The Good Twin(67)

“You can’t believe that,” Mallory said to me.

I didn’t. Not that it mattered. I took a step toward Ben, and he backed away from me. I kept approaching, backing him toward the wall, not getting close enough for him to grab the gun.

“Charly,” Mallory said, “it’s over for him. Let Detective Saldinger handle it now.”

“So he can get some fancy lawyer who’ll come up with some way-out defense? Remember the Twinkie defense? Got the guy cleared of a murder charge.”

“You’re not a murderer,” Ben said, his voice now low and steady, his eyes locked on mine. He’d reached the wall. I stopped just out of his arm’s reach. “You don’t want to do this. I’m going to prison. You don’t need to, also.”

It gave me pleasure to see the fear in his eyes. I relished the power I felt with the gun in my hand. For months, I had been powerless as I’d watched my father die. I’d felt powerless as Ben snuck off every evening to be with his mistress. No longer. Now, I felt infused with power. I could have turned on the transmitter, put the gun down, and waited for Saldinger to come into the townhouse. I didn’t want to. As much as I’d once loved Ben, that’s how much I hated him now.

“Why, Ben? Just tell me why?”

He looked up at the ceiling and held his gaze there.

“Answer me!” I shouted.

He looked back at me. “Because I wanted your money. And I didn’t want you.”

I took a step forward, my head filled with a furious pounding, blocking out the shouts of my sister. I hated him, this man I’d shared my life with, my deepest secrets, and wildest dreams. I’d made him rich, and that’s all he’d wanted from me. I held my arms out in front, both hands clasping the gun, my finger on the trigger. I didn’t see Mallory run up behind me. I didn’t see her step in front of Ben, and I didn’t hear her shout, “No, Charly!” until after I’d pulled the trigger and the bullet headed straight for her chest. I screamed when she dropped to the floor.

Ben used the moment to run for the door. I didn’t hesitate. I quickly blocked his path but got too close. He grabbed for the gun, but I held on tight as he tried to wrestle it from my hands. Ben had six inches and seventy pounds on me, but it didn’t matter. My anger fueled my strength.

“Let go, you bitch,” Ben said. The look of fear in his eyes was gone, replaced by a coldness that matched my own.

I remained silent, my only thought getting free of Ben as we each struggled for the gun. I didn’t have much time. I knew Saldinger had to have heard the gunshot. I silently thanked my hours in the gym as I made a push to twist the gun upward, then shoved it under Ben’s chin and, once again, pulled the trigger.

Ben dropped to the floor, his blood splattering over my beautiful Persian rug, and I briefly thought, I wonder if that stain will come out. I pressed the gun into Ben’s right hand, then ran back to Mallory. I cradled her body in mine, both of us covered in blood. That’s where Detective Saldinger found me when he burst through the back door.

“He shot her. He shot her,” I cried, tears trickling down my cheeks. “I rushed him to get the gun away, and we struggled, and it went off. He tried to shoot me, too. Get an ambulance. We need an ambulance. Oh, please, help Mallory. Please help her.”

Saldinger called for an ambulance, then gently lifted me up.

“It’s on the way.” He brought me over to the couch to sit down. “Why didn’t you have the transmitter on?”

“What do you mean? It’s on.” I pulled it out of my pocket and handed it to him. The light was off. “Oh, God, I turned it off when I went back to get Mallory, and I pressed it back on when we got to the den. I must not have pushed it hard enough.”

I began crying more steadily, with genuine remorse for my sister. But my anguish over Mallory was mixed with joyfulness. Ben was dead. My nightmare was over.





PART THREE

MALLORY





CHAPTER 47

“What are you doing?” I shouted at Charly when she pulled out a gun. This wasn’t our plan. She wasn’t supposed to kill Ben. She already had his confession that he was the one who’d hatched the scheme, not me. Now that she’d seen Ben’s reaction when he realized she was alive, Saldinger would come in at any moment to arrest him. It was over, all but the trial. Surely, Ben would take a plea, and there wouldn’t even need to be a trial. We could both get on with our lives, with the sweet addition of having each other now.

She moved toward Ben, the gun held close to her body.

“Charly, don’t!” She wouldn’t shoot Ben; she couldn’t. If she shot him, she’d be sent to prison, and I’d lose the sister I’d had so briefly. I stood rooted to my spot in the room, convinced Charly was just trying to scare him, urging her to put the gun down.

Charly took another step forward and now extended her arms, the gun held in both hands. “You’re going to ruin everything, Charly. Think of us. We finally found each other. Think of our grandparents.” She seemed oblivious to my shouts, her eyes fixed on Ben. “If you do this, I won’t forgive you,” I warned. Her finger began to move to the trigger.

“No!” I screamed as I ran toward Ben, ran to push him away. Just as I reached him, there was a thunderous sound. I felt nothing and wondered why my legs had buckled, then looked down and saw dark-red blood ooze from the top of my chest. I tried to lift my hand to touch it, but nothing worked. I heard sounds of a scuffle, then another gunshot. Darkness overcame the room, and I closed my eyes and drifted into it.