Murder Deja Vu

release six years ago and vowed to be there if ever Reece needed him. But Reece couldn’t admit needing anyone. Later, when he let go of the anger that had kept him alive, he analyzed why he’d turned on Carl. Envy—one of the seven deadly sins. Carl was living Reece’s life and he was jealous and ashamed.
    He found the park easily. Some things retain a place in your memory, like the city where you spent the first eighteen years of your life. He arrived early and parked the Civic. Fencing enclosed the multi-acre dog park—good for dogs, not so good for someone needing a quick exit. Well, he was there. No turning back now. The park’s bridges and trails, woods and hills, made Reece wish he had his dogs. But his large property offered the animals plenty of room to roam before hitting an electronic fence. He walked around to get a feel for the place, found a bench and sat down to wait. Five minutes later, his brother arrived.
    Carl looked different than the last time Reece had seen him. Heavier, hair a little thinner, age showing more in the set of his jaw. He looked like their father.
    “Hello, Reece.”
    “Carl.” The moment might have been one of the most awkward in a life full of awkward moments. He couldn’t read his brother’s expression, and he had no idea what showed on his own face.
    “You look good,” Carl said. “Different somehow.”
    “Must be because I’m not wearing prison clothes.”
    Carl looked away, chewed his bottom lip. “Don’t.”
    Reece didn’t want to start that way. The sarcasm slipped out unintentionally. He wanted to apologize, but he didn’t. “I take it you checked to see if you were followed.”
    “I wasn’t. I doubled around the block a few times from the business. They’re not watching me that closely. The police warned me to report to them if you contacted me. I said I would.” He looked at Reece. “Of course I won’t.”
    Reece wondered if that were true, then thought sadly how cynical he’d become. “I need your help. I want to talk about the guys with us the night of Karen’s murder.”
    Carl rolled his eyes, released an exasperated puff of air. “We’ve gone over this a hundred times. What more can I tell you?”
    “Were you sleeping with her too, Carl? You can tell me that.”
    Carl’s gaze shifted, his jaw muscles tensed. “What difference could it possibly make now?”
    “Were you?” Reece waited. The anxiety on Carl’s face broadcast the answer before he spoke the word.
    “Yes.”
    Reece had expected the reply, but he still wasn’t prepared for the internal jolt. He turned away. “Why didn’t you tell me what everyone must have known but me?”
    Carl shook his head. “No one knew. I didn’t know about the others until earlier that day. Karen juggled all of us. I didn’t want you to know about me. I was ashamed. Still am.”
    “Yeah, now, confronting me. But you didn’t have any problem screwing your brother’s girlfriend back then, did you?”
    A dog ran past them, the owner jogging behind. “I’ve asked myself that for twenty-one years. But when I found out about her, I convinced myself I was protecting you by not exposing her. I had hoped you’d see for yourself. You were so oblivious, so trusting. But the answer is much more complicated and selfish. I didn’t want Marcy to know I screwed around because she’d never marry me if she found out. I loved her and didn’t want to hurt her. Turns out I’m not very good at holy matrimony, even without cheating.”
    Reece thought he was prepared, but he was surprised how much Carl’s confession hurt. “I would have told you.”
    Carl nodded. “Yes, you would have. Because you’re an honest man. You always were. I could only aspire to be as good. I tried to tell people, but they wanted a murderer, and you were their best prospect.”
    A vise clamped tight inside Reece’s chest. Some part of him wanted to hug his baby brother, take him in his arms and tell him things would be all right. That he forgave him his silence when it mattered to speak up, if not in court, then at least to tell him what kind of woman shared his bed. Carl had suffered in a different way, but Reece wasn’t at the place where he could open his heart. Maybe after all this was over he’d find the strength, but now, absolution eluded him.
    “How many others were fucking her besides those at our table that night?” Reece took out his notebook. He thought he’d never forget the names, but he had a mental