Chapter 4

Maureen looked like hell twice over. Her clothes had cost hundreds of dollars and at one time someone could have recognized that. Now they were dirty rags hidden beneath a mangy fur coat.

Carrying a folder, Langston entered the interview room and was hit by the stench of vomit, urine, and body odor. He used his mouth to draw a deep breath and motioned the officer to leave. Langston sat down in the chair across the table from her. The woman had her head on the table with her face buried in a smelly fur sleeve.

"Maureen?" Langston said.

"Go away," she muttered.

"I can't. I need to talk to you. Can you please sit up?"

She lifted her head, glaring at him. "I didn't do anything wrong. Why are you harassing me?"

"I'm not harassing you, Maureen. This is the first time we've met."

She stared at him, then scowled and laid her head on her arm, staring across the room.

"Would you like some water? Coffee? Something to eat?"

"I want my scotch back. The officer took it before he threw me in his car."

"Did he really throw you in?"

She looked at him again. Langston smiled, which was hard to do since he really didn't want to breathe through his nose and smell anymore of the rancid air.

"You're not a cop."

"No. I'm a forensic scientist. I'm trying to identify this woman." Langston took a photograph from the folder and placed it on the table before her. "I was told she's called Saint Bernadette."

Maureen picked up the photograph, looking at the photograph. It was of the woman lying in the morgue. She touched the photograph and then sat it down.

"She's dead, isn't she?"

"Yes she is."

Maureen slid it across to him. She laid her head on her arm.

"I was told she called you mom," Langston said.

"She called me Mon. M-o-n."

"Why?"

"It was a nickname derived from my name."

"I see. Do you know what her real name was?"

Maureen shook her head. "Saint Bernadette. I don't know how that got started, but that's what we called her. She was sweet, even when I wasn't."

"I'm told you're not very nice."

Maureen sighed. "I lost everything in the recession. My job, home. When the money ran out, so did my husband. My dog even ran away."

Langston put a photograph of Dean on the table.

"Did you ever see this man around Saint Bernadette?"

"Yeah." Maureen nodded. "He was one of her regulars. He came every Friday night. She said usually he just took her to a movie or dinner so they could talk. Sometimes they had sex. She liked the guy – as a client and all. She said he was a good man."

"So he did pay her?"

Maureen shrugged. "I don't know. She said he was a client. I guess so."

"Did you see him two weeks ago? It would have been a Friday."

"Yeah. He drove me to the shelter that day and they left together."

"Did he do that often?"

"If she asked him to he would. I think he had a crush on her, but he was married." Maureen tapped her left ring finger. "He wore the proof."

"What else do you remember about her?"

"She said she worked for me."

"Where did you work?"

Maureen sat up, leaning against the back of her chair. "Taggard Enterprises."

Langston knew it. The company was an electronics company that closed suddenly when it was announced they had been in debt for the last five years. The local television stations and newspapers had been rabid with the company, despite there being no conspiracy. The CEOs had held out as long as they could in hopes the economy would pick up and their employees could keep their jobs.

"What did you do there?"

"I was VP of international marketing and sales." Maureen closed her eyes. "I can barely remember that life. Parties, clothes, people I thought were friends…"

"I'm sorry you've fallen on such hard times, Maureen. I wouldn't wish that on anyone."

She looked up at him. "She said she was an assistant to the assistant of the CFO. I can give you their names, but I doubt you'll find any of them. Everyone from that company seems to have disappeared."

"But I can try." Langston slid a pad of paper and pen to her.

"I could really use a shower and some food."

Langston smiled. "That sounds like a fair trade to me, Maureen. I'll arrange it."

Maureen picked up the pen and started writing.

The officer stepped back into the room. "Doctor Langston, Catherine is trying to reach you. It's urgent."

Langston looked at his cell phone, bringing up the latest text message. He jumped up, hurrying toward the door.

"When she's done, make sure she gets her a shower and a good meal," Langston paused to point at the notebook. "And see that notebook gets to my desk."

#

The brakes locked when Nick jammed his foot against the pedal. His Denali stopped inches from the bumper of a radio car. Nick jumped out, not bothering to turn off the engine or close the door. At the front of the line were officers with guns aimed at the square whitewashed house. Catherine and Langston stood behind them.

"Who's inside?" Nick asked.

"Sara and Hodges," Catherine answered. "They'd come back to see if they could find out where Alice might have gone. She was home and surprised Hodges in the kitchen. Sara went into try talking to her and she took her hostage too."

"Any contact with her yet?"

"No," Langston answered. "She won't answer the phone."

Nick looked at the house. "Has anyone told her Dean is dead?"

"Sara was going to tell her," Catherine answered.

"So she may not know. We could use that to our advantage."

Nick and Catherine looked at each other.

"No. Nick, no."

Nick tilted his head. "Catherine, I am probably the only person that can get close to her."

An officer nearby turned, taking interest in the conversation.

"You know I'm right, Catherine."

"You have no idea how he behaved. You could mess up and get everyone killed."

"I believe I can pull this off."

"This will end messy if we try anything else, Catherine," the officer told her. "And your CSI could be caught in the middle of it."

Catherine looked up at Langston. He shrugged a little.

"Not without a vest," Catherine told him.

"And I have a plan with that, too."

Catherine sighed.

#

Hodges was trembling so hard Sara could feel it through the loveseat. She wanted to tell him to stop, but knew it was involuntary. Alice paced the living room, talking to herself.

"Alice?" Sara said.

She glanced at her.

"Alice, what is it you want the police to do? They're going to want to know."

Alice didn't answer. Sara was about to speak again when the front door cracked open.

"Alice?" someone said. "Honey?"

She spun to face it, her eyes wide and a smile spreading across her face. The door pushed open a little more and Nick came inside.

"DEAN!" She ran to him, throwing her arms around him, and waving the pistol during it.

Nick looked at Sara, then Hodges.

"Ni—" Hodges began, but Sara smacked his stomach hard, knocking the window out of him.

She shot him a glare when he looked at her.

Alice turned, staring at them. She looked at Nick, then at Sara. She pulled back, looking back at Nick.

"She just walked into our house, Dean." She waved her pistol at the CSI on the loveseat. "And I found him digging through our kitchen cupboards. Who are they, Dean? Why are they here?"

"I sent them here."

She turned back to him. Her finger twitched on the hammer of the pistol.

"To pick up something for me," Nick added.

"Where have you been? I thought… I thought I killed you the other night when I caught you with that woman. I thought I shot both of you."

"No. I was mad. I didn't want to come back. I sent them here to get my things. But when I came to find out what was taking so long, and saw all those police out there, I asked them if I could come in and talk to you." Nick looked out the window, staring as if he was thinking about the situation. He turned his head, looking her in the eye.

She smiled and pressed her hand against his face. "Let's just sneak out and run, baby. I haven't done anything wrong. She was just a whore."

Nick shook his head. "I think we should talk to them. Explain what happened."

"No." She dropped her hand. Her thumb twitched on the hammer again.

"It was an accident. You didn't mean to kill her, did you?"

Alice looked to the side.

"Alice?"

She looked up. "I wanted to kill both of you. I was angry. You promised that you wouldn't see her anymore. And then I found you in bed with her again.

Nick reached out and laid his hand on her face. "I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you."

Hodges cleared his throat. Sara shot him a death glare. He looked away when Alice glanced at him.

"I have to use the restroom," Hodges muttered.

"They don't look like anyone you'd know," Alice told Nick.

"You know everyone I do, huh?" Nick took her wrist, pulling her close. He wrapped an arm around her waist, smiling when she looked at him.

"No. I guess not."

Nick smiled, resting his forehead against her's. "Okay. We'll sneak out and run." He slid his hand down her other arm, his fingers slowly closing around the gun handle. "Anywhere you want, honey."

She laughed, pulling her head back and coming close to kissing him. Nick pulled back, but he never stopped smiling.

"I missed you," Alice told him.

Nick's fingers slowly worked under her's until he almost had a grip on the handle. He started to pull it away.

"I missed you too," he told her.

She pulled back suddenly, taking the gun with her. "We can go to Cabo. I've always wanted to go there."

Nick almost paused too long. Sara could see he was frustrated he hadn't gotten the gun away from her.

"Alice, let's just go," Nick said. He took a step back toward the kitchen. "Come on, honey." He held out his hand to her.

She smiled, taking it. "We can't just leave them. They're guests!"

Nick pulled her back into his arms and began to slowly work his way toward the kitchen with her.

"Cabo will be beautiful," Alice told him.

"Yes it will."

"You can get a fishing boat and I'll make things to sell."

"Yes," Nick answered. He smiled again.

Sara never realized how well he could fake a genuine smile until now. It made her wonder how many times he had for her.

The curtains in the front of the room didn't cover a section of the front window. As they stepped into that area, red dots quickly focused on them, and then on Alice. Nick saw them, but said nothing. He should have.

Alice saw them and stopped, watching them dance across her body. She looked at Nick's face, and then down – noticing they weren't focused on him. She took three large steps back behind the curtain and aimed the gun at him, cocking it.

"Honey?" Nick questioned.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

"Dean."

"No… No you're not. You're being way too nice. He hasn't talked about Cabo in months. And those police aren't aiming at you. You're that twin he's obsessed with!"

"You're saying I'm not Dean? Your husband?"

Nick took small, slow steps toward her.

"That I don't sound like him? I don't look like him?"

"You don't act like him."

"You shot me. Of course I don't."

She blinked. The answer stunned her.

"Are you a ghost?"

"When I held you, did it feel like I was?"

The gun was slowly starting to drop, but she hadn't swallowed the lie yet.

"You don't act like my husband!"

"When was the last time I did?"

She started crying. "I… Can't remember."

"I'm trying to start over here, Alice. I don't know what else to do. We are so screwed up but I still love you. I'm trying to do what's best for us."

Alice started crying harder. It was difficult for her to aim at Nick when she shook with her sobs.

"I killed that woman and I know I killed you too."

"But I'm standing here. How could you have?"

Alice backed away from him. She lifted the gun back up. "You're his twin brother. That Nicholas guy he was always looking for. You aren't Dean. Stay away from me!"

Nick stopped moving. "Fine. I'll leave. I'll leave you all alone." He turned and started toward the door.

The gun went off and the bullet hit the door. Nick stopped, looking back at her.

"Do you hate me that much?" Nick asked.

"I love you, Dean."

"Then why are you doing this Alice?" Nick turned and stormed up to her. He grabbed the barrel of the gun and pushed it against his chest, into the Kevlar jacket hidden under his jacket. "If you hate me so much, shoot me. Right now. Get this over with. Because you either love me and you'll let me help you, or you hate me and you'll kill me."

"I don't…"

"What? What is it, Alice? What the hell do you want from me?"

The gun went off again. The bullet hit the jacket with such force that Nick fell backward and hit the floor hard. Blood began flowing from the gunshot. Nick looked up Sara, meeting her eyes, and then glanced at Alice.

"What have you done?" Sara asked. "God, Alice, what have you done?"

Alice was trembling, holding onto the gun by the finger loop. Sara grabbed it from her and handed it back to Hodges. He held it in both hands with a death grip.

"Go get towels! Hurry!"

Alice ran off to obey. Sara turned to Nick, who, for having lost as much blood as he had, didn't look it.

"What the hell are you doing, Nick?" Sara whispered.

"I'm going to die now. Talk her into leaving out the back. They're waiting," Nick whispered and then played dead.

"What… Uh…" Hodges started.

"Sit there and don't speak, Hodges," Sara snarled.

Alice came running into the room with towels. Sara looked up at her.

"He's dead. You killed him."

Alice clutched the towels in her hands to her chest.

"I didn't… I didn't mean to."

"You think the police will believe that? You've killed two people now, Alice. You had better run. They will not be sympathetic over this."

Alice dropped the towels and ran through the house and out of the kitchen right into police waiting for her.

#

Nick walked out of his bedroom weaving his tie into a slip knot. Dean and Mindy Bimms funerals had been scheduled on the same day, something he hadn't expected. Not that it mattered. Greg was back today and his month vacation began. He had some soul searching to do, a missing brother to get to know, a sister to find, and spare some time to get to know Dean's parents. And maybe, just maybe, in all of that, he'd find a way to forgive his own parents.

The doorbell rang as he reached the front room. He opened the door and almost audibly groaned to find Nicola Corbet on his doorstep. She was dressed in a black dress with a black and white floral belt and matching shoes. A wide brimmed hat, with a matching band around it, rested on her dark brown hair. She looked like she was on her way to a funeral too, not that he actually cared.

"What do you want, Nicola?"

Her mouth moved as she attempted to answer, and then she burst into tears. Nick stared at her. He wasn't sure how to react to this. She put her hands on her stomach and leaned against a wall. Then she vomited in the flowers by the door.

Nick couldn't remain dispassionate. They may be enemies, but he couldn't leave a woman standing on his doorstep who was clearly more an emotional wreck than he was. That wasn't how his parents raised him, and he liked to think that wasn't how Dean's parents raised him either.

He waited for her to finish, and then took her arm and led her into the kitchen. He got her a glass of water and a handful of napkins. She wiped her mouth, dabbed her eyes, and sipped the water before she even attempted to try speaking again.

"I'm…" She started crying again. She looked up at him from under her hat. "I look at you, and I miss my brother Dean even more."

Nick's knees went weak. He sank into a chair. Somehow he felt like he should have known all along that she was Dean's sister but it was only in hindsight that he was able to connect conversations or dropped hints.

"Dean's our brother?" he asked.

She nodded. "Nicola is my middle name. My full first name is Patricia. I guess our birth mother liked the names."

"I don't understand."

"He was Parker Nicholas before the adoption. My name is Patricia Nicola. And you're Nicholas Parker."

He sat back in the chair, staring at the table. "I guess she did."

Nicola's tears stopped and she sipped more water. Minutes passed that neither spoke.

"So where does that leave us?" she quietly asked.

"At a really strange crossroad."

She smiled. He reflected it when he noticed.

"What?" he asked.

"I was thinking about the last disagreement you and I had. Sometimes Dean met my clients. I realized this morning that every single person you were trying to put in jail, he didn't like. I remember he'd always say to me, 'Those scientists are right about this one, Peppermint. Cut 'em loose, they're a bad cookie.'"

"Peppermint?"

"That was his nickname for me. Peppermint Patty. Like on Snoopy."

Nick nodded. "What was his?"

"There never was one. Just Dean. He never once mentioned that our brother was a twin, Nick. When I saw you the first time in court, I thought it was strange, but I never thought you were his brother, or our brother." She reached out, laying a hand on Nick's hand. "I'm sorry I didn't, Nick. He wanted so bad to find you before he died."

"I wish we'd met too. But there's no turning back."

She put her hand back on the glass. "No. Dean isn't coming back. He annoyed the hell out of me, just like you do, but I loved my brother. There wasn't anything I wouldn't have done for him."

Nick laid a hand on her wrist. She looked up.

"You don't have to be without a brother, you just have to connect with the one you didn't know before today."

"We have a pretty nasty past, Nick."

"Yes. We do. If it's not too much to ask, maybe you could not take cases I'm representing. I'd offer to be the one to bend, but by the time I know you're taking a case, I'm already half way in. And can you honestly say those cases I've been on, that most of them were innocent people? That my work was really that flawed? Am I really that bad at my job?"

She smiled. "No. I just have to say that in court. Okay. I'll bend."

"Well, I have two funerals today, and I need to leave. The first one is an acquaintance, sort of. And then we'll meet at Dean's. Okay?"

"The acquaintance being a Jane Doe named Mindy Bimms?"

"How'd you know?"

"She's been the talk around town. Apparently she was well known by the police as Saint Bernadette, but no one ever knew her real name. Do you know the story of Saint Bernadette?"

Nick shook his head.

"She was a nun living in France in the mid-1800s. It's said she had visions of a small young lady who many believed was the Virgin Mary. She only lived to age 35. But the real surprise was that when they recovered her body thirty years later, it was incorrupt."

Nick grinned. "You're Catholic?"

"No. Catholic school. I did a paper on her."

"So by incorrupt you mean…"

"Perfect condition – like a soap mummy."

Nick smiled. "I thought so. I bet the area was high in alkali."

She nodded. "Yes. But that wasn't why. It was something else, you know."

He laughed a little. "Of course it was. She's a saint after all."

She laughed a little and then leaned forward and hugged Nick. "It is amazing how much you two are alike, Nick. It's hard seeing you and hearing him."

Nick hugged her back. "I'm sorry."

She started crying again. Nick moved his chair closer and held his newfound sister while she mourned.

#

Wendy walked into the room and stopped. It was the smallest room in the mortuary. The rest of the room was filled with empty chairs. At the front was the casket. It was the cheapest they had, discounted more after Robbins got a hold of the director. She'd found a minister willing to do the ceremony for free. Ecklie had pushed the paperwork through to get her a free city plot in the cemetery. Even with the help, the small funeral was three thousand dollars. She was stunned when she went in to pay for it and discovered she only had three hundred left. The director said donations came in to cover the rest, including from his own pocket. All these little gestures still didn't make Wendy happy. She wanted Mindy to have her real name for her funeral. If she had family out there, she wanted them to be here.

She drew in a deep breath and walked down the aisle to a chair in the front. She looked at her watch. The funeral didn't start for another fifteen minutes. Wendy sat her purse down and walked up to the casket. The top half was open. It was like looking in a mirror. She'd chosen her favorite dress to bury Mindy and given the mortician a picture of her to style her hair and makeup. Was she going to look like this when she died? Or would she be a graying old woman?

"I'm sorry, Mindy," Wendy told her. "I'm sorry I couldn't find out who you were."

She started when Hodges appeared next to her. He was wearing his suit that made him look like a handsome movie spy.

"Saying your good-byes?" he asked.

She nodded, smiling. The tears started falling and she leaned into his arms.

"I brought some friends," Hodges told her.

She looked up. The Wall Crew and other people were filling the small room. The people were clean now, but she could tell they were the homeless people from the alley. She was so stunned that she didn't notice Hodges was guiding her back to her chair. He turned her and gently pushed on her shoulders to sit her down. She looked up at him.

"You shouldn't have asked all these people to come," she whispered.

He sat down and leaned close. "I didn't. These are all friends of Mindy Bimms. And the Wall Crew came for you, Wendy. Did you really think we would let one of the Crew go through something like this alone?"

The minister came through a side door. "Are we ready to begin?" he asked her.

Wendy nodded. She reached over and took Hodges' hand. He gently pressed her hand between his, an unspoken assurance that he would always be there for her.