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Which was kind of ironic, because there were a million things zinging through her head when she looked at him that commanded a voice. Nevertheless, she managed to silence them all.

Finally, Noah told her, “Thanks again for all your help in this matter. Even if we didn’t get Sorcerer this time around, your contribution was invaluable.”

Of course it was, Marnie thought. And she had a great personality, too.

“Lila,” Noah said, turning then to look at her. But again, he hesitated. “It’s good to have you back,” he said.

Of course it was, Marnie thought. It was always better to have the real thing than a pale substitute.

She bit back the feeling of sadness that rose inside her. It wasn’t her fault Noah had developed feelings for Lila a long time ago. Marnie hadn’t even been around then, so it wasn’t like she should even compare herself to her sister. Still, it was strange to think about the man she loved loving someone who looked just like her, but wasn’t her. And her feelings for Lila were so strange and so complex and so new, she didn’t need this added element of envy or jealousy or whatever it was intruding to make things even more confusing.

Bottom line, Noah didn’t love Marnie. And there was nothing she could do about that. Except accept it.

“Beat it, Noah,” Lila said succinctly. “Like you said, my sister and I have a lot of catching up to do.”

He smiled at that, a little sadly, it seemed to Marnie. Though whether he was sad on her behalf or Lila’s she couldn’t have said. Then he nodded once, more confidently. “You know your agenda,” he said to Lila. “And you know they’ve got their eye on you, so don’t be even a minute late.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she said. “I know I’ve been a bad girl and I’m on probation for a while. Just don’t make my curfew any earlier than midnight, ’kay, Dad? ’Cause all the cool kids at school get to stay out way later than me.”

He smiled in a way that told Marnie this was old ground for him and Lila, and another little pin pricked her heart. Regardless of everything, Noah and Lila shared a history to which Marnie could never be privy. It felt strange to realize they’d both been living lives independent of hers when both had come to mean so much to her over the past few weeks. Somehow, it felt as if a part of Marnie’s life was just beginning in that moment. And, she thought further, looking at Noah, a part of her life was ending then, too.

“Thank you,” she told him. “For everything.” There was so much more she wanted to say, but she stopped herself. Really, that was all Noah needed to know. That she was grateful to him, too. And he also had a great personality.

He smiled back in a way that was different from the smile he’d shared with Lila. That one had been playful. This one was melancholy. “You’re welcome,” he said. “Be on time,” he told Lila again.

“I will,” she promised. “Now go. Away.”

“Marnie,” he said by way of a farewell with a quick dip of his head. Then he turned and strode to the front door, closing it behind himself without a backward glance.

Tomorrow, Marnie promised herself. She would let herself fall apart over Noah tomorrow. Right now, she needed to keep it together for her sister. Her sister.

My sister.

How odd that two words she had never used together in her life would suddenly be a major part of it.

“So you’ll be the one going off on a new assignment tomorrow instead of me,” Marnie said, trying to focus on that to keep at bay all the emotions that threatened to swamp her.

“Actually, it’s the same assignment I’ve had for a couple years now,” Lila said. “Catching that bastard Sorcerer. This will just be a new direction.” She smiled again. “But, hey, we’ve got a good twelve hours to start getting caught up. And once I put that son of a bitch in a cage where he belongs, we’ll have even more time.”

Marnie laughed. She couldn’t help herself. Lila was just so…

“What?” Lila said.

“You’re just so…” Marnie shook her head.

“What?”

“Out there,” Marnie said with a smile. “I mean, you’re so free-spoken. So confident. So comfortable with yourself. You’re so different from me.”

Lila considered her thoughtfully for a moment, nibbling her lip. “I don’t know about that,” she finally said. “From what I hear, you and I have a lot in common.”

The comment both surprised and puzzled Marnie. “What have you heard?” she asked. More importantly, who had she heard it from? Not that she couldn’t guess. And did what the two of them have in common have anything to do with him?

“Don’t worry,” Lila said. “Noah’s not the kind to kiss and tell.”

Even though Marnie had just remarked on it, Lila’s frankness surprised her. “Well, evidently he told you something. How else would you know that he kissed me?”

“I didn’t,” Lila said with a grin. “Not until you confirmed it with that. But I speak body language as fluently as I do English. It’s pretty obvious the two of you did a lot more than kiss. It’s clear you and he are involved.”

“We were never involved,” Marnie denied. Well, Noah wasn’t, anyway. “We had sex. Once.” Well, one night, anyway.

She winced when she realized she had just described what had happened between her and Noah the same way he had described what had happened between him and Lila.

Lila shook her head. “No. I can tell by looking at both of you. Whatever happened between you and Noah, there was a hell of a lot more to it than just sex.”

“And you and Noah?” Marnie said before she could stop herself. Then she realized she didn’t want to stop herself. She needed to know. She would never be comfortable with Lila unless she knew—one way or the other—exactly where things stood between her sister and Noah. Marnie could live with it if Lila was in love with him. She could probably live with it—eventually—if Noah was in love with Lila. But she couldn’t live her life wondering, not knowing for sure how things stood.

For a minute, she thought Lila was going to pretend she didn’t understand the question. Then she expelled a soft sigh of resolution and said, “There’s nothing between me and Noah. There never was. We had sex once, and we both knew it was a mistake immediately afterward. It was a weird situation, one that will never happen again. I don’t love him. I never loved him. He’s a good guy, but…” She shrugged. “He’s no different from a bunch of others.”

It was only half of the answer she needed. “Does he love you?”

“No,” Lila said with absolute certainty.

Marnie wished she could share that certainty. She believed Lila about her own feelings. Knowing what she did of her sister, and hearing her now, Marnie didn’t doubt Lila was telling the truth about how she felt herself. But there was still something inside that wouldn’t quite let Marnie believe Noah felt the same way about Lila.

Not that it mattered, she tried to reassure herself. It wasn’t as if she’d ever see him again.

She pushed the thought away. “Are you sure you don’t want to get some rest before you leave tomorrow? I certainly understand if—”

“Waste of time,” Lila interjected. “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

Marnie sobered at that, because in Lila’s line of work, death could come anytime.

Lila must have realized what she was thinking, though, because she pointed out, “Yeah, and you could get hit by a bus on your way to work tomorrow. There are no guarantees for any of us, Marnie. We gotta do what we gotta do.”

Even after everything she’d learned about her sister and OPUS over the past few weeks, Marnie couldn’t imagine what drove Lila to do what she did, to put herself in jeopardy every single day. Yes, Marnie could get hit by a bus on her way to work tomorrow. But it wasn’t likely, because she was a very careful driver, and she always looked both ways before she crossed the street. In Lila’s line of work, one couldn’t even tell where the streets were half the time. And all the bus drivers in her world were heavily armed.

Different, she reminded herself. They were different from each other. Just because they shared identical DNA didn’t mean anything else about them was the same.

“You’ll stay for dinner, yes?” Marnie asked.

“You bet,” Lila told her. “But only if we order in. I don’t like for anyone to have to go to any trouble for me.”

Which spoke volumes, Marnie thought. Because if there was anyone who deserved to have someone take care of her for a little while, it was definitely Lila Moreau.

“I’ll just go put the kettle on, then,” she told her sister.

“And pop the cork on a bottle of wine.”

“S
O
P
HILOSOPHER’S MANUSCRIPT
in effect turned out to be an encrypted biography of sorts of Adrian Padgett?”

Marnie asked the question as she emptied the last of the pinot noir into her glass and set a fifth cup of tea down in front of her sister. It was just past four in the morning, but she was in no way sleepy, in spite of having consumed an entire bottle of wine over the past ten hours. She and Lila had shared dinner and countless snacks in that time, not to mention an ongoing dialogue about nearly everything that popped into their heads: Marnie’s talent for music and her efforts writing it. Lila’s recruitment into and experiences with OPUS. Marnie’s love of wine and gardening. Lila’s skill with weaponry and surveillance equipment. Marnie’s annual vacations to the Outer Banks. Lila’s travels all over the world.

Strangely, the one thing they
hadn’t
discussed was their upbringings with their individual parents. Marnie wasn’t sure if that was because the conversation simply hadn’t turned naturally to the topic yet, or if both women were unconsciously—or even consciously—making sure the conversation hadn’t turned to the topic. She was beginning to wonder if it ever would. Certainly not yet, since Lila was currently filling in the details of the OPUS operation to which Marnie had lent her time and alleged talents.

“Philosopher was kind of a frustrated field agent-wannabe when he was with OPUS, but he just wasn’t qualified for the job. So he kind of lived vicariously through his favorite field agents, keeping really close track of his favorites.”

“Like Sorcerer,” Marnie guessed.

Lila chuckled. “And me. A handful of others, too.”

“Has he written an encrypted
Life and Times of Lila Moreau?
” Marnie asked with a smile.

“I wouldn’t be surprised. But that’s how he stayed busy—and probably held on to his sanity—after his forced retirement. He had a little bit of a breakdown about five years ago,” she added before Marnie had a chance to ask for clarification. “He functions well enough to live a happy life, but not at a level where he could work anymore. Especially as an archivist, because those guys have to be razor sharp, mentally. Most of them have memories bigger than a computer’s. And they’re privy to some very delicate information.”

“Archivist?” Marnie echoed.

Lila reached for her tea, tucking her stocking feet beneath her as she leaned back. Her spike-heel boots lay next to Marnie’s discarded clogs on the floor between them, and the coffee table was cluttered with the remnants of their latest nibbling—a half-empty bowl of chocolate-covered pretzels and half a bag of shelled almonds.

“Archivists keep track of every operation OPUS has ever conducted,” Lila explained. “There are a dozen of them in D.C. who work for the organization. They’re the ones who do the final analysis and write up the final reports. They see what was done right and what was done wrong during an operation and make a record of that, too. They send their reports to the big muckety-mucks, then they file everything away in case we have to go back and reference the case again someday. Which we’ve had to do a lot with Sorcerer. That bastard probably has more info stored in the archives at OPUS than anyone.”

“What I find fascinating is that he was able to keep track of Padgett after he left the organization,” Marnie said, alluding to Lila’s earlier reports.

Lila grinned. “Yeah, he woulda made a good field agent after all. Who knew? But since he knew a lot of Sorcerer’s old contacts—on both sides of the law—he was able to keep track of what Sorcerer’s been doing to a big extent. Sure there are gaps in some of his analysis, but a lot of it is spot-on stuff we had no knowledge of whatsoever. That manuscript is going to be a huge help locating that son of a bitch.”

Lila’s language, Marnie noted, had improved some over the past ten hours. She’d used infinitely more colorful words to describe Adrian Padgett when they’d first begun to talk. Clearly Noah had been right about her sister’s ability to tailor herself to any situation. Unless maybe Marnie was already having a good influence on her little sister. Lila could certainly use some buffing and smoothing in addition to that much-deserved tender loving care.

Then again, that last was something Marnie could use a little of herself. Having a sister suddenly turn up only reminded her how important she’d always considered family to be—regardless of how that family had included only her and her father. Until Lila’s appearance, Marnie had been alone. Now her family numbered two again, and the realization of that sent a warm rush of well-being through her that she hadn’t felt for a very long time.

“Somehow,” Lila continued, “Sorcerer found out about Philosopher keeping tabs on him and what he was doing. Probably from one of the old contacts Philosopher used. Eventually, he found out Philosopher was living here in Cleveland and came to get the manuscript.”

“But how did everyone find me?” Marnie asked. “After seeing you, I can understand why they all thought I was you. But what brought everyone to Lauderdale’s that one particular night?”

Lila blew out a long sigh. “Believe it or not, sheer dumb luck. When Philosopher went shopping that night and saw you in the store, he assumed you were me and contacted OPUS, because he knew I’d been missing for five months. By then, Sorcerer was tailing him, and when he saw you, too, he concluded the same thing.”

She studied Marnie in silence for a minute, her gaze riveted to Marnie’s face. “Even though I knew you were my twin sister, it’s so strange to see you looking exactly like me. For five months, I’ve been dying to contact you, but there’s still a part of me that can’t quite believe you’re real.”

“You’ve known about me for five months?” Marnie asked. “They only told me a few weeks ago.”

“Yeah, well, they never told me about you at all, even when they knew of your existence. I had to find it out all by myself. Just like I had to find out by myself that they were training you to be me.” She grinned again. “Sorcerer’s not the only one who’s been keeping tabs on OPUS in his absence. But that’s why I finally came out of hiding. I couldn’t let you go out there and risk your life for me.”

“Why not?” Marnie asked.

“’Cause you’re my sister,” Lila said simply.

It was exactly the opening Marnie had been waiting for.

“Lila?” she said softly.

“What?”

“Are we ever going to talk about our parents? I mean, we only have about another hour before you have to leave, and I don’t know when we’ll see each other after that. We’ve spent half the night talking about things that have no bearing on who we are as sisters. I think it’s time for us to at least mention some of the things that do.”

Lila inhaled a deep breath and released it slowly. “Just how much do you know about our parents?”

“Nothing,” Marnie said, not quite able to mask the desperation she felt at having to realize and admit such a thing.

“My father told me my mother died when I was a baby, and borrowed a character from a Dickens novel to model her memory on. And until a few weeks ago, I didn’t even know you existed. By then, no one knew where you were, so I had no way to contact you. Had I known I had a sister out there somewhere in the world…” She let her voice trail off because, honestly, she had no idea what to say.

Lila seemed to understand, though, because she nodded. “I’ve known about you for almost six months,” she said. “And I’ve known where to find you for five. But like I said, the heat on me was so strong, I couldn’t risk coming out of hiding to contact you.” She hesitated before adding, “And I didn’t want to put you in any danger. I didn’t want to lose what little family I had before I even got to meet you. But it’s eaten away at me, knowing I had a sister…knowing I had
family
out there, and not being able to contact you.”

Relief hit Marnie so strongly she didn’t realize until then how much she had feared Lila’s resentment. Yet here her sister was saying she wanted to protect her. “How did you find out about me?” she asked.

“After my…after
our
mother died,” she corrected herself, “I was cleaning out her trailer, on the outside chance that there might be something somebody could use. Mostly, it was all crap. She was a real pack rat, even if hardly anything she held on to was worth keeping. But I hit a gold mine when I opened a shoe box in the back of her closet and found a few old letters from your…
our
father.”

Something quick and hot sparked in Marnie’s midsection. “What did they say?” she asked.

“I’ll let you read them,” Lila said, “but for now I have them stowed in a safe-deposit box in Vegas.” She smiled sheepishly. “I’ve kind of been moving around a lot the last several months.” Marnie was about to offer to fly out and get them herself when Lila added, “But I practically have them memorized, I read them so many times. The most important thing you need to know—at least, this was the most important thing to me—is that your…our father loved our mother. He wanted to marry her.”

Something knotted tight in Marnie’s stomach. “Then why didn’t they marry?”

“I can only guess,” Lila said. “Mom had a pretty lousy view of marriage. A pretty lousy view of men. Her parents were never married, and her dad walked when she was a baby. Not that she ever got involved with guys who were worth marrying anyway. Our father seems like the only one who had any potential.”

“He had more than potential,” Marnie said. “He was wonderful. Good-hearted, good-natured, good everything. Loving, generous, smart, sweet, kind. The best man I ever knew.”

Lila’s eyebrows knitted downward, and she glanced away.

“I wish you could have known him,” Marnie added. “And I wish he could have known you, too.”

“How did he die?” Lila asked, still not looking at her.

“Heart failure,” Marnie said. “He wasn’t a young man when we were born. He was fifty-two.”

“Mom was twenty-five.”

“And a showgirl, I hear.”

“When they met, yeah,” Lila said, turning her head to gaze at Marnie again.

“And Dad taught literature.” She shook her head. “The English professor and the showgirl. How on earth did they hook up?”

“We’ll probably never know,” Lila said. “But from his letters, it sounds like they spent the entire summer together in Vegas the year before we were born.”

“So it wasn’t some one-night stand,” Marnie said.

“Doesn’t look like it.”

“Then why didn’t they marry once they found out our mother was pregnant?”

Lila reached for her tea again, started to lift it to her mouth, saw that the cup was empty, and impatiently set it back on the coffee table. Then she stood and began to pace, obviously restless.

“Something you should know about Mom,” she said as she strode to the fireplace and began to inspect the photos there.

“What?” Marnie asked.

“She, um, she kind of had a self-esteem problem.”

“But she was a showgirl. That sounds pretty glamorous.”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t,” Lila said. “Not for her.”

“I’m not sure I’m following you.”

Now Lila moved to the bookcase, reading over the titles, pulling an occasional book from the shelf to look at its cover or flip through it. Something told Marnie she wasn’t seeing any of them, however.

“Mom was a fat kid growing up,” Lila said. “And her mom was poor, and her father was gone, and that made her ripe for ridicule at school. Her own mother wasn’t all that helpful in shoring her up, either. Mom lost the weight when she hit adolescence, but that only made the boys give her a different reason to feel worthless. If you know what I mean.”

Unfortunately, Marnie did.

Lila looked up again. “I honestly think Mom would have said no to our father’s proposal because she just didn’t think she was good enough for him. Or maybe she wanted to punish herself for something. Human nature’s a weird-ass thing. Human brain’s even weirder.”

Marnie couldn’t argue with that. But she still wasn’t sure she understood. Maybe because no one in her life had ever tried to make her feel bad about who or what she was. Guilt began to tap at the edge of her brain again knowing she had been the twin to grow up with privilege and advantage and opportunity. Talk about sheer dumb luck.

“I’m sorry, Lila,” she heard herself say before she even realized she had intended to speak. “I wish things could have been different for you. For your mom. For my dad. For all of us. I hate it that one decision changed so many lives. And I wish I knew why and how they decided to raise us separate from each other and our second parent.”

By now, Lila had pulled Marnie’s senior yearbook off the shelf and was riffling through the pages the way Noah had that first night in her home. She stopped on one page to study it more closely, and when Marnie stood, she saw that it was the page with the senior superlatives. Smartest. Nicest. Best Smile. Most Likely to Succeed. Marnie Lundy and Hal Peterson had been voted Most Creative. It was at their photo Lila was gazing. But where Marnie would have expected her expression to be hard, even bitter, instead, Lila was smiling.

“If I’d been in your senior class,” she said, “I’d have been voted Most Likely to Kick Someone’s Ass.”

She looked up again, and she must have been able to tell what Marnie was thinking from her expression. She did, after all, speak body language fluently.