Dark Illusion: A Psychological Thriller Novel (14 page)

A
fter driving
continuously for nearly seven hours straight, Kelly decided to stop at a small
diner located near a gas station. That way she could kill two birds with one
stone.

She drank the terrible coffee
that the waitress served her, reminiscing about New York’s cafés, when
she noticed that someone had left their morning newspaper on the table. Kelly
picked up the paper and started browsing through it vigorously, knowing exactly
what she was looking for. After a few minutes she found it:

Death of a Cop:
Accidental or Malicious?

On Monday evening, February 24, the body of
Sharon Davis, a homicide detective with the New York Police Department, was
discovered lifeless in her Manhattan apartment. Initial observations of the
ransacked apartment indicate an attempted robbery gone wrong. It appears that
the cop entered her home and encountered the robber in the act. However, a
source within the NYPD stated that the possibility of premeditated murder is
also under investigation. No suspects are currently in custody. New York Police
Department has no further comments at this time.

Kelly felt as if a huge burden
had been lifted off her shoulders. Now I’m finally free, she sighed. She
decided to celebrate by ordering the cherry pie she’d spied in the desserts
display; she could afford to unwind for a few more minutes . . .

                                
 * * *

On Wednesday morning, February 26, Robert and Jillian Davis sat
down for breakfast at their dining table. As usual, they smeared cream cheese
across their hot Bialy bagels and divided the newspaper between them. The
ritual of swapping sections occurred about twenty minutes later, and after an
additional twenty minutes the couple would discuss the articles that they’d
found interesting. Bobby always started with the sports section and Jill began
with the news section. She started flipping casually through the pages when . .
.

“Bobby . . .“ Jill’s voice
trembled and she dropped her bagel on the floor.

Brandy, their beloved dog,
eagerly pounced on the prize.

                                
 * * *

 
“Shit!!!“

Dozens of passengers turned their
heads toward the loud and obviously ill-mannered woman. The man sitting next to
her looked astonished.

“Shall I remind you that we are
trying to keep a low profile?“ Rob glared at Sharon.

“I forgot to tell them.“

“Forgot to tell what to whom?“

“I forgot to tell my parents I’m
not dead.“

                                
 * * *

Chris Wallington had been in an exceptionally good mood for
the last couple of days. He couldn’t seem to forget the face of the beautiful
detective who had sat next to him on the plane. He held in his hand the
business card of
Sharon Davis, Homicide Detective, New York Police
Department
and wondered when would be the right time to call. He had
decided it would be better to wait another day or two; let her get some rest.
She sure looked like she’d needed it. He had already realized from the few
hours they’d spent on the plane that this one was not going to make his life
any easier, but he did not mind. For the first time in his life he could
understand why people believed in love at first sight. If he hadn’t been such a
cynic, he might have thought he was falling in love.

Chris glanced at his watch,
grabbed the morning paper, and left for work with a broad smile stretched
across his face.

K
elly was only
several hours away from the border. By the end of the day she would be on a
plane to New Zealand, starting a new chapter in her life – the chapter in which
she would fulfill her lifelong dream. Her mouth tasted sweeter than ever, the
taste of impending revenge.

Her foot slammed down on the gas
pedal. She began to accelerate, expediting her arrival to freedom, longing to
leave all of her worries behind. She was sick and tired of hiding. She was sick
and tired of waiting. After all, she had waited long enough; nearly two decades
of her life had been spent waiting.

Her eyes did not stray from the
route, but her mind drifted somewhere entirely different from the curved road
ahead of her. She saw herself standing in front of Gloria while the model
kneeled submissively at her feet. She saw herself releasing all the poison that
had streamed through her blood for years, ever since that dreadful day. She saw
herself . . .

Getting pulled over by a cop?

The siren abruptly snagged Kelly
out of her delightful fantasy and brought her back to gloomy reality. The
police car signaled her to stop.

How could everything I’ve
worked for all these years go down the drain in a single moment?

She pulled up to the side of the
road. A young, handsome officer in uniform approached her window.

“We both know why I pulled you
over, don’t we?“

Kelly sensed beads of
perspiration starting to form along her temples. She tried to keep her
breathing regular. It had never been this hard.

She tried smiling at the officer
and maintaining her usual calm, composed facial expression, though she knew
that this was it –
she’d been caught.

“So . . . How are we going to
solve our little problem?“

Kelly immediately thought about
the piles of money she had stashed in the trunk of the car. Perhaps she could
bribe him? No, that wouldn't help her this time; she had crossed an
irreversible line.

She had killed a cop.

“You seem like a reasonable lady,
so why were you driving above the speed limit? It’s very dangerous.“

Kelly was so relieved that she
felt her heart almost fly into the sky. The oxygen came back to her lungs and
she instantly felt revitalized.

“You are absolutely right,
Officer. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m just in such a rush to get
home,“ she flashed a flustered grin. “Dinner isn’t going to make itself.“

The young officer smiled back at
the nice lady. She reminded him of his mom – always rushing to take care of
everyone and, in the process of doing so, ending up forgetting herself.

“Still, I don’t want to see you
doing that again. Is that clear?“

“Of course, Officer, and again, I
am so sorry.“

“It’s okay. Just show me your
license and registration, please.“

Kelly’s heartbeat started racing
again. She felt as if the bullet she had just managed to dodge had returned in
a circular motion to snipe at her back.

She started searching nervously
for the forged credentials in her purse. She had no idea where the registration
of the lame car she’d bought just a couple of days ago was.

For God’s sake, this is the
last thing I need right now
.

The officer looked at the anxious
woman searching through her bag for the documents. He noticed the dark circles
under her eyes and guessed that she’d had a rough day at work. He felt sorry
for her. Maybe he didn’t have to check her license; when he saw the papers
falling out of her bag and scattering along the bottom of the car, he decided
to cut the poor woman some slack.

He didn’t notice the pile of
bills that slipped out along with them.

“Okay, never mind. I’ll let you
off with a warning this time.“

Kelly felt as if the treacherous
bullet had suddenly lost its momentum and dropped to the ground.

“Thank you, Officer. Thank you so
much,“ she smiled a broad smile – a real one for a change. What a break.

“Next time I won’t be able to let
it slide, so please pay attention.“

There won’t be a next time,
you idiot . . .

“Of course, Officer, and again,
thank you.“

Kelly waited for a few moments in
her car, letting the police car pass her. The stupid cop waved her goodbye.

Oh, honey, you have no idea
what kind of mistake you’ve just made . . .

She was so glad that they let
just anyone into the police academy these days.

Less than three hours later, Kelly had successfully crossed
the United States-Canada border. It had not been an easy task since she’d had
to rely on clumsy maps, roadside signage, and bystanders’ faulty English. It
all would have been much simpler had she just used the GPS on her smartphone,
but she’d been afraid of being tracked.

Kelly stopped again to refuel and
gave the guy an extra tip to polish the decrepit car. In the meantime, she took
out the driving directions she had prepared in advance, looking how to get to
the most luxurious hotel near Vancouver International Airport. She had a few
hours to spare in this place and money was no obstacle.

After days and days of not being
able to sit in a coffee shop for more than fifteen minutes or enjoy a decent
meal, after the countless hours she’d spent in that reeking car, Kelly had to
compensate. Fix the horrible injustices she had endured.

After her car had been polished
and shined, she was ready to get behind the wheel for one last drive. Kelly had
decided that the smartest thing to do would be to leave the car in the hotel’s
parking lot, so it would take some time to trace it. She would take a cab to
the airport and from there fly first class. In New Zealand, the Porsche she had
leased would be waiting to take her to the extravagant mansion she had rented,
worthy of her status.

Kelly took the final turn on her
direction sheet. She spotted the Marriott logo from a distance. She could
hardly wait to slip into a big bubble bath, to scrub her body clean from all
the filth of the last few days. She fantasized about the red, sweet
strawberries, complementing the Dom
Pérignon
that she would order in her room. She could already taste the Champagne in her
mouth and imagined how she would relish each and every drop.

When she arrived at the hotel,
she approached the receptionist.

“Welcome to the Vancouver Airport
Marriott hotel,“ the clerk greeted her. “Do you have a reservation?“

“No, but I would like to make one
now. I need a room for today.“

“I’m sorry, we are fully booked.“

Kelly did not like this answer.
She assumed that after three days in the same scruffy clothes and unwashed
hair, she didn’t look like someone who could afford a room in this kind of
hotel.

“Are you telling me there isn’t
even one room available?“ Kelly asked.

“Yes. All the single rooms are
occupied.“

“And the executive suites?“

The receptionist looked at her,
surprised.

“The presidential suite is available,“
she answered condescendingly, “but . . .“

“I’ll take it.“

                                
 * * *

Sharon stared helplessly at the digital monitor imbedded in
the seatback in front of her. There were sixteen hours left until they reached their
destination, and she was feeling every minute of it.
And that’s a whole lot
of minutes
. She could handle the physical inconvenience but the actual
waiting tormented her. Sharon recalled her talk with Rob on their way to the
airport, when he had revealed Kelly’s secret to her.

“Are you sure you want to hear
this?“

“Absolutely.“

“Okay. On April twenty-fourth,
1990, sixteen-year-old Kelly Whitesporte was rushed to the hospital and then
admitted to the psychiatric ward. She spent a month and a half there after what
was presumed to be a suicide attempt.“

Sharon’s jaw dropped, just like
in the movies.
Kelly tried to kill herself? Why?

She glared at Rob, waiting for
him to fill in the blanks.

Rob continued: “She arrived at
the hospital battered and covered with bruises, showing deep cuts in her
wrists. The report said she had been found unconscious with an initial cut on
her neck. Luckily, she most likely passed out before she could finish the job,
so the paramedics were able to save her. After two days of medical
surveillance, she was transferred for psychiatric observation and stayed there
for quite some time. Due to medical confidentiality I couldn’t get the reports
from there. I don’t know why she tried to kill herself. And I have no idea who
released her and why.“

“Only that the person who did
that made a huge mistake
.
.
.“
Sharon muttered.

“Without a question,“ Rob agreed.

“We still don’t know how Gloria
McIntyre is linked to all of this and what happened there exactly, but I have
no doubt she had a part in Kelly’s suicide attempt, and a very crucial part, if
Kelly’s desire for revenge is still blazing after all these years,“ Sharon
added.

“Kelly and Gloria went to the
same high school. I wouldn’t be surprised if we were to find out they were in
the same class.“

“How do you know that?“

“You’d be surprised to know how
much you can learn with the help of Google,“ Rob smirked. “Gloria McIntyre has
countless fan websites. And guess where she grew up?“

“Winslow, Arizona. Kelly’s
hometown.“

“Exactly.“

“We have to find out what the
hell happened between them,“ Sharon asserted. “Damn it, Rob, don’t you have any
strings you could pull? We’re trying to catch a killer! It’s important for us
to know Kelly’s medical history,“ she insisted.

“Do you think I didn’t act on it?
It’s just that with all the bureaucracy and those damned warrants the judge has
to sign, it will take a few good days that we just don’t have.“

Sharon squinted into the
distance. “Then I guess we’ll have to figure it out some other way.“

“How?“

“We’ll just have to ask Kelly.“