Page 27 of The Locked Ward

Tony, the private investigator, wanted to meet in person to give you, as he put it, “a piece of information.” You had a packed day, as you always did back in your other life, and it was excruciating to spend two hours tasting and discussing cake flavors with a bride and her finicky groom, then negotiating a contract with a florist who kept trying to raise her prices.

As soon as your last appointment ended, you rushed to the restaurant he’d named, arriving five minutes early.

Tony was already seated on a bar stool positioned to let him face the entrance, so he spotted you the moment you walked in and gave you a little wave.

Even if he hadn’t told you at your first meeting that he was retired law enforcement, you’d have guessed it.

It isn’t just a look; it’s a vibe. You learned that when you dated the police chief’s son.

They always remain very still, and they sit in a way that allows them to monitor the entrances into a room.

Even when they’re the ones delivering the bomb.

You slid onto the stool next to him, your stomach roiling.

Tony was drinking sweet tea, which would’ve struck you as a humorously incongruous note if you hadn’t been so nervous.

“Drink?” he’d asked. “I had to quit years ago because I liked it too much, but don’t let that stop you.”

“Sure, um, a Heineken,” you’d said, not trusting the wine at a pub that had sticky floors and posters with peeling corners on the wall.

He signaled the bartender and ordered your beer, then got straight to the point, which you appreciated.

“When I take on a new client, first thing I do is check all the documents. Paper trails, electronic trails—we all leave them, even when we don’t know we’re doing it. So that’s what I started with for you. At the beginning of your path through life.”

You’d nodded, feeling your nails bite into your palms. The question roared through your mind: What did he find?

The PI paused while the bartender brought over your drink, serving it up in the bottle instead of a glass. You took a sip, then began picking at the damp, sticky label.

“I pulled your birth certificate.” Tony reached down for the battered brown briefcase tucked between his feet and opened it, pulling out a manila folder. He straightened up and looked you in the eye. It was impossible to read his expression, another facet of his training.

Then his words slammed into you: “Your real birth certificate.”

Your hands shook as you reached for the folder.

It suddenly hit you that you could regret opening this investigation.

Maybe your mother died of some incurable genetic disease, one she passed down to you.

Maybe your birth father is in prison, like Tony’s other client.

Those are only two of a thousand awful possibilities.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to know. But you had to know.

You felt his eyes on your face as you opened the folder.

Inside was a birth certificate. It looked identical to the one you’d scanned and sent to the detective. Your eyes skimmed the first few lines—it listed your name, city of birth, and the exact time you were born. It was all information you already had.

You glanced up at him, puzzled.

“Keep looking,” he told you. “You’ll see it.”

And then you did. A single word in a box toward the upper right of the form. In the birth certificate you have, the one you thought was real, the box is blank.

The word filling this one read: Twin.

You gaped at those four letters, trying to comprehend what they meant. Was there another you walking around—a woman with your face, your mannerisms, your voice?

You blinked hard as the word blurred, then came back into focus.

“Is she— Does she live around here?” you asked in a voice that didn’t sound like your own.

“I haven’t checked yet. Needed you to authorize it first.” Tony stirred his tea, the spoon clinking against the side of the mug. “Could be a he, too.”

You nodded slowly. For some reason, you’d instantly imagined her as identical to you. But of course Tony was right. Your twin could be a guy. Or she could be fraternal and look nothing like you.

You came to Tony to find out about your birth mother and father.

In an instant, the focus of your quest shifted.

You looked into Tony’s eyes and knew he understood.

“I’ll find your twin,” he said.