The Third Twin
Higgins continued, “after I caught a lover of mine, a man I’d met in a club and known for only a week or so—Christ, can I be telling you this? I must, mustn’t I?—after I caught him stealing from me. Not money, not possessions, but something more personal. I mean, can there be anything more personal than one’s sperm? When I caught him putting the zip baggie, with the used condom inside, in one of those soft coolers you store sandwiches in, I reacted . . . violently. Out of fear, I guess. All I could think was that he was some kind of pervert, a freak. I didn’t wait to get an explanation. I forced it out of the son of a bitch. I could have killed him. I almost did kill him. But did he care, in
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