On Borrowed Time by David Rosenfelt Read Free Book Online Page A

bracing myself for the moment when I’d see her. In the back of my mind, actually in the front of my mind, was the very obvious possibility that this might be much ado about nothing, that this woman and her sister might only look very much like Jen, or at least my mental image of her.
    Making the situation more interesting, though, was the fact that her sister was missing. If this was not somehow connected to Jen, then it increased the amount of coincidence involved, and I am not a big believer in coincidences.
    I picked the mail up off the floor and dumped it on my desk. I couldn’t focus on it then; I couldn’t focus on anything except meeting Allison Tynes at the airport, and hearing what she had to say.
    And seeing what she looked like.

 
    I waited for her at baggage claim.
    I got to JFK an hour early, and the plane was an hour late, so altogether it felt like I stood there for two weeks. I didn’t think to hold a sign with her name on it; if she was an identical twin to Jen, I wouldn’t need it.
    The moment I saw her coming down on the escalator is something I will never forget. It was Jen, gliding down toward me, eyes scanning the room for me. I’m sure that I would have cried, if I were able to breathe. It turns out that breathing is crucial to crying, so I involuntarily was able to fake composure.
    She recognized me, I guess from my picture in the magazine, and she waved, a little tentatively. When she got off the escalator, she came over to me and shook my hand. “Richard, it’s so nice to meet you. Thank you for picking me up.”
    I didn’t say a word, I couldn’t say a word. I just stood there and stared like an idiot.
    “Your Jen looked like me?” she asked.
    “My Jen is you,” I said.
    This seemed to make her uncomfortable, as it certainly should have, and she reminded me that she needed to go to the carousel and wait for her bag. Amazingly, it came off quickly, and before long we were in my car heading back to the city.
    I found myself reluctant to ask questions, even though I desperately wanted to hear the answer. I was afraid she would say something that would make me realize her sister was not Jen after all and this was all an incredible mistake.
    She told me that they lived in Fort Atkinson, Wisconsin, a couple of hours from Milwaukee, and that she and Jen ran an Internet business, selling and shipping individually designed gift baskets.
    “So who takes care of the business while you’re here?” I asked, glancing over at her. I was doing a lot of glancing; it was something I couldn’t control.
    “Oh, that’s not a problem. We’ve got some employees who can handle it. The business is doing very well, and besides, there’s nothing more important than finding Julie.”
    I nodded. “Do you have a place to stay while you’re here, Allison?”
    She nodded. “Everybody calls me Allie. I’ve got a reservation at the Parker Meridien Hotel. I think it’s on Fifty-sixth Street.”
    “I know where it is. I have a guest bedroom at my place. You’re welcome to stay there.”
    “No, I don’t think so. This will be fine.”
    “Okay,” I said. “How about if we drop your things off there, and then grab some lunch, so we can talk?”
    She smiled Jen’s smile. “Sounds good.”
    I parked at the hotel, and we walked over to the Capital Grille on Fifty-first. We got a booth, which would provide privacy when we talked. I sensed that she was at least as nervous as I was, and we waited until we ordered before getting down to it.
    “Why don’t you tell me about Julie’s disappearance?” I asked.
    She took a deep breath and nodded. “Julie was getting restless last spring. She had always taken acting classes, and had done some modeling, and she was afraid she was going to be stuck in small-town Wisconsin her whole life. She said her “occupational clock” was ticking. So in September she decided she was going to go out to L.A. and try her luck. She promised to be back within three months if