Angrily, Emily stacked the box of switch plates on the box of drawer pulls, picked them up, and carried them to the top of the basement stairs. Frank came bursting in from outside, arms loaded with what looked like empty plastic bags. Emily drew back and watched as he crossed to the utility closet. Dropped what he was carrying on the floor. Snapped open a large black plastic garbage bag and began stuffing the smaller plastic bags into it.

“Hi, Frank,” Emily said.

He jerked upright. “Hey, hon. I thought you were upstairs.”

Looking at him, she felt cold, as if she were seeing him for the first time. “What are you up to?” she said, holding the boxes of hardware in front of her, daring him to notice.

“What am I up to?” He shook one of the plastic bags at her. “Look familiar?”

Emily dropped the boxes on the kitchen table and took the bag from him. The clear plastic was printed with blue block letters: ICE. Frank held the garbage bag open so she could add it.

“Why on earth did you need this much ice?” he asked, swiping an errant bag from the floor.

“Me? What makes you think they’re mine?” Emily asked.

“Because they were in the trunk of my car and I didn’t put them there. You’re the only person who’s got a key besides me.” This was straight out of Frank’s legal playbook: The best defense is a good offense.

Emily sat down in the kitchen chair. “Frank, I don’t know how those bags ended up in the trunk of your car, but I didn’t put them there.”

He looked past her to the boxes she’d set on the table. “And I suppose you’re going to tell me you didn’t put those boxes in the basement, either.” That question left Emily speechless. When she didn’t answer, he went on. “Light switch covers? Drawer handles? Locks?”

Emily said, “They’re from the storage unit that Becca and I are emptying out.”

“I guessed as much. But what I can’t figure out is why you left them—”

“Whoa.” Emily reared back. “I most certainly did not—”

“Didn’t you?”

“No!”

Frank’s eyes widened. “So I’m supposed to believe that those boxes just magically appeared in the basement?” He shook his head and knotted the garbage bag shut. “Like these bags got beamed into the trunk of my car?”

Emily folded her arms across her chest. “It wasn’t me.”

Frank straightened and gave her a long, hard look. “If you didn’t.” He blinked. “And I didn’t. Then someone’s messing with us. Planting evidence that—”

Before he could finish, the front doorbell rang.

Frank shot Emily a questioning look, then headed for the front hall. Emily followed. He looked through the peephole. “It’s your mother.”

“Ringing the bell?” Emily asked.