The Chemist

“Sorry. I’m sort of on a deadline.”

“Just hold your head still.”

Alex did the best she could. She had Kevin’s laptop on her knees with her earbuds plugged into it. While Carston was in his car, she could hear both sides of the conversation. Unfortunately, it seemed Carston usually chose to use his driving time to connect with his only daughter, Erin. They spoke almost nonstop about the granddaughter – the one whose picture was in Alex’s locket – and after the first forty-minute discussion about which prekindergarten program was most likely to result in an Ivy League happy ending, Alex had started fast-forwarding as soon as she heard the daughter’s voice or, if Carston was in the office, the special tone he used only to speak to Erin. They talked a lot more than Alex would have expected. She stretched her fingers down and touched the Play button. Erin was still blathering on, something about taking Livvy to the zoo. Alex hadn’t missed anything. She hit fast-forward again.

“I want you to know this is an imperfect job, and it’s your fault.”

“Any imperfections are on me, agreed,” Alex said.

Val had turned Alex away from the wall of mirrors in the bathroom so she couldn’t see what was being done. She knew only that it felt like a coat of heavy, oil-based paint had been applied to her skin. Something pulled across the slash on her jaw, tight and constricting.

She’d thought the guest bathroom was opulent, but this palace was insane. Two families of five could live comfortably in just this room.

She focused her attention back on her computer screen. The housekeeper was arriving again at Carston’s. It looked like she brought groceries in about every other day. Alex noted the things she could see in the tops of the bags – a quart of organic skim milk, a box of bran cereal, OJ, coffee beans. She had the housekeeper’s license plate, and Kevin had gotten an address. After dark, Alex could run out and put a tracker on the woman’s car so she could follow her to the store.

She checked the audio again, and Erin was saying her good-byes. Alex didn’t know how Carston was able to devote so much time to listening to his daughter talk. It was a good thing he had only one child. Probably he multitasked, just like Alex was doing.

On his work calls, there had been no names mentioned at all, let alone one that started with a P. She felt as though if she could just push this worry to the back of her mind, her subconscious would figure it out for her. Unfortunately, she couldn’t stop obsessing about it, so of course she wasn’t making any progress.

“Okay, the final touch,” Val said, wrestling a wig onto Alex’s head.

“Ouch.”

“Beauty is pain. You can look now.”

Alex stood stiffly – she’d been immobile for too long – and revolved to face the mirrors.

It gave her a start. She didn’t recognize herself right away as the short woman standing next to Val.

“How…” Her fingers went automatically to the place where her scabbed wound should be.

Val slapped her hand away. “Don’t touch anything, you’ll smear it.”

“Where did it all go?”

The face of the woman in the mirror was unmarred and perfect. Her skin looked like it belonged to a dewy fourteen-year-old. Her eyes were huge, enhanced without looking overdone. Her lips were fuller, her cheekbones more pronounced. She had shoulder-length, medium brown hair with reddish highlights. It fell in flattering layers around those suddenly high cheekbones.

“Voilà, your new face,” Val said. “That was fun. Next time, I’m trying you as a blonde. You have a good skin tone – it will look natural with a lot of shades.”

“This is amazing. I can’t believe it. Where did you learn how to do this?”

“I play a lot of different roles.” Val shrugged. “But it’s fun having a model. I always wanted one of those big Barbie styling heads when I was a kid.” She reached out and patted the top of Alex’s wig. “Or a little sister. But the plastic head was my preference.”

“I’m probably ten years older than you,” Alex protested.

“What a nice compliment. But whatever my age might actually be, you’re still not older when it comes to the things that count.”

“If you say so.” Alex wasn’t about to argue; Val had just handed her an unexpected get-out-of-jail-free card. “My own mother wouldn’t know me.”

“I can go sexier,” Val promised. “But you wanted inconspicuous…”

“This is probably the sexiest I’ve looked in my whole life. I’d be scared to see what sexier looks like.”

“I bet Danny would like it,” Val purred.

“By the way… where did I screw that up? What tipped you off there?”

Val smiled. “Please. When two people are that into each other, it radiates off them. You didn’t do anything.”

Alex sighed. “Thanks for passing your observations on to Kevin.”

“You’re being sarcastic, but you should thank me. Aren’t things easier now, without the secrecy?”

“I guess so… but he nearly shot me in the head, so there’s that.”

“Little ventured, little gained.”

Alex approached the mirror wall and leaned in close to examine the disguise. There was some kind of prosthetic skin covering the wound on her jaw. She moved her mouth carefully, watching for expressions that might pull too far, make the fraud obvious. She could see a slight ripple when she smiled, but the layers of the wig mostly obscured that part of her face anyway. She wouldn’t have to worry about someone noticing something wrong with her, even close up. Sure, people would be able to tell she was wearing makeup, but most normal women did. Hardly something that would draw attention.