and you weren't with us, so we had been separated long before."
"Earth to Nick," the woman called.
"So your parents are your second parents?"
Dean nodded. "Yeah. I found out my first folks died in a car wreck and I guess no one in that family wanted us, or else they didn't have any family. Not sure which."
"I'm sorry, Dean."
He smiled. "No need to be. It's all worked for the best, I think. Besides, Fate is a fickle little woman."
"Isn't she though?" Nick agreed.
"Nicholas Parker Stokes!" the woman snapped. "Look at me!"
Nick turned his head…
#
"NICK!"
Nick blinked. For a minute, maybe two, he stared at the woman staring back at him. He watched her face move as she sat down on the couch next to him. She was worried about him.
Then, like someone had snapped their fingers to bring him out of hypnosis, Nick knew that he was sitting on the couch in the break room of the lab next to Morgan. He smiled and looked away, clearing his throat that he realized was dry.
"I said your name like six times and you just sat there staring. I was worried that… Are you okay?"
He almost nodded, but instead sighed. He rubbed his face to chase away the daydream. It had been so vivid and real, almost within his grasp. But the reality was that it was, and always would be, just a daydream. Dean was dead. When his wife, lost in her own unstable mental state and jealousy, had caught him cheating on her, she had killed Dean and his lover, greedily stealing a piece of Nick's past.
"Want to talk about it?" Morgan quietly pressed.
Nick considered that. He didn't talk to anyone about those daydreams, but then, they usually came when he sat in traffic until someone laid on their horn, or at home causing him to miss an entire basketball game or newscast.
"I was wondering…" Nick hesitated. How do you tell someone you fantasize about your dead brother?
"Wandering? Where were you wandering to?"
He quietly chuckled. "No, Morgan. I was wondering, guessing." He shook his head at the inaccuracy. "No. I was just daydreaming."
Morgan smiled, leaning in. "Was she cute?"
Nick had to laugh at the question. "I was daydreaming what it would have been like to meet Dean."
She leaned back against the couch. Had he said too much? Nick looked at his hands, at the cold cup of coffee they held. His eyes traveled to the forgotten work on the coffee table. Pictures of a woman murdered, blood splattering her alabaster skin and death clouding her blue eyes. Her blond hair swirled around her, but her roots told him she was a brunette. Nick's mind began to work on the case, moving past what he'd said.
Or it did until Morgan asked, "So how did you two meet in this daydream? What was he like?"
Nick looked at her. He blinked. He had never been asked that question by anyone, except his daydream. So he smiled and she reflected it.
"I always imagine he found out where I worked and showed up. There'd be some confusion, people thinking he was me. I'd be surprised, probably in denial. But the DNA wouldn't lie, the truth would still come out. And… We'd have coffee. We'd talk about our families and growing up. We'd get to be…" Nick laughed. He sat his coffee next to a report. "Well. That's that."
"We'd get to be what? Spill it."
Nick sighed, sitting back. When he was seventeen, he'd tried to talk to his dad about the first girl he'd slept with a year before. It had been an awkward, uncomfortable conversation, and neither of them really wanted it to happen. That's how this felt.
But unlike his dad, Morgan didn't get up and walk away when he stopped talking. She sat and waited. She was interested and that encouraged him to keep talking.
"It sounds cliché, but I always felt off growing up. Well, even after I grew up. I felt like there was a piece of my life that was the wrong shape for my life. It's really hard to explain, I guess. After I found about Dean and, well… The parts all fit now."
"You feel complete?"
Nick nodded. She was intuitive, wasn't she?
Morgan slid closer to him, resting her hand on his wrist. He met her eyes and she smiled one of her brilliant, glowing smile that lit up the room. He couldn't help but return it.
"I've heard a lot of studies about twins, Nick. Read a lot of them too. Twins are unique, I think. They started out as one egg, so even after they separate and become two people, they're still not whole without the other. You weren't whole and something deep inside, something primitive even, knew that, but it had no way to tell you that. Enter Dean and the truth. You now know about the other half and that primitive side of you is satisfied." She laughed at herself, blushing a little. "Does that sound stupid?"
"No. It sounds right. Perfect and right."
Morgan's smile softened. She looked down but he didn't. He watched her face. He was daydreaming again, but this time, the other person in the daydream was very much alive and real. Maybe, someday, he might mention these daydreams to her.
Then again… Some daydreams were better left unspoken.