Now that I've given you all a proper heart attack, let's see what REALLY happened :D Thank you guys so much for your patience up to this point!

Chapter 54

December 1990

It was an early firework that made her wake with a start and Clara was torn out of her peaceful dream only to be plunged straight back into hell. Despite her heavy head and her dry throat, she cursed the overly enthusiastic New Year's celebrations, knowing that this year, she would not be part of it. The tickets were still attached to her pinboard, two tickets, and they were taunting her to the point that Clara had to jump out of bed and tear them down. With all the strength she could muster, she ripped them into pieces that landed on her dressing table like confetti. Day twenty-three and Danny was still dead. Clara was still trapped in the same never-ending nightmare. With a sigh, she plopped back down on her bed, thinking that she might start to cry, but all of her tears seemed to have dried out. Even if she had wanted to, crying wasn't possible. Clara was exhausted.

Over the last three weeks, she had started to wonder if this was what her life was going to be from now on even though she hadn't really registered the first couple of days – they had been spent in a grief- and sedative-induced haze. She felt numb even now, even though it was a numbness of a different kind, the kind that only came when the pain was becoming too much and her body had shut off the rest in a desperate attempt at self-preservation. Other than that, she simply functioned – or at least she gave off that impression to the outside world. Clara had done it so convincingly that her father and stepmother had left a couple of days ago to return to Blackpool. The only thing Clara missed about their presence was the distraction of it, and she prayed for another. A sudden knock on her front door provided her with exactly that.

Clara turned her head and frowned, wondering whether it was one of her friends or the concerned neighbour who had developed a habit of checking in on her every now and then – no doubt because her father had asked her to. She rose from her bed, draped her dressing gown around her body and went to answer the knock that now came a second time.

As Clara swung the door open, it was as if her heart had stopped for a moment and she thought she was looking into a mirror. Maybe she was still dreaming after all, maybe the sedatives had made her head soft, but when Clara looked ahead, she stared straight into her own face. There wasn't a single difference in the shade of their hair or the shape of their eyes or the small nose that she had always loved on herself. Clara gaped at the strange woman that wasn't so strange after all. She had seen her countless times every time she had looked into the mirror.

"Hello," the other woman greeted her carefully. The voice had a familiar and yet strange ring to it. Was that was Clara sounded like to other people? The woman smiled and judging from her own smile, Clara thought it seemed genuine. "I know how weird this must seem to you, but… could I come in?"

Clara must have nodded or said yes because a few minutes later, the strange woman who had introduced herself as Bonnie Moore was sitting on her sofa and Clara was making them both tea. She hadn't bothered to change out of her nightie and dressing gown, yet Bonnie didn't seem to mind. Still, Clara wasn't entirely convinced it wasn't a dream. It wasn't until Bonnie returned her curious looks that Clara realised she had been staring at her.

"I, uh-" Clara began, but broke off when she realised she didn't know what to say, so instead, she sat down at the opposite side of the coffee table. All of a sudden, her flat seemed incredibly quiet and not even the early fireworks could be heard anymore.

"I have quite a long story to tell you," Bonnie said, "but first, let me say how sorry I am for your loss."

Clara felt a little taken aback and she fought off the hint of nausea that came every time someone mentioned Danny. It wasn't so much that she was afraid of throwing up, it wasn't that kind of nausea, but to be reminded of her loss felt like a punch in the stomach each time.

"How did you know?" she asked, but then, an even better question occurred to her. "Who are you?"

A hint of a smile appeared on Bonnie's face. "I'm your sister," she said simply.

It was the craziest story Clara had ever heard. Her mother having two babies and giving one up for adoption seemed insane at first, but Bonnie's face – so exactly like her own – left her with little doubt that it was, in fact, true. Her sister had grown up in Belfast but lost her parents recently and it wasn't until three weeks ago that Bonnie had started to search for her birth family.

"I didn't think it mattered," she explained with a shrug. "My parents were my parents. They're dead and I don't need a replacement."

Clara blinked, still soaking up every bit of information and sipping her tea. "What changed your mind?"

At last, Bonnie's face grew serious and Clara noticed a hint of regret that was clearly on display. "A young man saved my life," she confessed. "Because he thought I was someone else. He thought I was you."

Danny.

Clara's head was spinning. She only vaguely remembered her conversation with the detectives, but they had talked about Danny pushing a woman out of the way, saving her life and losing his own. They had looked, but they hadn't found a single trace of the woman in question. Now, she was sitting in Clara's living room, drinking tea and looking apologetic.

"He called me Clara when he shoved me out of the way," Bonnie told her. Despite the gratitude in her voice and even though Clara knew that Danny would have done it for anyone, she suddenly felt angry. Danny was dead because of the woman in front of her. "I'm an investigative journalist. It took me a while, but I figured it out and I found you."

"What for?" Clara barked and she was surprised by the harshness of her own voice. But why shouldn't she be harsh? This woman, her sister, was the reason Danny was dead. "I thought you didn't want a substitute family."

The smile was back on Bonnie's face, but this time, it wasn't friendly. There was something cold about the way it looked. "I know who drove the car," she said simply. "And I know the police let him go."

"Ciaran O'Neill," Clara replied before Bonnie could give it away. She was still in touch with the police and he was the only suspect they had interviewed so far. There was no other lead and the detective had left her with little hope of actually catching Danny's killer. But now there was Bonnie… and she seemed to think…

"He's IRA," her sister stated as if it was the most obvious thing.

"What?!

"As part of my job, I infiltrated the IRA-"

"You're a spy?!"

"I'm a journalist," Bonnie insisted, her voice sounding angrier than before. "My father died because they thought he was IRA and I went undercover to hurt them just as badly as they hurt my family. I have information on their members and planned attacks."

What Bonnie was telling her sent Clara's mind racing. This morning, she had woken up with little hope but now, by answering the door to a stranger, she had also opened a box of possibilities. "You have to give it to the police," Clara said determinedly. "If it helps them bring Danny's killer to justice, you have to give it to them!"

"I will," her sister confirmed with a nod. "But I need more. There are some informants I have yet to talk to and I might need your help."

Clara frowned at her in response, not really knowing what she was on about.

"Ciaran O'Neill knows who I am and they sent him to kill me," Bonnie explained. For a woman in mortal danger, she sounded surprisingly calm. "If they do, they'll do it quietly so my secrets will die with me. They can't arouse suspicion in case the police dig a little too deeply and find out I've been investigating them, in case I still have information hidden away."

"What does this have to do with me?" Clara wanted to know. She didn't understand it.

Instead of answering, Bonnie reached for her backpack, opened the zip and pulled out a small metal strongbox. "I need you to keep hold of this for me in case something happens. This box contains everything I have on the IRA. Names. Dates. Their plans. This could be my breakthrough as a journalist."

"That box could put O'Neill in prison!" Clara argued loudly, wondering why Bonnie was still sitting on it instead of going to the police.

"It will," she promised her, her voice frantic. "But I just need a little more information and I need more time to write my piece and I would feel so much safer knowing that I have a backup plan. I know you want to put O'Neill behind bars and trust me, I want the exact same thing!"

"Then why don't you?!"

Bonnie stopped and Clara watched her swallow as her sister considered her answer. "Do you want to just put Danny's killer in prison or do you want him to be in the company of the people who told him to do it?"

Clara paused. She wasn't quite sure what she wanted, but she wanted it now. O'Neill had to pay for the pain he had caused her.

"Ciaran O'Neill is a tiny cog in a big machine," Bonnie stated. "We can't destroy it and taking out O'Neill would achieve nothing in the grand scheme of things. But with a little more time, we can cripple it."

"When has this become a we?" Clara demanded angrily. She couldn't remember agreeing to Bonnie's ludicrous plan.

Her sister smiled that cold, vicious smile. "You want revenge for your boyfriend," Bonnie remarked. "The police won't help, but I will. I'm your only chance."

As much as Clara would have loved to disagree – and she really would have because her sister was beginning to scare her – she had to admit that Bonnie was right. She was her only chance of bringing Danny's killer to justice. All Clara had to do was to wait a little longer. Then, she would not only have justice but revenge.