“Okay.” Marla snatched the earpiece out of his hand on her way out the door. “I guess you’ll fill me in on the way?” Carlton didn’t answer as he hurried after her, slamming the door behind them.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

As they drove through the ghost town, Charlie could feel John’s eyes on her. She had not spoken since they got in the car, and she was beginning to dread the moment she would have to speak again. John made a sharp turn, jostling the car, and she jerked forward in her seat, pressing into the seat belt.

“Sorry,” John said sheepishly. Charlie eased back again.

“It’s fine,” she said with a small smile. “I know this might be a strange time to ask, but, where is my car?”

“I’m afraid your doppelganger has your car.” He eyed her nervously, and she forced a crooked smile and nodded.

“What would that police report look like, I wonder?” she said lightly, and John grinned.

John slowed to a stop, his expression fading. “This is it,” he said quietly. Charlie opened her door and got out. They were at the bottom of a hill; John had stopped beside a narrow archway with a small, metal star at its crest. At the top of the hill was a small house.

“Okay, let’s get this over with,” Charlie said. She looked around nervously, half expecting someone to come running at them. “Let’s go.”

As they climbed the hill, John looked several times like he wanted to say something, but did not. When they reached the front porch, Charlie put a hand on his arm.

“So, she’s still in there?” she asked. “Jen, I mean.”

He nodded. “Yeah. At least, I think so. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I have to.”

“I’ll go in first,” he offered. “I can … cover her up, if you want me to.” He looked at her, distressed. Charlie hesitated.

“No,” she said finally, and grasped the knob firmly. The door wasn’t locked, and Charlie scanned the room apprehensively as she entered. The place was in disarray, everything blended into everything else, and at first nothing stood out. Then they saw her.

There was a woman in the corner, by the hallway; she was huddled against the wall, curled over herself, and her dark hair hung thickly over her face. Charlie heard a sharp intake of breath, then realized it was her own. She held a hand out stiffly behind her, unable to say in words what she needed, but John saw, and took her hand, stepping close behind her.

“That’s really her?”

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Did you want to get closer?” John asked uncertainly.

Charlie shook her head. “No. It’s not her anymore,” she whispered, turning away, closing it off in her mind. She took a deep breath. “Where did you find … me?” She gestured to herself, to make sure John knew which Charlie she meant.