The Good Twin(18)

I wasn’t sure how a house in the country would help transform me into Charly.

“They’ve already left for Florida. They leave a car up there, and I have keys to both the house and the car. You can stay there. I have hours of video of Charly for you to study. Her accent, especially. Your voices are the same, but yours shows that you grew up in Scranton, not New York. Each week, I’ll send you reams of information about her friends, her business associates, her likes and dislikes. You’ll need to memorize it all.”

He stepped back and looked me over.

“I’ll give you a picture of her hairstyle, and you can get yours cut and colored to look the same. How much do you weigh?”

“One hundred twenty-two.”

“You’ll need to lose ten pounds. Join a gym up there.”

I’d been shaking my head slightly the whole time he was talking. “This is crazy. It’s never going to work.”

“Why not?”

“Do you even know someone who’d . . . who’d—”

“Kill her?”

I nodded.

“I might.” He opened his briefcase and took out a pen and notepad. He handed both to me, then instructed me to sign Charly’s name. When I finished, he looked it over and smiled. “This twin thing is amazing. Your penmanship is exactly like Charly’s. No one would question it.”

“How long would I stay there?”

“Until Charly’s father passes away. The doctors give him three to five months.”

I felt myself getting drawn deeper and deeper into Ben’s plan. I clutched my sweater tighter around me. Despite the warm temperature, I had started to shiver.

“You’ll need to cut off all ties with anyone you know here. Make up some story. You’re homesick, or you want to try LA. Tell them anything so they won’t be looking for you. And then, no contact.”

“Not even e-mail?” I thought that Brian would find it odd if I didn’t keep in touch with him. Maybe Lauren, too, now that I’d reconnected with her. I realized how miserable my life had been that no one else would care if I disappeared.

“Maybe a little at first, then kind of fade away. You’re too busy to write in your new life; that’s what you’ll tell them.”

“What would I do for money if I’m not working?”

“I’ll give you spending money. As much as you need. So . . . are you in?”

Was I? My stomach was churning, and my fingers and toes tingled. I understood that if I said yes, I would be agreeing to commit the worst crime, made even more reprehensible because she was my sister. And I knew that once I agreed, I wouldn’t be able to back away from it.

“I don’t know. I just don’t know.”



I tried to block Ben’s proposal from my mind. I returned to work, to my art classes, even to the Guggenheim. It helped to be busy. But at night, when I’d lie in bed, unable to sleep, I kept thinking about how different my life would have been if I’d been born second, if I’d been the daughter Rick and Sarah Jensen had adopted. I kept telling myself that a bad break didn’t justify murder, that she was my sister, and no matter how cruel she was, she didn’t deserve to die. Most of the time, I convinced myself to brush off Ben’s proposal. Then I’d picture her townhouse and imagine myself living there. I’d picture her kitchen and imagine myself cooking there. I pictured her art gallery and imagined working with talented artists.

When I’d met Ben at the diner, he’d asked whether I’d thought it unfair that Charly had grown up with so much, and me with so little. The more I dwelled on it, the easier it became to magnify the inequities. As Ben’s scathing description of Charly kept swirling through my mind, I began to think of her as unworthy of the riches she’d been given, simply by being born second. I had been offered a path to escape the hardscrabble lives of my mother and grandmother. Why shouldn’t I take it?

Ten days after I’d met Ben in the park, after Lou Castro had squeezed my shoulder every morning during breakfast at The Dump, after a table of four and then a table of six had stiffed me on a tip at the restaurant, and after, on the way home from art class, a homeless drunk lurking in the shadow of the subway platform exposed himself as I walked past, I decided I was tired of being the good sister. I was tired of struggling. It was my turn now.

I knew it was evil. I no longer cared. I called Ben Gordon. “I’m in.”





CHAPTER 13

I made sure to catch an earlier bus the next day so I’d have time to speak to Gus before customers started arriving at the restaurant. “I’m handing in my notice,” I told him when I arrived. “Two weeks.”

Gus looked at me with surprise. “What’s wrong, Mallory? I thought you liked it here.”

“I do. You’ve been great.”

“You going to another restaurant?”

“No. I’m moving to LA. I got a job offer. Art related. I couldn’t turn it down.”

“Well, if it’s good for you, then I’m happy. You’re too smart to do this for long.” He bent over and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I would miss Gus.

Four days later, before leaving for my art class, I called Adam. He’d called me three times since we’d met for dinner, and each time I’d let it go to voice mail. Now, I had to let him know I was leaving town.