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I look from Nero to the stranger. The two men look identical, or at least identical to how Nero looked when he was alive. They must be twins, but I’ve never seen twins who look alike as much as Nero and this stranger. I’m trembling so much I can barely get the words out. “I…don’t know. I can’t remember.”
“How convenient,” he says in a hard, sarcastic voice. “Try again.”
“I—I—” My throat locks up from terror. This must be how a wounded deer feels as the hunter lines up the final, deadly shot.
“You want to know how I know it was you?” he asks. “I searched this house high and low for clues, and what do I find? Blood on this shovel’s handle. I talked to the cleaner, and she told me all about the blood and dirt in the house and the garden hose that was left on the night my brother disappeared.”
When I don’t move, the stranger begins filling in the grave and all the holes I dug with an exclamation of disgust. He stamps down the earth and then seizes me by the arm. He throws the shovel in the shed and drags me toward the house.
I suppose he doesn’t want to risk being seen as he strangles the life out of me. In the living room, he throws me down on therug and stands over me, breathing hard. Rainwater is dripping from my clothes and seeping into the wool rug beneath me.
He pulls a blanket off an armchair and throws it around me. “Dry yourself off and stop shaking. I want answers.”
I pull the blanket tight around my body. Adrenaline is spiking through my veins, and I can’t stop shaking. I stare at the stranger’s big feet in leather shoes. I know these shoes. They’re my husband’s shoes. He’s wearing Nero’s clothes.
“How did you kill my brother?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” I whisper.
“There’s a wound on the back of his head. Did you hit him while his back was turned, you coward?”
I can feel the shovel heavy in my hands. I did, didn’t I? I had to do it. I think he was going to kill me. But why?
“I’m losing my patience, Rieta. Youramnesiawon’t keep you alive for very long. Why did you kill my brother?”
“I’m trying to remember. Nero and I—”
“Luca.”
I raise my head and gaze up at him, perplexed. “I’m sorry?”
“My brother’s name was Luca.I’mNero.”
Anger blossoms through me. “Stop messing with my head. I’m confused enough as it is. I don’t know you.”
“I’m Nero,” he says, sinking down on his heels until we’re at eye level. His dark brown eyes are my husband’s eyes. Everything about the two men is exactly the same. If I didn’t just see an identical corpse in the back garden, I wouldn’t believe that there are two of them.
The stranger points into the back garden. “That’s Luca you killed, and I want to know why.”
“But who is Nero?”
He seizes me by the hair and snarls in my face. “I’m asking the questions.”
I gasp in pain. Whoever he is, he’s going to kill me, and I don’t even care. I killed Nero—Luca—and then I blocked it out, so I deserve to die. If I had any answers for this man, I’d tell him everything, but I just can’t remember.
“Just finish me off, please,” I beg him.
“Why?”
“Because I’m a killer. I murdered my own husband. Or I murdered the man who I thought was my husband.”
“Why did you do it?”
“I don’t remember.”
He squeezes his fist in my hair and shakes me. “Liar.”
I wince from pain. “I swear, I don’t remember. The night that my husband disappeared, I was drunk, and then I hit my head. I don’t remember how. I woke up in bed and my face was covered in blood.”
