THE PINK FILES: Case 001 — The Other Marcus (Chapter Six)

The first thing Nia noticed was that neither man looked surprised to see the other.

That was what frightened her.

Not the identical faces.

Not the matching voices.

Not even the fact that the man she'd kissed goodbye that morning was now standing twenty feet away from another man wearing his face.

It was the silence.

The kind of silence that told her this moment had been expected.

By everybody except her.

"Somebody better start talking."

Her voice echoed through the storage facility.

Neither man moved.

Camille stood beside the blue suitcase, one hand gripping the handle so tightly her knuckles had turned pale.

Danielle whispered, "Oh, my God."

Nia turned toward her.

"No. We are past 'Oh, my God.' We are at names, explanations, and possibly somebody getting arrested."

The man near the black SUV took one step forward.

"Nia—"

"Don't."

He stopped.

She pointed toward the other man, standing at the far end of the driveway.

"And you. Don't move either."

The second man raised both hands.

"I'm not here to hurt you."

Nia laughed.

It wasn't a happy laugh.

"Well, that's comforting. Because apparently everybody who has ever lied to me has excellent customer service."

Camille closed her eyes.

"Nia, please."

"Please WHAT, Camille?"

Her sister flinched.

"Please don't ask why you knew my husband had a twin? Please don't ask why his name was on Mama's storage unit? Or please don't ask why I just found a photograph of somebody wearing his face standing next to our mother ELEVEN YEARS AGO?"

Camille said nothing.

Nia turned back toward the men.

"Which one of you is Marcus Bennett?"

Both answered.

"I am."

At the exact same time.

Danielle stepped backward.

"Oh, absolutely not."

Nia stared at them.

Then she nodded slowly.

"Okay."

She reached into her purse.

Both men stiffened.

She pulled out her phone.

"Since everybody wants to play games, let's play."

She dialed Marcus.

The man standing near the SUV reached into his jacket.

A phone began ringing.

Nia felt the smallest flicker of relief.

Until the other man smiled.

"That doesn't prove anything."

The ringing stopped.

The man near the SUV looked at his screen.

NIA ❤️

Nia saw the contact name.

Saw her photograph.

Saw the phone she'd watched her husband charge beside their bed.

Then the other man spoke.

"Ask him about the night you lost the baby."

Everything stopped.

Even the air seemed to leave the building.

Nia's fingers went cold.

That wasn't something people knew.

Not Danielle.

Not Camille.

Not even her closest friends.

She had been twelve weeks pregnant when she miscarried.

Marcus had held her on the bathroom floor until morning.

She hadn't told anybody else.

The man with the phone lowered his eyes.

"Nia, don't listen to him."

The other man stepped closer.

"You wore that yellow sweater because you said it was the only thing that still made you feel warm. You wouldn't let anybody wash it for three weeks."

Nia's mouth opened.

Nothing came out.

The man near the SUV looked furious.

"Shut your mouth."

"Why?" the other man asked. "Because she might finally realize what you did?"

Nia looked between them.

"How do you know that?"

Neither answered.

She repeated herself.

"HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT?"

The man near the SUV swallowed.

"Because I'm your husband."

The other man shook his head.

"No. You're the man who's been pretending to be."

THE FIRST LIE

Camille moved between them.

"Enough."

Nia turned on her.

"You do not get to say enough."

"Nia, there are things you don't understand."

"Then help me understand them."

Camille looked toward the cameras mounted above the storage units.

"Not here."

Nia followed her gaze.

One camera pointed directly toward unit 114.

Its little red light blinked.

Recording.

Watching.

Just like somebody had been watching her for days.

"Who owns this place?" Nia asked.

Danielle checked the paperwork from the lockbox.

"Bellamy Holdings."

Nia frowned.

"Bellamy? As in Bellamy's Café?"

Camille's expression changed.

It was quick.

But Nia caught it.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

The café.

The mysterious woman.

The bracelet.

The parking lot.

The storage unit.

All of it connected.

Nia looked at the man near the SUV.

"What's the name of your brother?"

He hesitated.

The other man answered for him.

"Jordan."

Nia turned.

"Jordan what?"

"Jordan Bennett."

"And you've been alive this entire time?"

Jordan stared at her.

"Last time I checked."

"Don't get cute with me."

For the first time, he almost smiled.

It was Marcus's smile.

Except it wasn't.

Marcus smiled with one corner of his mouth first.

Jordan smiled with both.

A tiny difference.

One she might never have noticed if they hadn't been standing together.

Nia studied them.

Same height.

Same shoulders.

Same scar near the left eyebrow.

But Jordan's scar was slightly deeper.

And Marcus—

Marcus was wearing his wedding ring.

Jordan wasn't.

Nia stared at the ring.

Then remembered something.

Three months ago, Marcus had come home without it.

He said he'd taken it off at the gym.

She'd teased him about being single for the afternoon.

He hadn't laughed.

Instead, he'd kissed her forehead and told her he loved her.

Twice.

As if he were apologizing.

Nia looked up.

"Where were you on August seventeenth?"

Marcus blinked.

"What?"

"August seventeenth. Three months ago. You came home without your wedding ring."

Jordan's expression changed.

Marcus rubbed his jaw.

"Nia, that was months ago."

"I know when it was."

"I told you. The gym."

Jordan looked away.

Nia saw it.

"Jordan."

He didn't answer.

"Look at me."

He did.

"Where were YOU on August seventeenth?"

Jordan exhaled.

"With you."

Nia felt the ground shift.

Marcus lunged toward him.

"You son of a—"

"STOP!"

Nia's scream bounced off the metal doors.

Both men froze.

She backed away.

"No."

She shook her head.

"No, because now you're going to tell me exactly what that means."

Jordan looked directly at her.

"Your husband wasn't always the man who came home."

THE SWITCH

Nia had heard enough outrageous things in the last twenty-four hours to last several lifetimes.

But this?

This was something else.

"You're telling me," she said carefully, "that the two of you have been switching places?"

Marcus shook his head.

"That's not what happened."

Jordan laughed.

"Then tell her what happened."

"Jordan."

"Tell her why you called me."

Marcus went silent.

Jordan took another step.

"Tell her why you needed me to pretend to be you."

Nia turned toward Marcus.

"Is that true?"

He looked at her.

And for the first time since she'd met him, she couldn't read his face.

"Nia, I was trying to protect you."

She stared.

"From what?"

He didn't answer.

"FROM WHAT, MARCUS?"

"From the people who killed your mother."

Camille gasped.

Danielle dropped the folder she'd been holding.

Loose papers scattered across the concrete.

Nia stood completely still.

"My mother died in a car accident."

Marcus looked toward Camille.

Camille looked away.

Jordan shook his head.

"No, Nia."

His voice softened.

"Your mother died because she found out what they were doing."

Nia's chest tightened.

"What were they doing?"

Jordan glanced toward the black SUV.

"Moving money. Buying silence. Making people disappear when they became inconvenient."

Nia thought about the confidentiality agreement.

The $2.4 million.

The threatening messages.

The mysterious letter.

And the name that had appeared on the old phone.

M.

"Who is M?" she asked.

Neither man answered.

Nia looked at Marcus.

"Who is M?"

Marcus's jaw tightened.

Jordan said quietly, "You already know her."

Nia frowned.

"Her?"

Camille took a step backward.

Jordan looked toward her.

"Tell your sister."

Camille's eyes filled with tears.

"Jordan, don't."

Nia turned slowly.

"Camille?"

Her sister shook her head.

"I didn't have a choice."

Nia felt sick.

"What did you do?"

Camille began crying.

"I was trying to keep you safe."

Nia laughed bitterly.

"Everybody keeps saying that. Funny how keeping me safe apparently requires lying to my face for eleven years."

Camille covered her mouth.

Then whispered something so quietly Nia almost missed it.

"I was the one who called him that night."

Nia frowned.

"Called who?"

Camille looked toward Jordan.

"Your mother wasn't supposed to be in that car."

ELEVEN YEARS EARLIER

Jordan leaned against the storage unit.

His voice was quieter now.

"Your mother found documents she wasn't supposed to find."

Nia swallowed.

"What documents?"

"Property transfers. Insurance settlements. Accounts in names that didn't belong to the people using them."

Nia glanced at the folder on the ground.

"Bellamy Holdings?"

Jordan nodded.

"That was one of them."

"And the $2.4 million?"

"Money paid to keep a witness quiet."

"Who?"

Jordan looked at Camille.

Nia followed his eyes.

"No."

Camille began shaking her head.

"No, Nia. It's not what you think."

Nia stared at her.

"You took the money?"

Camille's tears spilled over.

"I never touched it."

"Then why was your name on the paperwork?"

"Because Mama put it there."

Nia blinked.

"What?"

Camille wiped her face.

"She knew something was going to happen. She wanted the money where they couldn't get to it."

Nia shook her head.

"That doesn't make sense."

"It wasn't supposed to," Jordan said. "Not until you found the suitcase."

Nia looked at him.

"And you were with her that night?"

He nodded.

"She asked me to drive."

"Why you?"

Jordan hesitated.

Then looked at Marcus.

"Because my brother was working for the people she was investigating."

Silence.

Marcus stared at the ground.

Nia turned toward him.

"Tell me he's lying."

Marcus said nothing.

"Marcus."

He closed his eyes.

"Tell me."

Finally, he whispered, "I didn't know what they were planning."

Nia stepped backward.

Her hand flew to her mouth.

"Oh, my God."

"Nia, listen—"

"You were involved?"

"I was trying to get out."

"YOU WERE INVOLVED?"

Marcus's face crumpled.

"I didn't know they were going to hurt her."

Nia stared at the man she'd shared a bed with.

The man who'd held her while she cried on Mother's Day.

The man who'd watched her visit a grave every year.

And never once told her he knew more than she did.

"You let me believe it was an accident."

His voice cracked.

"I wanted to tell you."

"For eleven years?"

He couldn't answer.

Nia nodded slowly.

"Wow."

Then she looked at Jordan.

"And you? Where have you been all this time?"

Jordan's expression hardened.

"Trying to stay alive."

THE THING ABOUT TWINS

Danielle finally spoke.

"Okay, I'm sorry, but we are skipping over something extremely important."

Everybody looked at her.

She pointed at Marcus.

"He's been letting his brother pretend to be him?"

Then she pointed at Jordan.

"And you've been pretending to be somebody else's husband?"

Jordan looked down.

Danielle threw both hands in the air.

"Because that is not a minor detail, people!"

Nia turned toward Jordan.

"How many times?"

He looked at her.

"How many times did you pretend to be Marcus?"

Jordan didn't answer.

Nia felt tears building.

"How many?"

"Three."

Marcus looked away.

Nia swallowed.

"Three times?"

Jordan nodded.

"That I know of."

Nia stared at him.

"That you know of?"

Jordan's expression changed.

He looked toward Marcus.

"Tell her."

Marcus shook his head.

Jordan's voice sharpened.

"Tell her about the other one."

Nia looked between them.

"What other one?"

Marcus whispered, "Jordan, please."

Jordan stepped forward.

"The first switch wasn't three months ago."

Nia's stomach dropped.

"It happened eight years ago."

Eight years.

The same year Marcus had proposed.

The same year she'd almost ended their relationship.

The same year he'd disappeared for four days and returned with flowers, apologies, and a ring.

Nia remembered standing in her apartment doorway.

Remembered the way he'd looked at her.

Like he was seeing her for the first time.

She'd thought it was love.

Now she wasn't sure what it had been.

Nia turned toward Marcus.

"Who proposed to me?"

Nobody spoke.

Her breathing became shallow.

"WHO PUT THAT RING ON MY FINGER?"

Jordan stared at the ground.

Marcus's eyes filled with tears.

And Nia knew.

Before either of them said another word.

She knew.

"No."

Marcus reached toward her.

"Nia—"

She jerked away.

"Don't touch me."

Jordan whispered, "It was me."

Nia's knees nearly buckled.

Danielle caught her arm.

Camille began sobbing.

Nia stared at Jordan.

"You proposed to me?"

He nodded.

"Why?"

Jordan looked at Marcus.

"Because he wasn't supposed to come back."

THE SECOND PHONE

Nia needed air.

She walked toward the open gate.

Nobody followed.

For several seconds, all she could hear was the distant hum of traffic.

Then her phone vibrated.

An unknown number.

A photograph appeared.

It showed Nia and Marcus on their wedding day.

She was smiling.

He was kissing her forehead.

The message underneath read:

LOOK CLOSELY AT HIS LEFT HAND.

Nia enlarged the photograph.

Her wedding bouquet.

The white roses.

The gold watch.

The hand resting against her waist.

No scar.

She froze.

Marcus had a thin scar across his left palm.

He'd told her he'd gotten it as a teenager.

She'd traced it with her thumb a thousand times.

But in the wedding photograph—

There was no scar.

Nia turned.

Both men were still standing near the storage unit.

She looked at Marcus's left hand.

The scar was there.

Then Jordan's.

Smooth skin.

No scar.

Her stomach twisted.

She looked back at the photograph.

At the man smiling beside her.

At the man she'd married.

Then at Jordan.

"Who was at my wedding?"

Jordan didn't answer.

Marcus went pale.

Nia took a step toward them.

"Who was standing beside me when I said my vows?"

Camille whispered, "Nia, don't."

Nia turned toward her sister.

"YOU KNEW?"

Camille started crying harder.

And suddenly Nia understood.

The man in her wedding photographs.

The man who'd proposed.

The man who'd promised forever.

Wasn't the same man she'd woken up beside that morning.

Her phone vibrated again.

Another message.

NOW ASK THEM WHICH ONE IS LEGALLY YOUR HUSBAND.

Nia slowly raised her eyes.

Marcus looked terrified.

Jordan looked heartbroken.

And Camille—

Camille looked like she had been waiting eleven years for this exact moment.

Then Jordan spoke.

"Nia, there's something else."

She almost laughed.

"Of course there is."

He swallowed.

"The marriage certificate..."

Marcus closed his eyes.

Jordan finished.

"...doesn't have Marcus's signature."

Nia stared at him.

"Whose signature is it?"

Jordan looked directly into her eyes.

"Mine."