Markus Nubers was on the phone. He looked much the same in person as he did in the photographs Ingrid had seen online. Balding, twenty pounds overweight. He was wearing a white polo with AAI embroidered on the front.

They waited patiently in the doorway for Markus to finish his call before walking in.

His eyes moved down Ingrid’s body, then he smiled and said, “You guys the IRS folks?”

Ingrid and Billy looked at each other and fought down smiles.

“No,” Ingrid said. “We’re with the Alexandria Police Department.”

“Oh, is this about that speeding ticket?”

“No, we’re here about your sister.”

His face fell.

“She was killed in DC. What’s that have to do with Alexandria? Plus, they got the guy. His wife blew his brains out. Justice was served.”

She gave the same story, “Just trying to tie up some loose ends.”

He shrugged and offered them a chair.

Ingrid asked, “Were you aware your sister was blackmailing these guys?”

“No, not until the police told us.”

“Who is us?”

“Me and my mom.”

“Where is she now?”

“Same house.”

“Remarried?”

“No, but she’s got a guy.”

Billy asked, “So your sister never showed you any of the pictures?”

“Nope.”

“Could she have hidden them in your stuff somewhere? Or her stuff?”

“The cops went through a lot of her stuff during the investigation. As for my stuff, I don’t know why she would.”

“In her journal, she writes that you were always snooping around, trying to read her journal.”

“You have her journal?”

“Just the pages that were found at the crime scene.”

“Right.”

He took a deep breath and said, “You don’t think that I might be able to get those pages, do you? It would be great to hear her voice.”

“I’ll do my best,” Ingrid said. “But back to the question, did you read her journal?”

He scoffed, “No.”

Billy asked, “But you would look for it, right?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. The first time I found it by accident. I was looking for something in her room — these pink scissors, I think — and I found it.” He let out a small chuckle. “I only read a little.”

“So, you did read her journal,” Ingrid said, a bit more brusquely than she intended.

“Just enough to get under my sister’s skin.”

Ingrid gave a slight apologetic nod.

He continued, “When she got home after school, I asked her who some boy was and why she wanted to kiss him so badly. She freaked out.”

“Let me guess,” Billy said. “Then she started hiding it a lot better.”

“Yep, though I probably found it in like five different places.”

“And then what?”

“And then I never found it again.”

“When was this?” Ingrid asked.

“The last time I ever saw her journal was around April the year before she died.”

“That’s right about the time she started blackmailing people.”