Dark Illusion: A Psychological Thriller Novel (9 page)

T
he flash of
Andy’s camera was merging with the fragile sunlight of the new day. Even though
the photos from yesterday had come out well, to a great extent due to Gloria’s
professionalism, Andy claimed that the daylight was too bright; therefore, they
should start shooting at sunrise. Due to his meticulousness, or some would even
say compulsiveness, everybody had to wake up before the clock struck four.

Andy was adjusting the camera
lens while Gloria demonstrated a variety of poses, at times approaching the
camera and sometimes pulling away, displaying flamboyant postures in some of
them and choosing to express subtlety in others. Her sheer tiredness and lack
of sleep were not apparent, neither in Gloria’s demeanor nor her appearance.
Minutes after she’d woken up, Gloria’s “small beauty army“ had surrounded the
model and made her absolutely stunning; but, just in case, she was still
thankful for Photoshop.

Perhaps due to the criticism she
was exposed to as a model, or maybe because she was simply a perfectionist,
Gloria was not entirely pleased with herself. She had found peace with whom she
was (that wasn’t so hard), but she could not stand her shortcomings. She might
have to live with them, but she did not have to like them.

Arthur watched Gloria and Andy
working together in perfect synchrony.
They are a good team
, he noted to
himself. Usually Gloria would pick on the slightest things, but now she was
letting Andy take the lead. And it wasn’t just for the camera; recently even
Arthur had noticed that Gloria had let most of the little things go, those
things that used to bother her so much in the past, and he credited this to
Andy. As one of the few people who knew Gloria well, from every line on her
hand to every slight wrinkle on her face (though he’d never drawn her attention
to them, of course), Arthur knew how much Gloria tended to be hard on herself
and felt relieved knowing that outside of him she had Andy by her side.

Arthur studied Gloria’s delicate
movements while Andy’s camera lens perpetuated every graceful moment of her
image, gazing at the view that encircled her. Gloria may have starred in dozens
of campaigns, but this was definitely the highlight of her career, he thought,
wholeheartedly. She had reached the very top.

Arthur wanted to cherish this
moment of seeing Gloria at the peak of her beauty and maturity, despite the
standard norms of the modeling field, which dictated that she was running out
of time. He did not understand why exactly these thoughts were popping into his
mind right now, but when he looked at her again, Arthur felt a subtle dampness
starting to form in the corners of his eyes. Maybe he didn’t have to worry so
much about his little star anymore. He flashed a big smile, and Gloria noticed
him and grinned back, right before she turned her head back to the camera.

                                
 * * *

Andy just loved the way the translucent fabric of Gloria’s
dress fluttered in the light breeze; it made her look remarkably heavenly. He
remembered when they had been sitting together in his hotel room, debating
which outfit to pick for the photo shoot. It already seemed like so long ago.
It was hard to believe that it had been only a few short days, considering how
far they’d come since then.

His heart still skipped a beat
when he thought about the first time he had seen her, at that dull party,
drawing all eyes toward her like a human magnet of beauty. He couldn't believe
he had kissed the most beautiful woman in the world in the candy aisle of a gas
station minimart, and he still asked himself if their passionate night together
had been a dream or reality.

Could he really be in love? The
smile that appeared on his face every time he touched Gloria, saw her, or
merely thought of her, stated that he was. The last time he had been so
enchanted by a girl had been when he was a seventeen-year-old boy falling in
love for the first time; but it had been a childish, naive love that had ended
as quickly as it had begun. This time it was different. It was
real
. He
felt it deep down in his soul. He had hoped that this was not unrequited love,
that he wasn’t acting like a stupid boy, being misled by his idol and
eventually ending up hurt. Andy knew Gloria had many admires, that she lived
the kind of life other people could not even dream about, and he wished to be a
worthy candidate for her heart. When he had held her close, had kissed her neck
and listened to her ever-accelerating breathing, he had dared to believe that
he just might be.

Andy then reflected on the moment
he had accepted Kelly Danes’ prestigious job offer, how excited he had been
about what was yet to come: the national exposure that would launch his career,
the ridiculously high salary, traveling to New Zealand and revisiting its
breathtaking scenery. He had never imagined that, ultimately, what would make
him feel most on top of the world would be . . . a girl!

There is no doubt women have an
inexplicable mystical pull over humanity, he concluded.

O
n her way back
from Miranda’s house, Sharon still could not entirely grasp the tremendous
transformation Kelly’s looks had undergone.

Surely there had been a great
deal of plastic surgeries involved – a quantity that indicated self-loathing
rather than the desire to be fashionable. Sharon couldn’t shake off the image
of that small, mousy girl with her sheepish eyes staring back at her from the
photos. The tragic image had been seared into her mind, not because it was
extremely ugly or repulsive, but since it seemed as if every feature in Kelly’s
face had been screaming for help. Her desperation managed to penetrate the
photos.

Who the hell made you feel
like that?

Sharon knew it was already too
late; that poor girl did not exist anymore. From her ashes had risen a new
woman, one who was forceful and dangerous. Sharon began to wonder how things
would have turned out if . . .

She had gotten carried away in a
sea of thoughts again; she had to clear her mind. She needed to forget about
those old photos, they were not relevant to the case right now. But there was
one more thing that bothered her: the image of a beautiful girl who could be
seen in one of the pictures and somehow seemed vaguely familiar. Sharon tried
to focus and think where she recognized her from. Was she an employee in
Kelly’s office? Or perhaps related to one of the victims? She just couldn’t
seem to recall.

Sharon pulled over in front of
the roadside motel where she intended to spend the night. What interested her
now was 1990. She had to figure out what had happened then, that had caused
Kelly to transform herself from head to toe.

She opened the squeaky door
marked 18. The room was small and dense, overtaken by a compelling odor of air
freshener. The cheap, faded wallpaper had begun to peel off, revealing a
crumbling wall and a cobweb that had maintained a status of honor – it seemed
as though no one dared to come near it.

 Sharon took one look at the
shabby armchair, which surely had seen better days, and sat down on the bed
instead.
At least they have to change the sheets
, she figured. She
pulled the laptop out of her bag, along with a box of Pringles, immediately
regretting for having to politely decline Miranda’s invitation for dinner. The lamp
on the nightstand emitted a feeble, yellow light, like a dying man trying to
take his last breath. On top of one of the two shelves in the room, next to the
dusty Bible, there was a half-eaten Cheetos bag, left by the previous tenant,
if not the one before.

Who, for God’s sake, leaves
half a bag of Cheetos on a shelf in a hotel room?

At that point Sharon realized
that she was getting distracted. She had to focus. She brushed off the Pringles
crumbs that had fallen onto her clothes, opened her laptop, and prayed for a
wireless connection. She didn’t even dare to blink as she stared at the screen.

Hallelujah!

She connected, but just barely;
Sharon hoped that whoever’s Wi-Fi network she’d joined would stay online long
enough for her to find what she needed.

She tried crossing Kelly’s name
with the year 1990, but nothing came up. Even adding the name of her hometown,
Winslow, didn’t surface any unusual incidents in relation to Kelly Danes. All
she found were a few articles and a couple of interviews with the successful
magazine editor. Not a single clue that would lead to a dark Pandora’s Box.

Kelly Danes, is your influence
so great that you even got Google on your side?

The Wi-Fi connection failed, and
Sharon tried to open the search window again. She began to fear of the
possibility of having to spend long hours in dense archives, though even then
the odds that someone would have written about the doings of a small town girl
in a New York newspaper were slim; unless it had been something really
terrible. And if that were the case, she would have already seen it on her
computer screen.

The apprehension that this whole
trip might have been in vain began to nibble at her consciousness. Sharon
couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing Rob, or herself for that matter. She
desperately needed something that would revive the case, which currently seemed
as if it had reached a dead end.

It’s just so unfair.

Sharon decided to call Miranda
and try to glean one more piece of information out of her, though she was not
very optimistic that she could.

 “Hello, Mrs. Danes?“

“You know, it’s pretty funny when
you call me that.“

“Still too formal for you?“
Sharon chuckled.

“No, not because of that. It’s
just that my last name is Whitesporte.“

K
elly was
sitting in her luxurious corner office, overlooking the panorama of the most
powerful city in the world. She felt like a queen ruling over her subordinates
with an iron fist, manipulating the commoners as if they were helpless puppets
at her mercy. In a way, it was true. Kelly decided who deserved to live, and,
far more important, who deserved to die. She held the fate of those buffoons in
her hands and crushed it with pleasure.

Kelly admired the black bud that
had sprouted within her, which had begun to blossom, only reaching its full
glory in that special moment when the scaffold landed. What a shame that no one
could appreciate her hard work. But there was no choice; it was a mission she
had to execute on her own. Any other option would lead to her downfall. That
was why it was her duty to neutralize anyone who might stand in her way.

So far she did well. Kelly had
made the snooping detective believe that she was a model citizen who had
unfortunately found herself caught in a problematic situation. She was so proud
of the creativity and resourcefulness she had demonstrated. She could not stand
aside while someone questioned her innocence. She always had to be in control.

Kelly was appalled when she remembered
the vulgar tone and impudent attitude that had characterized her opponent.
Under different circumstances, she would have thrown that boorish cop out of
her office on the spot; instead, she had served her coffee and patiently
answered each and every one of her irritating questions. Luckily, Kelly emitted
a long sigh, this chapter was behind her now, signed and sealed by her victory.
The cop hadn’t made contact since then. It may have been only three days, but
it seemed like Detective Davis would not be bothering her anymore. Kelly was
free once more, and she craved to feel yet again the power to condemn lives.
She spotted suitable candidates everywhere – beautiful, vain, who ought to be
taught a lesson – but Kelly knew that she had to stay low and not succumb to
her urges, no matter how strong they might be.

Those killing moments, delightful
as they might have been, were just a small part of a larger picture. They had
prepared her for her true calling, a mission she had set for herself years ago.
Soon she would be able to fulfill her heart’s most secret desire: the
oh-so-sweet revenge.

The nightmares about that bloody
day had followed her for many nights. But in her dreams, that same marvelous
moment she aspired for also appeared. Now it seemed closer than ever. The mere
thought of it made her hands tremble with excitement and her fingers tingle
with anticipation. Kelly burst into an insane, uncontrollable laughter, and was
glad that there was no one in the office to witness her bizarre behavior. She
forced herself to thrust her manicured, polished nails deep into her arms so
she would calm down, creating for herself some sort of personal straight
jacket.

Kelly took a deep breath and
ignored the involuntary tears that flooded her eyes. She saw them as a sign of
weakness, the rock bottom she had sworn never to hit again. Her body was moving
back and forth, as if it was trying to break through from her incarcerating
grip. Kelly suddenly realized that it was rather disturbing that no one around
her had noticed that she was not mentally stable. And, despite that, she had
successfully managed to establish herself as tops in her field, becoming one of
the most influential pillars of strength in the city. After all, she had the
power to decide which articles would be included in a supposedly innocent
magazine, which, in essence, functioned as a bible for millions of
impressionable young girls across the country.

What kind of idiots live in
this country, that
I
have a free hand in sculpting their children’s minds
. . .

Of course it wasn’t completely
their fault. Kelly had played her part perfectly. A model citizen, a successful
businesswoman, a role model . . . How glad she was that she hadn’t listened to
the old Kelly, that miserable nobody who wouldn’t even have dared to dream of
standing where the new Kelly paced so naturally.

Unlike the old Kelly, nowadays
she fought for whatever she wanted, without any fears or hesitations, even if
it meant trampling everything in her path. She was determined, strong, and had
a spark of brilliance that the plebeians might interpret as madness, but she
knew what she was worth. Nothing would stand in her way.

She had suffered through horrible
injustices in the past and now it was time to correct them – starting with
Gloria McIntyre’s existence on this planet. Kelly had all the means necessary
to crush her completely.

Kelly proudly recalled the
step-by-step plan she had devised. The way she had used her connections in the
advertising world to track down an aspiring, young photographer, one who would
be willing to do anything she said in order to win the amazing “opportunity“
she had offered him. How she had guided, telling him exactly how to present his
proposal to the conceited princess so she would accept it, while making it
clear to him that if the model refused, everything he dreamed of would slip
through his fingers. She had been smart enough to ensure that he had plenty of
talent and charm, too, so her plan would not fall apart due to the fact that he
was merely an insignificant pawn. The way she had directed him to determine the
right timing to reveal the “truth“ about the desired project, without
understanding that everything he said was a downright lie, thus making him an
accomplice without even knowing it. How she had rented an impressive mansion on
the other side of the world, just to make certain that her highness would agree
to meet with her. And, finally, the fact that she had, once and for all,
managed to isolate and capture in her net the bitch who had destroyed her life.

How, at long last, she would
eliminate the supermodel.