by Lisa Jackson
“You did a piss-poor job of it,” she said, thinking of him standing outside her window. Her cell phone jangled in her hand. Jase’s number flashed onto the screen. “I need to take this. I’ll just be a second,” she said, though Milo had started to protest.
“Hey, wait, I want to tell you—”
“I said, just a sec.” With an uncompromising look in Milo’s direction she held up a hand, saw that he’d snapped his mouth shut ostensibly to pout, then thought, Too damned bad, and turned her back on him.
“Hi,” she said, expecting Jase to launch into the story surrounding Donovan Caldwell’s death.
Instead, he said, “Zoe Denning is alive and here at the police station.”
“What?” she whispered, not thinking she heard correctly. “Zoe?” Tears of relief sprang to her eyes and she leaned against the trunk of the live oak for support. “What about Chloe?”
“Not yet . . . we don’t know. Are you at my apartment yet?”
“Yes.”
“Wait for me. I’m driving. On my way.” And then he launched into a bizarre tale of his learning he had a twin brother who could be the 21 Killer or a copycat or his own kind of freak because Zoe had first misidentified Jase as the killer. She listened in shock as the tale unfolded. “. . . and so the police have narrowed it down to a couple of places. They’re checking out a cabin owned by Myra Tillman first.”
“Wait. Tillman?” she repeated, and from the corner of her eye saw Milo’s head snap up. “That’s got to be it,” she said, pieces of the puzzle starting to tumble into place. “I’m . . . I’m with Milo now.”
“What?” Milo demanded, but she listened to the story Jase spun and once he was finished, said, “Milo says that Jacob killed his sister. Never proven because he skipped town.”
“To become the 21 Killer in Los Angeles.”
“And he came back here, not because of Rick Bentz,” she said, as the pieces finally clicked together. “But because of Myra.”
True to her word, Brianna was waiting for him.
Jase tore into the parking lot, threw himself out of his pickup, and stepped onto the sunbaked asphalt. She’d crossed the parking lot to meet him and his heart soared stupidly at the sight of her. He felt the urge to throw his arms around her, to ignore the fact that the secret he bore would keep them apart forever, but, of course, he couldn’t. He had to restrain himself.
He took one step toward her when from out of the shadows of live oaks, a man catapulted himself at him. “You bastard!” the man screamed. “You killed her!”
“Milo!” Brianna cried as Jase feinted to the side and his attacker hit hard against the side of his truck.
“What the hell is this all about?” he demanded, grabbing the guy’s arm and pulling it around his back.
“You killed Myra.”
“Not me, pal.”
“I thought I explained,” Brianna said. “Stop this!”
“Fuck!” Face red, eyes bulging, Milo was forced hard against the hot front panel of the truck. “It’s just you look so much like the bastard.”
“I know.” Jase gave the guy’s arm a little tweak.
Milo squealed and his knees buckled.
“We good now?” Jase asked, feeling sweat run down his face, his adrenaline punched up. “Because I’ve had a long day and I’m itching for a fight. What’d’ya say?”
Milo didn’t respond.
“Okay, then—”
“No! Don’t. I’m good. Good.” Milo was nodding furiously. “Good.”
Jase didn’t let go.
“You sure?”
“Yeah, man, I’m sure. Look, I didn’t mean anything. You just look so freaking much like the guy I’ve been searching for . . . hell.”
Jase released him and stepped back, but he remained wary, ready to pin the guy again and call the cops. “I don’t have time for this,” he said. “The guy you’re looking for, my brother, the police think he might be at a place your sister owned around here.”
“What?”
“A cabin by the river?”
“That old place?” Milo was shaking his head. “I thought . . . I mean, I think my uncle or cousins ended up with it.”
“Deed’s in the name of Myra Tillman, owes a ton of back taxes. State’s about to step in.”
Brianna asked, “How do you know that?”
“Connections. I called the office on my way over here.” He stared hard at Milo. “I suggest you go to the cops and explain everything you know about what happened to your sister. Talk to Detective Bentz when he gets back there. You got that?”
Milo wanted to argue. Jase saw it in the shorter man’s eyes.
“Okay,” he acquiesced, still scowling and rubbing his arm.
“I mean it.”
“I said, okay!”
“Good.” To Brianna, he said, “Let’s go. I think it’s time I met my brother.” He was starting for his pickup when a shadow crossed his path. A premonition of dread tightened his muscles as he looked up to find his father standing on the other side of a live oak.
“Don’t you have unfinished business?” the old man asked as he flicked a knowing glance at Brianna.
“Not now, Dad,” Jase warned.
“No time like the present.”
“I said, not now. Not when the police are about to take down the twin I never knew I had, the sicko who is probably the damned 21 Killer.”
“Always chasin’ a story,” the old man said, unperturbed by this bit of news, that his own son could be a serial killer.
“What’s he talking about?” Brianna asked.
Edward’s old eyes twinkled.
“We’ve got to go.” He rounded the pickup to the passenger door. “Come on, Brianna.”
She looked from his father to him and back again as she followed him. “What’s going on, Jase?”
His old man chuckled. “Tell her on the way,” he suggested, and patted his shirt where the envelope Jase had left him poked out of his pocket. “Jase here knows all about how your sister died.”
“What?” she asked, her eyes, so like Arianna’s, turning on him. He didn’t wait, just grabbed her arm with one hand and opened the door of his truck with the other.
“You’re a bastard,” he said to the man who sired him. “You know that, don’t you?”
“So I’ve heard.” Ed reached for his near-empty pack of Camel straights. “But I’m gonna fix that right now. You think you killed a man, don’t you?”
Jase paused, his hand on the hot door handle of his truck. He remembered knocking a guy senseless with one hard punch.
“It wasn’t you, son. Oh, yeah, you hit him hard. Cold-cocked the son of a bitch. But he didn’t die from it.”
“Wait. What? We buried him.”
“Buried who?” Brianna asked, staring at him in horror.
“Tell her.” Ed lit up.
Jase drew in a deep breath. Wasn’t he the one who’d said there would be no more secrets, hadn’t he vowed as much to himself? But not like this, not for his old man’s amusement. “The man who killed your sister.”
“What?” she cried. “But Arianna drowned.”
Jase was sick inside remembering. “I know. And . . . and it’s my fault. Come on, let’s go. I’ll explain.”
“What the fuck is going on here?” Milo said, hearing all of the conversation.
Ed chuckled again and let out a stream of smoke. “This here,” he said to Milo, “this here is Judgment Day. Oh, and, son?” he said to Jase through Jase’s open window. “That grave up at the farm?”
Jase froze. “What about it?”
“Doesn’t exist,” the old man said. “All that’s up there is an old tarp filled with rocks. You didn’t kill no one, boy. If you don’t believe me, ask Prescott.”
“What the hell is he talking about?” Brianna demanded as Edward Bridges let out a long, self-satisfied laugh that was almost a cackle and ended with a coughing spate.
Jase started the truck and peeled out of the l
ot.
All of the ghosts of the past seemed to chase after him as he started talking, his confession as dark as the middle of the night. As she backed into the corner of the cab of the truck, listening in stunned silence, he admitted the truth.
“I loved Arianna,” he said and caught the pain in Brianna’s eyes. “It was a long time ago, of course.”
“Of course,” she whispered, a sharpness in her voice as they both knew how long Arianna had been gone.
“We would meet at the river late at night. She’d sneak out and I’d be waiting.” It had seemed so innocent, or at least no more dangerous than being in trouble with her parents.
As the miles rolled beneath the tires of the truck, he added, “It hadn’t gone on all that long. A few weeks. One night I showed up later than expected because of car trouble and when I got there—” He cleared his throat remembering how they’d swum beneath the moon and the stars. It had been exciting, almost dreamlike until that particular night, the one that changed all their lives forever. “When I got there,” he continued feeling the weight of Brianna’s gaze, seeing, from the corner of his eye how horrified she was, “Arianna wasn’t alone.”
“What do you mean?” she asked and he heard the hesitation in her voice over the rumble of the engine.
“There was a man with her. An . . . an assailant.”
“A murderer?”
“Rapist.” In his mind’s eye he remembered walking through the forest to see Arianna lying on the riverbank, her body white and naked, a faceless man atop her. She’d been whimpering, sobbing softly and painfully as her rapist had grunted in some kind of sick pleasure. “I went ape-shit,” Jase said. All the anger he’d felt at that moment came flooding back. “Jumped the guy and tried to beat him senseless. Or . . . or thought I had. It’s all a blur. It’s like when people say they ‘saw red.’ I don’t remember hitting him, but I did, and he turned, kind of roared and twisted. That’s when I saw the knife, the one he’d used to subdue Arianna.”
“Oh dear God,” Brianna whispered, her voice breaking.
Without thinking, Jase had attacked, sprang on the back of the man who had turned in the darkness, a blade flashing. He’d jabbed quickly, connecting with Jase’s face and slicing, creating the scar Jase bore today.
“He cut me.” With one hand, he indicated the scar. “Got his licks in.” The truth was they’d fought, struggled. “We went at it and somehow I managed to connect, a blow to his nose while holding his other wrist away from me. The guy was stunned and dropped the knife before crumpling into a heap.” His jaw worked as he remembered the scene, how the bastard, his pants at his ankles had slumped to the ground and Jase had given him one final kick. All the while Arianna had screamed and mewled, scrabbling in the darkness for her clothes.
“How come I’ve never heard of this?”
“Because it was covered up. That’s the way Arianna wanted it.”
“I don’t understand.”
Neither did Jase. Never had. Never would. “I—I was certain I’d killed the bastard and stupid kid that I was, once I saw that Arianna was safe, or as safe as she could be, I took her home, she begged me not to tell a soul and I lied and told her I wouldn’t. Then I asked my brother and father to help me. Since I was convinced I’d killed a man, I wanted my dad to go with me to the police, but Ed would have nothing to do with it.”
Brianna had wrapped her arms around herself as if to ward off a chill, or protect herself somehow as Jase took a corner a little too fast and the tires screeched in protest.
“Dad,” Jase spat out, remembering how stupid he’d been, how scared, how young. “He swore he’d buried the body under a tree on the farm, and I believed him. It was a mistake and a lie, but that’s what he told me. The tree?” he glanced at her, “It’s still there, kind of a reminder, I guess. And now Prescott, my brother, he wants me to buy the place. Tree and all.”
“Your brother was part of it?”
Jase’s jaw grew rock hard. “Seems as if.”
Jase stole a look at her, saw the revulsion on her face, the same revulsion he felt. “So now Ed says I didn’t kill the guy?” Jase couldn’t believe it. “What kind of man would let his son think he was a murderer?”
“The same kind that wouldn’t let his kid go to the cops and plead self-defense,” she said, her voice cold as ice. “What happened to my sister?” Brianna asked, staring at him as if he were Satan incarnate.
“I went back to Arianna, once things were settled with Dad and Pres. I pleaded with her to go to the hospital, or the police. Or both, but she was frantic, insisted that no one, not even you know.”
Brianna let out a soft moan.
“Trust me, I tried to talk her into it, but she wouldn’t hear of it, wanted to pretend it didn’t happen, made me swear I wouldn’t say anything and I didn’t. Ever again.”
“Except to your father and brother,” Brianna said in an accusatory whisper.
“Right.” His insides churned at the memory and he finally forced out his final confession, “I kept my silence. Even after she drowned three days later.”
Brianna seemed to wilt into herself. “She never said anything,” she whispered. “Arianna, oh, dear God, she was my twin. We shared everything and she thought she had to hide the fact that she’d been raped from me?” she said.
“I don’t know why she didn’t tell you,” he said as he drove past the city and into the countryside beyond. If he’d expected to feel release at unburdening himself, he’d been wrong. All he felt now was guilt. Deep, burrowing guilt. But hadn’t it been with him all along? How many nights had he dreamed of Arianna’s death? A hundred? A thousand? Each version was a little different, none the truth, but all the while he swam in a river of guilt and he never could save her. In all the scenarios in the dreams as in reality, she died. He felt sick inside. Had Arianna taken her own life? Had her drowning been an accident? He doubted anyone would ever know the truth.
Brianna’s reaction only made it—his guilt—burn hotter.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and he meant it. God, how he’d meant it. “I should have forced her to tell your parents or you or the police or someone.”
“Or you should have, instead of relying on your sorry excuse of a family and saving your own damned skin.”
Every muscle in his body tensed. He stole another glance at her and saw her lips curl in disgust.
“You son of a bitch,” Brianna whispered, her eyes narrowed and filled with a newfound hate. “You son of a freakin’ bitch.”
CHAPTER 32
Brianna was stunned. Shocked. Everything Jase had told her rang true, but still, her heart tore as she thought of her twin and what Arianna had endured. Alone. Afraid to confide in anyone, even Brianna.
Fighting tears, she stared straight ahead through the windshield as the Louisiana countryside flew by in a blur.
Jase had lied to her. If not by commission, then omission until now and that thought soured her stomach. She didn’t dare glance his way as he drove a good ten miles above the speed limit, all the while remaining silent, letting her digest everything he’d finally told her. From the corner of her eye she witnessed his own anguish and anger. His jaw was set, his hands clenched over the steering wheel until his knuckles blanched, his eyes focused on the road ahead.
Was everything he’d confessed the truth?
She blinked.
Why would he lie?
He wouldn’t, she thought as she heard the sounds of sirens in the distance. His body language said as much.
So, she was forced to believe him and his tale, no, his confession, for that’s what it seemed like. So Jase had not only been secretly romantically involved with her sister, but he’d witnessed Arianna being attacked, saved her, killed a man, then held his silence as Arianna had requested.
Why? Oh, God, why?
Dying a little inside, Brianna imagined her sister, in pain and shame, dealing with fear and indecision and unable to reach out. Not even to her.
; Brianna’s throat swelled and hot tears welled in her eyes. Why couldn’t Arianna trust the one person who had been with her since their conception, the person closest to her with her secret? Why carry the burden herself?
Arianna, oh, dear Lord, I am so, so sorry I wasn’t there for you; that you couldn’t trust me enough to confide in me.
Her stomach roiled and she began to shake.
“Pull over!” she cried as the truck sped across a bridge spanning a small stream. “Pull over, now!”
Jase cast a glance in her direction, got the message and once they were off the bridge, eased onto the shoulder as Brianna scrambled to unbuckle her seat belt, forced open the door and as the pickup ground to a stop in the gravel, flung herself outside. She landed in the dry grass, litter and loose gravel where she took three steps, doubled over and lost what little contents had been in her stomach. Tears ran down her face as she retched violently. Again.
She dropped to her knees as the truck idled and a long shadow fell over her. Jase’s shadow . . . Dear Jesus, how fitting. Hadn’t his damned shadow been cast over her all her life? Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to block out not only his image but all the pain, the truth, the horrid thought of her sister dying alone and bereft. Guilt consumed Brianna for she knew in some small way, she, like Jase, had failed her twin.
“For what it’s worth,” he said, his voice raw, “I’m sorry.”
“Go away!”
“I can’t—”
“Just leave me the hell alone!”
“Brianna!”
“I—I can’t even think about this,” she admitted, on the edge of hysteria.
“Then don’t.”
“But I can’t freakin’ stop!” She was sobbing now and when he tried to help her up, take hold of her shoulder and pull her to her feet, she threw out her hands. “Don’t touch me,” she warned, then finally looked him full in the face again and saw the agony wrenching his features, the regret pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Don’t!”