Page 76 of Twice as Twisted

“You know me better than that, Duke. You knew I’d want to see the corpse.”

“You can’t study it,” he says. “It would be suspicious if you kept coming back, and you can’t bring a dead body back to the house and just keep it there.”

“Where’s the gun?” I ask. “I didn’t hear a shot.”

“Maybe I found something better,” he says. “There are tons of rocks around here.”

“Did you kill her?” I ask, watching him carefully. There’s a reason we don’t lie to each other, one that goes beyond principle.I know all Duke’s tells. He couldn’t lie to me if he tried. And even though I don’t have tells, and I can lie as easily as I can tell the truth, Duke would know. He would sense it somehow, with some sense that goes beyond intellect. That’s his superpower, the way he understands people, even when it defies all logic.

“Gunshots carry a long way. It might draw attention if someone is at the lookout.”

“Give me the gun,” I say, holding out a hand.

He hesitates a long moment. “What are you going to do?”

“You know the answer to that.”

“That’s why you followed me,” he says. “Because you didn’t believe I could do it.”

He’s not asking, so I don’t answer.

He shakes his head. “You knew I couldn’t.”

“You can’t save everyone, Duke.”

“I can’t saveanyone,” he roars, his outburst so loud and so sudden it startles even me. His shoulders heave as he stares at me across the moonlit space, his breaths ragged and labored.

“Why do you try?” I ask.

“You’re not Batman,” he growls. “A superhero would never ask that.”

“Of course I’m not a fucking comic book character,” I say, giving him a look. “Come on, Duke. We’re not seven years old anymore.”

“I’m so fucking tired of trying,” he says, raking a hand through his hair. “It doesn’t matter anyway. Even if I spare them once, the next time, one of you makes it even worse. And none of them see it anyway. They all hate me like I’m the one who did it. I’m always the bad guy.”

“So stop trying to save people who don’t deserve to be saved.”

“What did Jane ever do to deserve what you did to her?” he demands.

“Jane is nothing,” I say, each word like a curse. “She is no one. A ghost.”

As I approach my brother, I catch the haunted look in his eyes. He knows all about ghosts—those who are gone, and those who live and come back to haunt us when we least expect it.

“Give me the gun,” I say again.

He swallows, his eyes searching mine before he drops his gaze.

“Oh, Duke.” I shake my head, disappointment flooding through me. He’s more hopeless than ever. Those six months without me were not good to him. I hoped he’d learn to stand on his own, harden up without me there to protect him, but the opposite seems to have happened.

“She won’t go to the police.”

“Go home. Make sure Mabel hasn’t run. I’ll clean this up.”

“You’re unarmed.”

“Who’s fault is that?”

“I’m sorry.”

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