Frisky Friday Flashy Fiction
Hello from HotLanta! Oh my, the humidity has been cranked full force. It’s so unpleasant. I’d love to take a walk in the afternoons, but it’s just not a good idea. How’s the weather where you’re at?
I’ve been doing tons of writing. I had one day where I nailed over 7,000 words! After that milestone, I was too fried to do any more—that’s why you didn’t get this episode sooner.
But we’re coming to the end of Deception.
We’re also coming to the end of this anthology being available:
Read stories by:
Anne Rainey – Still The One
Betty Blades – If By Chance
CL King – Before Forever (A Canary Series Prequel)
Courtney Lynn Rose – Sixteen Years In The Making
Cree Nations – Years Of Love
Eliza March – Where Your Heart Finds Home
Ian D. Smith (Ian Smith) – The Girl On The Boat
Kathryn C. Kelly – My One and Only
MC Baker – Rekindling The Flame
Nadirah Foxx – Reasons Why
Nathalie ML Römer – Bring On The Love….!
RaeAnne Hadley – Falling: Fallen
Robin Andrews – Maybe You Can Go Home
Shirley Penick – Hello Again (A Lake Chelan Novella)
Susie Mciver – Loving Charlie
Yvonne Robertson – Second Chances
And now for this week’s installment…
Sitting at my desk, I just stared at Connie’s email. Sure it answered questions, but then again, it gave me plenty of new ones. Mary Jenkins or Roberta Atkins or whoever the fuck she was, wasn’t who I thought. It was clear the woman was an imposter, but who was she pretending to be?
DNA didn’t lie. According to the report, the broken nail belonged to someone locked up in a mental hospital. I looked at my phone. Was it too late to make the call to North Carolina? There was only one way to find out.
The number in Connie’s email belonged to a Dr. Cyrus Edge. If I was lucky, maybe the man worked late hours. I tapped my fingers on the desktop, waiting for him to pick up. Just before I gave up, the call connected.
“This is Dr. Edge.”
“Hello. My name is Detective Calvin Reeves, and I’m calling from Los Angeles.”
“Really? What can I do for you, Detective?”
“I’m calling about a patient of yours. Her name’s Roberta Atkins.”
“Ah… What about Robbie?”
“Is she still a patient?”
“Last time I checked. As a matter of fact, we had a session this afternoon. May I ask why you’re inquiring about her?”
“Indulge me for a moment more, please. Is there any chance Miss Atkins has been away from your facility?”
He harrumphed. “No. She’s made a lot of progress over the years, but not enough to be released. Now, will you answer my question?”
“Yes.” I stared at the report again. DNA didn’t lie. “There’s a young woman here in L.A. We have reason to suspect her in a slew of crimes. We ran an evidence sample and came up with your patient’s name.”
“Understood. Robbie has a twin sister. Shortly after my patient was institutionalized, her sister left town. She doesn’t even visit Robbie.”
“Any chance you could shoot me a picture of Robbie?”
“If it will help, I can forward it to your email address.”
I gave the doctor the information and then asked, “Why is Robbie a patient?”
“I can’t tell you that without her consent. But…” The man exhaled. “When I send you her picture, I’ll include a news article you should check out.”
I thanked the man and ended the call.
Within minutes, my inbox dinged with mail from Dr. Edge. I clicked on it, and my jaw unhinged. On my screen was a woman who looked a lot like Mary Jenkins. They had the same eyes, nose, and jawline. The big difference was the lip size—Mary’s were plumper but they could have been enhanced—and Robbie was a dishwater blonde, but hair color could be changed.
Then I opened the attached article. It was dated ten years ago.
Couple Discovered In Abandoned Home
Blowing Rock, North Carolina
Blowing Rock Police discovered the bodies of Janet and Elwood Atkins in an abandoned home. Someone had bludgeoned the couple to death…
Scanning through the newspaper article, I learned the cops found their daughter Roberta wandering the street on her bare feet. Blood stained the teen’s nightgown, and she had a cleaver in her hand. Police arrested and charged her, but they found her incompetent to stand trial. Whenever someone asked Roberta about what had happened, she only mumbled her sister Apryl’s name.
I reached for my phone and called Connie.
“This is Connie. How can I help?”
“Connie, it’s Detective Reeves. I’ve seen your email, and I have a question.”
“DNA results can point to a next of kin, right?”
“Yes. Whatcha got? You were right about Roberta Atkins. I just got off the phone with her doctor.”
“So you called the number I looked up. What did he say?”
“Roberta is still a patient, but I learned she has a twin sister.”
Not wanting to jeopardize anything, I only said, “Send over whatever reports you have. I want to go over it again.”
After I disconnected with Connie, I pushed away from my desk. Mary Jenkins had to be Apryl Atkins, but I needed more than a broken fingernail to tie her to any crime. And that required laying a well-crafted trap. It might not hurt to comb through that evidence the Blowing Rock police found, too.
I rose from my chair and headed to the door. It was time for me to talk to Chief.