Take Another Look (25 page)

And then there was the issue of the broken iPad. Although Isabel had offered to pay for it, she still hadn't admitted to knocking it off the nightstand. The standoff made Jane wonder if Isabel was the innocent in this situation; what if Harper had committed the crimes to frame her twin?

Jane rolled over to one side and adjusted the pillow under her head. Was she raising liars, all because of their self-imposed competition? Actually, she wasn't supposed to be raising Isabel; that was a role she had given to Chrissy Zaretsky, who was still incommunicado.

Frustration had driven Jane to call the hospital social worker, who was still responsible for Isabel's case, and beg for assistance. “We've been happy to have Isabel stay with us while her mother recuperated,” Jane had said, “but now that Chrissy is recovering, we need a timeframe for when Isabel will be reunited with her mother.”

“Of course!” Sally had agreed. “Let me get in touch with Mrs. Zaretsky, and I'll get right back to you.”

Two days later, Sally had called without much of an answer. “Apparently reports of Mrs. Zaretsky's recovery have been a bit overly optimistic. I'm told that we're looking at a year or more of recuperation.”

“A year?” Jane was starting to feel put upon. Now it seemed like Chrissy was simply buying time.

“Mrs. Zaretsky needs extensive physical therapy and possible surgeries.”

“I'm sorry to hear that, but certainly she's well enough to bring her daughter back into her own home now. Isabel is a huge help, and I know that Chrissy has the resources to hire a housekeeper or cook—whatever she needs for daily assistance.”

“She's just not ready to handle parenting right now.” Sally's voice had gushed with fake sympathy. “But I have good news. She's sending you a check. Ten thousand dollars to offset your expenses.”

“What? I'm not in this for the money.”

“But I'm sure it will help. It always does. Maybe you can hire a housekeeper or a cook,” Sally had suggested.

Jane didn't want to hire anyone; she wanted order restored in her home, and for Hoppy's peace of mind, that meant Isabel's departure. But Isabel wasn't the only one causing the trouble here, and it seemed unfair to banish her so that Harper could reign as the only child once again.

With a sigh, Jane twisted her head around and flopped to the other side. It was wrong to think that getting rid of Isabel would solve the problem. The real key to this situation was establishing an atmosphere of honesty and support for both girls. Her thoughts were interrupted by the rustle of footsteps in the hallway.

“Mom?”

Jane squinted in the darkness. The shadowed glob in the doorway emerged as Hoppy.

“I had a bad dream.”

“Come here, sweetie.” Jane pulled the covers down, and Hoppy slid into bed beside her.

Snuggling close to Jane's arm, Harper yawned. “I didn't mean that, about wanting to move out. I mean, I'll go to college and all, but this is my home.”

“I know, honey. The last month has been kind of crazy.”

“Yeah.” Harper yawned and faded off.

Jane smoothed the girl's hair away from her face, cherishing the moment of peace between them. In a matter of minutes, the steady whisper of her daughter's breath lulled Jane to sleep.

A good night's sleep restored Jane's faith in humanity, and she felt sure that, by the end of the day, one of the girls would come forward and confess to breaking the iPad and taking the medal. They would sit together for a family meeting, talk, and then finish with a positive resolution. There might even be hugs and tears and giggles.

But disappointment stung as they sat down to Isabel's lasagna with a side of brittle silence.

“How did your days go?” Jane asked.

“Fine,” Harper answered over a mouthful of pasta.

Isabel reported relief over a bio test that had gone well. Well, at least she had something positive to say.

After dinner Jane shooed both girls off to do homework while she cleaned up. January marked the end of the semester, and Jane knew that this was their last chance to turn in late work. Harper had a basketball tournament in Bend this weekend, and next week there would be four days of finals.

“I need help with my Spanish,” Harper said as she hoisted her backpack on one shoulder.

“I'll be up to help you in a few minutes,” Jane promised, “but you can start making flashcards.”

“Sí, señora,”
Harper quipped, heading upstairs.

As she stowed leftover pasta in the fridge, Jane noticed that they were out of milk.

“I'm going to make a quick run to the store,” she told Isabel, who was studying on the sofa. “I'll be right back.” Jane tucked her license into the pocket of her jeans, and then reached into the cookie jar for a twenty. But her fingertips grazed the bottom of the porcelain jar. She looked inside: empty.

“I just put eighty dollars in here,” she said. “Isabel, did you borrow some cash from the cookie jar?”

“No, ma'am.”

“It must have been Harper.” Oh, well. She would use the five bucks she kept in the car. Jane reached into the cupboard for the spare set of keys, but the hooks were empty.
What the hell?

“Isabel? Do you know what happened to the spare set of car keys?”

It took Isabel a moment to pull herself away from her focus on the assignment. She lifted her head from her textbook and toyed with one braid. “Car keys? No.”

“Okay.” Jane trudged up the stairs and repeated the questions to a very annoyed Harper, who claimed to know nothing.

Is this what my life has been reduced to . . . grilling teenage girls for stolen property?
Frustrated, Jane grabbed her purse from her bedroom and marched steadily to her car. She turned up the volume on the radio, trying to drown out her thoughts.

She returned home with milk and a resolution to wait out the thief. Eventually, one of the girls would crack. She had to.

As Jane stowed the milk in the fridge, Isabel brought her textbook over to the kitchen counter. “Did you find the keys?” she asked.

“No. Still looking.”

“Oh.” She sat on the counter stool. “And the missing money, I guess that's still gone.”

“Yup.” Jane faced Isabel. “Do you know anything about that?”

“I was wondering if it was one of Hoppy's friends. They're always here. I think they know the code to the garage door.”

Jane had suspected as much, but she trusted those girls. “Emma and Sydney have been in and out of our house for years, and we've never had a problem.”

“Or Jesse?” Isabel shrugged. “He means well, but sometimes I wonder about what he's up to when Harper isn't watching him.”

Jesse's trustworthiness had not yet been established. “The money is one thing,” Jane said, “but why would Jesse want my car keys?”

“Maybe it was the guy who cleans the rugs.” Isabel frowned down at the counter. “He might be coming back for your car, when you least expect it.”

Jane shook her head. “Have you been watching a lot of crime shows?”

“I just don't want Hoppy to get in trouble.”

“If she didn't take them, she won't,” Jane said.

“I don't know what she did with the stuff. I searched our room, but she didn't stash it there.” Isabel twisted her braid around her finger. “I thought that, if I found everything—the money and the keys and the medal—I thought that we could put the things back together and no one would get in trouble. But when I went upstairs to look, she yelled at me.” Isabel paused, her lips pursed in that perplexed expression. “She told me I would never find her medal or the keys or any of the stuff, because it's not hidden in the house.”

Jane's mouth gaped open. “Did she give it to Jesse?”

“I think she stashed it at school. . . .”

“In her locker,” Jane finished. Of course. It was the one place that was safe from parental view.

“Please don't tell her I told you. She's already so mad at me, and I don't know why.”

“She's struggling with all the changes around here. It's not your fault.”

“Still . . .” Isabel hugged the textbook to her chest. “I feel bad.”

“We'll straighten this out,” Jane assured her, though she couldn't quite see her way clear through it yet. She spent that night alone in her room, turning the possibilities over in her mind. She restrained herself from calling Luke, wanting to wait until she had the evidence.

The next day at school, Jane was a lone figure in the wide corridor as she searched out Harper's locker during her free period.

Number 223, outside the library.

Anxiety burned the back of her throat as Jane turned the dial. She had double-checked the combination on Harper's student record. The locker popped open on the first try.

Inside, the beautiful gold MVP medal hung before her eyes, its ribbon strung over a hook.

“Oh, Hoppy.” Jane sagged against the locker, taking strength from the coolness of the metal surface. How had it come to this? A petty theft to gain attention. Or was it all designed to cast guilt on Isabel? A ploy to get rid of the other twin.

The car keys sat on the locker's shelf. The money was wadded up and tied off with a rubber band—eighty dollars. It was all there . . . the evidence to prove that Harper was the bad seed.

A cute little liar.

Chapter 26

“B
ut I didn't do it,” Harper claimed, pouty and wide-eyed. She had been surprised when Jane had pulled her out of her science class. Now, in Jane's hollow classroom, confronted by the evidence Jane had removed from the locker, Harper's face was a mixture of consternation and horror.

“Then how did these things get in your locker?” The cool calm of Jane's voice seemed to unnerve Harper.

“I don't know. Someone stuck them in there.” Harper winced, scratching her head. “I know! Isabel! She knows my locker combination. She did it!”

“Oh, Hoppy, please. Just stop it, now.”

“What? Stop what? I'm just trying to explain why... She set me up, Mom. She framed me.”

Jane shook her head, sodden with disappointment. “The lies need to stop.”

“But I'm not lying. I didn't put that stuff in my locker. God, Mom, do you really think I'm that stupid?”

Jane kept her eyes down as she pinched the edge of her desk. “You're a smart girl, and we are going to get through this, Hoppy.”

“No, we're not.” Harper was on her feet, kicking at an empty desk. “You're going to take Isabel's side, the way you always do, and I'm going to get screwed all over again.”

Jane shook her head. “You won't be punished if you own up to what you did.”

“But I didn't do anything!”

Jane was sure that Harper's shrill voice could be heard in Cheree's class next door. “Keep it down. This is not the place to lose it, Harper.”

“You're the one who pulled me out of class during the semester review, Mom. Don't blame me when I bomb on the semester exam.”

“Fine. Go back to class. Nothing is going to be resolved here.”
Not when you keep lying to me.
“And you can consider yourself grounded.”

“But . . . what about the tournament? I can't miss it.”

The tournament . . . Jane pressed her forehead to her fist. There was no way she could take Harper to Bend with this fiasco unresolved.

But then, maybe it would be better to send Harper off with her friends and take a break. They both might gain some perspective over the weekend. “I'll call Keiko and see if you can tag along with them.”

“Okay.”

Jane was relieved to see Harper march out of the classroom, though she was no closer to unraveling this tangled mess. Maybe time and distance would squeeze a confession out of Harper. For now, Jane had a class to teach, and she was grateful for the escape.

 

“It's Friday night. Are you sure you don't want to go grab some dinner with us?” Jane felt a little bad for Isabel, home alone on a weekend.

“We have finals next week.” Isabel squinted at Jane as if she were speaking a foreign language. “There's no way I would go out this weekend.”

Jane rolled her eyes. “Silly me. Would you like me to bring you a sandwich or some chicken fingers?”

“No, thanks. I'll heat up some leftovers.”

“Okay, honey. We're planning to catch a movie after dinner, but I should be back by ten or eleven.”

“I'll be in bed by then. Have a good time.”

“Call me if you need me.” Jane grabbed her bag and bent down to kiss Isabel's forehead, just as she used to kiss Harper when she was younger. It made her long for the simplicity of bygone days, when she had some control over her daughter.

Over green curry rice and chicken satay, Jane and Luke discussed the situation at home. Luke understood Jane's feelings of betrayal. “But I know you'll see your way clear to work it out with Harper. If she stole those things, it's a clear cry for attention.”

“If?” Jane held a skewer of chicken over her plate. “You make it sound like there's an alternative, a way that things were magically transported from our house to Harper's locker.”

He shrugged. “You said yourself that everyone knows her combination. Look, I know it's improbable, but it's possible that someone set her up. We've both encountered some rotten, conniving students who love to prank other kids. Maybe it was a girl on the team or a friend of Jesse's.”

“How would one of those kids get access to my house?”

“Do you know for sure who visits there after school when you're still at work?”

Jane was considering the question when her phone buzzed. She frowned at the caller ID. “Mirror Lake High School. What's this about?”

It was the vice principal, Gray Tarkington, who began with an apology. “I know you've done your share of chaperoning, but we've got teachers down with the flu, and now we're short on supervision for the boys' basketball game this evening. Can you help me out?”

While Gray held on, Jane discussed the situation with Luke, and they decided to forgo the movie and head over to the school. Although they returned to their meal, they did not go back to the topic of Harper, which was fine with Jane. She sensed favoritism on Luke's part, but as he'd pointed out, he had known Harper for a few years now, and he'd grown attached. He liked her fire, her fury, her strong opinions. Jane was touched by his loyalty to her daughter, but that didn't sway Jane's opinion that an intervention was necessary to get Harper back on track.

The check came with two fortune cookies. Jane never ate them, but she couldn't resist cracking each cookie open to read the arcane message inside. “Take another look,” she read aloud, “for things are not as they seem.”

“The important thing is to not stop questioning.” Luke put his credit card in the folder and handed it to the waitress. “I think Einstein said that.”

Jane sighed. “He would have had a bright future writing fortunes.”

 

When Jane spotted Marcus Leibowitz in the gym foyer, she figured they were in for a good time.

“Marcus. I'm relieved. I thought we were going to have to really work this gig, but now I know better.”

“Don't get your hopes up, doll.” He held up one hand to shield the words. “The flu is flinging me home. I just promised to stay until they found reinforcements, and you are it. So . . . let me give you instructions for the changing of the guard.” He told them that most of the school was gated off, but they needed to keep an eye on stragglers who tried to drift into dark niches and start their own little parties.

“So we're sitters.” Luke gave a grim smile. “And I was hoping to catch some hoops.”

“You might catch some action between patrols.” Marcus dabbed at his forehead with a handkerchief and sighed. “I have to go before I turn into a rotten pumpkin. Have fun, kids.”

With only two other chaperones, they would be spread thin.

“Let's go check the score,” Luke said, “then we can divide and conquer.”

The crowd seemed tame by high school standards. A few dozen fans were scattered on the visitors' side, and only half the bleachers were filled on the home-team side. Jane suspected that a lot of students were lying low for a study weekend.

“It's a close game.” Luke was mesmerized by the quick turnovers that sent players racing up and down the court.

Jane smiled as she left him to check behind the bleachers, where posts and shadows allowed hiding places. No one there. She headed back out and crossed to the visitors' side. From the corner of the gym, she spied a couple sitting on a low bleacher diagonally across from her.

A tangled vine, those two.

They were making out—against school policies, of course—and the girl was leaning into the guy, nearly draped across his lap.

Jane rolled her eyes. How she hated booty patrol.

She tried to catch Luke's attention to send him over, but he was now sitting next to Gray Tarkington, discussing the game. It was up to her. Eyes on the lovers, she made her way across the bleachers. Were they students of hers?

The girl had long dark hair that hung wild over the collar of her black leather jacket, and the guy was sort of a beanpole, thin with scruffy dark hair. Something about his demeanor, cool and loose-boned, reminded her of Jesse Shapiro. And the girl . . . Jane would have thought it was Harper if she hadn't seen her daughter get into the Suzukis' car for the trip to Bend.

Just then the couple stopped kissing, and the girl drew back. Jane paused, staring at her daughter. Blue eyes, dark hair, tight body, and that bubbling laugh that seemed to envelop her being.

“Harper? Harper!” she called across the gym, but her voice was lost in the noise of the game, buzzers, conversations, cheers, and players scrambling on the court.

It was her. Damn it, her daughter had lied again, ditched the tournament, all so that she could come to the school to slut around. Fumbling in her pocket, Jane unlocked her cell phone and called Harper's number. There would be some vindictive pleasure in seeing her react across the gym, a little jolt of alarm, knowing that her mother was calling. But the kissing went on as the line rang on, then switched to voice mail. Jesse was going for her neck now, and where were her hands?

Jane turned away from them and dialed Harper's coach as she strode to the end of the bleachers, making her way over to the couple. Fortunately, Coach Hadley picked up on the second ring.

“Hadley, this is Jane Ryan and I'm calling about Harper, who should be there with you, but obviously ditched her ride. I wish you had called me. There needs to be some—”

“Jane? Hold on. Calm down.” Hadley's voice was hard to make out amidst the background noise of a dozen girls. “Harper is here. I don't know why you'd think she's not. We're having a team meeting in the hotel lobby, around the fireplace.”

“She . . . she's there?”

“Sitting right across from me. Hold on, and I'll put her on.”

A moment later, Harper's voice shined bright. “Hey, Mom. What's up?”

Oh. No.

Harper had done the right thing. She wasn't hopping down from the bleachers, leading Jesse away by the hand. Heading toward the empty team locker rooms.

“Sorry, Hoppy, but I have to call you back.” Jane ended the call and picked up her pace, nearly jogging around the boundary of the court behind the basket so that she wouldn't lose the couple completely.

Jesse and Isabel. Isabel pretending to be Harper.

The locker room was littered with equipment bags, towels, and clothes from the team. Jane paused a moment, listening to the moaning sound. The showers.

She found them in a shower stall, still clothed, though the leather jacket lay in a heap on the floor and Isabel's sweater was up over her bra so that Jesse's hands had access to her breasts.

“Stop.” Jane grunted, her voice failing her. “Stop it, now.” This time, it resounded through the hollow shower room. “Both of you.”

Jesse held his hands up and backed away, stunned. “Ms. Ryan.” He let out a huff of air. “I'm so sorry.”

“What the hell are you doing?”

Isabel stared, wide-eyed, testing the waters. Perhaps she wasn't sure how much Jane knew.

“We're really sorry, Ms. Ryan.” Jesse folded his arms, a skinny, frightened kid now. “I just . . . When Harper's tournament got cancelled we thought . . .” He glanced at the sexed-up girl who had tried to seduce him and quickly turned back to Jane. “I want you to know, I respect your daughter.”

“That's not my daughter,” Jane hissed, though the falsity of the claim made her sway against a tiled post. “This is Isabel.”

He winced as they both turned to her.

The beautiful face of her daughter, with swollen lips and slightly smudged mascara, transformed from the lazy grin of Harper to the more pert expression of Isabel. “Oh, Mom! You spoiled the joke. Harper and I were playing a little trick on Jesse.”

His face went sour as he raked back his hair. “A trick?”

“We wanted to see if you would notice if we switched places. Harper said it would be a real test of whether you really loved her for who she is. The love test.” She straightened her sweater—Harper's blue sweater, actually—and cocked her head to one side so that her hair fell over one eye. “I'm afraid you didn't do so well. But we don't have to tell Harper, right? I wouldn't want to hurt her.”

Fury roiled inside Jane at Isabel's feigned innocence.

“Crap,” Jesse breathed. “This is really twisted, man.”

“That's what I thought, at first,” Isabel said, “but Harper talked me into it. She said she doesn't want anything short of genuine love. The real thing.” She turned to Jane. “Right, Mom?”

Those were Harper's words. Now Jane felt a new confusion spinning inside her at the hint that Harper might have masterminded this whole thing.

“Ms. Ryan?” Jesse's dark eyes burned with misery. “I'm like, freaked out and sort of mortified. I'm gonna go.”

Watching him leave, Jane shared his confusion. “Why did you do this?” she begged Isabel.

“Because I wanted Harper to like me again. You've seen how she's been lately.” Isabel pressed a fist to her mouth, sniffing. “I'm sorry, Mom. It wasn't such a good idea, was it?”

Jane wondered when Isabel had started calling her “Mom,” and when had Isabel and Harper decided to switch places? “So this was planned. Have you ever pretended to be Harper before?”

“No,” Isabel insisted. “Well, just that once, the day you came to pick her up at Emma's house.”

Not sure what to believe, Jane just stared as a tear rolled down Isabel's cheek. She had always known Isabel to be forthright and truthful, but when she was dressed that way, Jane saw Harper's face—the face of a liar. But at the same time, Jane was compelled to defend Hoppy, who was having her boyfriend stolen away by her own sister when her back was turned.