She’s still home with Roslyn consoling her. A notification comes up from Detective Carrington. He’s made another note in his computer.
I glance over it. My pupils do a double-take at the new name of interest.
Mi hermano?
I check the tracker on Dominic’s phone. He’s in Miami. When did he return? I hadn’t even reconnected his cellular and LeAnna’s after he’d last left a voicemail. It rerouted to me last night. He was supposed to stay the entire week in Cuba. My plan was to give LeAnna a few days to cool off before settling into her life as my hermano, for good.
Since I missed his arrival, I scroll over the interaction between Roslyn and Aria on my other feed. There’s a short window where Dominic showed up.
Aria denied him. I go back farther—the nanny cam. I forgot to erase it. Hmm. That worked out in my favor. Mi hermano wasn’t able to talk his way back in. Good.
Now, he’s a person of interest with Miami PD. My lips curve into a smile. This is a sign. Mami would undoubtedly roll over in her grave had I carried out my plan to become Dominic and steal LeAnna.
However, if anyone is to become El Santo, let it be him. Let him fry. I’ll go to my woman, no veil of deception. She needs me.
Chapter Seventy-Two
Dominic
“Are you waving your right to an attorney?” Peachy says, eyes boring straight through me.
“Sí? I survived bad cop, good cop, too.” I glance toward the two-way mirror. “Now, would you like to accuse me of something grossly preposterous?”
“I’m coming to you as a friend, Dom.” She leans forward in her chair. “I was at Ms. Balzan’s funeral as Dario’s and your friend.”
“Why are you talking about Alejandra?”
“At her funeral, did you and your brother engage in an altercation?”
“Did we fight? No, Peachy. You saw Dario lose his fucking mind. Not me.” Damn, now I’m inferring my brother has a hostile mindset. “What do Alejandra, Dario, and I have to do with El Santo?”
She stares at me and, after a beat, speaks up. “Ms. Balzan resembled every single one of El Santo’s victims.”
“Listen, I’ve offered you receipts and alibis for any day deemed necessary for your investigation. I told the other two detectives ‘no’ hours ago. Just because we’ve built a rapport over the years, doesn’t exclude you from the same response. Fuck no, I’m not providing DNA.”
“I can understand how discouraging it would feel to find out the woman you’re madly in love with is two-timing you. With your very own twin, no less.” As she talks, she creates a motive. I latch on to every word. “You saw photos, Dominic. Carrington grilled you with them. Images of women positioned specifically. Butterflies left. Alejandra had a thing for butterflies. Alejandra resembled every single victim in looks, character, demeanor. She’s gone. Died a few years before El Santo surfaced.”
“That’s true.” I agree with Peachy, gesturing for her to continue with the speculation. It’s the only card the detectives have.
“Our victims were positioned with the utmost care. I saw the same adoration in your eyes when—”
“Alright, I’m out of here, Peachy. You’ve said this already. I’m to assume the broken record means you all are out of theories.” I rise from my seat, having reached my intended destination—what evidence they have. Their hunch will be kicked back by the DA.
“You can’t—”
“Don’t finish that statement, Peachy.” I offer her a cool smile, unbuttoning the top two buttons of my linen shirt, and prepare to bite her head off with the law. Peachy comes around the table, and I stare down at her.
“Dom,” her voice lowers, her stance stiff. A cloud of nerves surrounds her as she mouths. “Can Dario walk?”
“No,” I whisper. I pause for effect then add, “I’m not staying here another second.”
She’d made a pointed attempt to inquire about Dario outside the view of video surveillance or the voice recorder.
I recall Peachy asking about Dario after the homicide at the park months ago. She was desperate while raving about his abilities.
Why does guilt flicker in her gaze? More importantly, what has Dario been up to? Papi’s stories of Dario’s mutilating animals when we were young runs to the forefront of my mind. I reminisce on Mami’s tears. I hadn’t thought of her crying over his actions in so long. Things start to come back. Now, all I can remember is his lack of guilt. Now that I think of it, I’ve never seen a look of remorse on his face.
At the door, I stop in front of Peachy and speak in a gritted whisper, “Whatever you’re contemplating. Don’t. He is my brother. My twin. I’ll fight for Dario just as sure as I’ll fight for myself.”
Chapter Seventy-Three
Aria
Entering my bedroom, I thrust the pee-pee stick like a sword, high above my head. In the voice of a mid-century knight, I say, “I have penetrated the enemy’s defenses.”
Roslyn stops folding a shirt, slips it into my rollaway bag, and claps her hands. “You stole a ten-dollar pregnancy test from Messy Miranda?”
“I sure did.” Sauntering over, I stop long enough to grip the neck of a bottle of wine on the coffee table. After taking a swig, I toss the test to her. It flops into the rollaway luggage Roslyn’s helping me pack.
“Go!” I point the Pinot Noir to the bathroom.
“I’ll do it once we get to my place. I’m creeped out by the elevator. We spent almost two hours arguing about my executive decision. It’s getting dark out.”
“I’m staying home.” I fall back into bed. Wine sloshes over my fingers as I settle against the headboard. “I need to paint; it’s my outlet.”
“Bullshit. You’ll wallow in self-pity the second I leave. I will fight you. Happy? Do we need male-bashing music?”
“Take the test. I’ll start the music.” I climb over the bed and hug her. “You’re worried. It’s okay, Ros.”
“If I’m pregnant. . .”
“The world doesn’t run on what-ifs. I’ll give you a fact. I’ll be there regardless of Antonio’s intentions.”
Nodding, Roslyn slinks into the bathroom. Minutes later, she returns, skin clammy and white.
“I’m here for you,” I murmur. The outcome is written on her face.
“When you spoke of Antonio’s intentions, I should’ve told you. The baby might be Francisco’s. Antonio has been perfect, forgiving. We both know Francisco is no good.”
I huff. “Ros, you got this. We got this. You’ll be the best mommy either way. Baby will have Auntie Aria. More aunts and uncles and primas than—”
Clasping her hands over her mouth, Roslyn pivots on the balls of her feet. She sprints back into the bathroom, vomiting loudly.
“Oh no,” I groan. As I rise from the bed to go to her, I catch a glint from the side of my eye.
A blade drags along the limestone walls, propelling the tiny hairs on the nape of my neck to stand on end. Dominic enters the bedroom, holding a knife next to his bulging thigh. He’s changed from the suit, back into jeans and boots.