Alessandra

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Today I finally have the time to go to the morgue to speak with the original medical examiner from my mother's case.

I need to see the autopsy report to look for anything suspicious. Anything that may have been missed or overlooked.

This local police department can't be trusted. You don't know who you can and cannot trust. So, it's better to assume the worst than to unwittingly let information slip to rogue officers who would report back to someone else and so forth, or new officers who feel they need to report everything to the boss.

It's hard when you can't even trust the very people who swore to protect you.

Finding the original medical examiner was no easy feat. He's close to retirement and doesn't work very often anymore due to his age. However, I called ahead and he agreed to meet with me. After some convincing.

Pulling into the parking lot, I took a few short breaths. After all, I am about to meet with the man who handled my mom's dead body.

Stay calm, I told myself. That's all I have to do. This is our best chance at finding evidence that may not have been compromised by outside interference.

Walking up to the door, I felt cool breeze blow over my face. Looking towards the sky, it was grey as if it was getting ready to rain. The perfect weather for this moment and how I felt. I'm walking into a morgue and that gives me chills. Not just any morgue. The very morgue where my mom had been.

My heart was pounding in my chest; ringing in my ears. It felt as though it might fall out. Even if that is pretty much scientifically impossible.

Strolling up to the desk, I was met by a young blonde woman.

"How may I help you?" She asked, without looking up from the magazine she was browsing.

She has a really annoying voice. You know those super nasally ones, which is only made worse when they're chewing gum, which she was. That annoying voice.

I internally winced. "Yes. I set up an appointment to speak with Dr. Alexander. I was wondering if you could let him know I'm here?" She looked up, seeming irritated I would even ask. "Or direct me to him."

She pointed to a door behind her, before returning to her magazine. "He's through there." Before I could walk in that direction, she continued. "I'd be careful if I were you."

"Why?"

"He's not all there," she replied, making a looping gesture, as if trying to tell me he was crazy.

He sounded perfectly normal on the phone. But, then again, I'm sure many people who kill seem like normal people before they're found out.

"I'll do that," I told her, trying not to let her hear the hesitance in my voice. She's probably just messing with me. After all, why would she continue to work with a man she believes to be out of his mind.

Walking to where she directed me, I jumped a little as the lights flickered.

The hallway looked like it was straight out of a horror movie. The one where the girl stupidly walks into a trap and dies, and no one heard her screams or ever found out what happened to her or who did it.

Whoa. That took a dark turn real fast. Well, it is fitting, seeing as it is a mortuary.

It would be pretty weird if it had a bright and upbeat atmosphere when it is a place that holds dead bodies until they can be properly buried or cremated.

Looking around, I could feel goosebumps forming on my arms. This place is creepy. They still have slabs, which I'm sure contain dead bodies that are yet to be moved or collected. Not that I want to find out. I've gone my whole life without seeing a dead body and I'll be happy to go the rest of my life the same way.

Distracted by everything around me, I about jumped out of my skin when a hand landed on my shoulder.

Turning around, I came face to face with who I presume is the medical examiner. An elderly man wearing about every pattern known to exist.

A hand on my heart, still feeling it racing slightly, I said, "Hello. You must be Dr. Alexander."

"Yes," he replied, shaking my hand.

He doesn't seem crazy, only boldly clothed.

"How can I help you?"

"I called you earlier about receiving a copy of my mother's autopsy report."

"Oh yes. I remember now." His brows furrowed. "I'm confused."

"What do you mean?"

"I could have sworn you were already here. Your name is Alessandra Ackerman, correct?" I nodded. "Yes. Someone with that name already picked up the autopsy report."

"What?! Who?"

"A nice young blonde woman. She had I.D and everything."

I opened my purse, pulling out my I.D. "Did it have the same information as this?"

He took a closer look. "Yes. Only the picture was different. You just missed her. She was here maybe ten minutes ago."

Damn it. "Was this woman pregnant?"

"Not that I could tell. She didn't appear to be. She was here with a young gentleman. Brown hair with blonde, green eyes, tall."

"Thank you very much." It had to be Lila then. But, who was she with and what would she want with my mother's autopsy report?

"You're welcome. I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help."

"That's alright. You've helped more than you know. Is there any way I could get another copy of my mom's autopsy?"

"Sure." My face brightened." But, I would have to order a new copy from the database and that may take two weeks." My hope instantly faded. "The systems are very backed up. It's why I have this," he pointed to a machine I hadn't noticed. It was tucked away in the corner.

"What is it?"

"It's something my grandson designed for me. I told him about all the trouble I would get into for mistakenly giving the wrong person information of a deceased... resident, here. He created a software that is based on information in government databases so I can make sure people are who they say they are."

"Is that legal?"

"Sure, it is. The company my grandson works for has the clearance and it was cleared for me to use this here. For example, if I type in your name, it will show me all the information readily available. Such as; birth certificate, marriage licence, medical records, death certificate, etc." As soon as he finished talking, my picture popped up. "There you are."

"See. I told you I am who I say I am."

"Then who did I give that report to?"

"I think I have a pretty good idea who they were? Type in Lila Cullingford." He did as I asked. "Was that the girl you saw?"

"Yes. That's her. Do you know her?"

"She's my stepsister. My dad's new wife's daughter."

"Was she supposed to pick up the file?"

"No. She isn't even supposed to know that I was coming for it? I don't trust her. At all."

"May I ask why?"

"It's complicated."

"Fair enough."

"I'm not one-hundred percent sure, but it's the only person I can think of. Try Aiden Ratcliffe." It's the only person besides Jacob that it could b, but he said young, so I assume his son looks like him, at least somewhat.

A picture popped up. He fit the description. Brown hair, green eyes and he's 6'1.

"That's the guy. He was with the girl. He looked uncomfortable, nervous even."

"Thank you again. I need to figure out what's going on with that, but if I give you my number, will you call me when you get the copy of the report?"

"Sure."

"Please don't give it to anyone else but me, unless you hear me say otherwise. Okay?" He nodded.

"Before you go. There's something I feel comfortable telling you now that I know you are for sure who you say you are." I leaned in as if he were going to tell me a secret. Which he kind of was. "The police never took me seriously about it but I noticed something when I was performing your mother's autopsy. Other than the bruising around her throat, I noticed a small mark between her toes. I tried to tell them, but they shrugged it off and told me I had bad eyes. They wanted me to rule her cause of death as asphyxia. But I put undetermined."

"Wow. I had no idea. Do you remember the names of the officers who you spoke to?"

"I remember clearly. One's still working there. Kirkland, I believe. The other was Bridges."

Why does Kirkland's name keep popping up?

"I know Kirkland, but I've never heard of Bridges before."

"Kirkland was clearly the leader and Bridges seemed as though he was merely following him, almost as if he was scared of him."

I nodded. "Kirkland was the lead investigator and I'm sure you know as does everyone else, that he arrested my uncle." This time he nodded. "I don't think he did it. Is there any way you can tell me what killed her?"

"Are you sure you want to know? This isn't an easy thing to go through, much less hear about. I need you to be completely sure."

"I'm sure. I've been waiting for years to see if the right person was convicted. I need to know."

"Alright," he took a deep breath. "Well, I don't believe she was killed by strangulation. I believe the killer, he or she, tried to strangle her and when it took too long, they must have injected her with something and she was either allergic to it or she overdosed on it. I didn't find anything in her system and there are very few drugs that have that effect. What it was, we may never know."

"But, if she wasn't strangled, is it enough reasonable cause to look into the case again?"

"I'm not an officer of the law, but I personally would look into it further. However, it isn't for everyone. I would because of the field I work in; looking at dead bodies. But, someone with a nine to five job may not be able to handle it as well."

"With all due respect, I think I am capable of handling it. I may need someone with a law background, but I will find out what happened to her. She deserves at least that. To rest in peace knowing the right person was caught."

"I didn't mean to offend you. I simply meant that it takes a toll on people. Especially those who aren't used to seeing it everyday. I'm surrounded by death. How many other professions can say that? Not as much as you may think. I'm only looking out for your best interests. I would never tell you not to look into her case if you think that is the best thing for you to do. If it will provide you with closure, then I say do it. I hope it helps you heal."

"Thank you again. I hope to see you soon. Have a nice day."

"You too. I'll give you a call as soon as I've got the report and I promise I won't accidentally give it to someone else again."

Waving, I left disgruntled at the fact that if I had only made it here ten minutes earlier, I would have my mother's autopsy report right now.

The question still remains; what does Lila want with my mother's autopsy report?

I already know how she could've easily gotten my information for the fake I.D from my dad. He would know my date of birth, etc. But, why? Why go through all that trouble just to get a women's autopsy report? A woman who has no relation to her, mind that.

Getting into my car, I pushed my hair from my face before slamming my hand on the steering wheel, accidentally causing it to honk. Oops. Forgot I'd turned it on already.

I really need to get to the hospital to see Letty and tell her everything.

Our cover must have been blown. Someone must have let them know that we're on to them. By accident or on purpose, I have no idea. Yet.

But I will find out.

Putting the car in drive, I got ready to pull out of the lot when my cell rang.

Trying to remember where I put it, I finally located it in the centre console.

"Hello?"

"Hello. Is this Alessandra Ackerman, niece of Brian Ackerman?"

"That depends. Who is this?"

"This is Officer Adams of the Colonial Penitentiary. Now, is this Alessandra Ackerman?"

"Yes, yes. It is me. May I ask why you're calling? Is something wrong?"

"Your uncle was attacked earlier this morning and he has you listed as his emergency contact. It's only protocol to notify the emergency contact and/or any living immediate family of the inmate."

"He's not dead, is he?" Please say no. "Oh my god."

"Ma'am, please calm down. Your uncle is fine. He's been stabbed, but he's fine. They were able to control the bleeding. I'll be able to tell you more when you get here."

"I'll be there in 25." More like 15 if I speed and catch all the green lights.

"I'll see you then."

Pulling out of the lot, I nearly collided with another car, causing them to honk.

"Sorry!" I hollered out my window, over my shoulder, only to be greeted by more honking.

Calm your knicker, man, or woman.

I made it to the prison in 15 minutes flat. Hopping out, I rushed to the front gate where I was met by security guards.

"Excuse me, ma'am. Please state your name and purpose of visitation." The man said, holding up his hand to me. He greatly resembled one of those bouncers you'd find outside the club; tall, bald and lots of muscle.

"Alessandra Ackerman. I received a call that my uncle was attacked and I'm his emergency contact."

"May I see some I.D??"

Pulling out my wallet, I retrieved my I.D for the second time the last half hour.

He looked at it, obviously checking its authenticity. Finally he said, "Okay. You may proceed forward where you will be searched. If you have any questions, one of the officers will be glad to answer them for you. Do you understand?" I nodded. "Good. You may proceed." Which I did.

As soon as I walked in, one officer's attention immediately turned to me.

She waved me over. "I can help you, ma'am."

"Thank you," I said, walking over.

She did the usual patdown; checking for weapons, illegal contraband, such as drugs.

"Now, do you have a cell phone?"

"Of course."

"We would appreciate it greatly if you could leave that behind with us."

"Okay. May I ask why?"

"Recently we've had numerous visitors trying to smuggle in cell phones to inmates who then find ways to get drugs into the facility or even orchestrate a breakout. It is a new safety protocol we're trying. It's nothing against you, we're just trying to be proactive in stopping the smuggling. We can't just ask one person and not ask another. You understand, right?"

"Sure," I said, even though this is highly suspicious. Made even more so when I didn't see the guy next to me hand over a phone. Either he didn't have one on him, he hid it very well, or I'm being completely BS'd.

She took out an empty tray from under her desk.

"Um, where are the other phones?" I'd seen a woman walk through her station shortly before I got in here. Yet, there was no phone in the tray.

If you know women, many of them are glued to their phones. Whether that be for business, being obsessed with social media, or the security and comfort it provided.

"I just started my shift ten minutes ago. Nobody has come through with a phone. They already knew the rules. They're frequent visitors of this facility and were made aware of this new rule, so they leave their phone in their cars."

"Okay." I placed my phone in the tray just to get past this, so I could see my uncle. "Am I good now?"

She nodded before allowing me to pass. Rolling my eyes after I walked past her, I walked to the first door, before I could be buzzed in.

Looking over towards the deputy, I showed him my visitor's pas and he buzzed me in.

A male officer approached me. "Hello? Are you Ms. Ackerman?" I nodded. "Follow me, please." I looked at his badge and it was the officer that called me; Officer Adams. Unless there was another Officer Adams.

He led me down the hall until we happened upon a room, that appeared to be the prison infirmary. He gestured me inside. "He's right through there," he pointed me to the last bed on the right which had a closed curtain around it.

Heading towards his bed, I immediately regretted not wearing my sweater in here as two inmates began catcalling. Both had their bodies covered in tattoos and when one pretended to leap at me, I involuntarily flinched, causing him to chuckle.

However, he was reprimanded by two nearby officers.

I approached the bed that held my uncle, about to enter, when I was stopped by a man who appeared to be a security guard.

I looked back at Officer Adams, silently asking for his help.

"It's okay. She's his niece." He told the man, causing him to drop his arm.

"Thank you." Walking behind the curtain, there he laid. Uncle Brian.

He was covered in bruises, all over his face and his arms, probably from defending himself.

They told me he'd been stabbed in the side and I could faintly see the outline of a square gauze under the standard issue prison hospital gown.

"Uncle Brian," I murmured, trying to see if he was alert.

I guess he was because he turned his head and smile as soon as he laid eyes on me.

"Sandra?" He tried to sit up, grimacing as he did so. Rushing to his side, I helped him adjust himself into a comfortable position.

"Don't strain yourself. I just came to see if you were okay. They told me you'd been stabbed. Are you okay?"

"I'm breathing, aren't I?" I nodded. "Then I've got all I need. My life." He took a deep breath. "Now if only that life included my kids."

"I'm sure Jason and Amelia would love to come see you. I'll give them a call after I leave here, okay?"

"Don't bother. Their mother probably brainwashed them to hate me."

"Even if that is true, they're your kids and they'll always love you. It's kind of hard to hate the man who helped give you life and stayed around to raise instead of abandoning you." He gave me a pointed look. "Don't give me that look. You know, it's different circumstances. You know how my dad is."

"I would like to think so. After all we are twins and grew up together."

"Why not try to contact the kids. You never know until you try," I reverted back to the original conversation. "What's it that you always used to say to Letty and I?"

"You may encounter many defeats, but you must not be defeated." He recited.

"Exactly," I assured. "By the way, I looked that up and you copied that from Maya Angelou. You quoted her a lot... and Winston Churchill."

"You caught me. Well, I majored in Literature for a reason. I loved it." He joked. "Enough about that. How's my case going? Do they think they can help me?"

I was afraid he would ask this. But, I should have expected it.

"Um... About that."

"You haven't called, have you?" I meekly shook my head. "You two have always been stubborn. Just like your mother." He took a deep breath. "You know every time I think of you two, I can't help but think of her. You two are so much like her. Almost like she never left."

He said the last part under his breath, almost as if he didn't want me to hear him, but I did.

"I know. Sometimes I feel the same way. I'll be walking with my fiance and see mothers with their children and some of them will do things to remind me of her and I feel like if I go back to the house she'll waiting for me there, waiting for a hug and 'I love you.'." I looked in his eyes. "I know you could never hurt her."

"At least you do."

"Don't worry. Letty and I will make sure you get out of here. Even if that means calling the Innocence Project. I'll try my best convince Letty to call them. We should've called from the beginning like you asked, but we were being stubborn. She convinced she knows who did it and is so close to being able to prove it."

"Do you think she can prove it?"

" I think so. But it can't hurt to have people who do this Lind of thing for a living." I noticed that his eyes were constantly darting around as if he was waiting for someone to attack him. "Are you okay?"

He looked back at me and said in a hushed tone, "I can't really say anything."

I looked around to see if anyone was watching us. Obviously the guard was but so was the inmate who whistled at me earlier.

Once he noticed my eyes on him, he began making kissy faces, causing me to sneer.

I turned back to my uncle. "Has anyone been threatening you?"

He looked around before shaking his head. "I can't say anything here. Too many ears." His eyes darted to the security guard and the tattooed man.

"Oh, okay." I took his hand. "You'll be out of here soon, I promise."

"You know you shouldn't make promises you aren't sure you can keep."

"Mom used to say that all the time."

"Where do you think she learned it?" He pointed to himself. "But you guys need to be careful who you trust. You can't just tell anyone what you're up to, or you may accidentally spill something to the wrong person. I know for a fact that there are people who don't want this case reopened. Especially whoever really killed your mother. What you have to understand is that this goes deeper than you mothers murder. There are many things linked to this case that people don't want coming out. Please promise you and your sister will be careful."

I couldn't help wince when he used the word 'killed'. It's still hard to process sometimes that she's not here anymore because someone took it upon themselves to end her life prematurely. By playing God.

I went to speak when I felt a presence behind me. Turning around it was the Officer that called me earlier, Officer Adams.

Raising an eyebrow, I asked, "Yes?"

"I've just been informed that visiting hours are now over. It's time to leave."

"Okay." Before I left, I placed a kiss on my uncle's forehead and said, "Don't worry. We'll get you out of here. You don't belong in here."

Then I was escorted out by Officer Adams.

I'm not surprised but there is definitely corruption in this prison. Maybe that's what uncle means with this case being about more than mom's murder. I don't think the true killer or killers are the only ones trying to keep this case closed. There are just too many coincidences. There's more to this case than I can probably fathom.

Besides, my uncle wouldn't be on such high alert for no reason unless he hear good reason to fear for his safety or others. I have no doubt he's being threatened in there. Whether it's by an officer or an inmate, I don't know. But it doesn't matter.

The sooner this case comes to a close the better. For everyone. Well no the killer, but everyone else.

Uncle Brian doesn't deserve to rot in prison for a crime I know he isn't capable of.

As soon as we find whoever did this, they're going to regret what they did. They're going to learn that they messed with the wrong family, and more importantly the wrong set of twins.

A/N: Please comment and let me know what you think. How do you feel about the characters? Do you have any theories? All feedback is welcome and appreciated. Thank you.