“Heya, good boy. How ya doing?” I heard from afar and considered getting a Rottweiler next time around.
Smitty barked, and his wagging tail came into view. Crouched in front of him was Aiken, in a black long-sleeved Henley, worn-in jeans, and shitkickers, looking like he hadn’t been missing for weeks.
“Aiken…what? I don’t think this is a good idea. You need to get out.”
Despite trying to calm myself, I heard my words crack in my throat. My heart jumped in my chest, trying to get to its source of life.
“Let me explain, Claire, please,” he said, standing up, staring at me like I was water in the desert.
Walking forward three paces, I grabbed the bowl full of keys and knickknacks on the counter and hurled it at him. The bowl hit the sink, shattering, the keys and other shit clanging all over the floor. Smitty whimpered. Aiken started moving toward me.
“Stop!” I eyed him, warning him not to get any closer. “So it’s Claire now? No more Mr. Young Stud Muffin with the cute nickname, Richards?” My voice was a shriek, my jumbled emotions clogged in my throat. I felt the vein pounding in my forehead, raging like a rapid.
Aiken looked like I’d stabbed him.
Good. Fuck him. Who does he think he is?
The man I fell in love with…
“Smitty, come here.” My dog ignored me.
I was definitely getting a Rottweiler next time.
“Claire—don’t do this.”
“How long? How long did you know? Tell me,” I yelled.
“Let’s sit down.”
“I don’t want to sit down.” I crossed my arms and stood still as a soldier, ass tucked into the wall, tears raining down my cheeks. “I want an answer, and make it quick. I’m thinking of other things to throw.”
“Go, Smit.” He pushed my dog toward me. “Are you sure you don’t want to sit?”
“Speak, Aiken. I’m not going to stand here all day.”
Truth was…I’d stand here all day just to look at him. I’d been desperate for the man for weeks. My heart pumped blood furiously, faster than it had since he left. My desire to live was back, even though I told myself to stay mad at him.
“My mom was responsible for the explosion that killed Abby.” He leaned his head back and blew out a long breath.
“I know that. Now, question is…how long did you know?” I tapped my foot in front of me, nerves running sprints in my body.
“A little more than a month. I wasn’t a hundred percent sure, but I thought I’d figured it out right when there were threats of a second explosion on a message board on the dark web.”
“I don’t understand how you knew, but the cops never did. The police are shit.” A sob caught in my throat, but I refused to let it surface. “You? Who the hell are you?”
He didn’t speak, but moved to the sink, avoiding stepping on any of the tiny fragments strewn about. He filled a glass with water and brought it to me, handing it over with a shaky hand.
Good.
“Something clicked after I found out what a wild child my mom had been. I went to the library and pulled up some old papers on film, found a picture of my mom at a protest after she’d left my dad. She was wearing a T-shirt that read peace, the number four, and the letter A.”
“That was like the screen name the officer mentioned. But he added another A.”
He leaned against the counter, but never took his eyes off me. “We’ll get to that in a minute. After I saw that shirt, I began googling ‘peace four A,’ with the number spelled out, and then tried with the number itself. I kept getting links to encrypted message boards. Now I know where I get my computer smarts from…my mom. Anyway, right before Christmas, I found the screen name, but with the extra A, and started following conversations. Then Abbie dropped a bomb on me. Shit, that didn’t sound right. Abbie came to me and said she’s my half-sister. She was the other A.”
“What? Your sister?” This time, I let the sob tear through me. My throat felt like a knife was shredding it.
I was in Aiken’s arms and on my couch, crying, yelling, “Did she know? Is that why she came after me? Did she know about Abby the whole time? Did she know who did it? How could she not tell anyone?”
