13. Finley

13

FINLEY

T he next evening, the sun had just dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the ranch. Overnight, the snow had come to the mountain range, covering them in a white cloak, but now they were tinged with pink from the setting sun. I was finishing up some paperwork in the office, anxious to be done and get home to Soren when I heard the crunch of tires on gravel. Looking out the window, I saw a police car pulling up. My heart skipped a beat. Why would the police be here?

I stepped outside, my palms sweaty. Soren was over by the barn, talking to one of the ranch hands. His gaze turned toward the police car. Even from here, I could see his expression instantly darkening as he charged toward me.

Two officers got out of the car, their faces stern. I noticed their name badges: Officer Jenkins and Officer Martinez.

"Are you Finley Baker?" Martinez asked.

I nodded, my legs trembling and sweat dampening the back of my sweater. "Yes, that's me. Is something wrong?"

Officer Martinez glanced at his partner before stepping closer. "Ms. Baker, there's been a robbery at the grocery store. Last night, around midnight, a woman matching your description broke the front window and robbed the store."

I felt the blood drain from my face and then the rest of me until I felt like only a hard shell with nothing inside. "Were there any witnesses?" They'd seen Danielle. It was happening all over again.

"Video footage from the surveillance cameras." Officer Jenkins held up a piece of paper—a still image from a surveillance video.

My stomach turned when I saw the face in the photo. It was unmistakably Danielle, but anyone who didn't know us would think it was me.

"As you can plainly see," Martinez said, "this is you robbing the store. We have a warrant for your arrest."

Feeling dizzy, I fought tears as a rising sense of panic threatened to overtake all sense of reality. "That's not me. That's my identical twin sister, Danielle. She's staying at the motel here in town."

Soren stepped forward, his jaw clenched. "When was the robbery?"

"Last night around midnight," the offer said.

"Finley was with me last night," Soren said. "All night."

The officers exchanged glances, but they didn't look convinced. "Is there anyone else who can back up your alibi?"

"My brother Caspian and his wife saw us both at the restaurant from ten to eleven," Soren said.

"Which means she could have come into town and robbed it after that." Martinez narrowed his eyes, looking at me as if I were the devil.

"She was in my bed all night long," Soren said. "Bill, seriously. This is ridiculous. Go to the motel in town and ask for Danielle Baker. She's staying there. I can assure you she's the one who did this."

"All due respect, Soren, cameras don't lie," Martinez said.

"In this case, they do," Soren said. "She and Danielle are identical. No one can tell them apart."

"Regardless, Ms. Baker has to come with us," Jenkins said.

"You're under arrest," Martinez said before reading me my rights. I could barely hear. The pulse of my heart bouncing from one side of my brain to the other, muting all other noises.

My chest tightened to the point that I couldn't get enough breath into my lungs. Having been through this before, I knew there was nothing I could do but give in to whatever they wanted. Claiming my innocence would only make me seem more guilty.

Martinez moved to handcuff me. A sob rose in my throat. I couldn't even look at Soren, the mortification washing over me in harsh waves.

"You're making a mistake," Soren said. "It's going to come back to haunt you."

Martinez hesitated, looking at Soren with sympathy. "We'll sort it out at the station, but we have to take her in for now."

As they clicked the cuffs around my wrists, I looked at Soren, panic and despair filling my heart. "Go to the motel. Find Danielle. Tell her she has to clear this up and confess to what she did." Even as I said it, I knew it was hopeless. She wouldn't be there. She'd probably skipped town right after the robbery.

"I will." Soren's voice sounded rough with obvious emotion. He drew closer, looking as if he wanted to reach out and pull me to him. "If she's not there, my brothers and I will track her down. Just hang tight. We'll take care of this."

The officers led me to the car. The weight of my past crashed down upon me, suffocating me. This was just like London all over again. Would it make everything worse once they knew what had happened back home? Even though I'd been exonerated, they might not see that I was innocent. Would this be yet another time I paid for her crimes?

As the car door closed, I looked back at Soren. His hand rested over his heart. "I'll fix this," he mouthed.

God, please make it so.

The ride to the police station felt like an eternity. My mind raced with thoughts of Danielle, of Soren, of the nightmare that was unfolding yet again. The officers were silent, their expressions unreadable as they focused on the road. I tried to keep my composure, but it was nearly impossible with the cuffs digging into my wrists and the weight of my past pressing down on me.

When we arrived, Officers Jenkins and Martinez led me inside. Harsh fluorescent lights illuminated the room in a surreal sheen. The officers guided me to a small, stark room and removed the handcuffs. I rubbed my wrists, trying to calm my racing heart.

"Sit here," Officer Jenkins instructed, his voice not unkind but firm. "Someone will be in shortly to take your statement."

I nodded, sinking into the cold metal chair. Other than the table and a few chairs, the room was bare. A drab gray on the walls added to the oppressive atmosphere.

Minutes felt like hours as I waited. Finally, a detective entered the room. Tall and broad-shouldered, she had an air of authority and robustness. I wouldn't have wanted to meet her in a dark alley, or anywhere else for that matter. Her name badge read Detective Reynolds.

"Ms. Baker, I'm Detective Reynolds. From the Bozeman PD." Her sharp eyes bore into me before she took the seat across from me. "Where you were last night between the hours of midnight and one?"

"I was at home," I said, my voice trembling. "With my boyfriend—Soren Moon."

Her eyebrows raised. "Boyfriend? I understand you're living at the ranch house?"

"That's correct. I moved in a few weeks back."

"How long have you been seeing Soren?" Reynolds asked.

"Not long. It's a new thing. We were roommates first, and then things started to develop between us. Is that relevant to the case?"

"I've known the Moon family a long time. They're good folks. Easily taken advantage of because of their generosity."

"What're you implying? That I'm some kind of grifter looking for a handout?" I couldn't help but feel hostile toward this eagle-eyed cop. How dare she make assumptions about me.

"Are you?"

"Of course not," I snapped. "I work for Thad Moon. I'm the guest services manager at the dude ranch. He can vouch for me. The whole family can, for that matter."

Detective Reynolds nodded, making notes. "I'll follow up to see if that's actually true. Regardless, the woman in the video footage looks very much like you. Can you explain that?"

"I already told the officers that woman is my twin sister, Danielle Baker." I swallowed the painful lump in my throat. "This has happened before. We look so much alike that people can't tell us apart."

Detective Reynolds tapped the tip of her pen against the table. "Your twin sister? Has she been in trouble with the law before?"

I swallowed hard. "Yes. Back in London, she was involved in a bank robbery. She let me take the fall for it."

The detective's gaze softened slightly but remained focused on my face. "So you took the fall for your sister? What happened after that?"

I took a deep breath, trying to keep myself from hyperventilating. "I was convicted and sent to prison for a year. But a pro bono attorney got wind of the case and found evidence that proved my innocence. I was granted a retrial, and my conviction was overturned."

"Was your sister caught after that?"

"No, she disappeared quite successfully. I hadn't seen her since before the bank robbery. That is, until the day before yesterday. She just showed up here in town, claiming she'd made a deal with the prosecution in exchange for her testimony against her boyfriend."

"Boyfriend?"

"Yes, he's the one who got Danielle involved in criminal activity. My sister's had drug and alcohol problems for years. She claimed she was sober and here to make amends, but then I saw her at the bar and grill last night. Drunk."

"Did anyone see the two of you together?"

My spirits rose. "Yes. A whole bar full. She made a big scene. Anyone there last night will tell you there are two of us."

Reynolds scribbled more notes into her pad before returning her gaze to me. "Why did you move to Bluefern, Montana? Seems like a long way to go for a Brit."

"I wanted a fresh start. Somewhere, my sister couldn't find me."

Detective Reynolds nodded, taking more notes. "Do you have any way to prove that it was your sister and not you this time?"

"As I said, I was with Soren Moon last night." I flushed. "We were together in my bed all night. He'll tell you."

"But it's only the two of you at the house now? Is that correct?"

"Yes, that's right," I said.

"Which is problematic, Ms. Baker. Because lovers protect each other. Can't say there's any real reason to believe either one of you, if you know what I mean?"

I knew she was practicing the art of intimidation, perhaps to scare me into confessing. However, although her tactic had indeed frightened me, I was not about to confess to something I didn't do.

"It's the truth," I said. "You can ask people at the bar what we were wearing last night. That should prove it was her and not me. She couldn't have gotten far if she left town last night." I closed my eyes for a moment, conjuring an image of the rental car that had been parked in front of her room. For a moment, nothing came, but then I remembered it was black, and the license plates had been from Idaho. "The car she was driving—it was a black Chevy sedan. I don't remember the license plate number, but it had Idaho plates. If she does what she did last time, she'll hide somewhere. She's good at that."

Detective Reynolds nodded again. "We'll look into your sister. For now, we need to process you, but we will investigate your claims thoroughly."

"Including contacting the authorities back home?" I asked. "It's all public record."

"Correct."

"Thank you, Detective." As much as I wanted to unleash my anger at her and this whole situation, I kept myself in check. I'd been through this before, after all, and knew it was better to comply than fight.

The detective stood up. "We'll do our best to uncover the truth. In the meantime, you'll be moved to a cell until someone posts bail. If you need anything, let the officer outside know."

As she left, I slumped back in the chair, exhaustion washing over me. The walls seemed to close in, and I fought tears as hard as I could but ultimately succumbed, dropping my head into my arms and weeping as if my heart were broken. In fact, it was. Realistically, I didn't think I would be convicted of a crime, not after the detective discovered the truth of what I'd told her. But yet another betrayal from my sister? That was not something I would move past any time soon. Even though I should have predicted it.

I thought about my mum and dad. They'd both been gentle and loving parents. How had Danielle gone so wrong? Whatever the answer, one thing was clear. She and I were done forever.

All I could do now was wait and hope the truth would come out, ending yet another nightmare courtesy of Danielle.

The jail cell was relatively small, about eight by ten feet, with walls of bare cinder blocks. A single unadorned bulb encased in protective wire mesh hung above me. Scents of disinfectant mingled with the mustier odors of old concrete and metal. Adjacent to the bed, a small stainless steel toilet and sink combo unit served basic needs, but there was no privacy from the deputy who sat at a desk mere feet away. Regardless, I had to go. Small bladders be cursed. To the deputy's credit, he turned away as soon as he saw me unzip my slacks.

When I used the toilet and washed my hands, I curled up on the thin mattress that lay on top of a metal bed frame attached to the wall. I covered myself with a threadbare blanket and closed my eyes, hoping to fall asleep until it was time for my release.

To think how happy I'd been just this morning and now here I was. I smiled to myself, remembering the night before. How cherished I'd felt in Soren's arms. The trauma of my sister's drunken tirade had been forgotten the moment he touched me. Was it naive that I'd thought it was the beginning of something special? Or had Danielle managed to ruin my life once more? Would I be too messy for him?

No, Soren would stand by me. He knew the truth. He understood how hard I'd fought to change my life for the better.

A voice whispered in my ear, sounding a lot like Danielle. Why would he stand by you? He hardly knows you. You've brought nothing but chaos to his life.

What was taking so long for bail to be posted? Would I be here all night? Was this a sign that Soren didn't want to get involved in my drama?

Haunting memories from my incarceration kept me from sleep. The first night of my prison time came back to me. I'd been so frightened and beaten down by then. This would be my new life, and there wasn't a thing I could do to save myself. I'd seen the hardened faces of the other women as the guard took me to my cell. They'd seemed like wild animals waiting for the chance to tear apart fresh meat.

After the guard left me, I'd sat on the edge of my rigid bed, gripping the coarse fabric of the standard-issue blanket as if it would keep me warm. I'd shivered, listening to the relentless cacophony of noises. Keys jangled as guards made their rounds, their heavy boots thundering on the concrete floors. The buzz of overhead lights fused with distant shrieks and shouts from inmates up and down the cellblock. An alarm screeched from some distant block until it was abruptly silenced.

I'd traced the icy, jagged texture of the brick wall with trembling fingertips. Thoughts of suicide invaded. I would not survive here. The truth that I'd rather be dead than trapped here for a fifteen-year sentence made me the saddest of all. I'd always loved life. Despite my parents' deaths and Danielle, I'd had hope for my future. I'd loved my job and my simple life, but now I had only this to look forward to. Endless nights of screaming.

I shook aside the memories and focused on prayer. During the long days of my prison stint, God had always been there. He'd asked me to be patient and to have faith in him. There were times when I'd lost my way, but he always found me.

I must do the same tonight. Soon, this ordeal would be over and I could return to Soren and my job at the ranch. But what about Danielle? What happened to her? Would they send her back to the UK to face prosecution? Would the terms of her deal be moot?

No, I couldn't worry about her. She was no longer my family. I had to take care of myself.

At some point, in the cell in Montana, I finally fell asleep, only to succumb to a frightening nightmare.

I found myself standing in a dense, fog-laden forest, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and decay. The trees loomed above, their branches like a monster's claws.

I was lost. Nothing seemed familiar. How had I gotten here?

I wandered aimlessly. The ground beneath my feet turned muddy and then more like cement, my steps growing heavy and cumbersome. Fog so thick I could not see the path before me. But then, as if born from the damp mist, a figure emerged—Danielle, clad in a dark red cloak.

Her eyes glinted with malice, and her face twisted into a sinister grin. In her hand, she wielded an axe, its blade gleaming under the faint light that managed to pierce the fog. My heart pounded in my chest, a primal fear seizing me as Danielle advanced, each step deliberate and menacing.

"Danielle, why?" My weak and trembling voice didn't sound like my own.

"There's only room for one of us," Danielle hissed. "You have to go." She raised the axe and lunged toward me.

I tried to run, but my movements were sluggish and uncoordinated and I fell onto the ground, trapped in the mud. Danielle's cackle echoed through the trees, until she stood above me. "There you are. I've been looking everywhere for you." She raised the axe, aiming for my head.

I jolted awake, my body slick with sweat. I sat up, clutching the blanket to my chest as my labored breath returned to normal.

A few minutes later, the deputy came by with a tray of food.

"You need anything?" His brown eyes were sympathetic. I recognized him from around town but wasn't about to start up small talk. I simply didn't have the energy.

"Any news on my bail?" I asked.

"Sorry, nothing yet. I'll let you know."

I forced myself to have a few bites of the hamburger to keep my strength up, then thirstily drank from a bottle of water. When I was done, I placed the tray near the door of my cell and returned to the bed, staring up at the ceiling as if it had answers.

An image of a photograph from an Easter Sunday long ago floated into my consciousness. We were six that year, and my mother had dressed us in matching pink dresses. My father had taken the picture of the two of us holding our Easter baskets. If someone were to only look at the surface, it would seem to be a photo of two adorable little girls. However, upon a closer examination, Danielle's basket was full, while mine had only a few eggs and one piece of candy. Danielle had helped herself to the contents of my loot, which had been won through my careful and strategic egg hunting in our neighborhood park. My sister, on the other hand, had refused to participate, saying it was too cold and drizzly. She'd plopped herself down in the middle of the enclosed picnic area and refused to budge. Being England, of course, she was right. The weather was abysmal, as it so often was in the spring. Regardless, the rest of the children, including me, seemed unbothered, excitedly calling out to whoever would listen whenever they discovered an egg or candy.

How had she convinced me to give her the goodies in my basket? I searched my memory but came up with nothing.

Despite all of the times she'd tricked me or used me, I'd always found a way to forgive her. There had always been a glimmer of optimism lurking in my heart. I'd made excuses all our lives: a phase, the drugs, a negatively influential boyfriend, the death of our parents. I'd come up with excuse after excuse. But after all this time and this latest blow, I had no choice but to admit that her character was irreparably flawed. No prayer or wish changed that fact.

I had to let go. Even though she was my only family left, I could no longer hold out hope for reconciliation or an act of true contrition. Danielle was who she was. If I got out of this without another stint in jail, I vowed to spend considerable effort to keep her out of my life. How, though? How could I extricate myself from her claws when she seemed so good at finding me and then proceeding to harm me in whatever way she could?

I thought of a conversation I'd had with my mother not long before she and my father died. I'd asked her why she and Dad let Danielle get away with so much when they held me to such a high standard?

"You hold yourself to that standard," Mum had said. "We never have to worry about you, thank goodness. Your sister's enough to keep us busy in that regard."

"How come she's never punished for the things she does?"

Mum had looked out the window of our flat and sighed before answering. "She's punished every day. She knows that compared to you, she'll never win. You're better at school. You were born with a good work ethic, which cannot be taught if your sister's any indication. You're self-directed. Do you see, love, why do we never worry about you? That doesn't mean we're not proud, though. It's just that Danielle's always taken so much energy."

Now, staring up at the cement ceiling of my latest jail cell, I thought about one of the final serious discussions I'd ever had with my mum. Although her assumptions may have been right—on the surface I may not have seemed to need their guidance—their lack of attention had hurt me. For that matter, it continued to do so, even all these years later. Had it spurred my ambition? Had I somehow convinced myself that if I did well enough, I could earn their praise and attention? That strategy had not worked when Danielle and I were young, and it certainly hadn't in the months leading up to our eighteenth birthday.

I rolled to my side, tugging the blanket over my shoulders. Danielle could only hurt me if I allowed her to do so. I must let her go once and for all. No more hopes or wishes that we might be reconciled. Whatever inkling I'd had that we might be a real family had disappeared the minute she'd berated me at the bar. I'd desperately wanted to believe her, but now I was finally done.

Why was so much of life letting go of dreams? Of love?

I curled up into a ball and sobbed. I'd rally tomorrow, I promised myself. Tonight, in this lonesome, cold cell, I would allow myself to shed as many tears as I needed.

I'd drifted back to sleep when the deputy returned. "You can go. Atticus Moon posted bail for you."

As if I needed further proof about who looked out for me, the Moon brothers had come through for me once again.