Vincent Zandri - The remains

Speaking of Robyn, the FBI finally caught up with her attacker. They found him inside a motel outside Chicago where he was awaiting the arrival of his latest conquest. The FBI arranged a sting operation based upon some information delivered by a Match. com client who suspected a red flag when her new love interest insisted on meeting at a strange motel-no-tell. True to form, once he was caught, he couldn’t resist bragging about his exploits all over the country, including a beautiful brunette in Albany, New York by the name of Robyn. Robyn with a “y.” Safe to say the man will be put away for decades to come. God willing, he will spend his final days behind bars.

You’ll be happy to know I’m painting again. Mostly landscapes. Nothing too difficult. Just enough to get the rust out. I’ve also decided to try my hand at completing Michael’s final novel. It’s a story about a young woman who finds herself lost and alone in Europe. Paris to be precise. When she meets another woman who is identical to herself in every physical sense, she discovers that her remembered past is far different from reality. In typical Michael fashion, he didn’t leave me with a title. But for now I’m calling it Lost and Found.

I miss you Mol.

I know you were with me on that night two years ago when Whalen made his final move. I know you were there because I felt your presence with every one of my five senses. I smelled your skin, I heard your voice, I felt your touch. You entered my body and gave me strength. You made me fight my fear. You helped me survive. You are never far from my thoughts, my memories, my dreams.

Sometimes when I wake up early in the morning, I go outside with my coffee and I look out over the field to the woods and the mountain. I still see you walking through the tall grass in your cut-off jeans and Paul McCartney and Wings T-shirt. I see your blonde hair bobbing in time with your every step. I still feel that little pang of fright in my stomach the closer we come to the woods. I don’t know how our lives would have turned out had we not entered the woods that day; had we not broken Trooper Dan’s rule. But I guess it’s silly to imagine that we would have turned out any differently. We are what we are at any given moment in time. Dead or alive.

I’m going to end this now, because I hear Michael singing in his crib.

It’s morning and I need to make the coffee before I get him out. I may not write you for a while. There’re too many things I have to do now; too much life to live. Besides, I want to save up all the good juicy bits for when we meet up again, identical face to identical face. We’ll have a lot of catching up to do. I’d like to say I can’t wait, but it’s probably going to be a while.

All my love.

Your twin sister,

Rebecca Rose Underhill