Page 71 of My Twin Sister

Tina kisses next to my cheek. “You look beautiful, dear.”

I pull back. “Me? Look at you,” I say. “Stunning as always.”

She grins and I make a show of running back to the stove to stir the sauce so she’ll join the rest of the group at the back of the room. With my back to them, I close my eyes and take a breath. It’s showtime.

“Oh no,” I murmur. I take a step back from the stove and pretend to scan the area. I open the fridge and look, trying to appear a little more frantic to hopefully get the attention of any of the people at the dining table.

It works. Geny appears at my side, a concerned pinch to her brows.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m such an idiot,” I say. “I think I forgot parmesan.”

Her pinched brows lower. “Really? I think we have some in the fridge.”

She doesn’t. I threw it away when I got here earlier.

“I can’t believe I forgot parmesan when I’m making freaking Alfredo sauce.” I press the heels of my hands to my temples. “I’ll run out real fast and grab it. Just keep stirring the sauce for me, please. I’ll be quick.”

She opens her mouth, but I turn to Wyatt and his parents.

“I am such an airhead,” I say loudly. “I forgot my most important ingredient for dinner. But Geny is going to keep my sauce from burning while I drive as fast as humanly possible to get it. I’ll be right back.”

“Not too fast,” Frank calls.

I pretend to laugh, and I’m outside before anyone can object or offer to go for me. In seconds, I’m in my car with the engine started and pulling onto the road. A brick of parmesan cheese sits in a bag on my passenger seat, right where I left it.

I park my car a few blocks away near the entrance to a trail. I slip my heels off and go barefoot. I walk quickly. If I weren’t in a dinner dress, I would run. I also don’t want to draw attention to myself. No one will notice I don’t have shoes on in the dark. I’ll just look like I’m out for an evening stroll.

The Gibbses home is set far apart from their neighbors. There aren’t many lots as big as theirs so near to the lakefront. The land is usually divvied into small lots to take advantage of people wanting property near the water. But somehow they managed to get a bigger piece of the pie.

The front door will be locked. This town may be old-fashioned in their security, but they’re not completely inept. However, I happen to know Frank likes to sleep with the windows open in the bedroom, no matter the weather. I doubt they worry about locking them because their bedroom is on the second floor.

I spent many nights as a teenager sneaking into their son’s bedroom, which is also on the second story. I slip on the grippy gloves I brought with me, climb onto the AC unit, and grab onto the windowsill above.

Normally, I would climb straight into the open window with a waiting Wyatt just inside, helping to pull me in. But this bedroom has been empty for a while, and I don’t trust myself to hang on with one hand while I try to push the window open. Instead, I swing my legs over to the wooden balcony outside Tina and Frank’s bedroom. It’s a bit harder to lift myself up than it was eighteen years ago, but I manage.

Sweat beads at my hairline despite the chill in the air, and I’m thankful no one witnesses my messy house-intruding gymnastics in a dress. I try the sliding door, and it opens easily. I don’t even have to climb through the window. What luck.

I have a twenty-five-minute timer set on my phone. It’s the very most time I can be gone without it being super suspicious. So I have to move fast.

I start in the obvious spots, leaving my gloves on so I don’t leave any prints. I am dealing with a police sheriff, after all. Dresser drawers, under the bed, in the closet. I run into a few choice things I could have gone my whole life not seeing, but it’s the price you pay for snooping through someone’s stuff, I guess.

I don’t find anything noteworthy in the obvious spots. In the en suite bathroom, the medicine cabinet is stocked with different skin care products and a small assortment of prescription pill bottles. I slide my phone from my pocket and take a picture of the contents to look through later, but nothing jumps out as important.

Then I open the vanity cabinets. Cleaning supplies, hair products. I push a drugstore box of hair dye out of the way and see something that stands out. A cell phone.

Now why would there be a cell phone at the back of their bathroom vanity? I instantly think of the texts I’ve been getting. I tap on the screen, but it remains black. It’s dead or turned off. I hold down the power button, and a second later the screen’s backlight comes on. I search through the rest of the cabinet while I wait for it to power up.

When I don’t find anything else, I keep moving, the phone still in hand. I go to Wyatt’s old room to see what’s come of it. I push the door open and I’m hit with such nostalgia it nearly knocks me off my feet. It’s the same as I remember. It even smells the same. Like fresh laundry and men’s cologne and something else that can’t be named. Just the scent of Wyatt.

There’s a baseball poster on the wall and a signed poster from a Slipknot concert we went to sophomore year of high school. I walk further into the room and over to the desk that sits in the corner. I can’t count how many times I sat on Wyatt’s bed and watched him do his homework right here at this desk.

My heart aches when I see that the picture of us at junior prom is still framed and sitting in the corner of the desk. I pick it up for a closer look. I haven’t seen it in so long. I didn’t get to take anything with me when I disappeared. No pictures of anyone I love. No pieces of my past. Only the wet clothes on my back and the Ziplock bag of money Wyatt tucked into my bra. I was lucky the bag stayed in place.

I force myself out of the room. I’m running out of time and I can’t spend it reminiscing. I look at the phone and see that it’s powered on, but there’s a lock code. I try Wyatt’s birthday, then Frank’s. Neither works. I have one more attempt before it locks me out. I sigh, turn it off, and reluctantly return it to its spot beneath the sink.

Back inside Frank and Tina’s room, I look around for any spots I missed. I don’t want to leave empty-handed. I doubt I’ll get another opportunity with them both out of the house. I quickly look at the timer on my phone. I have five minutes left to search.