The Third Twin (21 page)

Frustration is flooding my body as my mind races. “I already told you—”

“In light of what you’ve told us, we’re going to need your keys too.”

“They’re in my backpack,” I say, my frustration rising. It feels like this is all an insane nightmare. “Which you already have. How long—” I’m interrupted by the door being flung open.

“Don’t say another word,” a tall woman in jeans and an off-white sweater says to me as she surveys the room. She’s not wearing any makeup, and her straight blond hair is pulled back into a low ponytail. She looks more like an elementary school teacher than a cop.

Detective Naito closes the file and leans back in his chair. “That was fast.”

“Why are you even bothering to question her?” the woman asks. “You know I’ll get all of this thrown out of court. She’s a minor, for God’s sake.”

“She’s seventeen,” Detective Richardson says. “And under suspicion of murder. When it goes to court, they’re going to request to try her as an adult anyway.”

Fear grips my chest as I hear those last words. Tried as an adult? How in the world could it ever get that far? This is all so crazy. I look from the woman back to the detectives. “What’s going on?”

“Sorry,” the woman says, walking over and extending her hand. “Elisa Alvarez, defense attorney.” She looks at me intently. “
Your
defense attorney.”

“I don’t need an attorney,” I say. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Actually,” says Detective Naito, pushing himself away from the table, “you probably do need one. And as Ms. Alvarez here is one of the best defense attorneys in the state, you might want to listen to her.”

“Did my dad send you?” The thought of Dad knowing that I’m sitting in jail makes me a little sick to my stomach. “Because this whole thing is crazy.”

She glances at the mirror across the room. “Let’s talk about this once we get outside.” She extends her hand to help me out of my chair. “I’m assuming we’re done here,” she says to the room in general.

“We do have a warrant,” Detective Naito says, handing her a piece of paper.

Ms. Alvarez lifts her eyebrows. “And what’s the name on that warrant?”

“Irrelevant,” he says.

“Highly relevant,” she says, tucking the paper into her bag. “You have a warrant for someone who is not my client, yet you insist on illegally detaining and questioning her.”

“We don’t need a warrant on a felony. As you well know,” Detective Naito says. “And nothing that was done here was illegal.”

“Let’s go,” she says to me, turning on her heel.

I glance at the detectives. “What about my car?”

“What about it?” the lawyer asks.

“They have it,” I say. “My backpack too.”

She shakes her head. “You guys don’t know when to quit, do you?”

“The car tested positive for blood,” Detective Naito says, the hint of a smile on his face. “And Casey Stewart had an antemortem gash on his cheek made by a set of keys like the ones Alexa has. We’re sure the DNA in her car is going to be his.”

“I already told you why!” I say. I turn to Ms. Alvarez. “I did scratch Casey with the keys, but only to get him off me. That’s it!”

She looks at the two detectives and then beyond them toward the mirror. “We’re going to need some privacy for a few moments.”

“You can use my office,” Detective Naito says.

“This way,” Ms. Alvarez says, leading me into the hallway.
She heads straight for a door on the left and ushers me into it. Apparently she knows her way around the police station. “So how about you tell me what’s going on,” she says after closing the door behind us. “There are no recording devices in this office, so whatever you tell me is in strictest confidence. What have you told them?”

“I’ve been telling the truth!” I say. “But nobody believes me.”

She leans against the door. “I need to know what you’ve said so that I’ll know where to begin your defense.”

Her gaze stays on me as I quickly recount how Ava and I work Alicia, and what happened that night, from the time when Casey and I left the restaurant until I drove away. “And then the cops showed me pictures of some girl who was nearby right around the time he was killed, but it wasn’t me.” I can feel hot tears pressing against the backs of my eyes. “I swear it wasn’t me.”

The display of emotion seems to have no effect on her. “Okay. So you say that Casey was never in your car?”

“No.” I shake my head. “Never.”

She lifts her eyebrows but otherwise doesn’t react. “So there would be no reason why his fingerprints would be there?”

I sniff a little bit. “No. I’m sure of it.”

“Okay,” she says. “You might not like this, but I’m going to suggest that you let them keep your car. You already gave them an explanation about the keys, and it’s fairly believable.”

“It’s believable because it’s true!” I say.

She waves that comment away as if the truth has nothing
to do with it. “If we let them have the car now, it’ll save us time later.” She glances at me. “They’ll only get another warrant and tow it down here in a few days. This way, it will look like we’re cooperating with them, and we can get your car back to you by tomorrow. Hopefully your backpack too.”

Ms. Alvarez makes it look like she’s in control, and for the first time all afternoon I feel a little bit relieved. “Okay. I swear this is all a big misunderstanding.” I hesitate but decide that I have to trust her. I don’t really have much of a choice. “Listen … I have to tell you the truth. Ava went out with Dylan. Not me.”

She looks puzzled. “Who’s Dylan?”

I stop, my heart in my throat. She doesn’t know about Dylan. “A guy who was killed this morning.” I can’t even look at her when I say the next part, it sounds so bad. “Another guy who went out with Alicia Rios.”

She lets out a deep sigh. “Apparently we have some more talking to do,” she says, looking around the room. “But not here.” She sits down on the corner of the desk. “I have to tell you, the detective was right. They don’t need a warrant for a felony, and from what I can tell, they’re going to arrest you today.”

I start to panic at her words, my eyes filling with tears. All I can picture is a cold jail cell with a toilet in the corner. I can’t go to jail.

“Don’t worry.” She leans forward and puts one hand on my shoulder. “They’re just going to fingerprint you and take some photos, and I’ll have you released in an hour under an 849(b) into my custody. You won’t go to jail today.”

I nod as the words sink in, and I wipe my eyes on my sleeve. “Thanks.”

She looks down at her jeans. “I was volunteering at the shelter when I was called away, and I need some time to get the details of the case. We can meet in my office in a couple of days. I’ll answer any charges for you, and I’ll make sure there are no more surprises.” She opens the door. “Let’s go.”

I like that it feels that someone is on my side, even if she doesn’t totally believe my story. “Was my dad mad?” I ask as I follow her out the door. “When he called you?”

She turns back to look at me, a slightly confused look on her face. “Your dad? I don’t know if he’s angry or not.” She shrugs. “I was sent by Zane Romero.”

Dad’s driving so fast, I’m pressed against the soft leather seat of his car as he accelerates up the hill. Neither of us has said a word since we left the police station. I wish he’d get mad or yell or something. Staring straight ahead in silence is killing me.

“I’m sorry.” My voice cracks and seems to evaporate into the air.

Dad chews his bottom lip and glances out his window. “I know.”

Those two words give me some courage. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

He stares straight ahead. “You didn’t pull an Alicia on anyone? You didn’t lie to me about it? Or to the police?”

“Okay—”

“For God’s sake, Lexi—I had to come and pick you up
at a police station!” I can feel him ramping up. “All this crap has been going on while I was away, and you didn’t even tell me? I’m your father. What if you’d been hurt … or killed? All because you didn’t want to tell me what kind of trouble the two of you were in!”

“I’m fine,” I say quietly, facing the side window. “Thanks for asking.”

I see him flinch at my words, and I’m glad. He glances at me. “Good,” he says, the harsh edge to his voice softened somewhat. “That’s good. As soon as we get home, I’ll get in touch with a few lawyers I know, and we can get rid of that two-bit ambulance chaser you met with down at the station.”

“Ms. Alvarez?” I ask. “I like her. And Detective Naito said that she’s one of the best defense attorneys in the state.”

Dad winces as I say the detective’s name. “I’ll tell you one thing, young lady. From now on, I’m in charge. I say who you talk to and who you don’t. Keeping this to yourselves is what let it get so far out of control in the first place.”

I wish I could just hand everything over to him and Ms. Alvarez in a neat little package. There’s nothing I’d like more than to take myself out of the equation. But I know I can’t. “I was only trying to help,” I say, figuring this is what he wants to hear right now. “I thought I could fix it before anyone found out.”

“And how’s that working for you?” he asks, pulling into the circular driveway. “You’re busy fixing it while I get a frantic phone call from your sister that the cops have taken you away in handcuffs.” Dad shakes his head as he reaches for the
door handle. “I don’t want you talking about this with anyone. Not even Cecilia. She’s already upset enough.”

I walk toward the stone steps that lead down to the patio, glancing once at the space in the driveway where my car should be. I hope Ms. Alvarez is right and I’ll get it back tomorrow. I feel trapped not having any way to get around. Not that Dad’s going to let me out of his sight.

“Lexi!” Ava shouts as soon as I walk in the door. She runs up and throws her arms around me like I’ve been gone for months. “Thank God you’re okay.”

“You wouldn’t have to thank anyone if the two of you hadn’t been screwing around in the first place,” Dad says, glaring at us.

Anger wells up inside me. “We weren’t screwing around. I’ve been trying to deal with this since the first time the cops came to the door.”

He looks surprised. “Which is right when you should have called me! I could have fixed this in two minutes, but now I’m going to spend money on lawyers and have to take time off work.”

And there it is. “You can’t fix everything, Dad,” I say, my voice surprisingly cold. “Even with all the money you have to throw at the problem, you can’t get me into Stanford and you can’t make this problem disappear.”

Dad looks around, and for a split second it feels like he’s going to throw something at me. I’ve never talked back to him like this before, and I feel a weight lift off my chest. I recognize the look on his face as he struggles to speak—it’s powerlessness. Ava just stares at us.

“This isn’t about money,” he says, his voice gruff and low. “This is about trust. And apparently you don’t have any in me.”

Cecilia appears from the kitchen, but she won’t even look at me. Her face is drawn and pale, and I know it’s not all just worry about her sister and the mysterious Rubi. For the first time since Dad picked me up, I feel ashamed of what we’ve done and the lies we’ve told to get here. I wonder if she thinks I really did it, if she thinks that someone she knows as well as she knows herself really is capable of murder. I know the sick feeling those thoughts leave in your stomach.

“There’s some food on the counter,” she says—her version of a peace offering to try to get things back to normal.

“Like I could eat,” Dad says, brushing past her. He turns to me and Ava. “You’re grounded until I say you’re not.” He storms out of the room and we hear his door slam at the other end of the house.

“What happened?” Ava finally asks. “I was so freaked out when I saw all those cops in the office. I totally can’t believe they took you to the station—in handcuffs.” I watch her hands as she talks, punctuating the air with fingers wearing chipped pink polish. Could they really have held a knife? Could she really kill someone in cold blood?

I pull myself away from these thoughts. “Seriously, Ava,” I say, walking back toward the kitchen. “Calm down.”

“Zane totally had everything under control,” Ava continues, ignoring me. “He talked to one of the detectives after he saw your car on the tow truck, and in two seconds he was
on the phone—said he was talking to some kind of family friend.”

“He got the lawyer for me,” I say, wondering why he’d go to all that trouble. “She’s cool, even though she let the police keep the car.”

She puts one hand to her mouth. “Oh my God! They took your car.”

“It’s going to be okay.” At this point, it seems like the least of my problems. “My lawyer said I should be able to get it back tomorrow.” My lawyer. So weird saying those words.

“Are you hungry?” Cecilia asks, lifting the lid on a pot on the stove. Her hand is shaking.

“Starving,” I answer honestly. Usually my stomach rejects food in the middle of trouble, but it feels like I haven’t eaten in a year.

Cecilia carries a bunch of parsley to the cutting board. “Let me just get some of this—Dammit!” The knife clatters to the cutting board as she sticks her finger in her mouth.