“It’s all right, my love,” Angela said.
“No, it’s not all right.” Jerald gave the stack of pictures back to Uncle Victor with an expression as cold as snow. “As my wife has patiently explained, we could not have been involved in these murders. We have dedicated our lives to healing the sick around the world and only recently decided to go on sabbatical. We have been traveling the United States and hiking. Even if we had been in your state for months, we would never harm another human being. We are doctors, pacifists, humanitarians. We ended our friendship with the Wards because of our commitment to do no harm.” He spoke the name with a sarcastic twist of his lips and a roll of his eyes.
“We made it very clear that we don’t agree with their revolutionary lifestyle, their meddlesome and manipulative games. To defend my wife and our way of life, I would most definitely fight, but not for any other reason. The Wards know this. If they told you we were capable of doing these unspeakable crimes, it just goes to prove they are the ones seeking to settle the score between us by ruining our good reputation.”
Uncle Victor accepted the pictures and tucked them back into his file. “I see.” He sounded disappointed. “Thank you for your cooperation but please don’t leave the city until I’ve finished my investigation. I might have more questions for you.”
“This doesn’t feel right,” Charlie said with a shake of his head. “Neither of them fit the profile of a cold, calculating murderer. They don’t seem like the kind of people who would hire a hitman either. This is a dead end.”
Before I could reply, Angela cleared her throat. “Detective, am I allowed to ask a question?”
Uncle Victor started to rise but paused. “Sure.”
“Those two young ones you were with before…Who are they?”
Our uncle stiffened. I saw the lines of his back muscles through his shirt. Charlie was a statue beside me.
“I’m sorry but that’s none of your concern.” Uncle Victor sounded like an automated message. “They have nothing to do with this investigation.”
Angela spoke cautiously, her gaze drifting away from her interrogator and landing on the mirror behind him. As if she could sense us through the glass. “I think they do. May we speak to them?”
Charlie shivered. “This lady’s got some nerve.”
“Absolutely not,” Uncle Victor said in the same low but firm voice he used on us when we were in trouble.
Angela would not be swayed. “Please. It’s a matter of life and death.” With a little shrug, she added, “But mostly death.”
My heart beat louder and more insistently in my ears. She knows, she knows, she knows, it seemed to be saying.
Uncle Victor wasn’t playing along. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Angie,” Jerald murmured, gripping her hand. He leaned forward expectantly, ready to jump between them if he sensed danger.
Angela forged on. “I think we might be related.”
Our uncle shook his head. “Impossible. I’m their uncle. We come from a small family. I’d know if there was any relation between us.”
“I think…we might have the same mother.”
I tapped my knuckles against the glass.
“What’re you doing?” Charlie hissed, yanking my hand away. “You know the rules!”
Our uncle glanced briefly over his shoulder before excusing himself and exiting the room. He walked into the observation room a minute later, looking pale. “Do you think—?”
“I do,” I said, my breathing hitched in excitement. “You have to let me talk to her.”
“No,” Charlie all but growled as he grabbed my arm. “We don’t know what her game is. She could just be—”
“What? Bringing up Death to change the subject? Hoping we’ll forget about her potential guilt if she can find some sort of link between us?” I yanked my arm out of his grip. “She has nothing to gain by bringing up Death. In fact, she’s running the risk of sounding clinically insane by talking about Death during a recorded interrogation. She has to have a really good reason for it.”
“Maybe she is insane! Did you ever think about that?” My brother rolled his eyes. “Of course not. You’re too busy sniffing out conspiracies because you felt something funny.”
I shoved a finger in his face, forcing him to step back. “Don’t make it sound like I’m crazy, Charles! You felt it too. This means something, dammit.”
“Okay, fine. What if they turn out to be cursed too?” Charlie threw his hands in the air. “What then? We’re all just going to sit around the table and share our feelings about our shitty situations? What good could possibly come of it?”
“Are you serious right now? We could compare stories, find out what we have in common, maybe even figure out some way to convince Death to end our curses!”
“Charlie,” Uncle Vic said before the vein could pop out of my brother’s forehead. “Jasmine’s right. They could know something that might help us. Or better yet: you could know something that might help them. For years, we believed you two were the only ones burdened by Death’s magic.” He made a face. “For lack of a better term. But if these people are cursed too…At the very least, it means you’re not alone. Doesn’t that comfort you? Doesn’t that make you a little curious as to why Death chose the four of you?”
Charlie looked from me to Uncle Victor to the mirror and back. He seemed torn between grudging intrigue and his bull-headed desire to keep me safe.
“Okay,” he said after a while. “Okay, but I’m talking to them.” He pointed at me as he walked toward the door. “You stay right there.”
“But—”
The door shut before I could finish protesting. I groaned up at the ceiling and then stepped closer to the glass. Pressing my hands against it, I leaned in until my forehead was touching the cold, hard surface. My uncle stayed beside me. A part of me wished he would’ve stopped Charlie,
