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DOPPELGANGER

Chapter Four


"Alright! Get up!"

Carlos had a difficult time waking up, his eyes burning from the impact of the flashlight's rays in them. He tried blocking the light with his hands only to have the sheriff yank his hands into a set of handcuffs and jerk him up to his feet. Still half asleep, Carlos was led out of the dank, dark prison cell to the adjacent room which was extremely well-lit by the morning sunshine. Part of him was thankful for the light pouring in. The other half of him was wishing he was asleep dreaming about Kath again. Not that the latter was actually happening of course.

"Have a seat," the sheriff urged, practically throwing Carlos into the wooden swivel chair beside the desk. The sheriff took his seat behind his desk and picked up the phone, staring across at Carlos as he waited for the call to go through. "He's here," was all he said before hanging up the phone.

Now somewhat awake, Carlos was able to gather his thoughts into logical sentence formations. "So do I get another phone call? Or what is it you have planned for a hardened criminal like me?"

"Smart mouth you got there," the sheriff smirked. "Best you control that tongue of yours if you think you got a snowball's chance in hell of making it out of this. Meanwhile, I got a passel of news fer ya. Seems my deputy is going to make it after all. So yer not looking at the electric chair."

"That's comforting I suppose," Carlos scoffed, his eyebrow raised with enough sarcasm to get his point across. "Do you feed prisoners around here?"

"Yep. That's just what I was doing just now. Callin' in yer room service."

Just then the door jangled open, that same prissy waitress sauntering in with a tray of food. Carlos couldn't help but chuckle at the pretty face before him, noticing how blatant her flirting techniques had become as she batted her eyes at him, not hardly looking at anything or anyone else the entire time.

"Louise!" the sheriff snapped. "Get a move on. He's a prisoner, not one of your victims."

"Victims?!" Louise huffed a sighed and stormed away, slamming the dilapidated door behind her.

"Geez," Carlos cocked a cautious smile. "Sensitive girl you got there."

"Oh, you have no idea!" the sheriff laughed. "She's my daughter. What I wouldn't give to see her married off or sent to Mexico or something."

"Don't you think that's a little harsh?"

"Hardly! It's all she ever talks about. Exotic men from far away."

"I guess I fit her profile then."

"Unfortunately so," the sheriff flashed a glare Carlos' way, the latter raising his hands to indicate there was no way he could eat with his hands constricted as they were. The sheriff heaved a sigh and stood to take the cuffs off of Carlos. "I don't know why I feel I can trust you."

"Conviction maybe?!"

"Hardly. We have eye witnesses that say you shot my deputy. I hate you like old lady Jenkins hates sin. But you seem like a nice enough fella. Now eat up before I change my mind."

Carlos wasn't going to argue. As he ate the rather second-class breakfast, he began to consider his options. The sheriff seemed like the only one he might could make an ally of. But that was cutting it close. He began to regret pushing Katheryn away when she said she wanted to come. But what could she do? He didn't want her getting twisted up in this scheme too. Most of all, he knew the sheriff was lying. They weren't going to let him go so easily.


Trent gently traced a path up the loft office in Thunder Karate wanting nothing but to rid his mind of all the clutter it was filled with. There was a stack of paper work plaguing him that was sure to help him stop thinking about the one thing he couldn't stop thinking about. But a scoff flew from his lips as he failed to escape the ringing phone on the main floor.

"Thunder Karate," Trent answered before he could change his mind and flee from the place as if she was going to be the person on the other end. The silence on the other end began to worry him. "Hello? Is anyone there?"

Another second of silence passed.

"Trent?"

"Molly?! Is that you?"

"Y—yes. It's me."

"Are you okay?! What's up?"

"It was a mistake to call. I'm sorry, Trent."

"No!" Trent couldn't decide if he was angry or heartbroken as heat rose to his cheeks. "I've wanted to hear your voice again. What do you need?"

"I—I guess I just needed to hear your voice too. That's all."

Silence hung in the air between them like a blanket of concrete. Trent struggled with whether or not to beg her to come home or keep her at arm's length. He had no right to ask her to do something she didn't want to do. But how would he know if he never asked her?

"I'm moving into my own apartment here tomorrow."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I figured I had bothered my family enough with my problems."

Are you coming home? Trent wanted so desperately to say. "Good. I'm happy for you," Trent replied instead in a level voice that kept a tight poker face on any emotion he dared not show.

"Um," Molly cleared her throat. "How's Kath and the others?"

"They're fine. Kath's on another case with Ranger Cooke."

Molly laughed subtly. "I knew she couldn't resist it. She should seriously get Carlos to help her join the force. She'd be great at it."

"Yeah," Trent chimed in, barely returning the sentiment with a smile.

"Speaking of Carlos, what's that little devil up to these days?"

"Well, he's holed up in jail in some remote town right now."

"What?!"

"Yeah. He's convinced it's a case of mistaken identity. He's sure he'll be released soon."

"I hope so! I bet Kath's a mess right now."

Trent recalled seeing Katheryn yesterday in his mind. "Yeah, but she is throwing herself into this case to pass the time. Carlos told her not to come to him. He's that confident."

"Well, what do you think?"

"I think he's a stubborn fool. But he'd never listen to me."

Molly's gentle laugh sent chills up Trent's back as he caught himself visualizing Molly there with him, her kiss as new and inviting as the first one they'd ever shared on the porch of his family's home. He quickly jerked out of the reverie and nervously cleared his throat. "Well, I gotta get going. Talk to you soon. Bye."

Molly barely was able to utter her own goodbyes before Trent hung up the phone and started for the door. As he burst out of the entrance into the sunlit street, Sydney pulled to a stop at the edge of the sidewalk, Katheryn already bursting out of the passenger side of the car before the wheels had even screeched to a stop.

"Trent! I'm so glad you're here. We got a hit on our thief."

"Or rather Gage did," Sydney chimed in, joining Kath on the other side of the car in front of Trent. "And you won't believe what else we found out."

"What?" Trent asked curiously, noticing that subtle hint of anxiousness in Kath's eye that he'd seen many times before.

"Our thief knows an old friend of yours, Trent. I didn't recognize him because it was before my time."

"His name's Scott Harris. He was one of Jake Lyons' fellow instructors," Sydney supplemented.

"He's been in and out of jails for a while since he split from Lyons' school not long after you came back to Dallas. He's said to be running quite the underground job these days. Pirating, prostitution, gambling…you name it, he's probably done it." Kath paused, gathering her thoughts. She seemed hesitant to say what was on her mind.

Trent noticed this and looked her in the eye. "What? Go ahead. Ask it."

Kath took a deep breath, stealing a brief glance from Sydney. "We were wondering if you'd be willing to talk to Lyons for us. Or with us. Either way."

Trent scoffed. "What makes you think he'll tell me anything worth knowing?"

"Maybe if he thought you wanted a truce?" Kath attempted. But Trent wasn't buying it. "Look, I'll go with you. We can handle it."

"Kath, you don't know this guy."

"I've seen enough of him to know who I'm dealing with, Trent. I can handle it. Besides, think about it this way. You may be saving a guy whose life Jake Lyons has managed to ruin thus far."

Trent's gaze drifted away, touching the skyline briefly above him before he took a deep breath and started back towards the karate school behind him and throwing over his shoulder, "I forgot my coat. I'll meet you guys at Uppercuts." Trent flew back into the school without another terse word said.

"I don't know," Kath said as she slipped back into the car with Sydney on the driver's side. "Something's on his mind. He seems...agitated."

"Well, I guess that makes sense considering his past with Lyons."

"I guess," Kath shrugged. "But when it comes to Lyons, Trent has always been confident. He seemed distant about it. I wish he'd call Molly and get it over with."

"Have you ever thought he has? And that's why he's agitated?"

Katheryn pondered Sydney's brief assessment long enough to realize she had a point. "I'll call Molly myself as soon as we get home tonight and talk some sense into her. You know she never told me why she really left."

"Oh? It was because that boy died."

"Molly's been in tough scrapes before. Something was different this time. I think she's afraid. And I'm going to tell her so."

Sydney noticed the heat in Kath's cheeks and set a hand gently to her arm. "Kath, just take it easy on her. If she doesn't want to come home you can't force her to. Let her sort things out in her own time. Just let her know you're there for her."

"She knows I'm here. She knows we're all here!" Kath said through tears, crossing her arms and turning to watch Trent locking up the dojo.

Sydney took a deep breath and exhaled, gathering her thoughts. "Kath, just because someone knows it doesn't mean they don't need to hear it every once in a while."

Even though Katheryn knew Sydney was referring to Molly, she couldn't help but think the same thing applied to Trent. And as they followed each other across town to the Jake Lyons karate school, she made up her mind to talk to both of her friends as soon as she could.


Carlos reached up to his forehead with the short sleeve of his shirt just in time as a bead of sweat rolled from the surface of his skin. The meager sunlight from the crack in the window above him danced on his forehead and glistened, scattering enough heat to cause him to restlessly move from his spot on the well-worn jailhouse cot.

Pacing restlessly, Carlos wondered where everyone was at. He hadn't seen a single person since this morning when he was given something to eat. Surely they had not forgotten him. It seemed as if everyone was curious about the supposedly ruthless criminal that had graced their fair town the day before. Carlos had barely slept the full night through what with a few curious eyes peeking into the cell every hour.

As he waited with every bit of patience slipping from him by the second, Carlos looked over at the sheriff's desk, peering across the distance through the open door into the next room with some vain hope that he could see something that could tell him why he was here in the first place.

Like he had figured, he noticed the keys to the few cells laying on the desk. Nearby by was a cup of coffee that was far from consumable. There was also a four-inch stack of files and papers. Considering the size of the town, Carlos assumed it was the workload for at least a few years. For the sheriff, it was probably a treat having someone in his cell. It made him look important. Like he was actually doing a job. Still, he could have benefited much from actually arresting the right person.

Moving his eyes across the desk, Carlos saw a picture frame. Seeing a familiar female face, Carlos assumed it to be the sheriff's family. Next to the frame was the bouquet of flowers his daughter had brought earlier. They looked as if they were close to dead if Carlos was completely honest. Still, it's the thought that counts.

Carlos almost stopped looking over the desk's contents when he did a double take over a single sheet of paper next to the flowers. To his shock it was a sketch of someone…someone who looked incredibly similar to himself. Assuming it was a distributed police sketch, he quickly realized what was going on. Or at least he knew why he was in jail. He had been set up. But by whom? And why here? Why this town in the middle of nowhere?

Carlos let his weight sink down back onto the cot beneath him before he leaned forward, running his face roughly through his hands. This wasn't going to be as simple as he had told Katheryn on the phone. Unfortunately, the sheriff only allowed him one phone call. And judging by the look on his face the last time he saw him, it wasn't one call per day.


A/N: I hope you guys can forgive me for waiting so long to upload another chapter. I've been going through a rather annoying dry spell in my writing inspiration these days. But I think it's slowly returning, and I'm hoping to upload chapters more often in the near future. Thanks as always for reading and reviewing! I appreciate it greatly! God Bless, 'Kath'