Prologue

“How do you know Tatiana Thompson?”

“I don’t know who that is.”

Julian Reeve still hadn’t given the police any useful information, and he had yet to ask any questions. Based on her years of experience as a homicide detective, Pam found that unsettling. He might be able to put on a blank expression, but the dark circles under his eyes told her that he hadn’t slept much during the seventy hours they had him in custody. His indifference was an act.

Soon, they would have to charge him or let him go. If she hoped to make sense of the events that occurred three days ago, and Julian’s involvement, she had to act fast.

Pam slid a photograph in his direction. “Who is this woman?”

The image was of Julian and a woman surrounded by shelves and piles of used books. Julian covered the photograph with his palm and his fingertips touched the woman’s face.

Julian’s reaction caused Pam to stare at the photograph. He had his arm around her and the woman looked up at Julian while he faced the camera. They were both smiling. The photograph had captured one of those rare moments when two people felt genuinely happy; the type of feeling that can’t be imitated or suppressed.

“Alana,” Julian answered.

“Did you know Alana Stewart was a stolen identity?” Pam continued.

“No.”

Detective Colton jumped in. “So you don’t know the real name of the woman who called herself Alana Stewart?”

Colton had been assigned as Pam’s partner less than a year ago. She didn’t despise him, but as the senior member of the team, she knew how his inexperience, and more often than not, his stupidity, hindered their performance.

“I met her at a coffee shop five months ago,” Julian replied. “She introduced herself as Alana. I’ve always known her as Alana.”

“Were you aware, throughout the course of your relationship, that she lived in a rented room at the New Jackson Hotel?” Pam had been the one who had told her stepdaughter, Meredith Dalton, where Alana lived. In turn, Meredith had shared that information with Julian, who Meredith had been sleeping with for the previous two years.

He nodded affirmatively.

“Did you know she had an identical twin sister?” she asked.

“I had no idea.”

“Who’s the woman at your condo the morning we arrived?” Pam hadn’t expected to come face-to-face with someone who looked exactly like the dead woman in the morgue. Thrown off her game, she had made a series of mistakes. Luckily Colton hadn’t picked up on her errors.

“Alana,” Julian replied.

“That’s not the woman we saw at your condo,” Pam said. “Alana, the woman you’ve been having a relationship with, is dead. Murdered in her hotel room Friday night.”

Julian’s attorney interjected. “You have no proof that the woman who was in Dr. Reeve’s apartment is not the same woman who appears with him in these photos.”

“All the evidence suggests they are not the same person.” Pam turned to Julian. “Where were you Friday night?”

“At home,” he answered.

Colton, who had been standing with a coffee cup in hand, sat at the table. “The whole time?”

Pam saw Julian thinking.

“For most of it,” he replied.

Pam leaned forward, closing the space between them. “Most of it?”

“Tell us the truth, Dr. Reeve, and we’ll let—”

“Meredith was with me,” Julian said, silencing Colton.

Regardless of his haggard appearance, he sounded confident—in full control of himself. It would be a mistake to ever underestimate this man, Pam thought.

“When was Meredith with you?” she asked.

“All night. Until the time you showed up in my condo.”

Frustrated, Pam crossed her arms in front of her. She wanted to slam her fist into Julian’s face. Meredith had given the same answer when Pam questioned her. Even though Meredith and Julian hadn’t spoken since the morning Pam had brought him into the station, Meredith had successfully placed herself as Julian’s alibi. Pam’s gut feeling, which she trusted more than Meredith’s version of events, told her both Julian and Meredith were lying.

“Recount to us the events of Friday night in chronological order,” Pam demanded.

“Alana was supposed to come over to spend time with Meredith and I. When she didn’t show up, we decided to drive to the hotel to look for her.” Julian spoke as if what had happened didn’t involve him. His voice sounded cold, indifferent. “We found her barely conscious, wandering down the street near North Jackson and South Sangamon.”

Pam scowled. “And you didn’t think to take her to the hospital? To call the cops?”

“She pleaded with us not to. She was afraid.”

“What did you do after you picked her up?” Colton asked.

Pam held back a smirk. Even though he carried a badge and a gun, a man of Colton’s stature rarely had the chance to wield power over someone like Julian Reeve. Colton’s gloating attitude didn’t escape Pam, but she let him revel in it.

“We brought her to my condo,” Julian replied.

“It’s clear Dr. Reeve had nothing to do with the other woman’s death,” his attorney intervened. Pam noticed the sweat stain on the collar of the man’s twill shirt. While his client remained impassive, Jeff Davis—one of the best defense attorneys in Chicago—was showing signs of stress. “At the time the murder took place, he was with Meredith Dalton. You have no evidence against Dr. Reeve, otherwise the prosecutor would have pressed charges. Your time is almost up.” He peeked at his wristwatch. “In ten minutes, to be exact.”

Colton leaned back on his chair, coffee cup still in hand. “The prosecutor put forward a request to hold him for longer.”

“Which the judge denied.” Davis smiled, looking smug. “Ten minutes. Make it count.”

Impatience took hold of Pam. She needed Reeve without an alibi, at the scene of the murder. With no hard proof of his involvement, he would slip through their fingers, and as soon as he stepped out of the police station, it would be much harder to get him back to where he now sat.

Pam opened a file folder and displayed a series of pictures in front of Julian. “I’ll try to make this as straightforward as possible, Dr. Reeve.” She pointed to the photograph she had shown him earlier. “This woman, with whom you have been having a relationship with for the last five months and who you say you met at a coffee shop, is dead—”

“The woman he’s been having a relationship with was in his apartment when you brought him here,” Davis interrupted.

Pam could see right through what Davis was doing—by declaring that the woman in Julian’s apartment was the same one Julian had been romantically involved with, Davis was trying to clear his client of any connection to the victim.

“Alana was killed Friday night,” Pam continued, undeterred. “She had an altercation with someone and died from blunt force trauma. Her brother-in-law identified her body, which means his wife, Tatiana Thompson”—Pam pointed to a blown up driver’s license photograph of a female who looked just like the woman who had been using Alana Stewart’s identity—“was the one in your condo that morning. According to what you just told us, the woman you knew as Alana failed to show up as planned, so you and Meredith went to look for her. When you did, you came across a battered woman, barely conscious, not far from the New Jackson Hotel. Believing she was the woman you knew as Alana, you brought her to your home. You didn’t have a chance to ask who had hurt her. Is that what you’re saying?”

“Wait.” Julian’s voice gained a tone of authority that incensed Pam. “Tatiana Thompson? What’s her husband’s name?”

“Steven Thompson. Do you know him?” Colton asked.

Julian blanched, then he started to drum his fingers on the tabletop.

Pam almost smiled. His inscrutable façade had started to crack.

“When we were at your condo that morning, why did Tatiana Thompson lead us to believe she was Alana, the woman you’ve been seeing? Can you explain that to us?” Colton continued.

“Because they’re the same person,” Davis reiterated.

Colton cursed out Davis under his breath. “When we find her we’ll make sure to ask her.”

“Find her?” Julian directed the question to Pam. “What happened to her?”

Colton replied instead. “According to Meredith, not long after we left your condo, Tatiana took off while Meredith was in the bathroom. She’s missing. Any idea where she might be? We’ve got questions to ask her.”

“Have you talked to Thompson? You saw the state she was in,” Julian said. “He’s the one who that did that to her. He almost killed her. What proof do you have that he didn’t assault both women?” Julian pointed to his face. “He sought me out earlier that day and attacked me.”

It didn’t surprise Pam that Julian took the opportunity to incriminate Thompson. Had she been in his position, she would have done the same.

“Why did he attack you?” Colton asked.

“That’s obvious,” Davis jumped in. “He found out his wife is in a relationship with Dr. Reeve. Jealousy motivated Mr. Thompson to attack my client.”

“Are you suggesting that this whole time your client has been sleeping with Tatiana Thompson, who was pretending to be Alana?” Colton chuckled. “And that we have it wrong by thinking Alana was Sofia?”

Since being asked by Meredith months ago to find out more about Reeve, Pam had stumbled upon information that she knew he wanted to keep hidden. Now she had no other choice than to exploit it to get what she needed.

“Dr. Reeve, you’re connected to both sisters.” Pam pulled out three other photographs from the file folder. She put down a photograph of Julian when he was sixteen years old in the foster care system. She then placed one other photograph to the right and one to the left, leaving his photo in the center.

“Tatiana and Sofia were the twin daughters of Vadim and Olga Dulgorukova, your foster parents from the time you were fourteen until you were sixteen. Tatiana”—she pointed at the photograph on the left—“goes by Tatiana Thompson and is missing.” She then pointed at the photograph on the right. “Sofia, who had been using Alana Stewart’s identity, and with whom you were having a relationship, is dead.” Pam stood up. “Do you really think we believe you’re telling us everything you know?”

Julian didn’t speak, but his shocked expression could either mean he hadn’t known Alana’s true identity or he didn’t expect the police to have that information.

“You guys got nothing,” Davis said. “Dr. Reeve has an alibi for the night of the murder. You have no evidence that he ever set foot in that hotel room.” He grabbed the photograph that had been taken at Eliot’s bookstore. “You have no way of proving that the woman in this photo with Dr. Reeve isn’t Tatiana Thompson.”

Pam glanced at her watch. She had five minutes left.

“The hotel room where Sofia Dulgorukova’s body was discovered—where we found photos of your client with one of the twins—was registered under the name Alana Stewart,” she said. “Her fingerprints are all over the room. Furthermore, Sofia’s driver’s license and passport were found hidden under the mattress. It’s clear to anyone with half a brain that Sofia Dulgorukova was the one pretending to be Alana Stewart.”

“That’s all circumstantial.” Davis stood up, tapped Julian’s shoulder, and made a gesture for him to get to his feet. “Without Tatiana to tell her side of the story you’re shit out of luck. And, even if you do find her, she will tell you what I already know—Dr. Reeve is innocent of any crime.”

“We’ll find her and we’ll see if that’s the case,” Pam said.

“Anyone could have been in that hotel room with Sofia Dulgorukova,” Davis continued. “Anyone could have killed her. Let’s not forget she was living at the New Jackson Hotel, which is basically a flophouse.”

Pam wouldn’t bend. “Exactly. The New Jackson isn’t a safe place. She knew the person who killed her. She let them into her room. It wasn’t just anyone. It was someone she trusted.”

“Do you have proof that the door was locked?” Davis asked. “How was she found?”

Pam met Davis’s eyes. He knew the answer. He just wanted to hear her say it.

“The door of her room was wide open,” Colton replied. “Another guest walked by and saw her naked on the bed.”

As he waited for Julian to follow him, Davis smirked at Pam. “Good luck solving this one.”