turning off the phone mid-ring and tucking it into her jacket pocket. She opened the bedroom door and walked into the hallway as Hank started his usual birthday story about how the day Lena and her twin sister, Sibyl, came to live with him was the happiest day of his life. She stopped in the bathroom, checking herself in the mirror again. She had dark circles under her eyes, but the tinted foundation sheâd used helped take care of the problem. Nothing could be done about the deep purple gash on her bottom lip where she had bitten down too hard and split it.
A picture of Sibyl was tucked into the frame of the mirror. It had been taken a month or so before she was killed, and though Lena wanted to remove the photograph, this wasnât her house. As she did almost every morning, Lena compared the picture of her twin to her own reflection in the mirror, not liking what she saw. When Sibyl died, they had appearedalmost completely identical. Now Lenaâs cheeks were hollow and her dark hair wasnât as thick or shiny. She looked a hell of a lot older than thirty-three, but it was the hardness in her eyes more than anything else that gave her that appearance. Her skin didnât glow like it used to, but Lena was hoping to get that back. She was running every day and doing free weights at the gym with Ethan almost every night.
Call-waiting beeped again, and Lena gritted her teeth, wishing she hadnât said anything to Ethan about her period. She had never been regular, but neither had she ever been this late. Maybe it was because she was working out so much, training to get ready for the job again. The last six weeks had been like preparing for a marathon. And then, Ethan was right about stress. She was under a lot of stress lately. She had been under a lot of stress for the last two years.
Lena pressed her hand to her eyes. She wasnât going to think about it. Last year, a pretty good shrink had told her that sometimes denial could be a good thing. Today was definitely a good day to pull a Scarlett OâHara. She would think about it tomorrow. Shit, maybe she wouldnât think about it until next week.
She interrupted Hankâs story, which had left out some important details, like the fact that heâd been a speed freak and an alcoholic when social services had dropped Sibyl and Lena on his lapâand that was the happy part of the story. âHowâd this weekend go?â
âBetter than I thought,â Hank said, soundingpleased. He had turned The Hut, his dilapidated bar on the outskirts of the shithole town where Lena had grown up, into a weekend karaoke bar. Considering Hankâs regular clientele, this was somewhat of a gamble, but Hankâs success proved Lenaâs long-held theory that a drunk redneck would do anything when the lights were turned down low.
âBaby,â Hank began, his tone turning serious. âI know todayâs a big day and all. . . .â
âItâs no big deal,â she said. âReally.â
âYou donât have to talk all tough with me,â he said, his temper flaring. Sometimes, he was so like her that Lena felt a flicker of shock when he spoke.
âAnyway,â Hank said, âI just want you to know if you need anythingââ
âIâm fine,â she interrupted, not wanting to have this conversation again.
âJust let me damn finish,â he snapped. âIâm trying to say that if you need anything, Iâm here. Not just money and all, but you know youâve got that if you need it.â
âIâm fine,â she repeated, thinking hell would freeze over before she went to her uncle Hank for help with anything.
The phone beeped, and Lena ignored it again. She walked into the kitchen and would have turned back around if Nan hadnât grabbed her arm.
âHappy birthday!â Nan said, clapping her hands with sheer joy. She took a box of matches from her apron, and Lena