Page 179 of You Betrayed Me (The Cahills 3)

Sophia bit her lip. “It’s more to me,” she adm

itted, and Julia rolled her eyes.

She couldn’t let her twin mess this up. Not after all the work. “Just pull yourself together, and go through with the plan. You think he’ll marry you—us, right? Now that the competition’s out of the picture.”

“But it isn’t,” Sophia whined. “He’s been with Rebecca Travers.”

“I know!” Julia spat out, then tried to tamp down her rising frustration. Why was her sister being such a pain? “I’m dealing with that. Rebecca’s a lot smarter than Megan was, and James dumped her. For Megan. She won’t be fooled, won’t trust him again.” Julia would make sure of it. Because Sophia was right—Rebecca was a problem, a serious problem. But Julia knew how to deal with problems. “We’ll just keep plying him with sex.” She arched an eyebrow. She and Sophia had both been in James’s bed, and it hadn’t been a problem . . . yet . . . But that might change. She sensed the difference in James. Was he just suspicious because of the recent murders, or was it because of that damned Rebecca Travers attempting to turn his head? The problem was that the more Sophia and Julia took turns sleeping with James, the more he could notice that they were different. Though physically they were nearly identical, their personalities were not perfect mirror images. That’s where the problem might lie, Julia suspected. It would be their mannerisms or their temperament or their sense of humor that were different and might tip him off. She’d reasoned, originally, that if he was with each of them equally, he might just think “Sophia” was moody and ever-changing, but she’d miscalculated. James was sharper than she’d first imagined, and fooling him was getting more difficult as time wore on. And now Sophia was balking.

Not good. Not good at all.

Something had clearly changed. Sophia wasn’t playing along. Instead, she stared at her twin with round, accusing eyes. “You said, ‘was,’” she said, in a voice so low Julia had trouble hearing it.

“What?” What was she talking about? Julia’s muscles tightened.

“You said, “‘Rebecca’s a lot smarter than Megan was.’ Like Megan doesn’t exist anymore,” Sophia said, obviously getting upset. “Like she’s dead.”

“Oh, God, Sophia, get over it. A slip of the tongue. A mistake, damn it!”

“Was it?”

“Yes!” Julia let out a long sigh, but inside she was panicking. Sophia’s new attitude was more than worrisome; it was dangerous! “Of course it was. Oh, for the love of—you said you wanted proof, right? That Megan’s still alive? Well, let’s go.” She was already reaching for her gloves and hat, her mind spinning.

“Now?”

“Yes. Just let me get the damned wig. I wouldn’t want that goon in room five to get smart about us.”

“Phil?” Sophia pulled a face.

“Yeah, that’s the one. Dabrowski.”

Sophia actually grinned, a glimmer of her old self shining through. “Smart? Not a chance.”

“You call him ‘Phil’ now?”

“He told me to.”

“Yeah, but you never told me.” Shit! That was the problem. Sophia was getting sloppy, and people were getting suspicious. Several people at the inn had looked at her strangely, and Willow had certainly begun to figure out that something was up with Sophia. It wouldn’t be too long until someone—possibly the damned cops or even James—realized what was going on. And what would happen when Sophia actually married James? Was there a chance she would betray Julia, turn on her? Convince James that Julia was the true, the only bad seed? What would happen when the “we” became “I”? That would never work. “We have to keep our stories straight,” Julia reminded Sophia. “To make sure that when we talk to someone, we let the other one know. Otherwise, this will never work.”

“I do! With James, at least.” But there was something in her voice that gave the lie away. Sadly, Sophia was becoming a liability.

“Good. Remember. I need to know. Everything.” Julia was already walking to the bathroom to grab her wig, glasses, and fat suit. She only had one outfit that worked with the larger size, but it didn’t matter, because she had the coat that she always wore and that seemed normal with the winter weather. “I’ll drive,” she said once she’d slipped the glasses over her face and the disguise was in place.

“Of course.” Sophia slipped on her own coat. “Aren’t you always in charge?”

“Always.”

From habit, Sophia tucked her hair into her silver knit cap, exposing the freckles on the back of her neck. Those damned freckles! Though Julia and Sophia were born identical twins, their twenty-odd years of life experiences had made them different. Sophia had freckles from sun exposure, Julia did not. Sophia had broken a toe, and it hadn’t healed properly, Julia had not. Sophia had never had female problems, Julia had. But the freckles—how many times had Julia warned her sister to wear makeup over them and cover them with her hair. Right now, they were exposed and visible. Jesus! What a huge mistake. Was Sophia a moron?

Julia scooped up the keys she’d left on the kitchen table; then they were out the door. While Sophia was slipping into the passenger side and adjusting her seat belt, Julia double-checked her pocket, her fingers brushing something hard and cold and ready.

Perfect, she thought. It was finally time to deal with her suddenly holier-than-thou sister. This day had been bound to come, she thought, backing out of the parking spot and spying Dabrowski and that miserable, growling Larry in her rearview mirror. She just hadn’t thought that it would come this soon.

CHAPTER 47

“Megan’s been up here all this time?” Sophia asked as Julia drove along a rutted lane that wound, snakelike, through the forest. The sun had set, darkness slipping through the firs that towered overhead, wind rushing noisily through the boughs. They’d been in the car nearly an hour and now drove through a locked gate to a clearing high on a hill, where a tiny house sat, unique and out of place.

“Uh-huh.”

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