Chapter 50
KAT
Despite their best efforts, Portia sat in the interrogation room and refused to talk to anyone.
Except me.
The fact that she wants to draw this out makes my skin crawl, and for what? To gloat about killing her sister, making my life a living hell, and drugging her aunt?
Trying to do the same to me?
I want to walk away and not look back. I want to close this chapter of my life and move on without giving in to her sick delusions.
But would Hazel get justice? Would any of us?
Tom left the decision in my hands. Even with his clenched, he didn’t rush me or force me to go, just sat silently with me as I weighed the options.
Ultimately, I know what I have to do, my confidence bolstered by Tom’s presence and the fact that after everything that’s happened, I need to do this.
I can do this.
The right thing isn’t always the easy thing. That sentiment becomes increasingly apparent as Portia is brought into the room and takes the seat across from me.
Lips twisted into a smirk, she’s nothing like her sister, and I could kick myself for not seeing it sooner. I’d explained away everything—every change and mannerism—as being a result of losing her sister.
And it had been, just not the way I imagined.
“It’s too bad,” she starts, her arms resting on the table in front of her. “I was really looking forward to the dinner. Prime rib has always been my favorite.” Her sigh is almost wistful. “I’ve missed it so much.”
Hazel didn’t eat meat.
She told me when she came to the baseball stadium and I tried to offer her a hot dog. After that, if we ever ate somewhere together, I always scoped out the menu to make sure there would be something she’d like.
It’s such a strange thing to flaunt, but the gleam in Portia’s eyes tells me just the fact that I know is enough.
It’s worth it.
The urge to get up from the table and walk out of the tiny room is overwhelming, but that’s what she wants. She wants to know that she got me.
Before Hazel’s death.
After her death.
And now.
But I won’t give her the satisfaction.
“Dinner? Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?” I say cooly, my expression neutral as I feign indifference.
“No, I just like knowing I won.”
“You didn’t—”
“Oh, but I did.” Portia sits back in the hard chair and grins.
“Tonight will always be tainted by the fact that you almost lost everything. And no matter how much your little tech mastermind tries to scrub me from your life, I’m everywhere.
And you’ll never know if you got all the accounts or stopped all the emails from being sent. ”
She sighs wistfully as she shrugs her shoulders and lets them drop, a self-satisfied look on her face I wish I could slap off. If not for me, then for Hazel.
“But why?”
“The why is so boring, isn’t it?”
“There’s nothing boring about taking your sister’s life.”
She rolls her eyes like it’s a nuisance to even mention it.
“All I wanted was to branch out a little but no.” She draws out the word for emphasis, the sound making my skin crawl. “She was worried about the brand, but what about me? Was I supposed to be stuck illustrating children and puppies on absurd adventures for the rest of my life?”
My jaw nearly drops to the floor at her indignation. “You—you never had to be a part of it. Hazel could have found a new illustrator. She could have done it without you.”
Her response is mocking, her voice high and nasally. “But we’re twins, Portia. It’s my dream to do this with you.”
“So killing her was the answer?”
“I tried to reason with her. But she didn’t want to listen, and I got tired of being second best to my perfect sister.”
Her emphasis on perfect makes it clear she didn’t think Hazel was perfect at all.
“What happened in Vermont?”
Portia crosses one arm over the other and studies her nails, the both of us so out of place in this interrogation room.
“I made nice. Promised her I’d drop trying to push the young adult story I’d been writing, that we’d stick to whatever new series she wanted to work out in Vermont.”
“But that was never the plan.”
“No,”—she taps one nail on the table—“I dyed my hair and cut it to match hers before we left. She wasn’t even suspicious, just happy that we looked identical like we did when we were younger.”
I dig my own nails into my palm to hold back the tears at the callous way she describes buying a cheap truck with cash when they first arrived in Vermont, begging Hazel to go get her something from the convenience store, and then chasing Hazel down on the desolate road.
Hazel must have been so scared.
I know I was.
“And then what?” I ask, already knowing what’s coming.
“I came up behind her with my lights off and just gave her a little push. You know all about that, don’t you, Kat?” She winks at me. “Or should I call you Sloane? Which do you prefer?”
“Why me? After all that, you stole Hazel’s identity; you could have done what you wanted and—”
“Oh, Kat, if only it were that easy but you’re everywhere.
Hazel found out about your little side hustle as Sloane Daniels and swore me and our aunt to secrecy.
Adorable, right? But here we were doing the Lord’s work, as my poor aunt would say, spreading joy and instilling good healthy morals and you were just flying high writing porn like a wolf in sheep’s clothing. ”
“It’s not porn—”
“Frankly, I don’t care one way or the other but sinner does have a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?
And I was just so sick of watching everyone fawn all over you.
It started out as just having a little fun—cathartic some would say—but then I started thinking how I could take both you and Sloane down in one shot.
” She opens her arms wide. “And here we are.”
“Was it worth it?” I ask, pushing back from the table to stand. “Was it worth it? You’re going to jail, your sister is dead, and your plan didn’t work. None of it worked.”
“It all worked. And I’ll make sure it keeps working.”
“And I’ll make sure you stay where you belong.”
“Oh, and Kat?” I turn just enough to look at her over my shoulder. “When you write this story in one of your trashy little Sloane books, make sure to put me in the acknowledgments.”