The Lies I Told(47)

“Richards.”

He winced. “Ouch. Not the blast from the past I was hoping for.”

“I’ve seen him a couple of times this week.”

He picked up his beer mug and paused. “Okay.”

“Nothing new to report on Clare’s death. It’s a semiactive case headed for the freezer. He’s retiring.”

“Sorry to hear that.” He took a long drink.

“Are you?”

“No.”

“He interviewed you, right?”

“He certainly did. Many times. Don’t be fooled by his easy style. That one’s a hawk.”

“Do you remember what he asked you?” I asked.

“Anything and everything. Once my DNA was found on Clare, it sounded alarm bells. Exactly when did I see Clare last? Did we fight? Did you or Clare piss me or anyone else off so much to kill? And then when Dad hired an attorney, the questions shifted, and the cops backed off. Did I know of anyone who might have wanted to hurt Clare or you? Did I see anyone follow her out of the party?”

Clare or you. It was always coming back to me. “And what did you say?”

“That I had picked Clare up for the party at your house. I thought it was you at first. She walked straight up to the car, leaned over, and kissed me on the lips. I’d never fallen for the MC-dog-and-pony-show switch before, but I did at first.”

“What was the tip-off?”

“Her breasts. They’re smaller than yours.” He’d the good sense to keep his gaze on my eyes.

“Were you mad?”

“No. Turned on. We drove to the party and went to the pool house. Had sex on the deflated floats.”

“Did she say why she wanted to be me?” I’d never asked because I’d been in too big a rush to see Jack.

“She said being you was more fun.” A half smile tugged his lips. “She’d walked on the wild side once or twice and found she really liked it. Said she felt less pressured when she pretended to be you.”

“Less pressure?”

“To get the good grades, follow the rules, do Brit’s bidding.”

“I didn’t realize she felt that way.”

“I know you two liked to switch things up, pretend to be the other. Didn’t she take your PSATs for you?”

I cleared my throat. “No comment.”

“I thought so.”

“She hated it when I needed her to be me.”

“Maybe at first. Then she liked it. She’d started drinking, you know.”

I tried to picture my twin embracing the role of the bad sister. “What happened at the party?”

“When we actually got to Jo-Jo’s house, she said she wanted to dance, but I didn’t. My teammates were there, and I wanted to hang out. She was annoyed, then said okay and got lost in the crowd. That’s when Tamara appeared. Maybe if I had danced with Clare, she’d still be alive.”

“Have you seen Tamara recently?”

“No. I’ve done my best to distance myself from all that.”

“Did Brit tell you my birthday party would be filled with all the suspects?”

“No, but I’d have come either way. I wanted to see you. Tell you I was sorry.”

The years peeled away, and I was looking into the eyes of a wounded eighteen-year-old boy. He still carried the weight of Clare’s death.

“Did you tell Richards that you’d gotten us mixed up?” I asked.

“No. It didn’t seem relevant. I’d enough to explain when the DNA tests came back. I had to tell him we’d had sex the night she’d died. That’s when I became Suspect #1.”

“You two were dating. Sex would have been understandable.”

“What mattered was that I didn’t tell Richards until he had the DNA in hand.”

“And when Clare left the party, you were talking to Tamara, right?”

“Yeah. That’s the beauty of being an eighteen-year-old. Erections were easy to come by.” He held up his beer. “Those were the days.”

Kurt’s dad had been diagnosed with ALS a month before Clare died. Kurt had told Clare how much he feared watching his father go downhill so fast. He’d felt helpless against a random, ugly disease. It didn’t have motive or intent. It simply struck as a wild animal might. And Clare’s murder, the police, and media scrutiny had made his father’s disease progress faster.

Kurt had left Richmond and come back a year later when his father was dying. He had skipped college, taken over the family business by the age of twenty, and all his dreams of playing college or pro ball had vanished.

“Did Clare mention that she’d had a fight with Brit right before she came to the party?” he asked.

“What was the fight about?” Brit had said nothing about a fight.

“She never said, but she was stewing about it in the car. I think that’s why she was in such a mood that night. I told Richards, but if he asked Brit about it, she came up with something that turned it all back on me.”

I’d read Kurt’s statement, and he’d said nothing to Richards about a fight between Brit and Clare. Maybe there were other files Richards hadn’t shared. Maybe Kurt wasn’t being truthful. Everyone lies.

“Where were you that night?” Kurt asked.