Page 28 of Little Bitter Truths
“More times than I can count.”
“I imagine it happened a lot when you were younger.”
“All the time.”
“What about in recent years?”
“Here and there.”
I set the photograph back on the piano.“I want to run a theory by you, but before I do, I’ll admit you may not like it.”
Her expression shifted.“I’ve already buried my sister.Whatever it is, it can’t be worse than that.”
I wasn’t so sure.
“What if Wren wasn’t the intended target?”I asked.
“What do you mean?”
“What if someone came here that night planning to kill you, and they killed her by accident?”
Mia jerked back, and some of the water in her glass splashed onto the floor.She swore and went to the kitchen, grabbing a hand towel to clean it up.
When she returned, she looked at me and said, “Your theory is absurd.”
“Is it?The two of you were almost identical in looks.”
“It doesn’t mean?—”
“If someone saw Wren inside your house, they might have assumed she was you.”
Mia laughed, but I detected nervousness in her voice.
“It might explain something the coroner told me today,” I continued.“Also, there’s evidence to suggest Wren was lifted up after she was shot.”
“Why would anyone do that?”
“Maybe after shooting her, the murderer realized they killed the wrong sister.”
The words hung in the air, heavy and impossible to ignore.
“That’s ridiculous,” she said.
She looked away.
And for just a moment, I saw it.
Not laughter.
Not disbelief.
Fear.
“I think your theory is a stretch,” she said.
Until I could prove I was right, there was no reason to argue the point.
“Was there anything that helped people tell the two of you apart?”I asked.
