Twice Kissed - Lisa Jackson [163]
“You’re sorry?” Maggie said, fighting the urge to break down altogether. “Oh, God, I’m just glad you’re alive. I thought you were dead. I—I’ve been so worried. I got your message, but I couldn’t understand what happened.”
“No one would believe it,” Mary Theresa said as she disentangled herself and sagged against the counter. She wiped a hand over her forehead and Maggie noticed that she’d lost weight, was barely more than skin and bones.
“What happened?”
“This was all a mistake. A horrible mistake. I—I read the papers today, saw that Renee is dead.” Even in the dark room, she paled and Maggie flipped a switch. The kitchen was suddenly awash in light. Mary Theresa, as if she’d been shot, looked wildly around the room. “Don’t!” She turned off the lights and then, with Maggie on her heels, walked quickly through the rooms and snapped off light after light. “Does anyone know you’re here?” she asked, fear strangling her words.
“No, but…well, I left a message for Thane.”
“Shit.”
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing good. We’ve got to get out of here. I just need a minute to clean up and grab some clothes and money and…”
“What’re you talking about?” Maggie followed Mary Theresa upstairs. For a woman who was so weak she’d practically fallen into the kitchen, Mary Theresa had found a reserve of strength. She dashed up the final steps and walked unerringly into her bedroom. Pulling the shades and the drapes, she said, “Close the door behind you.”
“Mary Theresa, what the hell’s going on?” Maggie asked, but did as she was told. The door shut with a click.
Mary Theresa turned on a small lamp near the bed. “Is it true? Is Renee Nielsen dead?” she asked, but from the haunted look in her eyes, she already knew the answer.
“We thought it was you.”
“Oh, God.” Mary Theresa ran two sets of stiff fingers through her hair and her face was chalk-white beneath smudges of dirt. “I didn’t mean…I had no idea…” Her voice squeaked and she placed a hand over her mouth. “It was a single-car accident, right?” she asked, obviously skeptical.
Maggie shook her head as she stood near a table laden with framed photographs of Mary Theresa. “Hit-and-run according to the police. The press just doesn’t know about it yet.”
Holding a fistful of hair and squeezing, M.T. asked, “Why would anyone want to kill her?”
“An accident…no one intended to…”
Mary Theresa wasn’t listening. “No, no, no! Don’t you get it?” She was on her feet in an instant and inside the cedar lined closet. “It had to be Eve.”
“Eve?” Maggie repeated. “Hey, what’re you talking about?” But she was starting to feel a needle of understanding pierce her brain.
“This was all her idea to begin with.” Inside the closet Mary Theresa was throwing clothes into an open designer bag. Jeans, slacks, shirts, blouses, all flung in with abandon. Maggie was reminded of a person on speed. M.T. was so thin and yet jazzed up, her movements quick and jerky.
“What was Eve’s idea?” she asked as M.T., stripping off her dirty clothes, hurried into the bathroom.
Maggie followed, stepping over sweatshirt, jeans and bra as Mary Theresa turned on the shower. “I shouldn’t take the time, but I want to wash off all this…this filth.” In the shadowy mirror, Maggie saw her reflection—dressed in slacks, blouse, and vest; M.T. stark naked, her breasts firm, her ribs evident. So much the same. So different.
Mary walked through the shower, taking less than three minutes to clean up. She was toweling off, her hair wet as she stepped into a clean warm-up outfit. “We’ve got to get out of here,” she said, not bothering with makeup and yanking on her running shoes.
“What was all Eve’s idea?” Maggie asked again as M.T. leaned over to tie her laces.
“The disappearing act, of course.”
Maggie’s heart sank. This was all a publicity stunt that had taken a bad turn? And a woman was dead.
“Slow down.” She reached forward and took hold of her sister’s arm. “You planned this?”
“What’d you think?”
“But—”
“As I said it was Eve’s idea. We were short of cash and I’m borrowed to the hilt.” She zipped up her bag and