Chapter 2

I hung up, my fingers trembling with suppressed adrenaline.

The young officer standing beside me had clearly caught the gist of the conversation. His eyes softened with sympathy as he handed me a paper cup.

"Drink some water. Take a breath."

"Thank you," I muttered, letting the warmth seep into my palms.

Just then, another detective stepped out of the office, holding a radio.

"Miss Vance, our traffic cameras and mobile units tracked your vehicle. The suspect is holed up at his mother's old apartment complex over in the East Industrial District. Building three, second floor."

He paused. "We need you to accompany us to positively identify the vehicle."

"Let's go."

I tossed the cup into the trash and followed them out into the drizzle.

As the patrol cruiser sped through the slick streets, the streetlights blurred into streaks of yellow against the rainy window.

I rested my forehead against the cool glass, watching my own faint reflection.

Memories rushed in like a broken dam.

Ever since I could remember, Leo was treated like the golden boy, while I was an afterthought.

Brenda had divorced early, and her ex-husband took off without paying a cent of child support. She moved back into our neighborhood, playing the pitiful single mother, and the entire family rallied to spoil Leo rotten.

Leo got brand-new gadgets and designer clothes. I got hand-me-downs, with Mom telling me, "Girls don't need fancy things."

When Leo broke a plate, it was, "Boys will be boys, he's energetic."

When I dropped a glass, Mom slapped my cheek and called me clumsy and careless.

In third grade, Leo stole six months' worth of my allowance to buy video games. When I cried to Brenda, she just chuckled. "He's a little boy, Harper. Learn to share with your cousin."

My mom stood right there and said nothing.

Over the years, I learned to keep my head down, hide my belongings, and swallow my resentment.

At eighteen, I earned a scholarship to a top state university. Leo barely graduated high school.

Brenda wept at our dining table, claiming Leo failed because no one gave him extra tutoring, hinting that if my dad would just pay for elite vocational training, Leo would thrive.

My dad actually agreed and handed over five thousand dollars.

That money was taken directly out of my college living fund.

For four years, I worked three campus jobs, refusing to ask my parents for a single dime.

Meanwhile, Leo dropped out of two different training institutes, ran off to party, racked up gambling debts, and once again, Dad bailed him out with ten thousand dollars from his modest savings.

I warned my parents over and over: "He's a black hole. Stop feeding him."

Dad would sigh and say, "He's family, Harper. Brenda has only him."

Mom was even blunter: "You're going to get married and move away. When we're old, we need family nearby. Be nice to Leo, and he'll look out for us."