Page 81 of My Twin Sister

“Are you out of your mind?” Wyatt snaps. “You’re going to go to prison for murder. What about Jack and Carter?”

My sister’s face crumples. “Take care of them. Please.”

She looks between me and Wyatt.

“Geny,” I say. “Just give me the gun and go home to your boys.”

She takes three quick breaths and stands taller. Fear shoots through me.

“I killed Morgan.” She says it so fast I think I must have misheard her. “And Brooke. It wasn’t Frank, it was me.”

“No,” I say. “You’re sick. You’re not in your right state of mind.”

“I’m not lying! I killed them both. I didn’t like Morgan taking my place. You practically ignored me for months for her.”

I remember the months Morgan and I grew close. The long training runs we did together. The secrets we shared with each other I couldn’t tell anyone else. And then I remember her parents crying at her funeral. Brooke, her sister, unable to stand up. They buried an empty coffin.

“If it was you, then why did Frank botch the investigation?” I look over at him as if expecting an explanation, forgetting for a second that he’s dead.

“I don’t know,” she says. “Probably because he thought it was one of his guys’ fault. I called in a tip that she had been doing drugs on the beach that night with an older guy. That I overheard him saying the drugs were stolen from the evidence locker.”

Wyatt’s hands are clasped on top of his head as he paces back and forth. I try not to think about what he’s feeling right now. His father dead a few feet away, his wife holding the gun.

“How did you know about the cops stealing drugs?” I ask.

She rolls her eyes and then narrows them at me. “Everyone knew, Grace. It was practically common knowledge.”

I didn’t know. Not until recently. I realize, once again, that I was so caught up in my own shit that I missed so many things happening right in front of my face.

Geny continues. “You thought she was your friend, but she couldn’t even tell us apart. She thought I was you when I invited her to the beach that night.”

My head swims, taking in her words. Did she think it was me the whole time? Did she think it was me killing her? I’m too afraid to ask.

“Please don’t look at me like that,” Geny says. Her face crumples again. “It happened fast. I promise. I hit her in the head with a rock from behind. She didn’t see it coming. She wasn’t conscious when I held her under the water. She didn’t suffer.”

I hate the way she says it like that’s supposed to make things better. Like bashing a girl in the head and drowning her was merciful instead of evil.

I clear my throat and try to keep my composure for just a little longer so I can get more answers. “Why Brooke?”

She stares at me for a few seconds, seeming to debate how much she wants to tell me. Probably because she can’t justify what she did to Brooke the same way she did Morgan. Brooke drowned slowly through the night. Brooke suffered.

“The same reason,” she says softly. “You were blowing me off for her. Talking to her more than you would to me. I saw what happened with Morgan and I didn’t want to lose you.”

“So, what? You thought torture was fitting because you felt slighted?”

She covers her face with her hands. “I’m so sorry.”

I don’t know what to say, so I don’t say anything. I glance over at Wyatt, but he’s looking at Geny with tears in his eyes. He crosses the room quickly and I jump, thinking he’s going to try to get the gun or something, but he puts his arms around Geny and pulls her into him.

Geny shakes with full-body sobs. Wyatt holds her through the worst of it, cradling her head and murmuring something to her on repeat. I stay rooted to the ground, my whole world shifting beneath my feet.

“Did you pretend to be me again?” I ask. “Is that how you got her to the beach?”

Wyatt loosens his grip on Geny, who lifts her head to me. Sniffling, she nods. “Yes.”

“How?” I ask.

“How what?”