FanStory.com - The Empty Chair Chap 4by Begin Again

Sharice sat the bags of groceries on the kitchen counter and glanced down the hallway, wondering where Fiona was. She didn't want to see her, but she knew she should at least check that she was okay.

"Fiona!" She waited, but her sister didn't answer. "Fiona, I've brought groceries."

In the library, Fiona sat in her wheelchair, staring out the window. Sharice's voice had reached her, but she was still stewing about their argument last night. She'd sat for hours, using the poker, as the pages of her book burned one by one, but the morning brought a new day with a new strategy.

"Fiona! I was calling you. Didn't you hear me?" Sharice stood in the doorway, hands on her hips, waiting for an answer.

Her sister's head snapped around and apologetically whispered, "I'm sorry, Sharice."

"You don't have to be sorry for not hearing me. I was just worried."

Fiona's eyes welled with tears. "I meant I was sorry for all the terrible things I said to you last night. Please forgive me."

Sharice was shocked. She couldn't recall another time Fiona had seemed so humble, almost broken. "It's okay, Fiona. We were both distraught about Peyton, not knowing what happened to him."

"We can't let things come between us, can we? We're twins and should always stick together. I am truly sorry, Sharice."

"It's okay. Today is another day."

Fiona smiled. "I baked this morning. Your favorite jelly-filled croissants."

"I thought I smelled pastries when I brought the groceries in."

"Would you share a cup of tea and a pastry with me? Just to prove to you how sorry I am."

"It's not necessary, Fiona. We both were upset —"

"It is important to me, Sharice. I won't feel right until we have tea together." She paused and smiled at her sister. "Remember the tea parties the three of us always shared? Let's have one in remembrance of Peyton. Please?"

"Sure, why not? I'll get the tea and pastries, and we can sit by the fire and talk." Sharice turned and headed to the kitchen to prepare the tea.

Fiona watched her sister leave, her hands tightening around the armrests of her wheelchair. "Yes, sister dear, a tea party is perfect. We shall sip tea and make amends," she mumbled to herself.

She pulled a small packet from her pocket and opened it, preparing for her next move. She knew there wasn't enough poison to kill her, but it would be enough to scare Sharice.

Sharice returned in a few minutes and placed the cups and teapot with cream and sugar on the table. "I'll be right back. The pastries smell delicious, Fiona. You are being especially kind."

"Just a small peace offering. You'd do the same for me, I'm sure."

As Sharice returned to the kitchen to get the pastries, her mind raced, trying to figure out what angle Fiona was working at. Years of being together had taught her that there was no way Fiona would surrender so easily.

As Sharice placed the tray of pastries on the table, Fiona stirred sugar in the cup and emptied the small packet with a quick, deliberate flick. She saw Sharice's sharp eyes narrow. Perfect!

Sharice settled into the chair closest to Fiona. Raising an eyebrow, she asked, "What did you add to my tea?"

"Oh, just a little extra sugar and some cream." She slid the cup toward Sharice. "I made it just how you always want it."

Sharice's gaze shifted from one cup to another, her suspicion of Fiona growing. "That was kind of you, Fiona, but I think I would prefer mine plain today. I've been using too much sugar lately." A coldness entered her voice as she handed the cup to Fiona. "You drink this one." She smirked as she lifted the poisoned tea to Fiona.

Fully aware of what was happening, Fiona sipped the tea without hesitation, her eyes never leaving Sharice. She knew that there wasn't enough poison to kill her.

She could taste the bitterness of the poison as she set her plan into motion. Her throat tightened, and she could feel the nausea swirling in her stomach, but she forced a smile.

"Delicious." Her body swayed, and she coughed. "I — I don't feel well."

Sharice's face paled, but Fiona continued, "Was something in the tea?" She stared at Sharice and cried, "Did — you — poison me?" Her voice trailed off as she slumped over, clutching her stomach.

Sharice stood frozen in shock. Knowing the tea was meant for her, yet terrified as she watched.

Fiona struggled to lift her head as she coughed violently. "You poisoned me. You switched the cups —"

"Fiona, I didn't —" Her face drained of color, and her eyes widened in panic. "This is another of your twisted games. You're just acting, aren't you?" Fear gripped her. Without waiting for another word, she rushed to the kitchen and out the back door, yelling, "Enough is enough, Fiona."

Fighting the effects of the poison, Fiona reached for her phone and dialed Detective Harris's number.

When he answered, she whispered into the phone, "It's Fiona. Please — help me. I think — tried — to kill me." Coughing, she doubled over in pain and dropped the phone.

*****

The ambulance and Detective Harris arrived at Fiona's home simultaneously. While the EMTs unloaded their equipment, he raced inside.

"Fiona!" The wheelchair was empty. He started toward the kitchen when he heard a moan from the library. As he rushed back, Fiona moaned again. She was lying on the floor in front of the sofa.

"Fiona!" He lifted her carefully from the floor and placed her on the sofa as the EMTs entered the house. He stepped back, letting them take her vitals while he noted the cups of tea and the pastries.

"We've got to take her to the hospital, sir."

Fiona raised her hand in protest. "Wait —" she gasped for air, and another moan escaped her lips. "Sharice —"

Having seen the two cups, Harris bent closer to Fiona. "What about Sharice? Do you want me to call her?"

"Noooo!" Fiona swallowed hard, turning her head away before she whispered, "She did this."

"Sharice? Are you saying she poisoned you?" Harris stared at Fiona, surprised at her accusation. They'd fought, yes, but poisoning your twin sister. That was diabolical!

"Sir, we really should get her to the hospital."

The EMT stood next to the gurney, impatient to get his patient to the hospital and get her stomach pumped.

Fiona struggled to move, pointing toward the woodbox by the fireplace. "In there."

Harris stood and hurried to the box. When he opened it, his eyes widened, and he turned to Fiona. "What is this?"

Coughing, she gasped, "I found it in the spare room. Sharice put it there."

Taking gloves from his pocket, he lifted the knife and a bloody t-shirt from the box. As the men lifted her onto the gurney, she cried, "I told her I found them. I asked why, but she laughed at me." Coughing violently, she pulled her body into a ball. "She was jealous — so —" Gasping, she mumbled, "she poisoned me."

Detective Harris called in the forensic team as the EMTs wheeled Fiona into the ambulance. "I'm at the house next door to the murder scene. I think I might have motive and an attempted murder, too."

*****

After several hours of grilling Sharice and unable to shake her story, Detective Harris watched her walk out of his precinct. It was difficult to believe that Fiona might have planned her own poisoning, but he'd had stranger cases. Sharice had admitted to being pregnant but was adamant that the baby was not Peyton's. She even told the detective that she was planning to leave the state and marry the father of her baby, but she'd been uncertain how Fiona would react to being left behind.

The detective didn't know who was telling him the truth — the disabled sister or her twin.

As Sharice left the police station, she received a text from Fiona.

"Please come to dinner. I'm sorry."

Her rational side told her to stay away, but the lifelong protector wanted to believe that Fiona needed her and was genuinely sorry. Ultimately, she decided she needed to face Fiona and get things out in the open, regardless of what it was.

*****

Arriving at Fiona's house, Sharice was extremely nervous. She didn't want another confrontation. She hesitated at the doorway as her hand rested on the handle. Every nerve in her body screamed not to go inside, but she knew it was something she had to do. Despite knowing the danger, she needed answers — ones that only Fiona could give.

She tried to tell herself that her sister must have learned her lesson while lying in a hospital bed. She didn't want to believe that she could still be scheming, not after almost dying from the poison.

She opened the door and stepped into the kitchen. The smell of roast and vegetables drifted in the air. "Fiona, it's Sharice."

A soft, gentle voice answered immediately, "Sharice, I'm so happy you came. Please come in and join me. I've opened a bottle of your favorite wine."

Sharice's gaze shifted to the empty place at the table reserved for Peyton. It was just as she'd feared — a cruel, silent mockery. Fiona had set the table as though Peyton were coming to dinner, as if he were still alive and well, just running late.

"I know what you did," Sharice said, her voice low and shaking with restrained anger. "You poisoned yourself to frame me. And I know you planted that bloody shirt and knife. Why, Fiona? Why are you doing this?"

Fiona didn't flinch. She folded her hands delicately, resting them in her lap. "Oh, Sharice, always so dramatic." Her voice was syrupy sweet. "I'm only doing what needs to be done. Peyton was always between us, wasn't he? You and your secrets, running to him like I didn't exist. And now — well, now it's time to set things right."

Sharice's heart pounded as she stepped closer to the table, her hands clenched into fists. "What did you tell the detective?" she demanded. "What lies did you feed him?"

Fiona let out a soft, mocking laugh. "Lies? Oh no, dear. The truth. You poisoned me, remember? Your fingerprints were on my cup." She lifted her glass, swirling the liquid inside. "That's what they all believe, Sharice. And they'll believe so much more when I'm done."

"You've gone too far, Fiona," Sharice said, shaking angrily. "You're going to pay for what you've done to Peyton, to me. I won't let you destroy everything."

At this, Fiona's smile widened, her eyes gleaming. "Oh, but it's not over yet. Not until you're gone."

Sharice couldn't stand it anymore. She lunged toward Fiona, her chair scraping against the floor, and the next thing she knew, Fiona's wheelchair tipped over with a loud crash. Fiona's body crumpled onto the ground, but even in her fallen state, that wicked smile didn't leave her face.

The room felt as though it was closing in on Sharice. Her breath came in short gasps as she realized what she had done — not that Fiona was hurt, but how it would look. As if on cue, there was a knock at the front door.

"Detective Harris," Fiona gasped from the floor, still managing to sound pleased. "He's right on time."

Sharice froze, her pulse racing. She couldn't be caught like this, not with Fiona on the floor, the wheelchair overturned. It would be the final piece of evidence to implicate her — just as Fiona had planned. Sharice turned and bolted for the back door without thinking — her only hope of escape.

She heard the front door creak open just as she slipped out the back and Fiona's voice calling, "Someone help me."