Mirror Image

By Stacey Key

Seventeen-year-old Megan Kessler has always shared an unbreakable bond with her sister, Melindaafter all, they are identical twinsbut when Melinda is abducted, Megan painfully realizes just how deeply set that bond truly is.

Four months after being viciously attacked, Megan is hopeful that her summer visitation with her father, deep in the rugged mountains of Montana will heal all wounds from that dreadful night.

Unfortunately, her hoped for summer haven, turns into her worst nightmare.

From the moment Megan receives the first menacing phone call, threatening her and her twin sister, Meagans expectant quiet life begins to radically spiral out-of-control, forcing her down a dark, twisted path of loss and deception.

Now, with time quickly ticking away for Melinda, Megans only hope is to turn to Dakota Evans, one of her fathers younger, more mysterious employees, and the only person who has witnessed the intensity of the twins bond.

As Megan and Dakota come closer to discovering the mastermind behind this deadly obsession, the slimmer her chances are of making it out alive.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Nov 20, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477290132

Stacey Key

Stacey Key lives in Western Nebraska with her husband, son, and identical twin daughters, whom are the inspiration of Mirror Image.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

The night was cold, damp—the moon concealed by the low, hovering storm-clouds that loitered in the early spring sky.

Normally, I would never be reckless enough to cut through an alley as a shortcut, especially living in such a big city where a homeless person seemed to occupy every abandoned cardboard box, but tonight was one of those rare exceptions.

I was hurrying home from a friend’s house . . . unfortunately, running way past my mother’s strictly set eleven thirty curfew. I don’t know exactly what possessed me to stay and finish that stupid movie with Ashton, knowing, not only is my mother going to kill me, but I’m going to be so grounded because of my idiotic decision.

I nervously stood at the opening to the first darkened alley; relying solely on sight alone since the non-stop flow of traffic behind me was noisily buzzing by, drowning out any sound coming out of the blackened abyss.

My eyes scanned the alley as far in as I could see. Thankfully, nothing seemed to be scurrying about this time of night. It was already fifteen minutes past mid-night.

God, I was so dead. I could already see my poor mother anxiously pacing the living room floor, chewing her fingernails down to their nubs, wondering what happened to me. I’m never late.

Half-way through the first of two long alleyways, I heard a tin can skidding across the ground and hitting the side of the building I had just passed. Instantly, I spun around, gasping.

I rubbed my eyes and squinted, trying to get a better look, as my pulse began to quicken.

No movement. Probably just a stray cat scuttling around to find tonight’s dinner. I continued on.

As I entered the second and final alley, I thought I heard footsteps behind me, even though each time I looked over my shoulder, there was nothing. I was just a scared little girl, being paranoid.

I could see the light at the end of the alley and kept reminding myself I’m almost through.

Then, as if it were right beside me, in my ear, I heard my name eerily whispered. Meg-an, the voice drawled out.

My heart leapt from my chest and my feet took off running in a sprint before my brain had a chance to register what was happening.

Now, I could clearly hear the quickened footsteps behind me—gaining speed.

For no other reason than lack of common sense, I glanced behind me and smacked into something in front of me. I bounced off the solid object and hit the pavement with a thud, landing fully on my tailbone. Tears instantly welled. I pushed the pain aside, my blurry eyes instinctively darting around, searching for what was coming after me.

Nothing. Not a soul in sight.

The sound of my racing heartbeat was deafening in my ears. I swiftly pushed myself off the ground and winced from the pain in my back and my skinned palms. I turned around and came face to face with a tall hooded figure.

Before I could make even the slightest peep, a gloved hand tightly wound around my throat, squeezing, cutting off my air, slamming me up against the hard, cold brick building, my feet dangling. I clawed at him, gasping for what little air I could get.

Going somewhere, Megan? the man asked. His voice was low, garbled.

I couldn’t see who my assailant was; he wore a ski mask and was dressed head to toe in black.

My head pounded, my throat burned. I felt myself going limp from the sudden lack of oxygen, unable to fight any longer.

Oh, no you don’t, he said, putting me down so that my feet touched the ground. He loosened his grip enough for the air to come painfully searing back into my lungs.

With his free hand, he reached around his back, pulling out a switch blade knife. This isn’t where it’s going to end, Megan. This is only the beginning for you and that whore you call a twin sister. He placed the knife under my chin, putting enough pressure on it to graze my skin, letting a trickle of blood drip down into my open jacket, between the cleavage of my breasts.

I opened my mouth to protest, but the only sound I could manage was a hoarse screech.

He laughed and traced the line of blood with his knife, popping off the buttons of my blouse, cutting the middle of my bra so that I was exposed to him and the nippy air.

Tears were pouring down my cheeks as I struggled against him, regaining some fight. He began touching me, fondling my breasts, and licking my neck, up to the side of my face. Bile rose up in the back of my burning throat.

Oh God, I don’t want to die like this.

As his disgusting mouth found mine; I bit down hard, digging my teeth into his bottom lip. He shrieked in pain.

I clenched my fist and put everything I had into a final attempt and drove it into the side of his jaw.

Surprised by the blow, his grip slackened, giving me the opportunity to get enough momentum with my leg to knee him hard in the groin. He doubled over in agony.

I used that split second to jump over him. Again, my legs moving before my brain could catch up and in mid-air he caught my ankle. I collided hard with the pavement, hitting my head on the cement, light exploding behind my eyes.

He was on top of me in an instant.

You bitch! he hissed, spittle spraying my face. His eyes were murderous.

He held my arms firmly above my head, grinding them into the cement with one hand and the other holding the knife to my chest. Welcome to the game, Megan, he said before slicing a gash in my left breast and slamming my head against the ground.

Everything went black.

CHAPTER ONE

One month later . . .

I was sitting at the window seat in my bedroom, staring vacantly out at the depressing, sunless afternoon.

Even though it has been a month since the attack, it seemed it was all I could think about.

That night, I staggered home after waking up cold and alone and completely exposed in the alleyway. I was bloody and beaten, my shirt tightly wrapped around myself. My mother anxiously met me at the door—two police officers by her side.

At the hospital, I gave the officers my statement of what happened and sat through an hour of non-stop questioning and humiliating photos being taken to add to their report, followed by my mother calling my father and telling him everything.

A rap on my door sent me flying to my feet, trembling. Megan, may I come in? It was my mother. She cracked open my bedroom door and walked in.

I’m already done packing, I told her, thinking I knew what she was going to say.

School had let out for summer vacation the day before, and today my twin sister, Melinda and I were going to be shipped off to Montana to spend this time with our father.

Normally, summers on my father’s ranch are what I lived for. Yet, with everything that has happened, I couldn’t bring myself to get excited over that, or much of anything else for that matter.

She shook her head, smiling. I’m not here to rush you, baby, she told me. I found this outside the front door this morning. It’s addressed to you. She handed me a package.

I looked at the small box, wrapped in brown paper, and asked her to lay it on my bed.

Megan, I’m really worried about you, she said, cupping my face in her hands. It’s not like you to hide away from your problems. Shutting yourself off to the rest of the world isn’t going to make this go away.

I furiously stepped away from her, ready to tell her to leave me alone, when I noticed the deep, black circles under her troubled, light-blue eyes. My mother isn’t normally the hovering type, but since that night I couldn’t breathe without her worrying about me.

I sighed and threw my arms around her, firmly hugging her. I’m okay, Mom, I lied, as I fought back the tears. I think getting away from here for awhile will do me a great deal of good.

She nodded and wiped her eyes. Okay, she said, straightening herself. She cleared her throat and started for the door. I better go get Melinda moving, or we will miss your flight for sure. She left the room, leaving me feeling heavy hearted.

I was far from being okay. Nevertheless, the last thing I needed to do was to concern my mother any further. She had enough on her plate as it was. She was a single mom trying to raise two teenage daughters, deal with her fiancé, Tim, and keep on top of an agonizing job that took up most of her time. It wouldn’t be fair to her to put my problems out there so she could fret over them every single minute of every day.

I flopped down on my bed and looked over at the forgotten package. It was weighty with a faint rotten odor emanating from it that made my stomach lurch.

I wrinkled my nose and reluctantly opened it.

I half expected to find something edible that went sour, but what I found instead was horribly more gruesome than anything I could have imagined.

Inside the anonymous package lay a dead kitten, its tiny throat cut out, and a bloody note pinned to its furry, lifeless body.

Who’s next . . . Megan or Melinda? You decide.

XXOO

I shrieked in horror, dropping the box as I retched in the trash container beside my bed.

Melinda and my mother barreled through my door. Megan, what happened? What’s wrong? Mel frenetically asked me, before noticing the mutilated mess hanging out of the box I dropped on the floor. Oh . . . my . . . God, she gagged, covering her mouth with her hand.

My mother, stood shocked in the doorway. Her face drained of all color, her body visibly shuddering. Who would—Who would do something like this? she asked. Her voice was barely audible.

Melinda grabbed me by the wrist, pulling me toward the door. We need to call the police. Leave it where it is and they can get rid of it, she told us as she ushered my mother and me out of my room.

I shook my head. No—no! I yelled, snatching my hand away from her. The look on their faces was like I had slapped them. No police. This is just a scare tactic, and I’m done being his victim, I sternly told them. We are leaving for Dad’s today and he can’t get to me there. So let’s just clean this up and don’t fuss over some sick prank. We have less than twenty minutes to get this done before we have to leave for the airport.

Melinda and my mother looked at each other and then back at me, without speaking we silently agreed. The less attention we gave this bastard, the better.

On the way to the airport, the cloudy, smog-covered sky opened up, pouring sheets of heavy rain down on us as we made our way through rush hour traffic in silence—today’s events weighing heavily on our minds.

By the time we got through the agonizingly long line at security and checked our luggage, it was time to board the plane. We said our final good-byes and parted ways with our disheartened, teary-eyed mother after several promises that we wouldn’t forget to call her every day, and she promised to have Tim stay with her while we were away.

Once we were finally settled in our assigned seats, I put my headphones on and gazed out the tiny window saying farewell to colorful Colorado.

For the last seven years, Melinda and I would leave the big city life in exchange for the smaller, more serene life of Whitefish, Montana. And when I say small, it’s not an exaggeration. The town’s main street is a whopping three blocks long.

For most people—my sister included—a town that size would drive them insane. I mean, let’s face it; there are not a lot of options for kids our age. No fancy hotels or five-star restaurants. No hot-spot night clubs or ballroom parties.

Just down home goodness.

A hospitality that is unheard of within the confines of lofty skyscrapers and bumper to bumper traffic.

Melinda thought of it as punishment, and the only reason she doesn’t throw a fit about coming every summer is, the high school boys our father hires this time of the year.

Melinda and I may be identical twins, but trust me we are complete opposites. Mel is just like our mother, vibrant and full of life, constantly surrounded by people who feed off their flirty, charismatic personality. That’s why she thrives in the city.

As for myself, I’m definitely a Daddy’s girl and love the tranquility and solitude of country living.

* * *

When we arrived at our destination, an hour and a half later, we walked out to the waiting area of our terminal where we were greeted not by our father, but by a young, handsome gentleman holding a large sign, our names written in bold, black lettering.

Melinda audaciously walked up to the stranger and took the sign from his calloused hands. That’s us, she told him.

The guy was awe-struck and kept staring at us. Wow! he exclaimed, wide eyed. "Travis said you looked alike, but I thought there would be some differences between you two," he said, looking back and forth between my sister and me.

Awkward

And you are? asked Mel, putting her hand on her hip, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

The guy was oblivious to my sister’s flirtatiousness, and quickly made his introduction. Oh sorry, he nervously chuckled. I’m Jake. Your father sent me to pick you up since he had urgent business to tend to.

I reached out and shook his outstretched hand. It’s nice to meet you, Jake. I’m Megan, and this is Melinda.

He glanced over at Mel, who was bluntly sizing him up, taking in every inch of his six-foot moderately built structure, short, wavy, chocolate brown hair and the dreamiest, walnut-colored eyes that matched perfectly. She was practically salivating over the poor guy.

Today’s traumatic beginning already forgotten in her mind.

Melinda has never been the quiet, bashful type. Just the opposite actually, if Mel likes something, Mel goes after it guns blazing, until she makes it hers—no questions asked.

I could see the sweat bead on his brow under the probing stare of my sister. Well, we better get you to the ranch before Travis sends out a search party, he said, nervously picking up our luggage. I twitched at his comment.

We both watched him walk to the back of the truck. Both, I’m sure, having different feelings about his unexpected statement. Who all has my father told about the attack?

I sat next to the rattling door of the single cab Ford pickup for the thirty-five minutes it took to get to the ranch, listening to my sister ramble on and on with the boy, forgetting our father’s two main rules when we come to visit. First, we work for our meals, and second, we never fraternize with the help.

Alas, Melinda has always had issues with rules.

I’m not saying I’m perfect, nor am I blind. It’s hard not to notice the cowboys in their tight fitting jeans and cowboy hats. But I have bigger plans and becoming romantically involved, now, or in the near future is not part of those plans. It wasn’t a diversion I needed.

At last, when I truly believed I could no longer stomach anymore of Mel’s incessant flirting, we pulled into the circular, gravel drive leading up to the main three-story log home.

I was overjoyed to see my father standing on the wrap-around porch waiting our arrival. And before Jake could put the old truck in park, I jumped out and ran into my dad’s welcoming embrace, and in that moment, everything bad that had happened to me, vanished.

I was home.

He held me out at arm’s length, proudly smiling down at me. You become more and more beautiful each time I see you, Meg, he said, then looked up at Mel who was now approaching. "I’ve missed both my girls," he said, opening his arms wider to squeeze us both.

My father is a very attractive man, even in his mid forties he was a sight to behold. He’s tall and slender, well-built, with thick, dark hair, very GQ looking.

Melinda gasped. Can’t—breathe—Dad, she told him, patting his back like it was going to trigger a release button.

It amazes me how every time my father looks at Melinda and me, it’s as if he is seeing us for the very first time, like his whole world falls into place at that exact instant and couldn’t get any better for him. Sorry. It’s just so good having you two here, he gushed. So tell me, how was your flight?

It wasn’t first-class, but it was okay, Mel answered him in her usual I’m-better-than-that tone.

I let out a breath and rolled my eyes at her. She is such a snob.

Dad chuckled, taking us both by the hand. Come on, he said, beaming. Let’s get you two settled in your rooms. He turned to his waiting employee. Jake, can you take their luggage to their rooms please? Megan’s room is at the end of the hall to your left, and Melinda’s is the middle to your right.

Sure thing, Boss, he said to my father.

I watched as Mel turned and coyly smiled at the boy and shook my head. Nothing is ever going to change her.

As I walked through the beautifully structured house, I had the same overwhelming feeling I do every time I’m here—that feeling when you absolutely know; this is where you truly belong.

Nothing ever changes. The furniture is still in the same place it has been for the past seven years, with the same scenic pictures decorating the natural colored log walls.

Travis, Jake called from the hallway, snapping me out of my nostalgic state. I apologize for interrupting, but there’s a call for you, he informed my father on his way out the door.

Thanks, Jake, my father said, turning to my sister and me. You two go get unpacked while I take this call, he said and hurried off to his office.

My father is a very busy man, when he wasn’t outside dealing with the usual hectic day-to-day problems that came with running the ranch, he was on the phone, ordering more grain, or hay, or talking business with cattle buyers. All of which this place couldn’t survive without.

I opened the door to my bedroom, and inhaled it’s woodsy, floral scent. The memorable, cozy feeling drawing me in. My room at my father’s house was enormous compared to the cramped bedroom at my mother’s condo. The ceiling to floor windows that extended the length of the room brightly lit up huge space. Even with the large stone fireplace, five-piece custom-built log bedroom set, and chaise-lounge, I still had plenty of room.

Life was so different here then back at my mother’s. There, everything was so contemporary and uncomfortable, but here, it was welcoming and kind. That’s why it was always so hard for me to leave.

After I finished unpacking, I went downstairs to join my dad and Melinda, who were already in the living room sitting together on one of the two leather sofas in front of the fireplace chatting about school, friends, and just life in general. Of course, the conversation never left the realm of Melinda. She could be the most self-absorbed person, especially when the attention was solely on her.

So, how is Anna doing? Dad asked her. He sat with his back into the corner of the couch; arm stretched out, with his leg propped up looking very relaxed.

Mom’s doing well, Melinda replied, trying to say as little about our mother as possible.

Our parents weren’t one of those couples who stayed friends after their divorce. And now that Mom’s dating, it’s even worse. My father has never approved of Tim. I’m not actually sure if it’s because Tim is six-years younger than my mother and has a flare for the wild side or if it’s just Tim specifically.

Mel believes that if Tim makes our mother happy then that should be all that matters.

I have my own beliefs. Mom could do better—much better. But if he can keep her safe while I’m away, that will definitely earn him some major points with me.

I immediately spoke up to divert the subject before too much was said and secrets were revealed.

So Dad, I said, coming into the room. What’s the head count on the cattle now?

His smile widened when he looked up at me. He loved the fact that I was as interested in the ranch as he was. Twenty-five hundred head, he proudly stated. That’s not including this year’s calves, which, by the way, we will be branding in a few days.

Melinda’s cheerful face fell into a full-blown pout over his announcement. Oh joy, she snidely replied. "There’s something to look forward to." She tossed the stick she’d been playing with into the fireplace.

You know the rule when you’re here, young lady, he briefly paused, giving her a curt look. "I know it upsets you, but I’m just trying to teach you a good steady work ethic. God knows if it’s up to your mother, she’ll