A Sister’s Justice: A Marishka Tanya Alexei Mystery (Chapter One)
© 2009 by Michelle Kidwell.
Rewritten © 2018
“Nothing makes us so lonely as our secrets.” Paul Tournier.
I was staring at the face of my dead sister. I would know that face anywhere.
I must be having break down, hallucinations from a long shift. I needed sleep.
The rain was coming down heavily, but I would know my sister even from a distance, even in the rain, even in the dark.
Marishka snap out of it, she was buried seventeen years ago.
Murdered because our Father had called a hit on her.
I made my way to see if this person who looked remarkably like my dead sister needed help. There was no way I could leave anyone alone on a night like this, and didn’t they know it could be dangerous after the sun went down? Even the most unassuming places held dark secrets. I knew that, I had lived that.
“Are you okay?” I asked, the stranger who looked even more and more like Ana, the sister we had buried seventeen years before.
I was met with silence, and I found myself wondering if she understood me.
“Ana!” I whispered, she looked at me, but said nothing.
“You’re dead.” I said. “We buried you seventeen years ago, Vania was a newborn, she’s almost eighteen.” I said, hoping that I wasn’t given this random information to some random stranger.
“I had to make everyone think I had been killed.” She finally said. “I’m sorry, but it wasn’t just for my safety it was for yours too. He wanted to hurt you too.”
I nodded, I knew that, I had lived that. He had hired the man I had once believed loved me to kill me, not even Jacob could protect me, something he felt guilty for to this day.
“He shot me. Well he was to much of a coward to do it himself, he had Justin do it.”
“Coward.” Ana muttered.
“You knew about Vania, but after Vania, Jacob and I were blessed to more kids, Anna, and Ahab.”
“Wow, I had no idea.”
“How could you?” I said, not out of anger, but out of hurt. She wasn’t the one that caused the hurt though it was the man who was supposed to love and protect us, and the Mother who was supposed to keep us safe.
“Isn’t it dangerous for you to be here?” I asked.
“I am tired of running, tired of hiding, tired of the people I love grieving over me.”
“I’m sorry you had to disappear for so long.” I said. “I have really missed you, Sophia and I have grieved you for seventeen years.”
“I’m sorry, I never wanted to hurt you guys, but I couldn’t stay here, and be a target, or make you guys a target.”
“I think my choice of careers made me a target. Our Father hates cops.”
“That’s only because he’s always into something illegal, and if he doesn’t get his way he has no problem eliminating anyone who stands in his way.”
As silence fell over our conversation, I grabbed my burner phone to call Jacob.
I hoped he would realize what I was saying when I said “Lazarus.” I could not just say Ana was alive, that was far to dangerous. I wasn’t going to paint that target on her head.
I could only hope he understood when I hung up, and led Ana to my car, told her to lay down in the back seat while we made our way to our house, that was in a secluded area just outside of a town.