My soul has been viciously ripped in two, and nothing will ever be the same again.
It’s too much to think about.
Instead, I focus my mind on dealing with the immediate situation. I have a dead body to deal with. I could call the police. And tell them what? That I murdered a man? I could try to say it was self-defense—he was going for a knife, after all. But there’s probably surveillance footage of me chasing the asshole down, and the fact that I hit him in the back of the head doesn’t look great.
What, then? Think, D. What the fuck do you do now?
Before I do anything, I need to look for Elio. Hell, maybe the guy was delusional and my brother isn’t even dead.
I keep the wrench clutched in my fist, deciding I should stay armed if there’s a chance his accomplice could be lurking in the building. Over the next hour, I systematically search every inch of what appears to be an old meat processing plant. The place isuntouched. I don’t see any signs of Elio or any other activity in the rest of the building.
When I return to the body, I go through his pockets. He has a wallet with a state ID and a few bucks, but nothing else of consequence. He also has a small notepad with a majority of the pages ripped out. The remaining pages are blank, though I can just barely make out the imprint of scribbles from what was written on the last page to be removed.
I don’t have a pencil to rub across the paper and help me make out the words, but there’s plenty of dust. I use my finger to swipe a layer of brown from a nearby machine, then gently rub it back and forth over the page. The added contrast is just enough to make out the message.
They don’t have the money.
The iron jaws of an invisible bear trap clamp ruthlessly around my chest.
Is this what sentenced my brother to death? Why didn’t they give us more time? What the hell is wrong with them? What kind of evil throws away a human life for no reason?
I stagger to my feet and clutch at the searing pain in my chest. That’s when I see the red water in the bucket. Is it truly Elio’s blood? Is that all I have left of him?
I lift the mop out of the bucket and notice something glinting at the bottom through the murky, brownish-red liquid. My hand dives into the bloody water without thinking, soaking myself up to my elbow, because I recognize the object.
It’s Elio’s cross pendant and silver chain, identical to the one I wear. Mom gave them to us for our first communion. We’ve worn them ever since.
Seeing the necklace drives home the reality of the situation.
Elio is gone. He’s never coming back.
His watered-down blood soaking my arm is the closest I’ll ever get to having my twin with me again.
“Elio!” The lamenting wail claws its way from my ravaged soul and saturates the air with sorrow. Sobs rack my body as I collapse to my knees.
How do I go on living without my other half?
How can I look myself in the mirror knowing it’s all my fault?
I wrestle with the hardest truths I’ve ever known while a granite boulder sits upon my chest. Everything feels impossible, but giving into my self-pity and pain is easy. Their call is seductively sweet. I don’t deserve easy.
What would be infinitely harder is forcing myself to live with the knowledge of what I’ve done. And if I stay alive, I can dedicate my life to honoring his. Doing right by him is all I have left.
A somber sense of clarity and purpose blankets my ailing conscience.
I wipe the snot and tears from my face. I carefully deposit Elio’s necklace into my pocket and rise to my feet. There’s work to be done. For Elio.
I still have a murderer to catch.
But first, I need to dispose of this body, and I think I know how. While I was searching the building, I saw what looked to be an industrial-sized meat grinder. That should do the trick nicely.
CHAPTER 28
TERINA
Present
DiAngelo was jealous of Chase.He could claim all he wanted that he cut yoga class short because of my safety, but I can read between the lines. It came down to jealousy, pure and simple.
