The Third Twin (34 page)

Cecilia shrugs like it’s no big deal. “It wasn’t even that hard—I just pithed them like we used to do to suckling pigs when I was a kid.” She makes a twisting motion with her right hand, like she’s putting a key in a lock. “You should have seen the look on Casey’s face, so surprised and bug-eyed.” She smiles a little wistfully, her eyes flat and emotionless. “He deserved it the most.”

There’s stunned silence. I look at Cecilia, really look at her: at the wiry strands of gray that are starting to pepper her dark hair, the hands that changed our diapers when we were small, now with nails bitten down to the skin. These are the
hands that ended Eli’s life. And Dylan’s. And Casey’s. It’s like the Cecilia I’ve seen almost every day of my entire life doesn’t really exist. It doesn’t seem possible.

I shake my head, trying to make sense of her reasoning. “But why? Why would you do something like that and make them think it was us?”

“That was an accident. I never meant for the cops to suspect you. I put the photos up on Alicia’s page to help you—to show that you were the victims here.” She takes a step toward us, her eyes glassy as she seems to stare past me. “None of those guys was good enough for you. They all hurt you.”

“But you don’t just
kill
people,” I say, my voice rising in anger even though I try to stop it. Zane and I both take a step back.

She looks confused, even hurt. “I only did what I had to do to keep you safe. That’s my job, to keep you and Ava safe.”

Zane’s left arm is twitching against mine, and I put a hand out to keep him calm. It’s not time yet. “Get into the van,” I say to him, tired of all this talking. Cecilia is still at least five feet away from us.

“I wouldn’t do that,” she says.

“Why not?” I glance at her, but she hasn’t moved. “You have a knife. What are you going to do to the two of us from over there?”

Cecilia pulls a small black gun out of her pocket with her right hand.

I take another step backward.

“Now just leave Lexi alone and get back into the car with me,” Cecilia says, flicking the gun in Zane’s direction.

“Zane hasn’t done anything,” I protest. “He’s been helping me.”

Cecilia looks at me, the gun still level in her hand. “But don’t you see, baby girl? He’s only going to hurt you in the end. They all are. This is all for your own good. Besides, Zane knows too much—he practically said it back at the house. He’d go running to the cops in a second.”

Zane squeezes my hand one last time and then lets it drop as he starts toward Cecilia.

“No!” I can’t believe he’s just going to give up.

She keeps the gun trained on him as he walks toward her.

Just as he reaches the Lexus, he lunges for Cecilia, and the gun goes off into the air as he forces her hand upward. I run to them, and she starts to fight him off, kicking and jerking as he forces her up against the alley wall. The gun clatters to the ground and is kicked to the side. She’s no match for his strength. I should have known he wasn’t going to give up so easily.

“Check her pocket for the knife,” Zane says, his breath ragged as he presses Cecilia’s hands against the wall. With one last effort, Cecilia twists away from him, shoving him with both hands so that he loses his balance. In a flash, Zane goes after her, and they struggle on the ground before he hauls her back to her feet and pushes her back up against the bricks. The fight seems to have gone out of her, and she sags under Zane’s grip, her eyes fixed on the ground.

“Okay,” I say, patting her jacket pocket. We need the knife—it’s the only thing linking Cecilia to all the murders. It’s Ava’s and my key to freedom and she’s got to have it on
her. As I search, something wet drops to the dusty asphalt, and I follow the dark rivulets of blood up Zane’s arm to his shoulder. “Don’t move,” I say, my voice as steady as I can make it. “I found the knife.”

“Damn,” Zane says as he sees what I see: the handle of the knife sticking out just below his collarbone.

“No, don’t!” I shout, grabbing his free hand as he reaches for it. “You have to leave it. If you pull it out, you could bleed to death.”

“I’m okay,” he insists. I look at the beads of sweat on his upper lip and the waxiness of his skin and know that he’s not.

“You’re losing a lot of blood,” I tell him. “Try not to move. Can you hold her?”

Zane presses her against the wall with his good hand. “Yeah.” He nods quickly.

I yank the door of the van open and find a beach towel wadded into the corner. I grab it and race back to the two of them. Cecilia hasn’t moved, but Zane’s eyes are mirroring the panic he must be feeling.

“Here,” I say. “I’m going to wrap the knife in the towel so it won’t move. And hopefully we can stop the bleeding. Okay?”

“Okay.” He nods just the smallest bit.

My hands are shaking as I press the towel up to the wound. His shirt is already soaked red with blood. Zane winces as my wrist bumps the handle of the knife.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“It’s okay,” he says, managing a half smile.

Cecilia says nothing as I finish wrapping the wound. She’s
defeated, all the fight gone out of her. I look and see blood already welling up under the towel—all of us frozen in our positions. My heart sinks, and I realize the cops had better hurry. “Does it hurt?”

“Not really,” he says, looking down curiously. His words are thick in his mouth. “I’m getting kind of dizzy, though.”

“I’m going to call for help again,” I say, looking down the empty alley. What’s taking the cops so long?

I’m halfway to the van when I hear the screech of tires and the sirens wail as both exits to the alley are suddenly filled with cop cars, their flashing blue and red lights flickering over the high walls of the alley.

“They’re here,” I say, rushing back to Zane. I’ve never been happier to see cops, and they swarm the alley and start barking orders over the car’s loudspeaker.

“Everyone! Hands where we can see them!” a rough voice booms over our heads.

I put my hands up, and Zane follows as much as he can as Cecilia slips down onto the asphalt. “Zane’s hurt!” I shout. “We need an ambulance!”

Two cops approach cautiously, guns drawn.

“It’s Cecilia,” I say, nodding to her on the ground. “She had a gun. It’s over by the car.” The tall officer spins me around and slaps handcuffs hard around my wrists, while another cop yanks Cecilia roughly to her feet and cuffs her hands behind her back.

“Zane’s been stabbed,” I say as calmly as I can. “The knife is still in him. He needs help!”

The cop hesitates, but he radios the information to the
arriving cars. He shines a flashlight in Zane’s face. “Can you walk?”

Zane doesn’t say anything, just gives a short nod. His tan has disappeared and his skin is pale and mottled. “Wait!” His voice is strained. “Lexi …”

“I’m fine,” I say. “Just go with him. Don’t worry about me.”

As soon as they start to move, Zane leans on the cop, taking tiny steps toward the cars until more cops come and half support, half carry him to the ambulance that has just pulled up at the entrance to the alley. People are swarming the street now, drawn to the show by the lights and sirens.

The cops set Zane down on the bumper of the ambulance, and he’s swallowed up by people in uniform barking orders at each other. The first cop pulls me aside and shines a flashlight into my face. “What’s your name?”

“Alexa Rios,” I answer, still trying to see past the commotion at the ambulance door. Zane has to be okay. He has to be.

Cecilia is led to the open door of a cop car. I can see the top of her head as she slides into the backseat.

“You too,” the cop near me says. “Let’s go!” He grabs me by one arm and starts to lead me away.

“What the hell is going on here?” Dad’s voice booms over the chaos.

I spin around and see Dad and Ms. Alvarez flanked by Detective Naito. “Lexi?” he asks in disbelief as both he and Ms. Alvarez ignore the cops and rush toward me. “They told me you were already in custody.”

“That’s not me,” I say, not having a clue how to explain the past twenty-four hours.

“What happened?” Dad asks, his face red with emotion. He turns me toward the sunlight coming in from the end of the alley. “Jesus, are you okay? Look at you!”

I look down and notice the bloodstains that are all over my shirt and hands. “No, I’m fine.” I take a deep breath and nod toward the ambulance. “Zane got cut. It’s pretty bad. It … it was Cecilia the whole time,” I say, looking toward the cop car where Cecilia is sitting in the back, staring straight ahead.

“Cecilia?” Dad asks, sounding lost and uncertain. He turns back to me.

“She did it all,” I say, my eyes filling with tears. I don’t even recognize her anymore—the Cecilia I knew died with Casey. “She thought she was protecting us.…”

“And you took it upon yourself to find her?” Ms. Alvarez says, sounding more concerned than angry.

“You realize how dangerous this was?” Dad asks. “You could have been killed. You should have called the cops the minute you knew.”

“I know. But this was the only way I could get anyone to believe me.”

“It’s over now,” Dad says with a finality that I wish I felt. It feels like it’s all just beginning. He gestures to my shirt. “Can we … do something about this mess?”

“Not here,” the detective answers. “It’s evidence now. We’ll have to go down to the station.”

“I’m not going anywhere until I find out how Zane’s doing,” I insist.

“We’ll call his parents as soon as we can,” Ms. Alvarez says, her voice surprisingly kind. “And we’ll make sure he gets the best care available.”

One of the cops leans over and whispers something into Detective Naito’s ear. His eyes get wide and he holds out three fingers. “Three? Really?” He turns to look at me.

I glance at Dad to see if he’s following the conversation, but he’s absorbed in watching some of the other cops surround the scene in bright yellow crime-scene tape. Explaining Rubi is going to be one of the hardest parts of this day.

“Care to explain?” the detective asks me.

“It’s kind of a long story,” I say. I hear a door to the ambulance slam, and I turn in that direction, only to be stopped by one of the cops. “I have to see Zane!” I say, trying to get around him, struggling against the cuffs on my wrists.

“I’ll take her. She’ll cooperate,” Detective Naito says, nodding in that direction. As we approach the ambulance, he reaches back and uncuffs my wrists. “We’re all going to have a long night down at the station. Don’t make a liar out of me.”

I smile gratefully—he believes me. “I won’t.”

One of the back doors of the ambulance is still open, and I see Zane lying on the gurney, one arm wrapped in bandages held tightly to his chest and the other connected to tubes dripping fluid from plastic bags held up high by one of the paramedics. His eyes are closed and he still looks pale. “Is he okay?” I ask.

“Lost a lot of blood,” the paramedic says, squeezing one of the little bags.

“Hey, Lex,” Zane says, his eyes fluttering open.

I step into the ambulance and crouch down beside him, stroking his hand while avoiding the tubes. “We got her. It’s going to be okay.”

He breaks into a weak smile. “And you saved my ass in the process.”

“Not true,” I say. “You had it under control.”

“I thought it was a shortcut,” he says. “I had no idea she had a gun. Or a knife.”

I look at the bandages and realize how close we really came. How close I came to losing Zane again—this time forever.

“We need to get going,” the paramedic says, opening the back door wider.

“Okay.” I turn back to Zane and run my hand along his cheek, memorizing the spark in his brown eyes. I lean over, careful not to jostle his arm, and give him a long, hard kiss on the mouth, one that I hope holds a combination of apology and promise.

“I’m not pretending anymore,” I whisper into his ear.

Zane reaches up with his good hand, causing all the tubes to sway, and pulls me to him, his lips soft but insistent on mine.

“Damn, Lex,” he says, his voice faint in my ear. “I never was.”

There’s a squeal and then a splash as someone else is pushed into the pool down below. I turn back to Dad and the remainder of his friends sitting around the patio table and realize it’s that time of the night when the adults are going to head indoors and turn the party over to the rest of us. Paper streamers flutter from the pergola above our heads, and cheesy paper signs reading
CONGRATS
,
GRAD
! sway from the awning. I look around at the table full of gifts and the other table still groaning with food, despite the fact that we’ve been out here for hours. The past few months have felt so empty without Cecilia here, I never thought I’d be so happy for a simple graduation party in our own backyard. Nothing is ever going to be the same. I know she thought she was doing the right thing down deep in her illness, but that doesn’t change the fact that three boys are dead because of us and Cecilia is going to spend the rest of her life in jail. Because of what she wanted to do for us.
I pick up a small exquisitely wrapped box and look at the card, surprised to see that it’s from Ms. Alvarez. She’s been really helpful these past two months, even though, thankfully, we didn’t need a defense lawyer anymore. Dad tried to hire her for Cecilia and her insanity defense, but Ms. Alvarez didn’t take the case because of a conflict of interest.