Page 70 of Wicked Riddles & Bitter Heartbeats

“About me,” I say.

He scoffs. “I don’t know what the fuck that’s supposed to mean.”

“I wish I could believe that.” I shake my head. “How long did it take you to notice that they were for you?”

He stares at me for a long moment, then blows out a sharp breath. “Longer than I’d like to admit.”

“The final kill or the call?”

Nodding, he says, “The call.”

“Pathetic.”

“I don’t work crime scenes.”

“Good thing.”

“Look, I don’t know why you want me here. I don’t know why you’re targeting me. I’m a nobody. I’ve been denied promotions four different times. I’ve been told I’m not going anywhere. I can’t get you anything, buddy. So, if that’s what you want, you should have gone after someone else. I cannot help you.”

For the first time, I believe him. I think he really didn’t know about me. If he had, by now, surely he’d recognize me, right? We look enough alike that his brain would question it. Or maybe it has, and he has a really good poker face.

It’s time to break that.

“Tell me, James. Would your life have been better had you known you had a twin?”

His brow furrows and he stares at me with a funny look. His gaze goes all over my face, but nothing gives away that he’s realized it yet. His mouth opens as if he’s going to say something but then it snaps shut. It feels like forever before his eyes widen just enough that I notice it.

“No,” he breathes out. “You…No. You can’t be.”

“Oh, I am,” I growl, slapping my hand to my chest and leaning closer to him. “Surprise,brother.”

“No,” he snaps. “That’s impossible! I’d have known.”

“Apparently not.” I throw my arms out, then let them drop to my side. “Because here I am. Twenty-seven years old. Just like you. Birthday November 1st. Just like you. Born in Des Moines, Iowa. Just. Like. You.” I clench my teeth together, holding his bewildered stare. Then I add, “Tell me, brother, how did you make it to Boston?”

He ignores my question, and instead says, “How did you find out about me?”

“I was lucky enough to have been adopted by a rich family who left me a shit ton of money when they died. Money gets you things these days, and I came across a fantastic private investigator. See, I was curious about my life and where I came from. Why I was given up at all. Imagine my surprise when I found out that I had a twin who got to stay.” My tone darkens at the end unintentionally.

“I didn’t know—”

“You should have!” I shout, my voice echoing around us.

My hands clench into fists, and I close my eyes for a moment to breathe. I can’t lose control now. I need more answers, and I’m so close to getting them. When I open my eyes, he’s frowning again. In fact, he looks almost offended.

“If you think you got the short end of the stick, think again, pal. Life was hell,” he growls, stepping toward me. Pointing a finger in my face, he shouts, “Most of my life, we lived on the streets. We had no money, no home, no fucking food. So, what? You want to cry that you were given up? At least you had agoodlife.”

“A good life?” I laugh, gesturing around. “Look at where I am. Look at what I’ve done!” I tap the side of my head. “I’m fucked in the head.”

“Which wasn’t caused by being given up for adoption,” he seethes. “That doesn’t make someone a serial killer. It doesn’t make them do what you’ve done.”

“Then what does!” I bellow.

The truth comes out. This is what I need to know. What I’ve needed to know this entire time.

Why am I like this?

I need answers. I am ready for answers and he is the last person who can give them to me. He is the only one who shares my DNA. He is my only chance.

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