I threw the door open, held my head high, and marched right into the cloud of hazy smoke that hung near the outskirts of the crowd of cars. A few whistles and calls of "Tillie!" followed me, but I tried not to let them break my facade.

Confidence. Swing the hips. Walk like you own the world.

The crowd parted around me, so that no matter where I moved, I was the epicenter of a circle. I stopped, surveyed them all, and asked, "Who's in charge here?"

For a moment, nothing happened. Maybe Nero's successor hadn't been named yet. Then a blond woman stepped forward, her long legs shown off by a skirt like mine and her hair up in two high pigtails.

In the instant before I recognized her, it was like looking into a mirror. Just like I'd always felt when Tilda and I sat across from each other at the dinner table. If we synchronized our movements, it was like a living reflection.

But this woman's features weren't quite right, and as I noticed it, my heart slowed down. I shifted, watching her warily, because she was the same woman who'd disappeared with Donovan at the bonfire, the same woman who'd started the race that got Ciar and I arrested.

"You startin' us off tonight, honey?" she drawled, the same way Nero had that first night. It left little doubt in my mind that his duties now fell to her.

I squared my shoulders and mustered up my best impression of the unflappable Matilda I remembered. "If you'll let me."

She nodded once. She was all business, turning back to the circle gathered around us. "Big night ahead. Don't screw it up."

She motioned over the heads of the crowd, toward the road. "Set up!"

"We're still waiting on number two," someone protested.

"He'll figure it out. He can just go straight to the line. He's not bailing on this one."

The Camaro roared to life, and I stood there with my heart thumping against my chest as it swung in a wide arc and pulled into the road. The blonde tossed a checkered flag at me, jerking her chin toward the waiting car.

I fumbled with the fabric, pulling it through my hands as I tried to walk like a runway model with my heels slipping on the loose gravel. My steps steadied as I found purchase on the road, and I stopped just to the side of the Camaro's right bumper.

I glanced back toward the parking lot, feeling silly standing out in the middle of the road with only one car. I could feel the eyes of the Camaro's owner on me, but I resisted the temptation to cover my midriff or tug at the hem of my skirt.

What would Tilda do?

I glanced toward the blonde again, but she only stared back, lounging against the side of my car as if the whole thing was a test. Like she wanted to see me perform.

A blaze of headlights appeared further down the road, and I froze. Was it the second contestant? Or was I about to get run over by a regular driver? Or worse, arrested again by a passing cop?

But the oncoming car slowed, the glare of its lights bright enough that I couldn't make out the silvery horse on its grille until it rolled to a stop on the line.

Ciar. Of course. I hoped he couldn't see me stiffen as I fought the instinct to run right off the road.

I gritted my teeth. What. Would. Tilda. Do?

My eyes drifted shut, the sounds of the night muffled under a ringing in my ears. She would stand up straight, plant her feet, maybe pop her hip out to one side as she raised the flag.

When I opened my eyes again, a part of her simmered under my skin. Not an overwhelming fraction, but a sliver nonetheless, and it gave me the boost I needed. With a lazy smile, I lifted the flag over my head. Ciar's gaze pierced me now, too, but whatever he saw was nothing compared to what he'd already seen.

Let him stare.

The Camaro's engine revved as I let the flag drop, and the resulting gust of air as both cars accelerated off the line whipped my hair around my face. When it settled back into place, all I saw were two sets of taillights disappearing into the distance.

With a deep breath, I marched back to the lot and tossed the flag back to the blonde. I would've asked her name if I wasn't banking on her thinking I was Tilda.

She caught the cloth easily, pushed off the car, and shot me a side-eye. "All right. Who the hell are you?"

My mouth fell open. "I—"

"Tillie's dead," she interrupted. "So who are you?"

"Her sister," I said after a moment.

"Do you have a name, Tillie's Sister?" She pocketed the flag and hopped up onto the hood of my car.

I bit my tongue. "It's Maisye."

She lit a cigarette and took a long draw, unimpressed. I tried not to grimace as the smoke wafted across my face.

"If you knew she was dead, why did Nero act like I was her?" I asked.

"I know she's dead." She blew another cloud of smoke my way, as if she knew how much I hated it. "Wouldn't count on the rest of these scumbags giving a shit."

"You were friends?"

She shrugged.

"Ooookay." It was like talking to the female version of Ciar—the Ciar I'd first met. I was pulling teeth to get her to say anything.

She heaved a sigh. "We went to the YMCA a few times." She shot me a smirk, flicking loose ash from the end of her cigarette. "I know, ironic, right? She wasn't exactly family-friendly. But yeah, we'd go and swim."

I said nothing.

"Well," she corrected herself with a chuckle, "she didn't really swim. She liked the high dive."

A chill chased goosebumps up my spine. The high dive? Was she thinking about it, even back then? Entranced with the water below? Maybe the bridge hadn't been a suicide attempt at all, but a moment of simple recklessness, when rational thought had stopped and she had needed something, anything, to make her feel.

I knew that need all too well. It was why Ciar had to pull me out of the lake the night he took me up there.

"Girl was full of ironies." The blonde threw her cigarette butt on the ground, crushing it under one stiletto heel. Her ease fizzled out with the embers as she added, "You know, you have a lot of nerve showing up here after Nero."

I straightened. "What about Nero?"

She gave me an unamused stare. "You killed him, didn't you?"

My mouth fell open. "How did you hear about that? I mean—no, I didn't, but how did you...?"

"I have a friend on the force. Comes in handy a lot. Said they found your fingerprints and his blood on the murder weapon."

I bit back my defense, figuring she wouldn't believe me anyway.

"Explain that."

"I can't."

She gave a hmpf that sounded a lot like I thought so.

"It doesn't make sense. Maybe someone's framing me." Or maybe my alternate Tilda-personality is a killer.

"Look, everyone thinks you're Ciar's lapdog, but I know better." The blonde's stare turned acidic, burning into me. "You're more like a pit bull. You'd kill for him if he asked you to."

"You don't even know me," I said. "I'm not Tilda."

"Maybe not in name." Her eyes flicked over me from head to toe, pointedly taking in my outfit. "But you don't seem all that different to me."

I folded my arms. "Why would I agree to kill someone I've only met once?"

"Because he called the cops on you guys that night."

What? Then again, out loud: "What?"

She nodded. My obvious shock didn't seem to sway her opinion.

"That doesn't even make sense. Why would he call the cops on his own operation?"

"So he wouldn't have to pay out." She jumped down from the Golf's hood. "I didn't say he was a saint. But he didn't deserve to die for it."

I watched her turn her back and start to walk away. I agreed with her. Even if the guy had been a creep, no one deserved to die. It was just like Clarissa had said about Tilda.

The blonde's hair swayed like streamers on either side of her head. None of them deserved to die.

"You hang out with Donovan?" I blurted.

It wasn't really a question. She knew I knew. Still, she quirked her eyebrow as she swung back around, cocking her head in a What of it? sort of gesture.

I looked into her eyes, not quite gray, but on the stormier side of pale, pale blue. "You should be careful."

At first, she said nothing. Maybe she already knew. Maybe she thought I knew something she didn't.

Then she chuckled. It was low, barely audible, and I mostly saw rather than heard it as her shoulders shook gently. "I should be careful," she echoed, a grin tugging at her lips as she left me standing there.