Twisted Ties

ALEXIA As I stepped out of the taxi, I couldn't help but panic about the possibility of not landing my dream job at this game company. I made my way to the reception with confident strides. Two people were already being interviewed, and I took a seat. I could feel people stare at me; it would be odd if they didn't; it wasn't every day they got to see a redhead. Redhead. That was what my boyfriend, who had just broken up with me not up to an hour ago, would call me each time he wrapped me in his arms, telling me how much he loved me. "Next, please." A high-pitched voice called, breaking into my reverie. I looked up and saw that it was my turn. Finally, I was going to be interviewed for the secretary position at ALT Search Inc. I had been searching for a job for months, and this one seemed like the perfect opportunity. Thanks to Julie, my college friend, I saw the vacancy. The interviewer was a middle-aged man, a little dark-skinned yet handsome. He was a good one to start with my seduction game; according to Julie, getting a job in a fancy place like this required the use of an A-game. "Good morning," he said in a calm voice and extended his hand. "I am Eric, the manager of ALT Search Inc. Thank you for coming in today. What is your name?" "Good morning," I replied softly and took his hands into mine. His lingering grip sent a shiver down my spine, hinting at his desires beyond professionalism. "My name is Alexia Clark." Eric smiled and gestured to me to sit down. "So, tell me a little bit about yourself. It says here that you're Alexia Clark Howard; is that your husband's last name?" he asked. That's my sister's husband's name; I almost told him. "It's a family name," I said with a low voice, and he nodded. I launched into my resume, highlighting my experience as a secretary and at the end of the back and forth, the man smiled, showing his white set of teeth, and told me, "Then we have an appointment." I left the company feeling excited. I made a call to Julie, so I could gist with her about the turn of events, but an incoming call silenced my outgoing call, and I frowned when I recognized the familiar yet forgotten number. "Hello?" The raspy voice came. I heard this voice about the time my sister, Abigail, got married, and it was weird getting a call from the person now. "Alexia?" His voice was deeper, more tear-choked. “I can hear you, Kurt.” "Alexia—your twin sister, Abigail, is dead." And the line went dead. My fingers froze on the screen until my vision became blurry; it took a while for me to realize it was because I was crying already. My breath was suspended. My heart pounded loudly in my chest as I fidgeted with my phone. I dialed the number again and again and again. Five minutes ticked by, and I still stood there, each second marked by the unsteady beat of my heart. Abigail was my twin sister, that girl I grew up with and did everything with. She was married, and heaven knows I haven't seen her for close to six years now. And now, out of the blue, she was dead? I looked up. It was then that the rain decided to come. At first, the clouds seemed to hesitate, as if uncertain whether to unleash their burden. Then, without warning, a lone drop fell and landed at the tip of my nose. “Abigail.” The name came faster than I thought it would come. Another drop fell, and then another, each one sending shivers down the spine I could have broken years ago if it wasn't for my sister. We used to lie in bed, side by side, pretending to be each other. We’d switch classrooms in school just to confuse the teachers. When we were nine, she stole a cupcake from our neighbour’s shop and blamed me, but later, she left an apology note signed 'A & A, the cupcake twins'. She was always braver. Wilder. The one who said, “You'll run first, I will cover for you.” And now she was gone? I calmed my nerves. I had totally forgotten that I was wearing my heels. I hugged my bag tightly, raised my trousers, rolled my shirt sleeves, and began to run. I ran as fast as I could to the bus station, but there was no bus. The next thing I did was to stop a taxi to take me straight to my house. As soon as I got off the taxi, the number called me again, and I picked it up, desperate for answers. “Hello? Can you hear me?” “Alexia,” the voice was low, and it broke my heart more. “Tell me what happened to Abigail, Kurt.” My voice trembled. He went silent, and I feared he wasn't going to say anything again. “I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news. But there's little or nothing I can say on the phone. "You have to come to Orinda now, Alexia.” “Yes, yes, I will now; just send me the details.” Kurt didn't say anything again before he hung up. The next few hours had me packing, and I called a dear friend of mine who worked at the airport to help me out. "I need to get to Orinda now. "Is there a flight available?" I asked him in my tear-choking voice. “No, Alexia. There's one leaving at 8 AM. But it's not cheap, Alexia. It's a last-minute ticket.” “I don't care. "Just get it ready,” I begged. And he did get it ready as fast as I wanted. *** "We'll be making a stop at Orinda in fifteen minutes. "Thank you for flying with us." The plane's host's cool voice came over the intercom, and I stirred in my sleep, opening my eyes to welcome reality again. Orinda. The name echoed in my mind as I sat up. I was in Orinda. The small town where my father used to tell us stories about. As the plane began to descend, I looked out the window, catching a glimpse of the town below me: the clustered houses, the intoxicating atmosphere, the lush greenery—it all looked peaceful and serene. What evil does this town hold? Was it whispers of a thousand serial killers? Or the handiwork of twisted women? I knew it wasn't that peaceful, and I was ready to do whatever it took me to find those who killed my sister. I got to the hotel I booked online and made a call to Kurt. He picked it up immediately, as if he were with his phone. “Sorry for calling this late,” I said coolly and continued, “I am in Orinda.” His voice came on, this time clear and intriguing. I wondered what he looked like now. I wondered what he smelt like. Oh heavens! What was I thinking? Alexia, this isn't right. You can't be drooling over a man you haven't seen—not just any man, a man who is your sister's husband! “Alexia, I'm glad you called. Thank you for coming. I need to see you today. I know you just arrived, but can we meet tonight?” “Yes, send me the details.” Kurt asked me to meet him at a bar, and I arrived there as soon as I could. I was scared for no reason. What if I had come all the way from New York to meet a tasty killer? I had seen Kurt before, but it was when Abigail got married. “You're scared because you've heard of twisted stories where husbands kill their wives, bury them in shallow graves, or soak them in a pail of acid.” A voice screamed in my head. To make matters worse, the bar was empty; the only sound was the soft hum of hip-hop music coming from a large speaker. I looked around and saw a figure coming out of the dark. “Welcome, Alexia,” the figure said and stepped out under the light. “Thank you for coming, Alexia...” He paused, incredulous, “You look so much like my dear wife.” He said, a bottle of wine in his right hand and a glass cup in his left hand. “We are identical twins, remember?” I breathed out. Kurt's gaze held mine as he closed the distance between us and stopped inches away from me. He had dropped the wine and the glass cup on the counter. Our eyes locked, and for an instance, I saw a flicker of something in his—a shadow of secrets or guilt? I was scared, no doubt. We were alone at the bar, and my heart raced faster than words could come out of my mouth. Kurt's eyes darted away for an instance as he retrieved something from his pocket. I only saw the top, not the bottom, and my heart skipped a beat when I saw the glint of the metal. A pocket knife!  I backed up instinctively, pulse pounding. My voice caught in my throat. My feet itched to run. What had I walked into?