Pulling up against a sidewalk a short while later, the sun has begun to peek through the clouds. The raindrops have lessened to a gentle sprinkling over the stationary car and I trail my fingers along the trickling pathways they create down the windowpanes. I’ve parked a few streets over, erring on the side of caution even though it takes a little longer, winding through backstreets and circling back on myself to make sure I wasn’t followed. Tugging the hood back down to cover the top half of my face, I exit the vehicle without wasting any more time on ‘what ifs’ and finish my morning adventure on foot.
Halting in front of the iron gates that have kept me safe from outside threats for the past seven years, I stare longingly at the building within. I’d expected the mansion to be deserted but still, the lack of light within and shadows cast over the outside seem sadly cold. No one would believe we hosted the best Halloween parties or danced around the Christmas tree on December 1st, singing at the top of our lungs. The stone walls appear to have long forgotten the lively personality mum once brought, the wilted flowers no longer able to blossom without her laughter around.
Checking either side of me, there’s not a soul around except for a red Mini Cooper parked at the end of the street so I discreetly key the pin into the side gate and slip inside. Jogging up the gravelled driveaway, I head to the back of the house and duck out of sight from the main street. Leaves and twigs litter the swimming pool, beer bottles strewn across the patio from our rushed exit.
Dropping to my knees by the French sliding doors, I scramble my way through a thick bush to the left until my fingers graze the hidden key box attached to the outer wall. Without needing to see, I’m able to locate the finger sensor and release the key to let myself into my home. An overpowering stale smell hits me before I notice the layer of dust covering every surface. Tiptoeing, despite being alone, I head for the kitchen first and pluck Detective Vincent’s contact card from the refrigerator. Dirty dishes are piled in the sink, the clumps of mould covering them making me gag.
Deciding to call Susie in when I get back to Axel’s to sort this place out before it becomes uninhabitable, I move into Nixon’s office and settle myself into his leather chair. He always kept spare cell phones in his desk drawer for some reason, although now I understand his need for multiple burners. Plucking out the first one I grab; I switch it on to dial the number on the card. The dial tone sounds on repeat while my eyes drift over the mess of strewn papers and open cupboards the police must have left.
“Hello?” a familiar voice answers after almost a full minute.
“Hey, Detective Vincent. It’s Avery.” I swing side to side in the chair as a there’s a slight pause on the other end of the receiver.
“Oh my, Avery! I’ve been so worried about you. Where have you been, are you safe?”
“Yes, I’m safe. I’ve just popped back to my house to do something quickly. I’m staying at my friend Axel’s place which is convenient because he lives nearby in Georgia too. I just wanted to see if you had any news on the men that kept breaking into my house?” I ask coyly, not wanting to spill the secret of Meg being my twin but also secretly hoping Perelli has been identified and Meg has already been rescued.
“No leads unfortunately. Have you come across any clues as to who they might be?” I bite my bottom lip, wondering whether to tell her everything I know in the hopes it will save Meg quicker. But Nixon was adamant her link to me was kept a secret, so I must trust I’ll find another way.
“Nothing,” I sigh. We finish the conversation pleasantly and I immediately power off the cell phone, slipping it into my coat pocket in case I need it for later. I don’t know how I’m ever going to find my twin, but I’ll never stop trying. I just need a clue as to where Wyatt might have taken her. I know Perelli runs the mob in Chicago, but I can hardly drive there and start asking randoms on the street where he lives. Although soon that might be my only option. Not to give him any credit, but weirdly I think Wyatt has helped me to face the fearsome reality of the world I was hiding from. I’m invincible now, and nothing will stop me from getting my twin back.
A bang sounds upstairs, my heart lurching in panic. My breathing halts as the room starts to tilt, panic seizing my body. A part of me wants to crawl beneath the desk and hide, I was just praying for a lead and I might have found one. Sliding out of the chair, I dash to the wooden sideboard and lift the lid where a double-barrelled shotgun is hidden. My mum had insisted I visited a gun range once every three months to boost my confidence and learn to protect myself, so I load in the two shells and brace myself to put her money to good use.
Twisting the doorknob, I push the door open with my foot. Both hands are
