Page 92 of Deadly Little Scandals
“Your aunt’s gone off the deep end,” Victoria summarized. “I have no idea why she would stick you guys in a hole on an abandoned island, but I suppose everyone has a breaking point. I can relate.”
I thought back to Ellen’s house, to the moment when Aunt Olivia had told me that I’d brought this on myself.What breaking point did I hit?
“Relax, Sawyer,” Campbell told me. “There’s four of us and one of her. I seriously doubt Olivia Taft—or her mystery lookalike—is secretly some kind of suburban brawler.”
“Heaven forbid,” a pleasant voice said. Aunt Olivia—or whoever she was—walked slowly out of the shadows. She held a flashlight in her left hand. “I’ve never been much for brawling,” Aunt Olivia commented. She looked down to her free hand, and my eyes followed. “I am, however, the best shot in this family. Isn’t that right, Sawyer?”
Who’s the best shot in this family?That was something I’d heard Aunt Olivia say to John David, my first day at Lillian’s house.
Ellen’s daughter has been playing the role of Olivia Taft for at least a year,I realized. I didn’t say that out loud. I didn’t say anything.
I was too busy looking at her gun.
he best shot in the Taft family forced us back across the island. Not to the hole—to the charred remains of what had once been a house.
“Miss Olivia.” Campbell was the first to speak up once we were all shut inside. “You simply cannot think…”
“Campbell, dear, I can and do think—frequently. And let’s drop the pretense of manners on your part, shall we? I’ve had your number since you and Lily were seven. Given the circumstances, I don’t feel particularly obligated to continue pretending that you aren’t a real piece of work.”
The mention of Lily’s name set my teeth on edge and freed my voice. “Since Lily was seven? You’ve been pretending to be Olivia Taft since Lily wasseven?”
On some level, I’d thought that this woman—Ellen’s daughter—was a recent replacement, but from the moment she’d referenced being the best shot in the family, it had been clear to me that I’d never known the real Olivia Taft.
How long has this been going on?
Aunt Olivia—I couldn’t think of her as anything else—burst into a peal of laughter. “Oh, Sawyer, honey, you are just too much. You went to Two Arrows. You met Ellen. You were snooping around and asking questions left and right. And don’t think I didn’t overhear every word you said to J.D. about—what is it you girls call her?—the Lady of the Lake.”
The Lady of the Lake?I tried to make sense of the direction Aunt Olivia’s statement had gone.The body. The one she was blackmailing Uncle J.D. about.
“And still,” Aunt Olivia continued, tickled pink, “you ask me how long I’ve been Olivia Taft?” She shook her head, lifting the gun and assessing it the way I’d seen her appraising a piece of family jewelry, just before putting it on. “Sweetheart, I’m the onlyOliviaTaft there’s ever been.”
aci was going to catch hell for staying out so late, but what else was new? These days, catching hell was all the world would let her do.No college. No real opportunities.
Nothing.
Kaci had always wanted more, and nothing her mama said or did could change that.
She was twelve when she’d started promising that, one day, she’d leave Two Arrows and never come back.
Thirteen when her mother had snapped that she wasjust like her.
Fourteen when she’d discovered that theherin question was her mother’s sister. A twin sister that the rest of town knew better than to even mention.
Kaci was fifteen the first time she’d hitched a ride into the city to spy on Lillian Taft. She’d had a plan to introduce herself. She’d daydreamed that Lillian would take one look at her and bring her into the Taft family fold.
And then Kaci had seenher. Not Lillian. Lillian’s daughter—Liv.
Her hair was longer than Kaci’s then, and she wore it blown out straight. Her skin was tan in the way that people who occasionally tanned were, not in the way that Kaci’s was, from living in the sun.
But otherwise?They were identical.
At least, it had looked that way from a distance. In the three years since, Kaci had found ways to get closer. She’d found pictures of Liv. Kaci had grown out her hair and taken to blowing it straight.
She carefully measured her time in the sun.
It still wasn’t enough. No matter how much she looked like Liv, no matter how often she watched her—Kaci wasn’t Liv.
Kaci would never be Liv.
