The rain hadn't stopped since dawn. Glory sat in the passenger seat of Bello's old car, staring through the windshield as wipers squeaked back and forth. Each slap of rubber on glass felt like time counting down.
Bello didn't speak. He drummed his thick fingers on the steering wheel, staring at the phone mounted on his dashboard. A small red dot blinked on the screen — Manny's tracker. It moved, then paused, then moved again.
Glory pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders. She was exhausted. Her eyes burned from a night of no sleep, her mouth tasted like cold tea and secrets.
"When did you last eat?" Bello asked suddenly, his voice gruff but not unkind.
She startled a little. "I'm fine."
"Didn't ask if you're fine." He kept his eyes on the tracker. "I asked when you ate."
She looked down at her hands. Her fingers had gone pale. She flexed them, as if reminding herself she was still here. "Yesterday."
Bello sighed through his nose. He pulled a granola bar from the glove box and tossed it onto her lap. "Eat that. You can't fix dead people problems if you faint first."
She almost laughed. Almost. She tore open the wrapper, took a small bite, forced herself to swallow.
Outside, the city blurred past — wet streets, neon signs reflected in puddles, people with umbrellas drifting like ghosts. She wondered if Manny was out there, somewhere close enough to see her through the rain.
"What happens when we find him?" she asked, her voice so soft it nearly vanished under the patter of rain on the roof.
Bello didn't answer right away. He cracked his knuckles, eyes flicking to her and back to the road. "Depends on what he wants. Money? We can negotiate. Revenge? Trickier."
Glory leaned her head back against the seat. "He doesn't want money. He wants pain. He wants to hurt David. Hurt me."
"He wants you to be Cynthia," Bello said flatly.
Glory's eyes snapped open. "What?"
"Look at the letters he left you," Bello said. "The graveyard, the scarf, the messages. He's digging her up piece by piece. He wants you to wear her ghost."
Glory shivered. "Why?"
"Guilt's the oldest leash in the world," Bello said. "You feel guilty. He uses it to drag you wherever he wants."
Glory hugged her knees up to her chest, as far as the seatbelt would allow. She closed her eyes and Cynthia's laugh echoed behind her eyelids — soft, bright, cruel in how real it still sounded.
✦
They parked near a crumbling building on the city's edge — the tracker's last ping. Bello killed the engine. The silence swallowed them both.
"You stay here," he said, pushing open the door. "If you see him run, honk twice."
Glory grabbed his arm. "Wait."
He looked back, one eyebrow raised.
"What if he tries to hurt you?" she asked.
Bello's mouth twitched — the ghost of a grin. "I'm too old and mean for anyone to kill me today."
He slipped out into the rain. Glory watched him cross the street, his coat flapping around his knees like a dark sail. He disappeared inside the building.
Minutes stretched. Rain fell harder, drumming on the roof like a hundred fingers tapping out her fear. Glory chewed her thumbnail until it bled.
She thought of David — probably still at home, sitting alone in that silent house, wondering if he'd made a mistake loving her. I'm trying to fix this, she told herself again. But it sounded hollow now.
She jumped when her phone buzzed. A text. From David.
Where are you?
She stared at the blinking cursor. How could she explain this? I'm hunting your dead wife's secret brother before he tears our lives apart. The words looked insane even in her head.
She typed I'm safe and hit send. It wasn't enough, but it was all she had.
✦
Inside the building, Bello moved like a ghost through damp hallways. He could smell mold, cigarettes, stale sweat. A door down the hall stood ajar — soft light spilling into the dark corridor.
He pushed it open. Manny sat on the floor near the window, hoodie pulled up, cigarette dangling between his fingers. He didn't look surprised.
"You're late," Manny said, flicking ash onto the floor.
Bello shut the door behind him. "Kid, you're playing with fire."
Manny's grin was sharp. "I like fire."
Bello crossed his arms over his chest. "You think hurting them will fix what happened to you?"
Manny shrugged. He didn't look at Bello — just stared out the cracked window at the city lights smeared by rain. "She was my sister. Nobody cared when she died. Nobody buried me, either."
"You're not buried," Bello said. "You're just lost."
Manny's laugh was soft, almost childlike. "Same thing."
Bello stepped closer, careful not to spook him. "You want money? Say so. You want a seat at the table? Say so. But dragging that woman through hell — what does that get you?"
Manny finally looked up. His eyes were dark and bottomless. "The truth."
Bello frowned. "What truth?"
"That she killed Cynthia," Manny whispered.
✦
Glory jolted when Bello opened the car door again, water dripping from his coat.
"Well?" she asked, breathless.
"He's gone," Bello said. He tossed a wet folder onto her lap. "But he left this for you."
Glory opened it with shaking fingers. Inside — photos. Cynthia in her wedding dress. Cynthia at the beach. Cynthia and David kissing on the back porch. And then — a grainy photo she'd never seen: Glory, in Cynthia's old scarf, standing at the window of David's study. Manny's handwriting across the bottom: You took her place. You wear her skin.
Her stomach twisted. "He thinks I… killed her?"
Bello rubbed his temples. "Kid's not right in the head. But he believes it."
Glory buried her face in her hands. "I didn't kill her. I loved her. She was my best friend."
"Doesn't matter what's true," Bello said quietly. "Matters what people believe."
Glory looked up at him, tears spilling over. "What do I do?"
Bello's eyes softened — just a flicker, but she caught it. "You tell your husband the whole damn truth. And you brace for him to break."
✦
Glory didn't remember getting home. One minute she was staring at the photos, the next she was back in their driveway, headlights off, the house dark.
She stepped inside. The living room was a mess — her photos, Cynthia's old things, the scarf she'd dropped on the floor. David sat on the couch, staring at nothing.
He didn't look up when she closed the door behind her. She could see the shake in his shoulders, like he'd been crying or fighting not to.
She knelt in front of him, pressing the folder into his hands. "Look."
He flinched. "I don't want to."
"You have to." She swallowed her fear. "He says I killed her. He says I took her life."
David's eyes finally lifted to hers — red, raw. "Did you?"
The question sliced through her. She shook her head, choking on the words. "I loved her, David. I loved you. I never wanted this."
He opened the folder. One photo slipped out, landing face up between them — Cynthia's smile frozen forever. He stared at it for a long time.
Glory's hands shook where they rested on his knees. "Please say something."
David didn't speak. He just closed the folder, pushed it aside, and pulled her into his arms. His breath was warm against her hair. His voice cracked when he whispered, "I don't know how to forgive any of this."
She buried her face in his chest. "Then don't forgive me. Just stay."
Outside, the rain turned to thunder. Somewhere in the city, Manny watched it all slip through his fingers — but he wasn't finished yet.