My husband drove the car into the river with my brother and me trapped inside, but when the water had already reached my neck, the man who had been “paralyzed” for 15 years stood up from his wheelchair, k:ick:ed the door open, and whispered, “Play d:ea:d. He’s watching.” I didn’t ask any questions… until I saw who was waiting for my husband on the shore.

No response.

I screamed again.

“He can’t swim!”

Garrett did not turn around.

I fought with my seat belt.

The buckle was jammed.

I pulled harder.

Nothing.

The water rose to my knees.

Then my waist.

I reached beneath the seat.

My fingers touched metal.

Not part of the buckle.

A wire.

I followed it with my hand.

Someone had looped a steel cable through the seat belt mechanism.

Then secured it beneath the seat frame.

My breathing stopped.

The belt had been sabotaged.

This had been prepared.

I looked toward the shore.

Garrett was swimming calmly.

Then I saw someone waiting.

A woman stood beneath a large black umbrella.

At first, rain blurred her face.

Then lightning flashed.

I recognized her.

Penelope.

My half sister.

My father had a brief relationship before he married my mother.

Penelope was two years older than me.

She had never lived with us.