Roddy swayed there a moment, blinking slowly, like his wiring was slightly off. He had a nasal voice, high in pitch, but he also spoke slowly and precisely, like he had a plan, or at least knew what happens when there’s a lack of one. “From the story. In the newspaper. I saw it online a few years back,” Roddy said with another slow blink. “Nola’s foster dad—”
“Royall,” Zig said.
“Yes. Royall. According to the newspaper, foster dad Royall was running some sorta scam against the military. Nola shut it down. They gave her a commendation and everything.”
That was the sanitized version that the military released to the public, though it left out the most important part. To save Zig’s life, Nola had put a bullet in her foster dad’s head. She disappeared soon after.
“She’s my sister—my twin,” Roddy added, Zig now doing what everyone does when they hear someone’s a twin: looking for the resemblance, trying to decide if it’s there or not.
“You don’t believe me,” Roddy said, taking off his police cap and revealing caramel skin, a pointy face, and a nose that had clearly been broken. He was young, late twenties, though as with so many cops and soldiers, his weary eyes—clones of Nola’s, black with flecks of gold—looked like they’d lived through a few extra decades. “I haven’t seen her since we were— We must’ve been seven.”
“So a few years ago, you saw a mention of her online—and then, what? You’ve spent all this time trying to track her down?”
“Ever lost any family, Mr. Zigarowski?”
Zig stayed silent.
“I’m sorry. I offended you. Because your daughter passed away,” Roddy said, Zig now realizing Roddy was missing that filter that stopped him from saying every loose thought in his head. “I read about your daughter, Maggie, when I looked you up.”
“Maybe it’s better if we stay focused on Nola,” Zig said, now replaying his call with Wil from Dover. For some reason, the head of Dover, in charge of all their homicide investigators, was looking for Nola. Now her brother—a cop—shows up, doing the same. Whatever was really going on, it was bigger than anyone was saying, enough to bring Nola out of hiding.
“I’m not stalking you, Mr. Zigarowski. Nola’s my blood relative—the only one I have. And I know this sounds a bit nutty, but it’s . . . it’s like I can feel her out there, y’know? Like she’s my twin in ways that . . . Again, a bit nutty, but it’s like my pieces aren’t pulled together until I—” He took a breath. “I just really want to find her.”
It wasn’t completely nutty. Anyone with a missing twin would do the same. But as Roddy’s spidery fingers pinched the brim of his police cap, Zig could feel that twitch in the back of his brain, the same one he’d get when he was reading the morning paper and saw a young person’s obituary that was conspicuously silent about the cause of death. There’s more to that story, Zig would think, which was exactly what he was thinking right now.
“Roddy, how’d you know Nola would be here today?”
Still staring over Zig’s shoulder, out into the hallway, Roddy said, “You don’t trust me, do you, Mr. Zigarowski? You think I’m here to hurt her.”
“I met you two minutes ago. It’s a little early t—”
“I had problems when I was little. Real problems. But I’ve turned those around. I got help.”
“I’m glad you did, Roddy. But that still doesn’t tell me—”
“They knew each other.”
“Pardon?”
“Nola and Colonel Mint. They weren’t strangers.”
Zig figured as much, but it was time to get more info. “According to who?”