“What if Monroe wasn’t the intended victim but rather collateral damage?” Izzy suggested. “What if it was Asher who was the target?”

Mia half nodded to acknowledge she’d heard Izzy, but any attempt at conversation would have been drowned out by the women who surged to their feet in the pews across from Cash and Lacey, belting out an ambitious “Ave Maria.”

Izzy waited until the crescendo before leaning closer, her breath hot against Mia’s ear.

“What if it was you?”

There was a brunch at the Bishop house following the service. Izzy hated to be mercenary about it, but the gathering provided the perfect opportunity to poke and prod at their list of suspects. The entire town seemed to be in attendance.

“I’m going to find Lacey,” she told Mia.

Mia nodded. “I’m going to try Cash again. If I can get him alone.”

Izzy was definitely getting the better end of this particular deal. “’Kay.”

Although the house was much larger than the church, it was still cramped with people trying to hold flimsy cocktail plates and maneuver around small talk and bulky furniture. The place reeked of too-sweet floral perfume that highlighted rather than masked the underlying hint of fish and sea.

After Izzy made it through all the first-level rooms, she admitted defeat. Lacey wasn’t downstairs. That’s how Izzy found herself ducking into each of the rooms on the second floor. They’d been mostly empty, save for a couple of kids playing hide-and-seek in the guest suite.

She’d already done a sweep of the downstairs and outside areas and knew Lacey wasn’t there. That left what Izzy guessed was the attic. The door was already slightly ajar, so it swung open easily on well-oiled hinges.

The room was filled with dusty sheet-covered furniture and duct-taped cardboard boxes with words like “kitchen” and “baby stuff” scribbled on their sides. A bare hanging lightbulb cast a warm yellow glow as it swung on its chain. Lacey hadn’t been up here long.

The woman sat on a dilapidated couch beneath one of the skylights that had been carved into the roof. Her head was bent forward, her legs pulled up crisscross style. There was something in her lap and a gentle smile on her lips.

“He had the biggest chipmunk cheeks,” Lacey said without looking up, her voice barely a whisper, and then held up what looked like a photo album. It was hard to make out, but Izzy could vaguely see there was a yellowed baby picture slotted into one of the plastic holders. “Cash.”

Izzy laughed and ducked under a crossbeam to take a seat next to Lacey. Craning her neck, Izzy tried to get a better look at the album. They were all pictures of Cash as a kid. The affection on Lacey’s face was clear. But so was the memory of how she’d looked in the bar, after the door had slammed.