The air felt as though it was stuck in her throat, and she couldn’t breathe. She dropped the dish to the floor, and it clanged against the tile as she clung to the edge of the tub choking on her sobs as the weight of the day crashed down on her.
Breathe. Breathe. In. Out. In. Out. I can do this.Darla closed her eyes and focused on steadying her breathing and slowing her heart. Once she felt calm enough, she leaned back and lowered her head into the water until just her nose was poking out.
I need a new plan. I need to get back in control, and then everything will be okay.
Her first plan for tomorrow was to locate the key and go to the bank. She already knew how to claim the inheritance since she created the instructions as Richard.
Then she was going to sell off the entire company she had built, fire all of the staff, and set up her own bank account in her name.
The apartment that Darla owned was quite satisfactory and she felt that living modestly would allow the fortune awaiting her to stretch even longer. It would also allow her to build her wealth up faster when the expenses were kept low. Comparing how she lived as Richard to how a librarian was living made her realize she had wasted too much money on silly things.
She resurfaced realizing she was about to control a man’s wealth without having to have the actual man. All decisions would be hers to make: where to live, how to spend. She wouldn’t even have to work if she didn’t want to, at least, not right away.
She leaned back and smiled, finally feeling at peace. In a new, young, fresh body, her future looked brighter than ever. She closed her eyes and realized just how heavy they felt all of a sudden. The water had cooled, signifying it was time to get out. She stood and pulled the plug to allow the now pink water to drain.
No towels hung in the bathroom, and she knew she was going to have to walk, dripping wet, to the bedroom and search for a towel there. She carefully stepped out on the wood floors and continued to carefully tiptoe to the room next door.
There was a light switch on the wall in the living room leading into the bedroom. It was handy to not be soaking wet and fumbling for a light. When she opened the door, she stopped dead in her tracks. Covering all the walls were pictures. The subject matter was the same in every single one: Doug.
“Why can’t I just find a nice normal life to switch into without so much baggage?” Darla groaned, as she looked around at the hundreds of pictures of Doug staring back at her.
When she had chosen Darla as her next body, she had assumed she was selecting a normal sweet girl, not one obsessed with anyone, much less Doug. She thought about how the old Darla was now stuck in the body of the person who had shot and killed her one true love, and would likely spend the rest of their life locked away.
She shook the thought out of her head and immediately set out to locate towels and pajamas. Once dried and dressed, she began ripping the photos from the walls. After the third trip to the trash bin in the kitchen, she dragged the bin back to the room with her to save time.
She was halfway through the third wall, when a knock came from the front door, followed shortly by the doorbell ringing. Darla glanced down to make sure she was decent and thenspotted a cotton robe strewn on the armchair in the corner. She hastily put it on as she made her way to the door.
“Who is it?” She asked, hand on the door handle.
“It’s the police,” a man replied. Darla cracked the door open, checking behind her to make sure the bedroom door was closed.
“Good evening officers. How can I help you?” Darla asked, inviting them in with a swift motion of her hand. “Would you like some refreshments?”
She tried to think how a grieving woman might act in her situation and was able to access past memories to help with the right tone and calmness.
“No, thank you, ma’am. We are sorry for the late visit. We just wanted to return your personal belongings that you left behind at the park today.” The first officer, whose name tag readJohnson, turned his head to the second officer. His name tag readWagner,and he was holding the picnic basket and her purse.
“We also need your statement, but given the hour you can stop by the station tomorrow,” Johnson said.
“That is kind of you gentlemen. Thank you for stopping by. You can place the items next to the door, Mr. Wagner, and I can walk you both out. As you can imagine, I’m quite tired after the events of the day, and I’m still processing the loss of my dear companion, Doug.” Darla took a step to reopen the door.
“Actually, ma’am, could we have a seat? I know it’s late, and we are sorry for the loss you have endured. We just have a few questions before we go.” Officer Johnson motioned for Darla to join him in the seating area. Darla moved slowly and deliberately, attempting to remain calm and to hide the panic flowing inside her.
“Could this wait until tomorrow?” Her shoulders sagged as a new wave of exhaustion hit her.
“We’ll be quick,” Wagner offered.
“Of course.” She sat on one of the pale yellow chairs as Officer Johnson sat on the couch. Officer Wagner stood behind the couch but took out a small notebook and pen.
“We spoke to the man who shot Mr. VanHugh and Mr. Tiller. He is claiming he didn’t do it, that he used to be you, actually, and that somehow, he ended up in that body after the shooting took place,” Johnson said.
Darla froze.
“We just wanted to ask you if you have ever met this man before?” He asked.
“Before today, I had never seen that man in my life.”
Officer Johnson cleared his throat. “I understand this is pretty far-fetched, and the man is obviously not all there in the head. We think that maybe he had a plan to kidnap you for a deeper and darker purpose.”
