Chapter 3Free Shopping

I never expected to open my eyes again. But here I was, reborn two hours before the murder. I was sitting at my computer, the document's last save time showing 1:27 PM.

Nina's murder of Marcus was set to happen at 3:50 PM.

I spent the first twenty minutes doing three things:

First, I looked up the local laws and confirmed that theft of property under $200 was a misdemeanor, punishable by a maximum of fifteen days in jail.

Second, I researched the police response times for precincts in the area. The one covering Brighton's Market was the fastest.

Third, I checked Nina's social media. She had posted an airport selfie that morning.

As I grabbed my jacket and rushed out the door, I made sure to take the black baseball cap and the limited-edition backpack—the very items Nina had used to frame me in my past life.

This time, they would appear with me on the supermarket's security cameras, becoming a crucial part of my alibi.

"Name?" In the interrogation room, the officer's voice snapped me back to the present.

"Anna Jane. My pen name is Jane Night." I mentioned my profession intentionally, planting a seed for the media storm I knew was coming.

The officer raised an eyebrow. "A writer? What do you write?"

"Crime fiction," I said with a bitter smile. "Funny how life turns out to be stranger than any story I could ever make up."

The clock on the wall read 3:45 PM. Nina should be inside Marcus's building by now.

According to the police timeline from my past life, she would be swiping my key card—which she had stolen—to get into the lobby. She would flash my signature little lip-biting smile for the camera, a micro-expression she had spent three months perfecting.

"You're saying you caused this disturbance at the market on purpose?" The officer's voice sounded distant.

"Yes." I dug my nails into my palms, my eyes darting uncontrollably toward the clock.

The officer slid a photo across the table. "We've totaled up the value of the items you stole. It's less than two hundred dollars..."

3:48 PM.

My temples throbbed. On the security footage, Nina would be taking off the baseball cap now, shaking out her long hair. Hair that was identical to mine, right down to the carefully replicated split ends. When Marcus opened the door, he would be stunned. The last time he'd seen me was at a book signing.

"According to Section 49 of the Public Order Act..." The sound of the officer flipping through his file was eerily similar to the judge turning the pages of my death sentence.

3:49 PM. Nina would have locked the door from the inside by now. She would be holding the knife in her left hand. She wasn't left-handed, but she had practiced writing and eating with her left hand for months just to imitate me perfectly. The coroner's report had noted the angle of the wounds indicated a left-handed killer.

"Miss Jane? Are you listening?"

I looked up suddenly. "Can I have a glass of water?"

The officer frowned but motioned for his colleague to get one.

3:50 PM. On the dot.

My throat went dry. I could almost hear the second hand ticking. Right now. Nina's knife would be plunging into the space between Marcus's third and fourth ribs—the exact same spot I described in my novel when the protagonist committed his murder.

A cool, disposable cup was pressed into my hand. I stared at my reflection in the water's surface and, for a dizzying moment, saw Nina stuffing blood-soaked cash into my backpack.

"You're trembling," the officer observed.

I looked down and saw that the surface of the water was rippling.

3:52 PM. Nina would be cleaning the scene now. She'd use my favorite brand of sanitizing wipes on the doorknob but intentionally leave a partial print on the coffee table—my fingerprint, which she had collected earlier on a piece of tape.

"I have low blood sugar," I managed, forcing a smile. I watched the officer write "emotionally unstable" in his report. Every word he wrote would become my shield.

I didn't hear a single thing the police said after that.

I knew Nina had succeeded. By now, she would be on her way to my apartment to plant the t-shirt stained with Marcus's blood in my closet.

In my past life, I was taking a nap at this time. She was so quiet I never even knew she'd been there.

But she wouldn't succeed this time. She had no idea about the little surprise I'd left for her in my apartment. Before I left, I had deliberately left my computer on, the screen displaying the latest chapter of The Perfect Double:

"The moment the double believes they have won is the exact moment the protagonist's counterattack begins."

I remained silent, no matter what the police asked. My goal had been achieved. Anything more felt like a waste of effort.

"Sign here." The officer pushed the report and a pen toward me. "Given the circumstances, you'll be detained for a few days. Do you need to call a lawyer? Or family?"

An image of my parents testifying against me flashed in my mind. I shook my head quickly, grabbed the pen, and signed my name.