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“I think we have the same father,” she sniffled. “And—”
“Syl, I think you have the wrong girl. I—”
“You’re not from North Carolina,” she said, with more strength in her voice. She was convinced!
“What are you—”
“Stop lying to me now. Just stop.”
Commands? From Syl? I didn’t care much for that at all. My guard was going right back up. This was too chaotic, even for me.
“I’m not ly—”
“You are!” she shouted, cutting me off. “But it’s okay,” she added, touching my hand sympathetically, rubbing her fingers across myknuckles in a way that I found supremely annoying. I loathed being patronized. “I know this must sound crazy because you probably didn’t know I even existed. Right?Shenever told you?”
“Who?” I asked, my throat low. Again I heard her response in my mind before she said it.
“Our mother,” she uttered. The word sent a deep chill down my body. But she couldn’t know Mother. She was mine and mine alone. This wasn’t real. Syl was mistaken. Wasn’t she?
“Syl. I don’t know what to say. You’ve got the wrong information or something, I mean, I’m not your sister.” I laughed in her face, fully committing to being Bea Case, despite my inward spiral. I wouldn’t show Syl anybody else. I wouldn’t show anyone. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh. Do you have someone you can talk to about this? I think the situation with your father is affecting you more than you realize. They say that trauma can manifest much later than—”
Now Syl was the one laughing. Cruel and cutting. Like a villain. Likeher. “You’re good, Bea. You are really,reallygood. And hey, I’m not calling into question anything about what you’ve done for yourself, I swear. It’s fucking impressive. I bow down to you. I mean, I like you, too, genuinely. We’re friends, right? That we can agree on.”
“We’ll see,” I said. I didn’t appreciate her changing tone. It seemed erratic. Like an amateur. But still, how was she morphing into somebody else right in front of my eyes? How did she fool me? How did she find me?
“Just hear me out, okay? Aren’t you curious? You must be.” Yes, I was curious. I was dying to hear her story, even if it was frightening and could threaten my entire station in life. “Our father is in federal prison for a double murder he didn’t commit,” she said. “Our mother and you.”
I didn’t want to hear any more, but still, I wanted to know everything. Were we a part of a family after all? It didn’t matter. Not to BeaCase. She had her own family now. “That is insane, Syl. I’m not sure what kind of game you’re trying to run on me or on Collin, but—”
“Let. Me. Finish,” she hissed. Another shift in tone. “My real name is Jane Wink. When I aged out of the system, I changed it. I didn’t want to be associated with those grisly headlines anymore. It didn’t exactly do me any favors with finding a family to care for me.”
“Give me a break, Syl. I’m very conf—”
“Our dad—”
“Yourdad.” I cut her off. I’d had enough. Even if what she was saying were true, I had to move on. Curiosity could remain, but I wouldn’t indulge. It wouldn’t lead to anything good. “Let’s not jump to any conclusions,Syl.”
“Ourdad is Giles Wink,” she said forcefully, starting to lose her composure, crumbling. I immediately went to my phone to search for the name as she continued speaking, corroborating everything available in the public domain. Giles Wink was fifty-seven years old. The appropriate age. He was convicted on the double murder charge after a house fire that was deemed arson. The home was in Westchester. Jane and Giles were spared from the flames. The prosecution said that was intentional. Evidence was found that Giles’s wife, Georgina Wink, was having an extramarital affair, leading to the conclusion that Giles had killed her and her unborn child in the ultimate revenge.
It was very macabre and very messy.
Kind of like Mother.
“I thought you could meet him,” Syl added, back to her softer self. But I wouldn’t be fooled.
“Absolutely not,” I said.
“But you’ll like him. I know you will.”
“I don’t care, Syl. I’m not going to meet your father. I’m not getting involved. This has nothing to do with me.”
“Dad wanted to name you Charlotte,” Syl said, nostalgia dripping from her voice. She held my hand again, but I wouldn’t be manipulated by her attempts to tug at my nonexistent heartstrings. Good luck, babe.
“You’ve got the wrong woman,” I said, yanking my hand away from hers.
“I remember her, Bea.”
“Oh! What do you remember?” I challenged her, without admitting a thing. Because nobody knew Mother but me.
