Dead Ringer

“I thought I’d stay until the cops left, to make sure you were safe.” David cut the ignition, leaving them in awkward silence, now that “Night by Night” had gone.

“You don’t have to do that,” Be

“Bear wants me to. He feels safer with me here.” David got out of the Jeep, and Be

“Over here, Officers!” she called out, struggling to hold on to the dog as he jumped excitedly at the police, wagging his tail. Nobody else had gotten out of the squad car. “Isn’t Detective Maloney with you?”

“The detective sent us out, Ms. Rosato,” the first cop said. His voice sounded middle-aged and slightly weary, and he looked heavyset in the dark, the light blue of his shirt puffy at the girth. “I’m Officer Leighton, and this is my partner, Officer Ba

“Well, thanks for coming, gentlemen.” Be

“The detective got held up. He filled us in. It’s a B amp; E, right, and you suspect it was your twin?”

“I know it was my twin. I saw her at the river with my dog. She set me up on theft charges yesterday.” Be

“We’ll check it out, Ms. Rosato,” Officer Leighton said brusquely. “Please, step aside and let us do our job.” The cops switched on long-handled black Maglites, making instant pools of jittery light on the gritty city sidewalk, and aimed them at the house. The light circles chased each other up and down, but the splintered wood of the front door looked untouched, just as broken as before. Be

“This way,” Be

“I don’t see any signs of a forced entry,” Officer Leighton said. “It’s locked.”

“It is? How could it be locked?” Be

“Did you leave it that way?”

“Yes, but since then it was broken into, okay?” Be

David said, “Do you leave a key with a neighbor?”

“No, the only spare is in the office.”

“You have your key on you, Ms. Rosato?” Officer Leighton asked.

“Yes, hold on.” Be

“Ms. Rosato, please wait here until we secure the premises.” Officer Leighton took the key and said to the other cop, in low tones, “I’m primary.” He unlocked the door, and it swung open wide in the jittery cone of light. Then he reached inside the door, and the anteroom light went on inside the house, illuminating Leighton’s profile. The middle-aged cop had a brushy mustache and a worried expression. “Let’s go, Mike.”

“Right behind you,” the other cop said, and they hurried into the house.

Be

“Come on in, Ms. Rosato!” called out one of the cops, and Be

Be

Officer Leighton switched off his Maglite, and Ba

“That’s not possible,” Be

“Are you sure you didn’t?”

“Of course not!” Be

“You don’t understand what I’m telling you, Ms. Rosato. There’s no evidence that any crime has been committed here. You claim that somebody took your dog out of the house, but the backdoor wasn’t even unlocked. And the front was nailed shut.”

“She exists! Ask him!” Be

“Everyone settle down,” David said, spreading his large hands palms down. He addressed the cops, but Be

“Tell you what,” Officer Leighton said with a slow sigh, like a tire deflating. He reached into his back pocket and withdrew a ski

“Fine with me,” David answered. “Be

“Yes, thanks.” Be

She hurried to her dresser, a three-drawer chest made of pine, and checked her jewelry box on top. She didn’t have much-a tangle of gold chains from when they were the new thing, a few pairs of gold hoops, and three bangles-but all of it was there. She rifled quickly through her drawers-undies, unmatched socks, tattered jeans, and faded T-shirts-but they were the in same mess she’d left behind. She went to the closet, but it was fine. Then she remembered. Her gun.