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A text message leads seventeen-year-old Shaun Daley to question what everyone else has taken at face value—that his gifted twin had hanged himself.
The guy who sent the message dies in a hit and run before Shaun can question him. Desperate for answers, he seeks out his brother’s best friend—nerdy, introverted Mira Patel.
Mira has her own problems: unrealistic parental expectations and a sister who breaks every rule in their traditional Indian household. Now she has to help Shaun, no matter that his arrogant attitude annoys the heck out of her. But when her sister dies of a drug overdose, it’s Shaun she turns to for help.
As their grief draws them closer together, Mira helps Shaun investigate the deaths. They discover clues linking the hit-and-run to her sister’s overdose and, ultimately, his brother’s suicide. Soon they’re in a race to expose a killer before he finishes them off, too
The walls of our three-story colonial could withstand force five gales, but did nothing to muffle my mom’s sobs from the adjoining room, or my dad’s frenzied pacing in the hall outside.
Something heavy thudded against my bedroom wall, followed by the sound of glass shattering. Dad stopped pacing. “What the hell, Terese?” A pause, then, “Oh, for God’s sake, cut it out! He’s not coming back.”
Dad was great at stating the obvious.
Mom answered, her voice too low for me to hear, but I didn’t need to. Their arguments always ended with Dad either sleeping on the couch or leaving the house. Lately he’d been leaving more often. I dragged a pair of jeans over my boxers and sat at the edge of the bed, staring at my clenched hands.
My brother would’ve known the right thing to do. But, if he was here, we wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place. Damn you, David. Why the hell did you do it? I blinked hard, wishing I’d gone out. I could be drinking with the guys right now, instead of sitting here missing my brother and listening to my parents tear each other apart.
Dad’s footsteps paused outside my door. I waited for him to continue toward the stairs. He hadn’t set foot in my room since David died a month ago.
The door handle turned.