What happened to Julius?
My text goes unanswered. Damn it.
One of my captors opens the kennel door and shoves a bowl of cold soup inside. I swear this man enjoys making the simplest of things as miserable as possible. Why can’t he warm up the soup? There’s a kitchen right there. I hear voices from it.
“You knew she had an identical twin, so why the fuck didn’t you tell us?” an angry voice snarls.
The answer comes back tiny, like the person isn’t actually in the same room. “No one knew until it was too late. You told me you had her, then I watched her walk down the aisle. It’s not like I could stop the wedding to that filthy Irish bastard without drawing suspicion.”
“Now what the fuck are we supposed to do with her? She’s useless.”
“I need time to think. Just keep her locked up, until I figure this out.”
I grip the bars and scream, “No! Let me out.”
The man in the kitchen comes around the corner and snarls at me. “Shut up!”
He has a phone in his hand.
“Am I on speaker?”
“Yeah.”
“You fucking idiot.”
I wake with a start, drenched in sweat and chest heaving as I try to catch my breath. Was that a memory or just a nightmare? I bury my head in my hands, wracking my brain. Was there a third man? Or only the two of them? Why can’t I remember?
My heart lurches, I feel like I’m going to be sick. Only two men were brought to justice, the man who was shot by his partner, yes I consider that punishment enough. And the man Cian caught and dealt with last year, but if there was a third…
I groan. No. There wasn’t a third man. My mind’s playing tricks on me. My therapist warned me about how that could happen.
That wasn’t a memory, just a twisted version of the truth dredged up by my subconscious. I haven’t slept well recently. That’s all.
Another unproductive morning rolls into a sunny afternoon. I choose a modest black dress from my wardrobe, along with an appropriate hat and shoes.
I’ve been to far too many funerals in my life. The past five years have been riddled with them. First my brother’s, then my parents’, my uncle’s, and now this one for Julius. It’s just part of living a dangerous life, I suppose. I’m grateful for all of those who I haven’t lost.
We live by the gun, and we die by the gun. That’s what Papa used to say.
Once I’m ready, I slip into the short hallway and ride the elevator down to the lobby. Guillio and Augustus escort me to the car waiting out front. I slide into the back seat, surprised to find Maximo here. He did say he’d see me today, but I thought he meant at the cemetery.
“Hey,” I greet him in a soft tone. “I’m sorry about Julius.”
He splays his fingers through his wavy hair and grunts. Dark circles color the area beneath his eye, and I wonder if he slept at all last night.
“What happened?” I press for details.
“His body was pulled from the river two days ago. Throat slit.”
“Murdered,” I murmur to myself. “Do you know who did it?”
He shakes his head. “It’s an open investigation. But my guess is no one will find anything since we haven’t found one damn clue yet. We located where he was killed. Nothing there.” Frustration rolls off him in waves. “If they can get to him, they can get to anyone.”
A shiver prickles my skin. Whoever’s out to get us is closing in, and it’s like we’re sitting here wearing blindfolds.
The car ride passes in a blur, then we’re joining the procession into the cemetery. I slide my hand into Maximo’s as he helps me out of the town car. Exchanging my pink frames for a pair of dark sunglasses, I let him lead me to a seat in the front row. All four families are gathered here today. We should all feel united. Yet someone among us is a snake—two-faced.
The summer air feels sticky against my skin, and birds tweet in the branches above us, adding too much cheerfulness and hope to such a somber affair. The sun beams down like we should be having a picnic instead of burying a dead man.
