Page 3 of The Knight

I thought he put the rope around his own neck.

I sought revenge for the boys who made him want to do it.

But he was my brother who got up after Daddy's fists made him black and blue, defiance in his eyes and venom in his voice. I should have known he wouldn't have given up fighting so easily. I shouldn't have ever believed he did that to himself.

All this time that I let the lie fester inside me, I wasn't looking for my brother's murderers. That sick realization is like a bruise forming in my middle, or a sharp object hollowing me out from the inside. I can feel the fire I tried to burn out growing in my chest and stomach, desperate to get loose and rage against the men with the rope.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to see their faces. One was taller and thinner; one was shorter and thicker. They had short hair. Mid forties to fifties. I can't remember anything else.

I hate myself for not being able to remember.

I hate this hospital and its damned procedures for keeping me here when I should be running straight to Coleridge to look for that laptop.

And I hate, just a little bit—maybe more than I care to admit—that I'm still alive.

At least if I'd died tonight in the hands of the man who killed my brother, I wouldn't be alone anymore, sitting with the realization that I was wrong this whole time about what—and who—killed him.

Chapter 2

"Brenna Wilder." I've never been so relieved to see a police officer as I am to see Officer Lopez walk through the door, a plastic bag full of my belongings in her hand. My eyes immediately zero in on the familiar old phone with a cheesy case sitting next to my student ID and painfully thin wallet."The EMTs handed this over, but there was nothing in here that we could use for evidence or pull for prints. Including the rope that was used to tie you up, though we'll send it for DNA testing and see if we get any hits in the system."

"I just want my cell phone, please."

Her eyes study me astutely as she closes the door behind herself. "In a minute. First I want to talk to you about a few things."

Swallowing, I ask, "Wouldn't a detective normally do this?"

"One will be by shortly, after he finishes taking a statement from the classmate who found you." My cheeks flush at the mention of Hass, and my hand closes over a knife I'm no longer carrying with me. "I wanted to get your statement first, though, while the memories are still fresh. Can you tell me what happened?"

I open my mouth, and pause.

Standing outside my hospital door, his face just visible in the little window, is a green-eyed boy I know far too well.

Cole Masterson showed up here.

And I can't help remember something he said—about me digging too far, figuring out too much.She's done too much sniffing,one of the guys who took me muttered. I was looking into things I barely understand, and two strange men tried to kill me for it.

Officer Lopez is studying me sympathetically. She reminds me a little of a softer, warmer version of my aunt, who always makes sure everyone is taken care of, no matter what it costs her.

Two green eyes meet mine through the glass. I wonder what he's doing here.

Glancing over her shoulder, Lopez looks out the window—and Cole vanishes in an instant, like he was never there. "Something wrong?" she asks me.

"Just thought I saw someone I know."

Taking a deep breath, I decide to try to tell her as much as I can—at least, as much as I dare. I'll leave out the parts about me stealing other girls' identities to buy nice things. And, as much as it pains me, I just can't tell her what Hass did to Mariana. That's not my story to tell, and I've been told point blank not to tell it.

But I can give her Silas's story.

The one with the tree on the hill, the snake in the grass, and the rope we cut to bring him down.

They put him in the ground, but he's not buried yet. Not until I tell his story.

The dead don't rest easy.

"I had a brother... a twin." The pain in my chest steals my breath for a moment, and I have to make myself inhale through the tears that gather in my eyes, desperate to be unleashed. "Something terrible happened to him. I didn't understand, but then tonight... tonight..."

"Yes?" She has a pen and a pad of paper in her hand, her intuitive, empathetic gaze pulling at the part of me that wants to tell me this story. "What happened to your brother, Brenna?"

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