The Twin Contract (The Contract Series Book 1) Read online

  "And you're sure it was Brianna you found?" she asked, her eyes flickered as if in hope he might be mistaken.

  He hid his flinch as he lifted the file. "About that… The FBI sent the personal effects of Briony, so Briony is who is listed—"

  "No. That won't do at all." Her snarled response jolted him. "As I've explained to you, Briony is in the back garden. Your people have obviously confused her things with Brianna's."

  Come on, Jackson don't lose your shit just because this elitist snob doesn't care her own daughter was murdered

  "What do you want to do, ma'am?"

  She sighed as if put upon. "I want a full DNA panel run, so you have irrefutable proof that Brianna is the person lying in your morgue. For all we know, it could be some vagabond off the streets."

  He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from pointing out that identical twins have the same DNA. Taking a deep breath, he placated the woman. "If you want to give me the samples, you can watch me label them correctly, and I will hand-deliver them to the sheriff himself the second he comes in on Monday." Seeing the doubts still swirling in Mrs. Spencer's gaze, Jackson felt as if his boss could take a hit. "I'll even have the sheriff call you to tell you he has the samples."

  That seemed to satisfy her.

  "Let me get Briony, and we'll handle this now." Bianca stepped from the room.

  Jackson hurried to his car, not wanting to be outside in the heat any longer than needed.

  The things I go through for this job.

  He retook his seat and double-checked Briony's photo from ten years ago, hoping he could find enough differences to tell the two apart. Not that he had a picture of Brianna, but he should be able to determine if the person in front of him was Briony or not.

  The photo he had of Briony, showed a face set with a calculating expression paired with a hardness at the corner of her eyes. This woman had trouble written all over her.

  Would Brianna look the same?

  He didn't care what Mrs. Spencer claimed; he knew Briony was the one in the morgue. Granted, the body was too decomposed to pull fingerprints from it, but why would Brianna have Briony's cell phone and a purse that held a wallet with a Briony's driver's license? They knew the cell was Briony's based on saved text messages as well as the contacts stored in the device.

  To top that off, Reginald Spencer, Briony's father, was the one who turned in the missing person's report. He, of all people, would know which twin was missing.

  Within a few minutes, Bianca returned with her daughter in tow. "See, Briony is right here."

  The daughter looked uncomfortable; her gaze remained fixed on her open-toed shoes, and her face was composed but not closed.

  She seemed softer than the DMV photo, and there was the barest dusting of freckles almost hidden beneath her makeup. If he weren't a trained observer, he would have missed them.

  This woman was not Briony. So why was she lying? And if he pressed her, would she continue to lie?

  "Are you Briony Spencer?" Jackson asked, tucking everything back into the folder and closing it with a snap.

  "Of course, she is. I just said that." The fierce frown Bianca directed at Jackson seemed to question his intelligence.

  "I know you did, ma'am, but I need to hear it from her." He pointed at the still silent figure standing next to Bianca.

  "For heaven's sake. This is Briony, so quite obviously, you found Brianna."

  A gasp passed the daughter's pink lips. Hope brightened her expression, and she lifted her gaze to her mother's. "Alive?"

  Bianca made an impatient sound. "Of course, not alive. What a silly question."

  The hope morphed to sadness as Briony's eyes dropped again. This was the reaction Jackson had expected from Bianca.

  "How?" she asked, her lips barely moving. Elegant fingers twisted together as she turned to him for answers. Her gaze never rose to meet his.

  "It was that dreadful serial killer." A pale pink nail wagged at her daughter. "And don't you cry for her. This house has seen enough mourning for that girl. She should never have run off."

  A single tear trailed from the corner of the woman's left eye down her flushed cheek. "Yes, ma'am." She tipped her head to the side. "If you didn't need me for the notification, why am I here?"

  "This man says it was Briony they found, but you and I know differently. You'll go with him and get DNA samples to give him. Make sure he properly labels them and seals them." Bianca tapped her foot.

  The twin frowned at her mother and shook her head. "Mother, DNA—"

  "No, you'll go get it now, Briony, and I won't hear another word about it."

  Her shoulders slumped. "Yes, ma'am."

  Jackson stood quietly. He refused to step in to defend the woman since she was clearly lying to her parents.

  The Briony Jackson had heard about from the other deputies was hell on wheels. Selfish, self-centered, and never allowed anyone to interrupt her. Not even her parents.

  Brianna, on the other hand, was softer spoken and a dreamer. And everyone in the office swore it was Brianna who lived and Briony who died.

  As Jackson had only been here for two years, he didn't know either woman, so he could only go on gossip. If the sheriff weren't taking care of his wife after her surgery, he would have called him. But Shirley's appendix had ruptured, and they had barely made it to the hospital in time for surgery. No way would he bother the sheriff for this.

  Though in his defense, he had never had a family notification go pear-shaped so quickly. No mother he knew of showed this much disinterest and annoyance when their child died.

  Hell, even the churchgoing mother of a dealer had pulled a gun on Jackson in Chicago during a notification, and from all reports, the woman had washed her hands of her boy years before.

  "Briony, come here."

  Briony sighed but moved closer to her mother, only to jerk away with a yelp when Bianca plucked several strands of hair from her head. "Here. That's a start. Briony can take you to her sister's room for the other sample."

  He bit his tongue to keep from stating Brianna's cheek needed to be swabbed in case Bianca snatched the kit and jammed it in the poor woman's mouth. It didn't matter anyway since no lab would see these samples.

  Manners that had been drilled into him from the time he could walk allowed him to show no emotion as he tipped his head and murmured, "Thank you, ma'am."

  "I'm going back to the party before we're missed." Bianca swept from the room, leaving expensive perfume whirling in her wake.

  "She doesn't seem upset." Unable to keep the censure from his voice, Jackson took an evidence bag from the file folder, opened it, and placed the strands of hair within it. Then he pulled the tab to seal it. "I need to do a cheek swab."

  "We both know these samples are useless, Deputy," the twin responded.

  "Maybe, but I'm turning them into Sheriff Brigston, and he can explain it to your mother."

  A ghost of a smile curled the corners of her lips. "She is a force to be reckoned with."

  He waited for her to head for the door, but she took a breath and asked. "Did she suffer?"

  "What do you want me to say to that?" He was at a loss. This woman was lying to her family, and she wanted him to give her details on her sister's murder? Unsure exactly how to respond, he went with an easy out. "From what your mother said, you all watched the news and heard about this guy."

  A soft sound passed the woman's lips, her face losing the little color it had. He refused to drill into every detail. Taking mercy on her, he patted her arm and hesitated at the tingle of attraction that moved through him.

  It was not the time to notice how pretty she was. Or to realize she was his type from her pretty gold hair to the coral painted tips of her toes that peeked from the strappy sandals she wore.

  She cleared her throat.

  "Sorry. I can tell you she wasn't raped or tortured. The coroner found nothing showing anything like that."

  Not that the coroner found much to show she had
gotten off scot-free either. But based on the journal the man had kept, Briony had been his second abduction. He raged in those pages about the amount of drugs he had administered and not to make the same mistake. The FBI profiler concluded she died before he had a chance to do anything to her.

  She released a puff of relieved air. "Thank you."

  He hummed and propped his hip on the desk to see what she would come up with next. Would she swear up and down to be Briony, now? Would she fall apart and claim she loved her sister dearly?

  The shell of calm around the woman broke with a guilty sob. "I begged her not to go. Told her I would call Mother and Father—"

  "But you didn't. Why?" It was a struggle to keep from yelling. From pointing out that one phone call might have saved her sister's life.

  He had heard so many excuses and lies from the time he began his tutelage under his parents and throughout his career as a cop. His own parents raised him on lies and made a more than lucrative living at it before he'd turned them in. So, it never surprised him when others lied, even when Jackson proved to the culprits that he knew the truth.

  She shook her head; the burnished bronze locks shimmered under the light as she slumped against the desk. "No, we were grounded. So, no cell. But I tried using the landline. It was dead as if it had been cut off."

  He had to hand it to her; she was a much better actor than his parents had ever been. "Okay, I'll buy the no cell even though Briony's cell was found on her. But no landline either? That seems farfetched."

  "My sister could wrap my parents around her finger. She probably talked our father into returning the cell early, or just took it from the safe in his office. She knew the combination." The twin half-shrugged. "As for the landline, my sister must have disabled it, but I don't know. You'd have to ask my parents."

  He wouldn't ask any questions because it no longer mattered.

  Briony was dead.

  The question now was, why this woman was pretending to be her.

  The woman snatched a few tissues from the box that perched on the corner of the desk, using them to wipe under her eyes. "My sister knew me. Knew I wouldn't let her get us into even more trouble, especially since it was Halloween. All the crazies come out during Halloween."

  Seeing the tattered remains of her control struggle to return, it finally hit home that at least this family member had cared. She wasn't trying to play on his emotions or garner more sympathy since he wasn't providing any in the first place.

  He caved to his need to touch her and clasped her slim-fingered hand briefly; he offered her what comfort he could while ignoring the spark of attraction. "I'm sorry for your loss."

  "You swear she never suffered."

  Heat licked into him when she lifted her gaze to tangle with his. He cursed himself for being attracted to a liar even as he became lost in her guileless eyes.

  He tore his gaze away as he struggled to form an answer. "No, she was his second victim, and the coroner found no broken bones. And the only photo the killer had was of her in the ground…" He trailed off unsure how to explain that the killer had a camera in the background documenting every horror he visited on his other victims. And he refused to mention the journal that cataloged each woman's torture as if the killer were conducting experiments. Screw it, I'm just here for the notification. If she wants the details, the sheriff can fill her in.

  "Jesus, I don't know if I wanted to know that." She wrapped an arm around her waist.

  "Sorry. If it's any comfort at all, she was one of the lucky ones."

  A soft snort came from the woman. "I wouldn't call her lucky, but of the two choices … then yeah, falling asleep and dying is a lot better option than a slow, painful death."

  His gaze tangled with hers again. The pure blue held a hint of gold as if the sun were peeking from behind the bluest sky. How could eyes this pure, lie so convincingly? And why would she do it?

  Was it for money? Was Briony set for a larger portion of the estate than Brianna? It had to be money.

  Everything he'd learned about cons pointed to money.

  "Now that she's out of the room, I need to tell you … " The woman's gaze darted back to the door her mother had closed before meeting his again.

  Jackson arched a brow and crossed his arms.

  "I'm Brianna."

  He bit his cheek to keep from growling, 'No shit.'

  * * * *

  "I know." Jackson leaned into her space, overwhelming her with his masculine scent. "And if this were an investigation instead of a death notification, I would arrest you for obstruction."

  His words doused her in ice. He was angry. She hadn't caught on how mad he was until now.

  "We can't have this conversation here. Follow me—"

  "I'll go with you to get the other DNA sample, but nothing you say could explain how you could take your sister's place."

  She paused at the door. "You do know my sister and I are identical twins. So, the DNA won't—"

  "I'm not doing it to prove which twin is lying in the morgue. I'm doing it to help your mother gain closure." He snatched the sample bags from the desk and moved the file folder into the same hand before waving imperiously toward the door. "So, let's get this over with."

  Brianna hesitated as she wanted to laugh hysterically at the thought of her mother needing closure. Her mother was in denial and today proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that Father was not enforcing the psychiatrist visits Mother required, and their contract demanded. Brianna rubbed the skin of her throat before yanking open the door and hurrying out.

  The conversation she knew was coming could not be had in this room. There were too many people milling about to chance it. She led the way past the formal dining room, the pristine living room where her parents entertained before dinner, and reached the front hall.

  Two staircases curved along opposite walls. The dark wood banister polished to a high sheen glinted under the brilliant silver-and-crystal chandelier that hung in all its glory in the center of the room. Italian marble tiles in the lightest cream shade glowed under the bright bulbs. Brianna took the right-side staircase to the second floor. The carpet covering the stairs matched the tile and muffled their footsteps.

  The heavier tread reminded her of the rugged man trailing her. A shiver of awareness raced down her spine and settled into the pit of her stomach.

  Why she was attracted to him? He was a judgmental jerk who had already found her guilty before she even had a chance to explain. Not that she had much room to wiggle within the confines of the contract she had impetuously signed when she was eighteen.

  She cursed her own stupidity for ever scrawling her name on that dotted line.

  But how was she to know her sister, who always ran off on adventures, wouldn't return this time? How was she to know she would be stuck wearing the skin of Briony for years instead of a few weeks?

  And yes, some of it had been mercenary on Brianna's part. When her scholarship had come apart at the seams, she panicked. She hadn't had a backup plan.

  To top that off, her grandmother had dangled the farm as the biggest reward within the contract. Brianna's dream was to run an animal sanctuary. To take in unwanted and abused farm animals and help them thrive. Her grandmother, Evelynn Davenport Spencer, had so many resources at her disposal it was easy for her to procure a farm for Brianna without breaking a sweat. Now that she thought about it, she had never seen Evelynn sweat even on the hottest summer day.

  She touched the skin of her throat again, realized what she was doing, and jerked her hand back to her side.

  At least she could share a piece of it. The sheriff knew a little, she was sure, and he would likely fill this deputy in the second he returned to the office.

  She remained silent until they turned into the wing of the house that held her and her sister's suites. This part of the house was never disturbed. Only the staff came once a week to clean; otherwise, it was a pristine mausoleum speaking of times long past and a daughter who would never walk
these hallways again.

  She paused a step away from the door to Briony's room.

  Unsure what she would say to change his mind, a huff of exasperation passed her lips.

  Why is it so important to change his mind?

  In all the years she had played the role of Briony, she quit caring what others thought. She had forced herself to grow a thick skin, so the barbs and insults wouldn't touch her. But with him, it was as if he had access to her very soul. An impatient shake of her head dismissed the strange thought.

  She glanced behind Deputy McCord to be sure they were alone. It wouldn't do to have someone overhear her stating her name out loud, at least not on this property.

  "Look, can we speed this up? I'd like to enjoy the rest of my weekend." His impatient tone grated on her nerves.

  She wanted to snap at him but bit her lip to keep his anger from escalating.

  I don't need to know why you're pretending to be Briony. I figure it's the money." He waved his hand at their surroundings. "I mean, who wouldn't be interested in all these cash prizes."

  She could tell he was done, but something in her refused to let their time end like this. Refused to allow it to end with a lie between them. She fingered her throat again and jumped at his growl. Her gaze tangled with his slate-colored eyes. "What?"

  He squinted at her and brushed her fingers away from her neck. "Is that—"

  She backed away from him but couldn't go far as the wall halted her retreat. He kept coming, his gaze narrowed on her throat. "There's a faint scar here. As if someone tried to slit—"

  She spun away from him and raced into Briony's room, and then returned with a used toothbrush, hairbrush, and lipstick.

  "Here." Too many emotions raged inside of her to feel stable enough to talk to him. "As for what happened. My mother. The woman you want to have closure." She traced the area her mother had cut. "She did this back when Briony was first missing."

  He slapped the items in a bag. "Did she get angry that you were pretending to be your sister?"

  The question slammed into her like a fist to the face. Phantom pain sliced through her neck and her fingers ran across the line making sure it was actually sealed before she could stop herself. The nervous tick was so ingrained she had to fight the compulsion so she could lower her arm and wrap it around her waist to hold in the pain. "No, she was angry because I refused to answer to Briony. She wanted to cut out my lying tongue, but my father rushed into the room, so she cut my throat instead." Brianna shoved by him. "Ms. Williams will show you out."