My lips thin into a grim line. “Fine, is there something you’d like to share before I open either of these?” I ask with a cold, underlying tone.
Dan shakes his head, keeping his lips sealed on his findings. “You know where to find me.”
With that, he departs, leaving me to the file and a tense silence. With a heavy sigh, I eye the file. I’m a numbers and facts guy. It only makes sense that whatever is in that file will most likely make the most sense because it’s factual. But whatever is written there, in the thick stack? That could go either way.
I want to know the truth. I need it. But a part of me isn’t quite ready to despise Mackenzie any more than I already do. But at this point, I was sure there was no avoiding it.
Rubbing my bottom lip contemplatively, my gaze darts between the two stacks on my desk. With a sigh, I gravitate toward Mackenzie’s and turn to the first page.
I’m not disappointed.
Not in the least.
In fact, I’m speechless.
Three minutes.
Three minutes or more is all it takes to create life.
Nine months that life grows into years of a beautiful creation.
Seconds, minutes, days, years—I had it all with my sister. The sibling I shared more than blood with. We shared the same thoughts, the same birthday, and the same face. There wasn’t much we didn’t share. She was me, and I was her. And I’d like to believe one day that could’ve been enough for our relationship.
So, you see, seconds, minutes, days, years—it doesn’t matter how long you’re given because all it took was one night and she was taken from me. Murdered in cold blood. Ripped from me forever.
Twins don’t just share the same face or similar DNA. They share the same soul, the same life. You can’t kill one without killing the other. And that was the mistake they made.
They left me alive.
And written from here on is all the proof you’ll need to find them, to incarcerate them. To make them pay for sins that are long overdue.
My name’s Mackenzie Wright, and this is the story—scratch that—these are the events that led up to the murder of my sister. The story of five wealthy young men getting away with murder.
A deep pit settles in my stomach when I stop reading to flip the page. I know deep down, whatever I read on the next page, will change everything I know about Mackenzie and everything I’d ever believed about us.
Suddenly, every mistake I’d ever made before now slams into me.
I squeeze my eyes shut, and I’m suddenly transported back in time. Nine years ago, to be exact. The night that could’ve changed everything.
Past
I’m just finishing up another lap when I feel a looming presence near the other end of the pool. I flip, using my feet to push off the tile wall, and turn in the pool. Wiping the water out of my eyes, I pause, staring up at a disheveled Vincent. He’s standing at the lip of the pool, and he looks like he wants to jump in and never resurface.
There’s a heaviness in the air. I use swimming as a way to process and compartmentalize. Some people meditate; some people turn to drugs and fucking women. I like to swim. That is my vice. But the clear head I just had a few seconds ago is now gone. With a sigh and a silent curse, I climb out of the pool.
“How bad is it?”
When he doesn’t say anything, and I turn around to look at him, I know it’s bad. Ever since I’ve been back from vacation, the guys have been acting different. It looks like now I’ll finally figure out why.
After showering and dressing, I meet Vincent inside the house. My father’s study is dark, which means he and my mother are gone, giving Vincent and me privacy.
“We messed up.” The pallor of his skin is white. Normally, Vincent doesn’t feel much or show much. He’s about as numb to everything as I am. I may not have had the greatest childhood, but Vincent? He probably had it the toughest growing up. He was victimized by his nanny as a child, unloved, hated by his parents, always up to no good, almost like he couldn’t help himself. He enjoyed chaos—thrived in it.
This is the first time I’ve ever seen anything that resembles emotion come from him.
“Elaborate.”
“Remember that video I had you take care of?”
My lips thin. Yes, I do. All too well. I especially remember when the video’s star in question was murdered this summer while I was away. Guilt slams into me, just as it has so many times since I’ve found out the truth. I think about the night we sat on the decaying tree trunk, the air of melancholy surrounding her.
“What about it?”
“I need another favor. We need another favor.”
I sit back, waiting for him to go on, my gut telling me that I’m not going to like whatever he’s going to say next.
“We found her body in the woods that night. She was already dead.”
I stay silent, watching him, checking to see if he’s telling the truth. But that’s the thing about Vincent. He is a compulsive liar and always has been. If he truly wants you to believe something, he will make it happen. That’s why I could never trust him, brother or not.
“Odd timing, don’t you think? Have me get rid of any connection you have to the poor girl, and she ends up dead while I’m gone. Awfully suspicious.”
His lips thin. “You really think I could do this? I got rid of that tape for her. I care about her. I don’t fucking know why. She’s a bitch, but I do. I felt bad for recording us. She didn’t know about it, and the last thing I wanted to do was hurt her, and I ended up doing it anyway. How do you think that would’ve looked for me?”
“Why not go to the police when you found her body?”
“And say what? We were out smoking and drinking in the woods when we found her. They would’ve thought it was us. I couldn’t risk my future over it.”
“And what did you do exactly?”
His silence has my stomach clenching. My hands curl into fists at my sides as I regard him. He works a swallow, avoiding my gaze.
“We buried her remaining clothes. Zach chose the coordinates. Bought the stuff from his uncle’s supply shop.”
My stomach twists as he goes into details.
They covered up a fucking murder. The idiots. Her whole family could’ve had closure by now if they would’ve just done the right thing. If they would’ve left everything alone, it might’ve helped the case.
“So, you stripped her naked?” I grit, trying to process what the absolute fuck was going through their minds when they decided this was a good idea.
“We had no other choice!” he growls, raking a hand down his face. “Zach, the fucking idiot, touched her dead body. He tried to find a pulse to see if she was alive, when she obviously fucking wasn’t. Her blood was on his hands, his fingerprints on her. We had to do something. Then Trent and Marcus showed up. Everyone was involved now.”
“You could’ve explained that, Vincent. It was a mistake!”
“It wasn’t! I couldn’t risk it. We stripped her clothes, left her in her bra and panties, and got rid of everything else. We burned our clothes from that night.”
I swipe a frustrated hand down my face. “And what do you need from me exactly? Seems like you idiots already did most of the dirty work.”