Chapter Twenty-Seven

"How can someone just disappear?"

Leslie smiled. "Again, a rhetorical question?"

They'd been at it all week, looking for John Doe. They'd cruised the streets, day and night. They'd shown his picture around and were met with blank stares. They'd staked out the shelter at meal times to no avail. It was almost as if he didn't exist. Even Maria--who said John ate there most days--hadn't seen him.

So here they were again, Friday afternoon, driving down Elm. They had driven Deep Ellum and the surrounding area so much, she thought she could find her way with her eyes closed. She turned slowly, watching Casey's profile as she drove. It had been a week since they'd had their talk. A week. And they hadn't mentioned it since. Oh, it was there. When they looked at each other, when they'd touch--however innocent--it was there. But at least the tension, the distance, was gone. But in its place was an artificial cheeriness, both of them going out of their way to make things seem normal between them. And it wasn't quite normal.

Because there was Michael.

She turned away from Casey, looking again out the window, her eyes darting over the pedestrians who strolled down Elm Street. Yes, there was still Michael. But in her defense, when is a good time to tell the man you're engaged to that you're not in love with him? Do you just blurt it out over dinner one night? Not that they'd had a chance to have dinner, of course. Not when she was working, day and night. And Michael, for his part, had ceased his complaining that she was never home. He was out having fun with his friends. In fact, more often than not, she beat him home each night. And more often than not, he would wake her up, wanting to make love.

And she was running out of excuses. Tired, headache, just got her period, not in the mood. She'd used them all. But the weekend was here. There would be no more excuses. She would have to tell him. And then what? Was she ready to admit that her life had just been one big charade? At thirty-two, could she finally accept what she'd already known at nineteen?

She looked again at Casey, letting her eyes linger.

Yes.

She was a lesbian.

"You okay?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"You're kinda quiet."

"Mmm."

Without thinking, she reached across the console, resting her hand on Casey's arm, letting her fingers tighten. Such an innocent touch, yet she could feel the electricity between them. For just a second, blue eyes captured hers. A second, that's all. But that's all it took. In that short instance, everything made perfect sense to her. This woman sitting beside her--this beautiful woman--could set her soul on fire.

Yes, she was a lesbian. And yes, this is the woman she wanted.

Her partner.

She closed her eyes. Yes, the second of their two problems. They were partners.

"It's going to be okay."

She opened her eyes, listening to Casey's words. Had she read her thoughts? She turned to her. "Do you think so?"

"That's going to be my mantra anyway," she said with a laugh, easing some of her fears.

Leslie smiled too. Her world was slowly turning upside down, but yeah, it would be okay. Living a lie, as she had been, was slowly zapping the life out of her. She could see that now. Whatever the future held, it had to be better than a lie.

"Hey. Check out that woman."

Leslie turned, looking where Casey was pointing. A tall, thin woman walked along the sidewalk at a brisk pace. "Yeah? And?"

"Does that walk look familiar to you?"

"Oh, my God. Pass her."

She did, driving slowly past the woman. "It's John," they said at the same time.

Casey whipped to the curb in front of him, stopping. Leslie wasn't sure if Casey expected John to run or not. But he didn't. He stared at them through the window, his face breaking out in a grin.

"Miss Leslie! Miss Casey!" He waved, then hurried over to the truck. But his smiled vanished. "Miss Casey, you're not going to--"

"I'm not going to tie you up, no." She pointed at his outfit. "But John, what's with the dress?"

He glanced around nervously, as if making sure no one was around to hear, then stuck his head back in the window. "I'm the sister today."

Leslie hoped the surprise she felt didn't show on her face. "You're the sister?"

Casey leaned across the console, looking up at John "So your sister then, she's now--"

"My brother."

"Oh, dear God," Leslie heard Casey murmur. She wanted to echo those words. Instead she said, "John, you want to maybe ride around with us and talk?"

He tilted his head. "I'm not supposed to."

"Why not?"

"Because he said not to."

"He?"

"Robert Attorney."

Leslie hid her smile as she glanced at Casey.

"Do you know Robert Attorney?"

"No. I don't think I like him. He was mean."

"Okay." Leslie smiled, trying another approach. "Where are you going?"

"To the park."

"Exall?"

"Yeah." He leaned closer. "To watch the pretty girls." Then his eyes widened. "But not to...you know. I don't want to get tied up again."

"No, no. You're fine," she said. "Can we go to the park with you?"

"Oh, sure."

"John, isn't it going to look funny if you look at girls and you know, you're in a dress?" Casey asked.

He laughed, a delightful childlike sound. "Just as funny as when you look at Miss Leslie that way."

Leslie couldn't contain her own laughter. The look on Casey's face was too priceless.

"Clever boy," Casey murmured. "So, you want to ride with us to the park?"

"I like to walk. There are more things to see that way."

"Okay. Well, let me park on the street over there and we'll walk with you. Cool?"

As they pulled away to park, Leslie whispered, "What the hell do you think is going on?"

"I'm almost afraid to find out."

"Should we call Hunter?"

"No. She'll make us arrest him for something, remember?"

"When she finds out we finally found him, she's going to be pissed." Leslie lowered her voice. "You don't think she'll shoot one of us, do you?" Casey's laughter rang out, causing Leslie to join in. "I wasn't really joking," she added.

"We both know we can't arrest him. He's done nothing wrong."

They parked and got out, waiting for him to join them. "I like him," Leslie admitted.

"I know."

"He's--"

"Sweet."

"Yeah, he's sweet. Innocent."

"Or so it seems," Casey said, smiling as John hurried along the sidewalk to catch up with them.

"This is going to be fun," he said. "I wish I'd bought some chocolate."

"Chocolate?"

"Yeah." He stopped, looking around. Then he opened his blouse and pulled out a small leather wallet. "Look here," he said, opening it for them to see. "Thirteen dollars," he said excitedly.

"Where'd you get it?"

"My brother gives it to me. But I save it. I don't really need money. I can eat at the shelter." He walked on. "And Miss Maria sometimes will let me have three showers a week instead of two. But I like to buy chocolate. And sodas."

"Speaking of your brother, the other night when we picked you up, remember we asked you if you had a brother. But you said you didn't."

He shook his head. "No, that time I didn't. Today I do."

"So, what's your name today?" Casey asked.

"It's John, silly."

Leslie could tell Casey was losing her patience, so she bumped her lightly with her shoulder, tossing a be nice look her way.

"Okay. But you said your sister's name was Patty. So today, if your sister is your brother, is her name still Patty?"

"No. I just never found a girl name I liked."

"But she did?"

"Yes. Patrick."

"So when he's your brother, he's Patrick. And when he's your sister, he's Patty?"

"Uh-huh." He stopped, pointing. "Oh, look! The ducks are here," he said, breaking into a run.

The pond that made up the center of Exall Park was surrounded by flowering trees and shrubs, manicured lawns and a small boardwalk. Four ducks swam lazily by until John ran up to them and they squawked loudly, fluttering away to the other side of the pond.

"I see people feed them bread sometimes," he said. "I always wish I had some. I'd like to feed them too."

"Well, you know, maybe the next time you buy chocolate, you could buy some bread," Leslie suggested.

"I could, couldn't I?" He spun around quickly. "Come on, Miss Leslie, let's find a bench." Then he stopped. "And you too, Miss Casey. I didn't mean you couldn't come."

She smiled. "Right behind you."

But Casey hung back and Leslie looked at her over her shoulder, seeing the thoughtful expression on her face. Casey, like herself, must have a hundred questions for him.

"John, I'm curious. How did you know you'd be the sister today?"

"Because the dress was there."

"Where?"

"Where I sleep."

"How often are you the sister?" Casey prodded.

He looked up at the sky, his eyes darting about, thinking. "Not too much," he finally said.

"Once a week?"

He looked at her strangely. "A week?" Then he looked away, embarrassed. "I lose track of the days." Then his eyes lit up. "But I know when Sunday is. That's when I hear the bells."

Leslie smiled. "Yes. The church bells."

"That's Sunday," he said proudly.

"Okay, John, but back to the dress," Casey said. "Patrick leaves the dress for you?"

"Uh-huh."

"So, do you live...like, in an apartment?"

He gave Casey a look that made Leslie laugh out loud. She couldn't help it, but Casey fishing for information from this boy--and that was what he was, a boy in a man's body--was just too comical. So, like you would do with any child, you asked directly.

"John, where do you sleep?"

"Depends on the weather. If it's not too cold, I like to be with Sammy."

"Who's Sammy?"

"He's my friend. He let's me sleep by him sometimes."

"Out on the street? In an alley?"

He nodded. "It's not so bad."

"Does Patrick sleep with you?" Casey asked.

He shook his head. "He likes it dark."

"What do you mean?"

"He's always inside. But it's cold there. Cold and dark. So I like it outside."

"Inside where?"

He stared at her for moment, frowning. "I'm not sure." His eyes lit up. "Look! Here they come." His voice lowered. "I think they're dancers. They're so pretty."

Leslie followed his gaze, seeing the group of young girls running across the grass. Dancers, indeed. But it wasn't a musical. It appeared to be some sort of exercise class.

"They don't come all the time," he said. "But sometimes when I'm here they come."

"John, listen," Casey said. "Do you think you could introduce us to Patrick?"

He made a face. "I don't think he'd like that."

"Why not?"

"He gets mad sometimes." He paused. "But I don't see him that much."

"Why not," Leslie asked.

"He's opposite."

"Opposite? You mean, like sometimes he wears the dress and sometimes you do?"

John laughed. "No, silly. I mean he's opposite of me."

Leslie looked at Casey, wondering if she had any idea what he was talking about.

"Okay. Opposite...like you're a boy and he's a girl?" Casey tried.

"He's mostly a girl. I'm mostly a boy. Sometimes we're both boys. But we're only a girl one at a time."

"Okay." Casey stood, moving in front of John. She squatted down, looking at him. "Opposite like...you like chocolate and he doesn't?"

John laughed. "No. Like I like day and he likes night."

Casey frowned. "Huh?"

"He sleeps when I'm up," he said, holding his hands out to the sunshine. "I sleep when he's up. Opposite."

Casey looked at her, a pained expression on her face. Help. Leslie smiled at her, having to stop herself from simply bending closer and squeezing her tight in a hug. Instead, she bumped John's shoulder with her own, sitting close to him on the bench.

"Opposite. I get it. So right now, he's sleeping."

"Yeah, I guess." He tilted his head. "We should be alike, but we're not."

"Because you're brothers?"

"'Cause we're twins. But we don't like anything the same. He doesn't like chocolate."

Casey's eyebrows shot up. "You're twins?" She grabbed the bridge of her nose. "Twins. Imagine that."

"Where is he now?" Leslie asked.

"He's in the hole, I guess."

Casey touched his knee. "What hole, John?"

"The hole in the wall." He broke out in a smile. "Look! The ducks came back." He jumped up, running again to the pond.

"Christ," Casey murmured. She looked at her. "What do you want to do?"

"We can't keep pushing him. He's like a child. He's going to clam up when he's tired of talking."

Casey nodded. "Twins. Didn't see that coming."

"Twins. But not identical twins," she said.

"How do you know?" Casey asked.

"Because identical twins have the same DNA." She shrugged. "I took a couple of forensic classes."

"So even though they're twins, they might not even look alike."

"Right. But because they switch out on being the sister, I'd guess that they do favor each other."

"Well, at least we've got some sort of relationship with him." Casey grinned. "I think he has a crush on you."

Leslie stood. "And I think he's scared you're going to tie him up," she teased.

"Okay. Let's try to find out where he goes during the day and why the hell we couldn't find him all week."

"Yeah. But why do you think Patrick does the dress thing? And why would he make John wear it occasionally? It makes no sense."

"If there's another murder, CIU will get involved. And then we'll have profilers and shrinks reviewing the case. We'll know soon enough why he does the dress."

"That's the problem. The why of it isn't going to really help us catch him."

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