Page 95 of The Truth in My Lies (Secrets of Suburbi 1)

"Right. I hadn't thought about that. What about Dr. Nash? Were her fingerprints on them?"

"No, but I didn't expect them to be. You said you thought you lost the original files when your last home burnt down two years ago. These were just copies. Dr. Nash has been dead for four years, so her fingerprints wouldn't have been on them. But, there is some good news here. There was one other set of prints besides yours. They belong to a Maria Gonzalez. We're still trying to locate her. She's originally from the Bronx, but her last known address is abandoned. Regardless, we think she must have been the woman impersonating Dr. Nash. The one that’s been subscribing you medicine you don’t need and helping your husband commit these murders.”

“No, she’s my…” The word got stuck in my throat. A word that made no sense at all. I immediately coughed. No. The side of my face twitched. No.

“Addy, do you know her?”

I thought about the box in the woods. The box that I had completely forgotten to tell Ben about. The picture of the other woman seemed to focus in my mind.

“Do you know her?” Ben repeated.

Maria Gonzales. I did know her. She was the woman in the picture. She was… I shook away the thought. My memory was playing tricks on me. “She’s an old friend,” I said. Lies had always come easier to me than the truth.

“You showed the files to her?”

“No…I…” my voice trailed off. “Yeah, that sounds right. I showed them to her.”

“Do you know where she is now?”

“No, I haven’t seen her ages.”

"How long has it been? Has she been to your current house?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Um…yes, I think she's been here. It must have been a year ago or so.”

“Okay. Then she’s not the one impersonating Dr. Nash. I’m going to stop by and pick up a few of the other files to run for fingerprints. Maybe we can still figure out who the imposter is. Or find somewhere your husband slipped up and left his prints.”

I eyed the boxes of files in the corner. “Ben, I’ll bring them to you, okay? Give me a few minutes to finish up here.”

“I’ll see you soon…”

I hung up the phone while he was still trying to talk to me. My whole body felt numb. My vision was turning red. The gawkers had gathered in the doorway and were gawking at me in true gawker fashion. Stupid gawky gawkers. “I have to get going,” I said without even looking at them. “If you ladies don’t mind letting yourselves out.”

“Was that Ben Jones?” Charlotte asked. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with him.”

“Well, that’s because we’re having an affair.” Maybe that would make her leave.

Charlotte gasped.

“Now can you please leave?” My voice was calm, but my mind was zooming. I felt like I was going to faint. I needed to find the picture of Maria Gonzalez. I needed to make sure.

“What was that about fingerprints?” Rosie asked. “What’s going on? If you and your husband are having issues, Phoenix and I know a great couples’ therapist."

“You have to leave.” My voice came out in a whisper this time. They blurred in front of me. I walked past them back into the kitchen and grabbed my glass of wine.

Phoenix cleared her throat. “If you want to talk about it…”

“Please just go.” My memories were wrong. But the image was as clear as day. That picture was of Maria Gonzalez. I remembered something that didn’t make any sense. I downed the rest of the wine and grabbed one of the other glasses off the table.

“You need to go!” I screamed when they didn’t move. “Get out of my house.” I threw the wine glass against the wall.

Charlotte dove to the floor and covered her head. “I knew you were crazy!” she yelled as she scrambled towards the hall.

“Me? I’m the crazy one?” I threw another glass. It shattered right behind Charlotte’s feet. “You don’t even know me! You never bothered to try!” I threw another glass.

All the women ran for the front door. They didn’t know me. I placed my hand on the wall as I chased them out. The whole house was spinning. I didn’t even know me. “You don’t know what I’ve been through.” I was choking on sobs. I heard the slam of the front door and my knees buckled beneath me.

The image of Maria Gonzalez was all I could see. But the memories were wrong. They had to be. The years of pills had messed with my head. I dug my fingers into my scalp. The pain in my skull was unbearable. I screamed at the top of my lungs. “You’re messing with my head!” I yelled into the empty house. It was directed at my husband, but I knew he wasn’t there.

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