Sophia felt her twin’s fear, sensed her ever-mounting anxiety.

“Sophia?”

A beat. Julia was waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness; only faint light seeped in through the open door. Then she turned and finally seemed to notice the thin strip of illumination visible beneath the bathroom door. “Are you . . . Are you okay?”

Sophia’s pulse thundered in her ears.

She didn’t answer.

“What the hell is this?” Julia said, obviously not fooled. “Fine!” she called out. “Your choice, Sophia. You want to stay up here all alone, then I’ll just leave, and I won’t come back!”

Cruel, horrid woman. Sophia wanted to scream at her.

No! Not yet.

“Oh, for God’s sake! Have it your way. Wait. Oh, crap! What the hell?” Julia said, her voice strangled, then, “Oh, shit! No . . . no! No! . . . this is no good!”

Sophia dared peek over the edge.

The front door was still open. Julia was caught in relief by some kind of weird moving light . . . light from another set of headlights?

Sophia’s heart stopped.

She spied the gun in her sister’s hand.

The gun that probably killed Rebecca. And will kill whoever followed her up here . . . and Sophia as well. She couldn’t kid herself. The reason Julia arrived with a pistol was to kill Sophia, to get rid of the traitorous twin who had become a liability. She coiled all of her muscles and poised on the edge of the ledge, ready to spring.

“Crap!” Julia hesitated, then yanked the door shut. She reached up to throw the dead bolt before she realized that the cabin locked from the outside; there was no way to secure the door from within. Sophia knew. She’d checked over every square inch of this place

The room was nearly dark again, only faint light shimmering through the row of small windows. Julia took one step backward.

NOW!

Sophia pounced!

She flew across the open space and hit Julia square.

Julia shrieked in sheer terror but went down, Sophia clinging to her, tumbling to the floor as one. “What—what the fuck?” Julia growled as they fought, Sophia attacking, determined to wrest the gun from Julia’s hand.

“Get off me! What’re you doing? Stop!” Julia cried, twisting and writhing as Sophia clawed at her, trying to pin her down, wildly attempting to grab the damned pistol.

But Julia was fired on adrenaline and wriggled and swung her arms. “Are you crazy?” she spat out.

Probably. “Are you?”

“Stop this! For . . . for . . . God’s sake, Sophia . . . You’re going to get us both killed!” Julia charged, breathing with difficulty, trying to scoot across the floor, but Sophia wouldn’t let her go and continued to scrabble for the gun. If she could just reach her sister’s hand—