The old boards creaked once under my boot.
Both women turned.
The woman in the cardigan went white.
The woman from the motel moved first.
She stepped in front of her sister so fast her bare shoulder almost clipped the table. Her hand went back, palm open, pushing the other woman behind her without taking her eyes off me.
“Dex,” she said.
My name in her mouth still landed exactly where it shouldn’t.
I opened the screen door slowly and kept both hands visible. “Nobody runs.”
Her eyes flashed. “You tracked the truck.”
“You left my keys on the tire.”
“I didn’t want someone else to steal it.”
“You stole my truck.”
“I borrowed it long enough to keep her alive.”
The woman behind her made a small sound. Fear, not humor.
That sound snapped my attention to her.
Up close, the difference was clearer and worse. Same face, but not the same woman. Crystal Kemp’s hair had been pulled back in a loose clip, as if she’d done it with shaking hands. Her blue eyes were wet and scared. The curve of her mouth matched the mugshot almost exactly, and the softness in her cheeks belonged to the photo I’d been carrying for days.
She faced me like I was the last official thing standing between her and whatever had hunted her into this cabin.
“Crystal Kemp,” I said.
Her throat moved. “Yes.”
The woman in front of her went rigid.
I turned back to her. “And you’re Jade.”
Her mouth parted.
The color left her cheeks before her chin lifted. “How did you find that?”
“Your file has a sister note.”
“It didn’t say twin.”
“No,” I said. “It didn’t.”
Crystal’s hand closed around Jade’s overshirt from behind. “He didn’t know?”
“He knows now,” Jade said.
The name fit her so hard I hated that it had been missing.
Jade.
