Page 89 of Little Bitter Truths
He shoved a hand in his pocket, staring past me at Mia’s place.“I had nothing to do with what happened to Wren.I was in bed watching television at the time the police say she died.”
“Wren was house-sitting for Mia that week while she was away at a work conference,” I said.“Did you see Wren or speak to her before she died?”
“See her?Maybe.Speak to her?No.I never knew Mia had a twin, so if I did see her, I doubt I would have been able to tell the difference.”
Somewhere down the street, a lawn mower started.
The familiar sound almost felt like a strange backdrop to this conversation.
“You know,” I said.“Most people would try a little harder to appear sympathetic when discussing a dead woman.”
“What happened to Mia’s sister is awful.But I guess you could say I don’t know her enough to have a lot of feelings on the subject.”
I glanced around his yard.
There were no signs of him even owning a dog anywhere.
No bowls outside.
No toys in the yard.
It was like all traces of him had vanished from existence.
“What do you do for work, Adrian?”I asked.
“Landscape architecture.”
“That explains the yard and your obvious obsession with symmetry.”
“There are worse obsessions.”
Once the words left his mouth, he winced like he wanted to take them back, but it was too late.
“It depends on the obsession,” I said.
As the words lingered between us, I studied him.In the time we’d been talking, I’d come to think of him as a person who was emotionally guarded.Not cruel, perhaps.But closed off in a way that made connection difficult.
Just like Mia.
In his case, the question was whether that hardness extended to cold-blooded murder.
Across the street, Mia stepped onto the porch.She saw I was still engaged in conversation with Adrian, and she disappeared back inside again.
Adrian shifted his gaze to her for a brief second and then back to me.
“How’s she … uhh, how’s she doing, anyway?”he asked.
“It’s been rough.”
“I can’t imagine how hard it would be to lose a sibling.”
There it was—real compassion.
Or what appeared to be.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket, glanced at it, and swore.“I need to get back to work.I’m late for an appointment.”
“Can I share one thing with you before you go?I believe the person responsible for Wren’s death killed the wrong sister.”
