“It’s only obvious in retrospect, and then it’s the only thing you can see.”
Darius Masoud
The friendly smile on Colette’s face fell off the moment she opened the door and saw me.
“Who are you?” she asked with confusion.
I almost laughed out loud, and if it had been the least bit funny, I would have. Instead, I studied the woman in front of me.
“It’s only when people don’t expect twins that you look alike,” I said, noting the slighter build, the salon cut on the mane of blonde curls, and the expertly applied make-up.
Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly, while her expression remained politely curious. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”
I smiled then, though I felt bitterness at the edges. “You should, or rather, you would if you weren’t a twin.” I held out my hand to shake. “I’m Darius Masoud, of Cipher Security.”
Her gaze seemed to sharpen, and I thought she might have heard of me. From her sister, or from Sterling Gray?
I heard a sound on the steps behind me, and Colette, or whatever her name was, looked relieved as a woman in her mid-forties approached. “I’m so sorry I’m late, Colette,” the woman said in a tone of voice that wasn’t at all sorry. “The traffic downtown is just awful.”
Colette answered with the solicitous bustle of someone grateful for the interruption. “It’s no trouble at all, Michelle, but let’s get right to business so you don’t get stuck in the theater traffic too.”
Michelle shot me an assessing glance as she stepped past me on the landing, but Colette didn’t even meet my gaze until the woman was inside the apartment.
“It was interesting to meet you, Mr. Masoud,” she finally said as she closed the door. I heard the lock turn, and I smiled grimly.
“Interesting to meet you, too, Colette.” This was Colette Collins. Colette owned this apartment, and it was an elegant, expensive address. The woman who had answered the door had the make-up, the hair, and the lithe sleekness of someone who put effort and means into looking the part of the successful designer. She was exactly the type of woman I’d expect to attract Sterling Gray. The woman with whom I’d spent such a memorable day on the lake was strong rather than sleek, hadn’t been wearing make-up, and styled her hair as though she didn’t own a comb. Not at all Gray’s type, which should have been a relief.
Unfortunately, she was, apparently, a thief.