Page 79 of Sinister Secrets

“But why? What did he ever do to you?”

“Nothing.” She raises her foot again. I brace myself for another kick, but it doesn’t come. Instead, she swings her leg to my other side. Lowers herself to her knees, straddling me. Brushes a strand of wet hair almost tenderly from my face as she says, “But I knew it would hurt you, so it had to happen.”

“We never even met until you showed up here.”

“That’s right. We hadn’t. But I’ve spent my entire life having to hear about you. How great Cassidy is, how sweet Cassidy is, how smart Cassidy is. Nothing I did could ever compare. It was always about the daughter that she had to leave behind, not the one she had at home. It was like I didn’t even exist.”

“What?” I feel my lips form the word, though no sound comes out.

“That’s right, sis.”

It’s impossible. My mother’s dead. I’ve seen the pictures. First, the ones of her and my father tied to their chairs, the looks of terror on their faces etched into my memory, something I’ll never forget. Then later, the crime scene photos, which were blessedly out of focus.

Odd, because documenting the details of the scene, including the victims, is a vital part of the investigation. And my father’s face, slack in death, was crystal clear.

The oxygen leaves my body as I realize that it’s possible. If my mom had been pregnant when she and my father were attacked, the child would now be Chelsea’s age.

“Do you have any idea what it’s like? Growing up in witness protection. Having to hear about the family she lost, the way she used to be, the mother you had versus the sniveling coward always living in fear that I got?”

I study Chelsea’s face. Remember Matt calling her my Mini-Me. I’d laughed it off at the time, chalked it up to our hair being similar shades of blonde because at first glance, that’s where the similarities end. I’m taller. She has a straight, athletic build, whereas I’m curvy.

But now that I’m looking closer, our hair isn’t our only resemblance. There’s something about her bone structure. Her cheekbones. Her nose. Her eyes. Then there’s the way I found myself drawn to her, finding her strangely familiar, wanting to protect her.

She tilts her chin to the side as she watches me, triggering an ancient memory, long buried, of my mom doing the same. Of the way Chelsea wrinkles her nose when she laughs, like my mom did. How they both suck in their cheeks when they’re thinking.

I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. But then again, I haven’t seen my mom in almost thirty-five years. It’s understandable that you’d forget tiny details about someone you haven’t seen since you were five—even your own mother.

She’s telling the truth. I have a sister.

And I think that I hate her.

Chelsea smirks, as if she can see the wheels spinning inside my head, making connections.

“What? No panic attack? But I was really looking forward to watching you have one. The best part about reading the file that I took from your shrink’s office wasn’t learning about all the horrible things that have happened to you, but finding out that you aren’t as perfect as Mom always thought.”

So she’s the one who broke into Dr. Evangeline’s office and stole my file, no doubt hoping to discover more ways to cause me pain. The revelation makes me realize that this was never going to end well. No matter how I reacted to her worming her way into my life, she never intended to give me a chance.

This wasn’t about me, it was about her—her anger. Her vengeance. Her murderous intent.

“What’s your plan?” I ask, my voice curiously devoid of emotion. “You destroy my life the way you think I destroyed yours?”

“That was plan A,” she says. “Plan A failed, so now we’re on to plan B.” She leans forward like she’s going to kiss me, but it’s her hands that press against my face, not her lips. “Instead of ruining your life, I’m going to end it.”

She shoves my head down beneath the water, leveraging her body weight to keep me under. I thrash against her, but I’m at a disadvantage. Despite the adrenaline pumping through my veins, I’m weak from lack of sleep and whatever drug she gave me. Already, my lungs beg for me to take a breath.

Lifting my bound legs, I place my feet on the ground, knowing that I only have one shot at this. In a sudden burst of energy, I buck up and twist to the side, knocking her off as I land on my hip. Gasp for air as I get an elbow beneath me, sucking in a deep breath before I pull my knees to my chest and continue my roll.

It’s a risky move. One that she doesn’t hesitate to take advantage of, jumping on my back with a feral scream as she fights to keep my face underwater. I make it easy for her, lowering my head to my chest. As I feel her shorter frame move forward to keep her grip, I launch my top half upward. My skull strikes her nose, sending her flying back with a cry.

Pulling my pistol free, I pivot on my knees until I’m perpendicular to her, my bound hands aiming the weapon sideways. She glares at me with pure loathing as she wipes the blood from her face.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Why? Because you’re my sister?” I slip my finger inside the trigger guard, making my intention clear.

“No. Because if you kill me, you’ll never know where our mother is.”

It feels like my heart stops beating, like I’ve been frozen in time and space as the full impact of her words hit me.