Page 21 of Perfect Order
“Assess what you need. I’ll get them cleared—if they can be.” That’s when he hangs up.
I squeeze the phone so tightly, my knuckles turn white under the pressure. Someone murdered my Lee. That someone will die. I’ll personally see to it, or I’ll join them in hell.
That’s my vow.
Washington, D.C.Ivan Forfa, chief data scientist of Castor Industries, succinctly stated as of right now Leanne Miles is merely out of contact despite sources saying she was attacked while visiting her sister—the famed indie singer Erzulie—in New York earlier today. “Until we hear otherwise, Castor is still under Leanne’s complete control.”
—InfoSec Gov News
Scrolling through Kylie’s texts with one hand—something I’ll have to examine more closely later to study my sister’s mannerisms with individual people—I find what I’m searching for. Pressing Send, I wait.
“Please tell me this is an emergency. It’s the first day I’ve been home all week to put Ben down for his nap,” a droll voice on the other end chides me. “What’s going on?”
That’s when I try to speak and can’t. This friendly woman obviously is affectionate with my sister, and I’m about to blow her away emotionally once I determine if she can be trusted.
“Hello? Kylie?”
I decide to just go with my gut. “She’s gone. Dead. Oh, God, help me.”
“Who? What happened? Where are you?” is yelled at me frantically.
“Lee…NYU Emergency. Got the call. Last night.” I don’t have to fake the tears streaming down my face. The cold instilled inside me by my call melts away. I’m suddenly slammed in the chest with the pain I’ve been suppressing since her light extinguished.
“I’m on my way. Don’t move until I get there. Do you promise?”
I naturally whimper, “Yes.”
“Who do I ask for?”
I give her Dr. Ross’s name. Carys’s voice is both soothing and commanding. “Talk only to him. Don’t say or speak to anyone further until I get there. Do you hear me? The last thing we need is press swarming the place.”
Before I can correct her that it’s too late—the press are already here—and strategize where to meet her, my sister’s lawyer quickly hangs up the phone.
After getting myself under control, I yank out my computer. Some people need warm blankets and soothing drinks to pacify themselves; I need the feel of worn keys beneath my fingers. The melodic tip tap of doing something—anything—for justice. I can’t just sit here helpless while my sister’s body is cold in the morgue. Short of fighting my way to lie next to her, this is all I have right now.
And to give her peace, it may be all I can do.
I have to try to figure out why my sister was brutally beaten and left for dead blocks away from Fifth Avenue. I have no idea why Kylie had my lost driver’s license in her pocket. But there’s no way I can prevent the insidious thought trickling in that maybe this is her way of telling me I can use this to find out who might have helped my twin soar without the music that fed her soul.
None.
With that purpose, I yank my hair away from my face and go to work while waiting for the infamous Carys Burke to find me. Hopefully she’ll give me some of the legendary fire Kylie told me about to see this storm through.
I’m going to need it until I can find some of my own.
Hours later, I’m ensconced in an actual warm blanket at my sister’s attorney’s condo while her husband, David Lennan, makes coffee for all of us. “Don’t worry about any of your upcoming show dates. It’s times like this I’m grateful you signed with Wildcard. But that’s business—the very last thing that needs to be on your mind. David and I will handle everything for you with Kris if you want us to. There’s nothing you need to worry about. Nothing but healing with your family. If there’s anything we can do to help you, Kylie, let us know.”
My head pounds as sentences I don’t completely understand are flung at me rapidly. The worst is the feeling that churns in my stomach every time this kind woman uses my sister’s name. And after everything Carys took care of once she arrived with the press, I had a suspicion she’s someone who would go to the mat for those she cares for.
My watch buzzes. I glance down.Burke and Lennan clear. Proceed.
I’m grateful I was right. Slipping into Kylie’s life isn’t going to be as easy as when we were sixteen and we’d go to each other’s jobs. There’s no way Kylie could do what I do without extensive training, and I sure as hell can’t do what she does without some help. Once I come to that conclusion, I interrupt Carys’s monologue of empathy and blurt out the truth. “I’m Leanne.”
All movement stops. Carys, who had been dabbing at my tears, sits back—still holding the tissue—before whispering, “Excuse me?”
“I’m me…Leanne. They—the police, the doctors—they had it wrong at the ER. Kylie had my ID on her when…when…” I gulp in a huge amount of air. “When she was murdered, Ms. Burke.”
Carys is staring at my face as if she’s unable to comprehend what she’s seeing. My tears begin to flow again. “There’s a few ways to prove who I am.”
