Chapter 7: The Face in the Rain
Marcus stared at the small screen in utter disbelief. The color drained completely from his face, leaving him looking as pale as Clara lying on the floor.
"That's... that's impossible," Marcus stammered, taking an involuntary step backward until his shoulder hit the wall.
Elena rushed over, her maroon dress rustling loudly in the quiet room. She gasped, clapping both hands over her mouth as she stared at the monitor.
The man standing in front of the detached garage, illuminated by the harsh security floodlights, was Marcus himself.
Detective Vance stepped up beside the control panel, his eyes narrowing as he compared the live video feed of the man on the screen with the actual Marcus Hayes standing three feet away.
"Care to explain this, Mr. Hayes?" Vance asked, his voice dangerously calm as he rested his finger near the trigger of his service pistol. "Unless you have a twin brother you forgot to mention to the precinct?"
Marcus shook his head frantically, his hands flying up in a defensive gesture. "I don't have a brother! That's... I don't know how that's possible! I've been inside this house for the last hour!"
"The timestamp in the corner of the video," Elena pointed out, her voice shaking violently as she pointed a trembling finger at the screen. "Look at the seconds, Marcus. That's not a pre-recorded loop. That's happening right now in real-time."
On the monitor, the "other" Marcus raised the heavy iron crowbar and smashed it directly into the side door of the detached garage, shattering the glass window in a shower of brilliant, sparkling shards.
Detective Vance didn't hesitate. He whirled around, grabbed Marcus by the collar of his dark jacket, and slammed him hard against the living room wall.
"You're playing a very dangerous game," Vance snarled, pressing the barrel of his gun lightly against Marcus's chest. "You set this up. The fake distress call, the staged break-in, the wounded woman. Who is he, Marcus? An accomplice?"
"I swear to God I have no idea!" Marcus yelled, coughing as the pressure on his chest intensified. "Look at me! I'm right here!"
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From the floor, Clara let out a soft, whimpering sound. But as Marcus glanced down at her, he noticed something terrifying.
Clara wasn't looking at the gun pointed at his chest. She was staring intently at the red high heel shoe near her hand, and her fingers were slowly, deliberately unzipping the hidden side pocket of her white dress.
