“Thanks. I guess I just had to get it off my chest, and I’m not sure I want to share it with the group tomorrow.”

“That’s what group is for.”

“I know, I know, but . . . well, maybe. Depends on who’s there, I guess, and the whole discussion.” With a sigh, she said, “Look, I’d better go. I have an early wakeup call in the morning. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She groaned. “Well, technically later today.” She hung up, leaving Brianna telling herself that her dream had nothing to do with Tanisha’s.

Twins thought about each other often, and even if one moved away or died or disappeared, the remaining twin could be consumed with memories, dreams, even the need to converse with the missing person. Not all twins were close, but Brianna believed that all twins had a deep connection, one that went beyond the simple genetic link of biological siblings. “Or maybe you’re just kidding yourself,” she said aloud as she threw off the covers and walked to the door. She opened it a crack and let the cat slip through.

A gust of summer wind blew into the room, ruffling the curtains and carrying the sweet scent of magnolia. Brianna stepped outside and watched St. Ives slither through the bushes lining the enclosed patio with its uneven stone floor and broken fountain. The breeze stirred leaves in the magnolia tree and she heard a distant siren piercing the night, far beyond the walls of her private garden. She shivered as she scanned the perimeter of the small, enclosed veranda. There weren’t many hiding spots, no little nooks and crannies where someone could hide, and still she felt a prickle of dread, her skin pimpling.

No one’s out here. Get over yourself. There’s no maniac in the shadows, no killer on the prowl in your garden, no damned monster in the closet.

But she couldn’t shake the feeling. Ever.

Since Arianna had died, Brianna had never felt truly safe, never truly whole.