Chapter 14 - The Twin Who Was Never My Twin
Vanessa requested to see me.
I said no.
She requested again.
I said no again.
Then she sent a message through Camille.
I have Richard's drive. I'll give it only to Evie.
I changed my answer.
The meeting happened in a hospital conference room with Mara, Camille, two officers, and a camera recording every second.
Vanessa entered wearing a maternity support belt beneath a loose gray dress. Her face was pale.
She looked at Lily in the bassinet beside me.
Something moved across her expression.
Grief.
Jealousy.
Love.
Maybe all three.
"Hi," she said.
I did not answer.
She sat across from me.
For thirty-one years, I had called her my twin.
Now I did not know what word belonged there.
Sister.
Cousin.
Accomplice.
Stranger.
Vanessa placed a flash drive on the table. "Richard's."
Mara reached for it.
Vanessa covered it with her hand. "Evie first."
Camille said, "This is not a negotiation."
Vanessa looked at me. "Did Mom tell you about Laura?"
"Yes."
"Did she tell you Richard killed her?"
"Yes."
"Do you believe her?"
"I believe evidence."
Vanessa nodded. "That's why Grandma trusted you."
"Stop using Grandma as a compliment."
Her mouth tightened. "I deserve that."
"You deserve more."
"I know."
I almost hated her more for agreeing.
"Why did you laugh?"
Vanessa's eyes filled immediately. "At the pool."
"I know."
"Why?"
She looked down. "Because for one second, I was glad."
The honesty cut deeper than an excuse.
"Glad I got hit?"
"Glad you weren't perfect."
I stared. "You think I was perfect?"
"You were everything I wasn't."
"You had everything."
"I had things."
"You had Mom and Dad."
"No." She laughed bitterly. "I had owners."
The room went quiet.
Vanessa looked at me. "You were the smart one. The honest one. Grandma trusted you. Dad was afraid of you. Mom needed you. Even Grant came to you for financial advice."
"You think that was a gift?"
"I thought you could leave whenever you wanted."
"I did leave."
"And they still called you."
"Because they needed free labor."
"I know that now."
Her hand touched her belly. "I found out at twenty-five that my mother was dead, my father was Victor Sloan, Richard had killed Laura, and Diane had helped hide it."
"You could have told me."
"I hated you."
"Why?"
"Because you still had a mother."
The sentence landed strangely.
"Diane raised you."
"She raised Laura's inheritance."
I had no answer.
Vanessa continued. "Victor found me after Grandma told me the truth. He said he wanted to make up for losing thirty years."
"And you believed him?"
"At first."
"He helped you create Mariner."
"Yes."
"You stole from people."
"Yes."
"Daniel's sister."
Vanessa's eyes closed. "Yes."
"Did you know she died?"
"Yes."
"Did you know Victor caused it?"
"I suspected."
"Why keep working with him?"
"Because I was collecting evidence."
I laughed. "So was everyone apparently."
"I'm serious."
"So was Daniel. So was Thomas. So was Grandma. Amazing how many secret heroes there are after somebody gets hurt."
Vanessa flinched.
Good.
"Give us the drive."
She pushed it toward me.
I handed it to Mara.
"Password?" Mara asked.
Vanessa looked at me. "Lily."
My stomach turned. "What?"
"The password is Lily."
"Why?"
"Because Richard changed it after the trust amendment."
Mara connected the drive to an isolated laptop.
Folders appeared.
Bank records.
Audio files.
Scanned contracts.
Dashcam video.
Daniel stood behind the observation window. I could see him through the glass.
Mara opened the video.
Night.
A bridge.
Sofia's car ahead.
Thomas's car behind her.
Then headlights appeared from the right.
A black SUV accelerated beside Sofia.
Swerved.
Hit her rear quarter panel.
Her car spun.
Broke through the barrier.
Disappeared.
The SUV stopped.
A man stepped out.
Victor Sloan.
Thomas's car stopped behind him.
Thomas ran toward the broken barrier.
Victor raised a gun.
The video ended.
Daniel sank into a chair.
Mara whispered, "We have him."
Vanessa began crying. "Sofia found the Cayman accounts."
I looked at her. "Why did Richard have the video?"
"Thomas gave it to him."
"Why?"
"Thomas wanted Richard to turn on Victor."
"Did Richard?"
"No. He blackmailed him instead."
Of course.
In my family, evidence was rarely used for justice.
Only leverage.
Camille asked, "Where did Richard get the drive?"
"From Thomas."
"When?"
"Yesterday."
"On the boat?"
"Yes."
"How do you know?"
"Richard called me."
"After?"
"No. During."
Vanessa's face changed. "He said Thomas had boarded the boat with the drive. They fought."
"Then?"
"I heard a gunshot."
My heart pounded. "Who shot whom?"
"I don't know."
"Richard's dead," I said.
Vanessa looked at me sharply. "Who told you?"
"Thomas."
Her face went white. "What?"
"He called."
"When?"
"Yesterday."
Vanessa stood too fast, grabbing the table. "No."
"Sit down."
"No, you don't understand."
"What?"
"Richard had the drive when he called me."
"Yes."
"He said he hid it before Thomas could get it back."
"So?"
Vanessa's eyes filled with terror. "Thomas doesn't know I have it."
The room went silent.
I understood slowly. "Then why would Thomas tell us you had it?"
"He was guessing."
"Why?"
"To force me to reveal myself."
Mara stood.
Vanessa looked toward the door. "I need protection."
"You have it," Camille said.
"No. From Thomas."
I thought of Grandma's warning.
Thomas not same man.
Vanessa whispered, "There's something else on the drive."
Mara scrolled.
A folder marked V.
Inside were photographs.
Victor.
Richard.
Diane.
Thomas.
And Daniel.
The last photograph showed Thomas and Daniel standing together at the marina two days before Sofia died.
Daniel had told us he met Thomas four months ago.
Sofia died six months ago.
My chest tightened.
Another lie.
Vanessa looked through the observation glass directly at Daniel.
"You still trust him?"
I did not answer.
Because I no longer knew what trust meant.
After Vanessa was escorted out, I stayed in the conference room long after everyone else had moved on. On the table remained a ring-shaped water stain from her paper cup. I stared at it and remembered two little girls sharing a bathroom mirror, switching dresses before school, whispering after bedtime, and promising that no matter what happened we would always know when the other was lying.
Apparently, we had both overestimated ourselves.
Mara returned and quietly gathered the evidence bags. "You don't have to decide what she is today," she said.
"I know what she did."
May you like
"That's different."
I hated how often she was right. Evidence could prove actions. It could not simplify a person. I left the room still angry, still grieving, and more certain than ever that I would never again confuse understanding someone's wound with excusing the wound they gave me.
