Page 66 of My Twin Sister

My stomach coils into a knot. But I knew this, didn’t I? Kind of. I knew Frank was capable of wanting someone dead because he wanted me dead. His own son is the only reason I’m alive. But he didn’t do it himself. Would he have if Wyatt hadn’t convinced him I was dead?

And what about my dad? Everything in me says he didn’t do what they say he did. Not the pictures and not the suicide. That would mean someone set him up and killed him. Frank wouldn’t have done that to his best friend, would he? For what reason?

“This is going to seem random, but do you remember Tara messing around with someone in high school? Like junior year, maybe sophomore?”

His eyebrows go up and he looks like he’s going to laugh. “You’re going to have to be a bit more specific. We weren’t messing around together yet.”

I roll my eyes, but he’s right. Tara was one of my good friends and I never judged her for it, but she enjoyed her male companions.

“Like an older guy. Older than you. Someone she shouldn’t have been messing around with.”

He tries to think but he shakes his head. “No. Doesn’t mean she wasn’t, but I wasn’t in school anymore, so I wouldn’t really know.”

“Right.” I sigh.

Things feel so close to clicking together, but I’m terrified to keep going. I don’t want anyone else to get hurt. I was in over my head before I ever came back here. I was stupid and naive to think . . . What? What was I even thinking? That I was going to take down a whole police force?

No. Just Frank Gibbs. I wanted to take down Frank Gibbs and clear my dad’s name. And I’m failing at both.

“I just wanted to prove my dad didn’t do what they’re saying he did,” I say. “And clearly, I can’t trust the police to do anything.”

“You’ll figure it out.”

I laugh. “You sound so sure.”

“I am,” he says. “You’re the fearless Grace Chandler. Defeater of death. You never turned down a single dare. You flipped off Mr. Copeland your freshman year.”

“He was a creep.”

“Very much so. But no one but you had the balls to tell him that.”

I shake my head. He doesn’t get it. That girl died the night they all thought I drowned. I was fearless because I thought I was invincible. I learned that night that I wasn’t. And I’ve been afraid ever since.

Thirty-Eight: Grace

Murphy drops me off at my parents’ house a few hours later. Geny texted to invite me over for dinner, so I need to shower and get ready. My mom used to say there’s nothing a hot shower can’t fix. It’s something I’ve repeated often over the years and believe with all my heart. The way my muscles relax under the hot stream of water. The way the steam wraps around me like a blanket. She said to let all the bad stuff go right down the drain. And if you get out and still feel crummy, try it again tomorrow.

I feel a little better afterward, but nothing is fixed.

“I’ll try again tomorrow,” I whisper.

I decide I’ve gotten my steps in for the day and drive to Geny’s instead of walk. The temperature is starting to drop. Winter in Raven is especially brutal. Over the years, it made me laugh to hear people complain about the cold in other places. Anyone who hasn’t experienced the lake effect doesn’t know anything about rough winters.

Wyatt is playing catch with Jack and Carter in the yard when I get to the house. They’re in coats but Carter still hops foot to foot like he’s trying to keep warm. The sun has almost set, so I’m surprised they can even see the ball.

“All right, boys. Let’s get inside and get cleaned up,” Wyatt says, as I get out of my car.

Carter books it inside and Jack follows with a wave to me. I wave back, but I’m distracted by my heart being in my throat. Wyatt stands near the steps, waiting for me. I wish he’d go inside. I wish he’d keep avoiding me so I can keep a safe distance and not have to make eye contact. Nothing good will ever come of us being near each other again. And my idiot self went and got his best friend involved.

“Sorry about Brooke,” he says.

I fight back the tears that come at every mention of her name. I don’t feel right taking apologies from her death. We weren’t that close. We had only really known each other for a week and now I’m acting like she was my best friend, as if I have any right to accept condolences.

“It’s sad,” I say. “Her family must be devastated. To lose both their daughters like that.”

“You know, for a second I thought it was you.”

“Dead or a killer?” I ask, unsure what he means.