Page 68 of My Twin Sister

“Hey, bud. Come here,” Wyatt says, and Carter runs over to him.

Geny sighs and pinches her temples between her thumb and middle finger. I reach out and touch her arm, but she yanks away from me.

She sighs again. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I just need a minute.”

Geny leaves the room. I hesitate before joining everyone else at the table. Carter is sitting on Wyatt’s knee. Wyatt tries to comfort him and brush off Geny snapping at him.

“Hey, Carter,” Jack says.

Carter looks up at his big brother, his face stuck in a frown.

Jack opens his mouth to expose his half-chewed food. Wyatt looks like he’s about to tell him to stop, but Carter cracks up.

“Gross!” he says, but he sounds absolutely delighted. We all laugh, and the tension melts.

Jack grins and closes his mouth to finish chewing. “Dad, did you know if I get into University of Michigan, it’s less than a five-hour drive home? I can come home on the weekends.”

“You’re not going to want to, son.” Wyatt laughs.

“Nonsense,” Jack says, looking at his little brother. “I’ll be home for Carter’s games too. He’s going to be in the instructional league next year. I can’t miss that.”

Jack and Wyatt break into a conversation about sports seasons. I watch Jack with awe. But there’s a pity too. He’s good at shifting the mood. And kids don’t get good at that without having to do it often. He’s the peacekeeper, and I hate that he’s had to become one.

I take a bite of my food and try to take a mental step back. I’ve been here for a week. I don’t know the depths of their family dynamics. But I can see what’s right in front of me. Only . . . it’s none of my business.

“They’re doing career week next week too,” Jack says. “I was going to ask Grandpa to come with me since I want to work for the police.”

Wyatt nods. “I’m sure Grandpa would love to go back to his old stomping grounds.”

I look up from my plate at Wyatt. His words stick to my brain like a zebra mussel to a boat hull. That’s right. Not only did Frank attend Raven High School like nearly everyone else in this town, he was the school officer stationed there when we were in high school. The resource officer. It was just before he got the sheriff position. Just before our affair officially started.

I’m not entirely sure what it means or why remembering feels important, but I’ve long since learned to trust my gut.

Geny comes back downstairs, her face fixed in a small smile. “How’s everything tasting?”

“Good,” Jack says.

“Just like Mom’s,” I say. Her forced smile seems to melt into a genuine one, but only for a moment.

I try not to stare at her while we finish eating. I’m worried about her. She seems so tightly wound, and it’s only getting worse. She’s been through so much this last week. Wyatt said he was keeping an eye on her, but she doesn’t seem to be doing well. At what point does he step in? And what does stepping in even mean? Having her committed?

Clearing Dad’s name might help her. I know it would help me. It would stop the whispers and the sideways glances from nosey neighbors and gossips. I need to get home, or back to my parents’ house, to sort through my thoughts. A few hours ago, I thought it’d be better to give this all up. To disappear again. Then, at least anyone else’s death wouldn’t be my fault.

But it would be. If I leave Frank to keep operating without being stopped, the next person he hurts will be my fault. And if I leave again, Geny wouldn’t be able to handle it. And that would be my fault too.

Thirty-Nine: Grace

It isn’t hard to get free of Geny’s house. She’s on edge, everyone is walking on eggshells, and my presence is making everything worse. We all know it. So when I yawn and say I’m going to make it an early night, Geny and Wyatt both agree they’re worn out too.

I go straight to my parents’ room and, equipped with a notebook and a pen, get started trying to sort my messy mind and the even messier tragedies of Raven, Michigan. I make a pot of coffee and drag the printer from my dad’s office into the bedroom. I lose track of time but gain traction mentally.

Here’s what I know:

Frank wanted me dead. Wyatt overheard him setting it up. Wyatt pretended to drown me in the lake. He told his dad he knew about the two of us and took care of me.

Frank told the town he recovered my body and did the identification himself. They buried bags of sand. Frank can’t be the only one who knows I wasn’t in the casket. Possibly the coroner, other police officers, and people working at the funeral home might have known.

My father was accused of having inappropriate pictures on his work computer. Shortly after, he allegedly committed suicide. The pictures were all taken in the school. And they were all old, from when I was in school. Not a single one was recent.