Page 72 of My Twin Sister

I stand in the center of the room and look around, trying to think of any place I could have missed or that I didn’t search well enough. I’m in a hurry and it makes me worry I’ve overlooked something obvious. I search those cliche spots again, slowing down despite my instinct to go quickly.

I go back to beneath Frank’s side of the bed and use the flashlight from my phone this time. There are totes with clothes I assume are seasonal, but they’re clear and I don’t see anything unusual about them. I pull out the one closest to me, and push around pairs of shorts and other summer attire.

My hand hits something more solid than a T-shirt. A small box, like one you might get from a jeweler for a necklace. Rectangular and shallow.

I open it and my blood turns to cement. It’s the pictures. The ones that were saved and then printed off my father’s computer. I flip through a few of them before I have to close the box. I can’t stand to see them. The young girls he misled. Took advantage of. Abused.

And then tried to pin it on my father.

The rage filling me is magma hot. I close everything up and put it away, but I keep the box of pictures with me. Maybe it’s stupid. He’ll know someone was here. He’ll know someone is on to him, and it will make him even more dangerous. But I can’t leave them behind for him to look at ever again. I won’t let him get off to these images even once more. I don’t care what that means for me.

I head out the sliding door and down the back of the house. When I get back to my car, I hide the pictures under the seat until I can take them back to home and decide what to do with them from there.

I force myself to breathe normally as I walk through the door with my bag of parmesan cheese in hand. I hold it up when I walk into the kitchen.

“Got it!” I say. “Sorry, that took forever.”

I replace Geny at the stove and start to grate the cheese into the sauce that has been simmering far too long. I can feel Frank behind me, and it takes everything in me not to fling the hot pasta sauce at him and beat him with the heated pan.

Lost in my own anger, it takes me a second to pick up on the tension in the room. I don’t bring attention to it, but I try to pinpoint the cause. I pour myself a glass of wine while I finish off the sauce and begin plating the meal.

Wyatt is talking to his parents. Tina seems less vibrant than when I left, and Geny stands awkwardly between me and them. For a split second I think they’re upset with me for running off and delaying dinner, but I don’t think that’s it. It’s between Tina and Geny.

I watch them as I bring plates to the table.

“Hope everyone’s hungry,” I say.

It takes Geny a second to move to the table and sit down. And then she’s right back up again.

“I’m going to grab the boys,” she mumbles and she hurries off.

Jack and Carter come into the kitchen and sit down. Carter starts to dig in immediately, but Wyatt swats at his arm, and he drops his fork full of pasta.

“Sorry,” Carter whispers.

Geny is back in another minute, and she puts her hands out beside her, closing her eyes. Are the pre-dinner prayers for Frank and Tina’s benefit? I’ve had a few meals with them now and they’ve never done this. But I follow suit anyway and we all join hands while Geny says a prayer. I watch their faces. My sister, a “murderer,” their children, a serial pedophile, and his wife. What a motley crew we make.

Forty-One: Grace

It took every ounce of self-control I had not to burn Frank’s house to the ground before coming back to Geny’s. The hate I feel for him is so visceral it hurts. He’s taken everything from me, and it started so long ago. From the first time he left his hand on my knee a little too long. And when he said he wouldn’t tell my dad about catching me with a wine cooler on the beach. It’ll be our little secret.

Why would he frame my dad for his indiscretions? Maybe he was in danger of being found out and he had to point the finger at someone else. Maybe my dad was just the next person in his way.

Whatever the reason, he’s taken too much. I swear, if it weren’t also Tina’s house, I might have torched the place. But that won’t keep him safe for long. I smile over dinner and keep up my happy face. I even hug him goodbye despite the way it makes my skin burn.

Geny stands in the living room while Wyatt goes back into the kitchen for something. She stares ahead blankly.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“Hmm? Yes.” She looks my way but not really at me.

She looks tired.

“Why don’t you go up to bed? I’ll clean up and head out after.”

She looks at me like I’ve just asked if I can shave her head for fun. I take half a step back.

“What?” I ask. “What’s wrong?”