But it wasn’t.
“She’s going to kill us,” Cherry ranted. “Do something!” she railed at Finley.
Finley held up a hand for Cherry to stop. “It’s okay, Olivia. I understand what happened. You didn’t hurt your father, and you didn’t believe your mother was serious about the pills. It was a misunderstanding.”
“I didn’t want her to die.” The barrel of the gun lowered slightly. “I only wanted her to finally believe me. Holmes told the world it was Cecelia, and Mother still didn’t believe I was innocent. Cecelia was always her favorite. Always. Always. Always.”
“Olivia.” Finley dared to take a step in her direction. “I need to talk to Cecelia now. See what she has to say for herself.”
“She ran away. She always hides from the truth.” Olivia brushed at a wisp of hair stuck to her cheek. “Mother was always fixing everything for her. I warned her, but she always, always believed Cecelia. She should have listened to me.” She shook her head, almost dislodging the wig. “No one ever listens to me.”
“I’m listening to you, Olivia. Let me talk to Cecelia and see if we can get this sorted out.” Finley produced a kind smile. “You can trust me.”
“Don’t you see?” Cherry shouted. “She has—I don’t know—like split personalities. There’s no telling what she might do next. We need help.”
Finley ignored her. Hoped to hell the woman with the gun—whichever twin she really was—would as well. “Please, Olivia, let me help.”
Olivia reached up, removed the wig, and tossed it away. She ran the fingers of her free hand through her short brown hair. Her gaze collided with Finley’s. “I saw my sister stabbing our father. I already hated her.” She shrugged. “Father thought Olivia was perfect.” Her face twisted in anger. “But he was wrong. I wonder what he thought when she killed him.” She blinked, the move in a sort of slow motion. “I tried to get Charlie to help me be rid of her, but he only laughed at me.”
“How can you be sure it was Olivia?” Finley asked carefully, needing something concrete.
“It was Charlie,” Cherry cried, her voice wobbling after so much shouting. “He killed him!”
Finley kept her attention fixed on the twin—Cecelia apparently—and the gun. “Please tell me why you thought it was Olivia.”
“I saw her stab him. Over and over and over. I was frozen. In shock. I wanted to stop her, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t move. Then she started feeling around on the floor for her phone. I guess she’d dropped it. When she found it and started calling someone, I ran away. I couldn’t . . .”
“Why didn’t you tell your mother or the police?”
She stared at Finley for a long time before she spoke. “Mother wasn’t home that day. Didn’t matter. I couldn’t. I think I was a little afraid it . . . it was me.” She shrugged. “We pretended to be each other sometimes. I couldn’t decide if I saw it or if I did it.” She shuddered. “But later, after I’d calmed down, I remembered clearly. It was Olivia.”
“I told you.” Cherry was on her feet now, hunkered down in the corner but poised to cut and run. “She has totally lost it. She’s evil.”
“Did you tell your mother then?” Finley moved another step closer to Cecelia.
Cecelia shook her head. “I told you she wasn’t home. Her car wasn’t in the driveway, so I just hid in my room and pretended I saw nothing.” She shrugged. “By the time she came home, I thought maybe I had imagined it. The garage was clean. Father wasn’t there. His car wasn’t there.” She stared at Finley as if beseeching her to believe. “It wasn’t until the police came the next day that I knew he was really dead. When Charlie confessed, I was confused, and then I was glad. His confession was easier to believe. I didn’t have to wonder if I was the one anymore.”
“Did you ask Olivia about what you thought you saw?” Another step disappeared between them. Finley struggled to keep her respiration level. Being calm was essential if she hoped to keep Cecelia calm.
“Not until after the trial. I guess I blocked the whole thing. Then one day I saw her in the garage looking for something, and it all came back to me.”
Finley didn’t need a map to see where this was going.
“I don’t know what happened. I . . . I was so angry . . . so hurt. And then I just stared at her . . . lying there. Not moving. Blood.” She touched her head. “I thought I was looking at myself. I wanted it to be me.” She frowned. “Mother understood. I told her, I suppose. Or maybe she saw us.” Her face twisted in pain and confusion. “She took care of everything. She took care of us. Olivia went away to school. Started a whole life for herself out in California.” Anger suddenly twisted her features again. “Olivia should have stayed there, but no. Mother said she had to come back because of him! She said if Olivia didn’t come back, everyone would know what I had done. So I let her come back.”