A brilliant sun shone through the windows.
Which was odd, it was Seattle after all.

I stretched out my arms over my head. I immediately swung my legs over the side of Sarah's bed. I could smell her perfume on the sheets. I hated this.

I walked out to the hall and into the kitchen. Angie was in front of the stove, flipping a pancake. She turned around and saw me.

"Hey you, I made some breakfast if you'd like." She offered.

"Thank you, but I'm not very hungry." I smiled.

"That's no problem. So we have a detective who would like to talk to you."

I almost choked on air. "A what?!"

"Oh dear. Sorry about that." She handed me a glass of water. "You've done nothing wrong sweetheart. And you don't have to speak with him. He just thinks you might have answers that you don't know you have."

I didn't have words. Do I tell the police about the letters? Nic had told me not to and I had agreed. But that's when I thought that I would be going out of my way to tell them, not lying directly to their face. It also might be suspicious if I didn't talk to them though.

"No problem, Il talk to them." I said.

"Wonderful. He's coming by around noon." Angie answered.

"Noon?" That did not give me enough time to work out my plan. Or talk to Nic. Where was he anyway?

"Nic went out to get some groceries." She said, as if she read my mind. "He'll be back around one probably. He went all the way to the city."

That was not good.

"I'm going to go.. um well I have some errands to run." She started. "Would you be okay here by yourself? I should be back before the detective comes."

"That's fine." I said.

She smiled at me brightly, but I could see sadness in her face.

I walked back to Sarah's room and called Nic. No answer. I started to panic.

I took a shower and changed, but Nic hadn't responded by the time I got back. It was Noon, and I was scared.

A loud knock on the door gave me no choice. I walked slowly to the door and swung it open. It looked like Angie was gone.

The detective stood in the frame. He was tall and broad, but intimidating. He had a young face, and was quite attractive. He had kind brown eyes but a stern jawline and pursed lips.

"Detective Logan Peterson." He said, reaching out to shake my hand. "You're Avery Willings?"

I nodded and moved aside so he could come through.

"I'm just here to ask you a few questions about your relationship with Sarah." He informed me as I sat down at the kitchen table.

He followed me, and sat down as well.

I looked at him. "I thought this was a missing persons investigation about Taylor. I didn't think there was a case about Sarah. Are you suspicious? Why do you need to hear about Sarah?" I blurted.

I could not believe I had just said that. I was implicating myself by being too curious.

Detective Peterson gave me a hard stare. "Sarah was Taylor's twin. I assumed she was close. I'm not ruling out anything yet."

"Yes well of course." I stuttered. "Do what you have to."

He looked down at his notepad. "You were close with Sarah, correct?"

"Well figuratively, yes. Not actually." I let out a nervous laugh.

Peterson raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry?" He asked.

"I mean I don't live here. I live in California. So we were best friends but not close to each other. Like distance wise." I mentally slapped myself.

He locked eyes with me. His dark eyes felt like they were staring into my soul.

"Am I making you nervous, Avery?" He asked.

I was caught off guard. It didn't seem seem like a normal question, or normal to call me Avery.

"Is this an interrogation? Am I a suspect?" I asked. I had no clue where this came from.

"It's not, and you're not, no. Just questions." He said slowly.

"Then why would I be nervous?" I was impressed, my voice didn't waiver.

He gave me a once over before returning to his notepad. "Did you ever feel like Sarah was unstable? Was there ever any implications that she was suicidal?" He asked finally.

"I don't think so." I said.

"You don't think?" He asked.

"No. There wasn't." I said more firmly.

He nodded. "And after the suicide, do you now look back and see any connections?"

That seemed like a very pointed question. Did he know anything? My hands started to shake. "I'm not sure what you mean." I said.

He tilted his head. "Often after deaths close friends and family remember memories, things that could give us clues. Anything she said or sent that you now realize indicated she was suicidal."

Sent. He said sent. He knew.

I shook my head slightly. There was no way he knew anything. I need to think. I hadn't read the letters yet. I had no clue who they blamed or what they let on. I couldn't give them to him. I couldn't.

"No." I tried to say it firm, but it came out as a squeak. I was sounding like I killed her.

Peterson stared at me for a very long time. I started to sweat under his gaze and it had nothing to do with how handsome he was. It was because I had just lied to the police and now I was a criminal. And he knew it.

Finally he put down his notepad. "Ms. Willings. I feel it's important to understand that I believe you have not committed a crime. Maybe police make you nervous, I don't know. But I do know I am good at reading people. And right now, you seem...guilty."

"I don't think you can say things like that to me." I whispered.

"I'm solving a case. That's the goal. Not politically correctness." He whispered back.

I was very uncomfortable right now.

"Look." He said. "Like I said, I don't think you're a criminal. But you understand that lying to the police is an offence."

I felt like crying. I could not believe this was happening to me. "I'm not lying, sir. And you're right, I'm no criminal." I stood up. "So why am I being treated like one?" I said.

Detective Peterson stood as well. He took a step around the table to face me. I took one back.

"Whatever you've done, Ms. Willings, You're going to wish you told. Because I will find out either way."

I took deep breathes. "I think you can leave now Detective Peterson."

He nodded. He walked around the table to the door and looked back at me.

"I'm always open to talk, Avery. Don't put yourself in the middle of this." He said quietly before walking out the door.

I sat on the chair. My hands shook uncontrollably. Detective Peterson definitely saw me as guilty of something. But if the case was about Taylor, then I don't see how me hiding letters from Sarah was a crime.

Then again, Sarah had mentioned Taylor a number of times. The letters and Taylor were definitely linked.

How did I get here?

Suddenly, footsteps sounded in the hallway. My heart started beating ferociously.

Mr. Miller came into view.

I let out a breath. I forgot about Mr. Miller.

"Hello, Mr. Miller. Nice to see you again." I said.

I always found Mr. Miller a tad creepy. With sunken eyelids and a petite frame, he was an odd man.

He didn't say anything.

He passed by me and said "I heard your chat." He said.

My heart started racing again. "Oh."

"He was right." He grabbed a pancake off the stove and headed back to his room.

I stood, dumbfounded. Did Mr. Miller think Peterson was right about me being guilty? Or something else?

Angie got back and apologized for not coming home earlier. She asked how my conversation with Detective Peterson went.

"It was good." For some reason, I lied.

Nic got home after her. I was reading a book on the couch, but my eyes were mostly skimming and I wasn't really paying attention, so i looked up when he stood next to me.

"Where the hell were you all day?" I asked

"Groceries." He replied. "You look agitated. Let's take some of those letters and read them. All we need is answers." He suggested.

I nodded. "But not here. Mr. Millers onto me and Angie is fragile."

He agreed. "Lets take a drive."