The Third Twin (31 page)

“And how are you going to find him alone?” Elena asks. She’s got a worried look on her face that belongs on a mother.

As she speaks, an idea starts to form in my mind. It’s a small chance, but it’s better than none. “If what Rubi says is true, then maybe we won’t have to find him.” I glance at Zane, who’s listening carefully. “We can let him find us.”

“What if it doesn’t work?” I ask Zane. “There are so many things that can go wrong. What if he doesn’t show up? Or the cops find us? What if you get hurt?”

Zane puts his hands on the top of the old wooden swing set in Rubi’s backyard and stretches his shoulders. “And what
if it does work? We catch him red-handed. It’s a great plan, Lex,” he says. “And right now it’s the only plan.”

I’m sitting on the platform by the slide, the wood warm against my legs. I glance at the sliding door, but I don’t see anyone inside. Zane walks over to where I’m sitting, and at this height, I can see the gold flecks in his brown eyes. “Don’t worry about me,” he says. “The biggest advantage this guy had is the element of surprise, and we’re taking that away. If we can catch him with the weapon, the detectives will be able to link him to all of the crimes. Case closed.”

“I know, but—”

“Stop with the ‘buts.’ We can do this.” He playfully punches me in the arm. “You can do this. The biggest question is where.”

I try to stop dwelling on the negatives and pretend that I feel a tenth as confident as he does. “We know that he follows the guys, learns their routines, figures out a time when they’ll be alone.”

“For all we know, he’s already following us,” Zane says. “He could have been watching the whole time from the minute you left Eli in the alley.”

I don’t want to admit he might be right. “How about the beach?” I say. “We’ve both been there a lot, and after five, Eighteenth Street really clears out.”

Zane nods, considering it, the sun shining through the ends of his curls. “It might not clear out enough, though. Cardiff could work—secluded enough that there won’t be too many people around but close enough …”

I know what he’s thinking. Close enough to people for them to hear someone screaming.

“Close enough that it’s safe,” he finally says. “But when?”

“Tonight,” I suggest, mostly because if I have too long to think about it, I’m sure I’ll lose my nerve.

“Okay.” Zane smiles, his support unwavering. “I’ll post on my page that I’m going there, in case he’s checking.”

“Doesn’t everyone think you’re gone?” I get a pang of guilt whenever I think of the trip to Tahiti. He should be on an island in the Pacific Ocean right now, getting ready for the surf competition, not plotting to catch a killer with me.

“Not that many people know about it.” He smiles at me. “It’ll be fine.” Zane tilts his head like he’s thinking about something. “There’s one more thing. We have to make it believable.”

“Believable how?”

“That we’re together. In order to get this guy to strike, he has to think we’re going out. I think we should … practice.” I must have a weird look on my face, because he quickly adds, “Just so it looks right. Believable. We can call it a rehearsal.”

“Okay.” I study the wooden surface of the swing set, unable to look at him. I always say I don’t think about Zane this way, that we’re just old friends, but I realize now that’s not true. I’m very much thinking about him this way. I feel so guilty. Twelve hours ago I was holding Eli’s lifeless body in my lap, and now I’m having thoughts about Zane. I shake my head. I’m not betraying Eli—I’m trying to find him justice. This is all just a rehearsal.

Zane puts one hand on either side of where I’m sitting. His face is dangerously close to mine, and I realize this is what I’ve wanted since we were in bed together last night. Since before last night. I’m a terrible person.

“So what should we do?” I whisper.

He seems to consider that question for a second. “I think you should kiss me. On the lips, just once, to see if it looks authentic.”

Zane’s smile is wide as he bends toward me, and despite how casual I’m trying to make this moment, I inhale sharply when his lips touch mine. There’s an electricity between us in even the smallest contact, and it feels like my insides are spinning. He pulls away from me, and it’s like a light has gone out, but I do my best to cover my reaction. After all, this is just pretend.

I cough a little to clear my throat. “Like that?” I’m sure he can hear my heart beating, the pounding is so loud in my ears.

In response, Zane leans in again, until there is no space between our bodies. He pulls me toward him as he brushes his lips against my neck and traces my jaw before finding my mouth again, the desire in his kiss echoing through my body. We stay like that for several long moments, my hand raking through his hair as his holds the back of my neck. When he finally pulls away, I feel like I’ve come home.

“I’m thinking more like that,” he says with a broad grin.

I burst into tears.

“Oh, shit!” he says, first putting one arm around me and
then awkwardly dropping it to step back and look into my eyes. “I’m so sorry! Lexi … talk to me. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean anything, I swear.…”

I take a couple of deep breaths and try to regain control. This is all just pretend. We’re just putting on a show—no different from when I kissed Steve Miller in
Guys and Dolls
in eighth grade. I wipe my face with both palms. “I’m sorry,” I say finally. “It’s just … it’s just been a hard couple of days.”

Zane walks a few steps away from me and laces his fingers behind his head. “I should have known not to mess around like that.” His face is a mask of worry. “With everything that went on last night—”

I wave one hand at him. “It’s okay.” I sniff and sit up straight. “I think that will do fine.”

“No way,” Cecilia says the minute we tell them the plan. “It’s too dangerous.”

“She’s right,” Ava says, and I’m surprised she’s agreeing with anything Cecilia says at this point. “It’s crazy.”

“Any of you have a better idea?” I ask. The living room is silent for several seconds.

“Then I think we have to try,” Zane says, rubbing at the beads of moisture on the outside of the glass of water he’s nursing. He’s been shooting me anxious looks since we came inside, which only make me feel worse.

“I don’t like it either, but we can’t just hide out here waiting for the cops to find us. The only suspects they’re looking for are sitting right here in this room,” I say. “It’s up to us to find the real killer.”

Ava slaps her hands on the arm of the sofa. “How can we find the real killer when we don’t have a clue who that is?”

“It’s someone who hates you enough to want you both in jail,” Zane says.

“And smart enough to plant evidence,” I say. “Did Ms. Alvarez say anything else about Dylan’s DNA on my backpack? What it was? Where it was?”

“No. She barely had time to get that out before I bailed,” Ava says.

Zane turns to me. “You’re sure there’s no way Dylan had your backpack? Maybe there’s a logical explanation for how it got there.”

“No! I always keep it on the island in the kitchen. The only time I met Dylan was in our hallway one night. That’s it.” I glance at Ava, but she looks down at the coffee table. “There’s no way that his DNA could have gotten on my backpack accidentally. Someone had to have put it there. On purpose.”

“So who could hate us that much?” Ava asks.

Everyone hesitates, and it’s a little disturbing to think about who might have it in for us. Some crazy person we pissed off without even knowing it.

“How about that guy from the party? The one with the tarantula tattoo?” Zane says, glancing at Cecilia.

I shrug a tiny bit. It’s too late to keep secrets from her now. “I’ve thought about him.”

“I have no idea who that guy even was,” Ava says. “But he was pretty pissed off.”

We all look at Rubi. She glances at the ceiling and then down at her hands. “That would be Brian.” She catches my
eye. “Okay, okay. He was my one and only solo experiment as Alicia. He’s kind of a jerk, but I don’t think he’s a killer.”

Zane rubs his cheek where Brian hit him that night. “I’m not so sure about that.”

“What happened with this tattooed Brian person?” Cecilia asks.

Rubi shrugs. “We went out a couple of times, but he was kind of a thug.” She breaks into a little smile. “Which was fun at first. But then, not so much. I basically just avoided him after that, didn’t return his calls, you know?”

“And when he saw me at the party that night, he wanted Alicia to know how he felt,” I say.

“But Casey had already been killed by then,” Zane says. “When did you go out with him?”

“Before Casey,” Rubi says. “Just after Valentine’s Day.”

“Which would put him in the right time frame,” Ava says. “He would have been the last guy Alicia dated before Casey.”

I feel closed in, the clues overlapping on themselves until they’re just a confusing jumble. “I’m going to get some water,” I say, standing up and pushing my way past Ava and Rubi.

I don’t notice that Zane is following me until I get to the kitchen and he reaches out to touch my arm. “Listen, Lex. About what happened—”

“It’s fine,” I interrupt. I can’t look at him, so I stare out the window. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Maybe I do,” he says quietly.

“I totally overreacted,” I say. “You were right—we needed
to practice to make sure it looks right. It’s not like either of us meant anything by it.”

“Right,” he says quickly. “I just wanted to make sure we were both clear on that.”

“Well, we are. Don’t worry about it.”

“I thought you were pissed at me.” Zane’s face is as serious as I’ve ever seen it. “I’d never do anything to hurt you. You know that, right?”

I nod. Standing next to me is the Zane from years ago—the one who’d let me run his train set too fast until the engine flew off the rails, and who pushed Gordon Faulkner into a puddle because he tried to look at my underwear on the swings. I didn’t realize until recently how much I missed that Zane.

I fill my glass with water from the faucet and turn to him. The awkwardness in the room is almost palpable. “We should get back.”

“Right,” he agrees.

In the living room, Zane slides into the chair farthest from my spot on the couch and focuses on Rubi.

“I still don’t think Brian would do this. I’m not sure he’s smart enough to plant evidence and all that,” she’s saying.

I shake my head. “So far, this Brian guy is the only one with any motive that I can see. And motive is what we’ve been missing. He was sure mad enough that night at the party.”

“And he already thinks I’m going out with Alicia,” Zane says.

Cecilia raises her eyebrows but doesn’t say anything.

Zane leans forward. “Look, we’re all sitting here thinking that whoever did it was trying to frame you.” He looks around the room. “But what if we’ve got it wrong? What if the killer was actually out to protect you?”

“What in the hell are you talking about?” Ava snaps.

“No—listen. Casey is killed right after he hurts you. Or whoever he thinks is Alicia. And Dylan is killed right after he humiliates Alicia by cheating on her.”

“That’s crazy,” I say. “What did Eli do?”

He shrugs. “I’m not sure. Maybe whoever did this thinks Eli hurt you too. Or was going to.”

“Nobody is going to go around killing people just because they hurt Alicia,” Ava says.

“What about the photos online? In every one of them, the guys are angry. What if those aren’t to show the motive, but to show that the guys had it coming in some weird way?”

“I put the photos on Alicia’s page,” Rubi says.

We all turn to look at her.

“It was just for fun. Some selfies, the photos from shows I went to, stuff like that,” she says.

“What about the pictures of us with the guys?” Ava asks. “Were you following us around and taking photos of us too?”

Rubi looks confused. “I didn’t take pictures of you with any guys. I haven’t actually been on Alicia’s page in weeks.”

Zane pulls up the page and hands the phone to her.

“I didn’t do these,” she says, shaking her head. “I didn’t take any of these last ones. Someone else put those there. Wow. Whoever it is really wants you to go down for this.”