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“He traveled all the way to India to interview this poor woman. She remembered me and testified on oath that I had been very ill—‘coughing up a lung’ is how she put it. Turns out she was a bit of a germaphobe, so my coughing had been memorable. That was enough to reopen the case. I went through another trial, only this time the jury found me innocent. There was enough reasonable doubt, given the twin thing. He’d found someone who testified that it was Danielle who had a relationship with Arthur Brown—that’s the name of her boyfriend. They released me and struck it from my record. But the damage it did to me is still there. None of that can be suddenly stricken from a memory, no matter how much we wish it so.”
“Where’s your sister? Still on the run?”
“Yes, they’ve never been able to find her. Brown’s in jail, but she’s managed to lie low somewhere. There was nothing for me at home, and I just needed new scenery to escape so many bad memories, so I decided to come to America and build a new life, free from my twin.”
“I understand. Prison must have been horrible.” I’d thought about incarceration a lot in the months since John’s death. I shivered, feeling dizzy and cold despite the warmth of the summer evening.
“It was as bad as you can imagine.”
“Betrayed by your own twin?” I shook my head. “I can’t imagine how much that hurt.”
“It’s a betrayal I’ll never get over. Sad as that sounds, it’s true.” Finley ran her finger around the rim of her wineglass, brow furrowed. “I doubt I’ll ever go back there. I’m making a new life here with friends and a good job, things I never thought I’d have. It takes something like I went through to see the beauty in the simplest of pleasures. Freedom is something I took for granted until it was taken from me.”
“Me too,” I said.
Finley reached for my hand, giving it an encouraging squeeze. “I wish there was something we could do to fix this.”
“I’d turn myself in and take my chances with a trial if it weren’t for Chloe. I’m all she has. I don’t want her placed into foster care while I rot away in jail.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Finley said. “We’re going to figure a way out of this.”
“How can you be so optimistic about things after what happened to you?”
She shrugged. “I figure I could spend my life bitter and resentful, or I could live as fully as I could. It was a terrible time, but I was released and acquitted. It was hopeless until it wasn’t. Now that I’m free, I don’t plan on wasting a single moment.”
“If I get out of this somehow, I’ll do the same,” I said.
“You will. We must keep the faith. Always.”
9
THAD
Before we headed over to speak with our tattooed guest, we’d stopped in the office to look at his registration paperwork. We learned his name was Dan Cutter with an address in Austin, and he had paid for a week in advance. Nothing suspicious there.
Regardless, Finley had worked for me long enough I knew her instincts about people were good. She wouldn’t have come by if she hadn’t picked up on a worrisome vibe.
We’d then done a quick internet search, leading us to a website for a private detective. Alarms firing in both our minds, we’d looked at each other in alarm.
“Let’s go talk to this Dan Cutter,” Soren said.
We found Cutter sitting outside on his cabin’s patio. He did indeed have a bald head tattooed with a spiderweb.
“Evening,” I said, greeting him as I would any guest. We introduced ourselves and asked if he needed anything.
“Can’t say as I need much of anything at the moment.” Cutter had a head shaped like a pumpkin and a thick neck. Deep-set, beady eyes narrowed further as he looked from one of us to the other. “I’m enjoying myself so far.” He lifted a bottle of beer from the arm of the Adirondack chair. “Enjoying one of your local brews and the peace and quiet.”
Soren casually leaned against a post. “Is this your first time in Montana?”
“Yep, first time here.” He tipped back his beer, still watching us with small eyes.
“Finley said you were asking a lot of questions,” I said, more bluntly than I’d meant to. “Like maybe you were looking for someone.”
He looked slightly taken aback. “I can’t say that I am.”
“What do you do, if you don’t mind me asking?” Soren hadn’t taken his laser-like gaze from the man.
“Why do you ask?” Cutter peeled back a corner of the paper label on his beer bottle.
