Was that disappointment in Tvist’s smile? Very hard to tell. “Viktoria,” he said, “what makes people like the Tactical Brigades difficult to investigate is that there actually is no physical brigade. Most of them never meet in real life. They exchange ideas on discussion forums and recruit people who seem receptive to those ideas. We call it radicalization, but it’s a slow and painstaking process, and it takes months. Beginning with ideas that don’t seem so very far from the mainstream. They’re watching for shares and for likes. Then they invite you to private discussions. They’re especially interested in people of your age.”

Vee looked down at her feet, weighing her thoughts, wide-eyed. “I never shared anything. I swear. I may have liked some stuff.”

“Oh, Vee,” I said. “Love.”

“It gets exhausting, always having to say the right-on thing all the time, you know, Dad. But I swear on my life I didn’t think I was putting anyone in danger.”

“All right,” said Tvist. “Lesson learned. Why don’t you tell me about the dress, Viktoria?”

Vee brightened. “I took photos of where I found it. Here.” She reached across the desk, handed him the phone that Edvard had given her. “I’d like my actual phone back, by the way.”

“And you may have it when you leave.” Tvist began scrolling through the photos. “You tell me you think this is Alicia Curtis’s dress?”

“It is her dress.”

Tvist sent me a questioning look.

“Yes,” I said. “I think it is.”

His eyes returned to Vee.

“But you can see there’s one bullet hole.” Vee turned, tapped herself on the back just below her right shoulder blade. “About here. Surrounded by blood.”

“Possible bullet hole,” said Tvist. “Possible blood.”

“I know you have to say that. But a bullet wound like that would be survivable. Wouldn’t it?”

“Hard for me to know.”

“It would,” said Vee, as if the fact were nonnegotiable. “So you know she was alive, on the island, probably after the massacre.”

Tvist had his elbows on the desk, was sucking at the joint of his right thumb.

“Vee,” I said, “that’s not really something you or I can judge.”

“But this moves the case forward, doesn’t it? Because it’s not a fatal wound. And your people didn’t find the dress, Mr. Tvist.”

“Viktoria, I don’t think we can exclude the possibility that she took off her dress before she got in the water.”

Vee’s face fell. She seemed to shrink in on herself. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I see what you’re saying. God, I can be stupid. But it does show she was there, on the island, at least.”

“Vee! Can you go fetch the ice cream?”

Vee sloped into the kitchen. “If you and Dad want to talk, tell me. You don’t need to lie.”

“Vee,” I said, “don’t call your mother a liar.”