The second photograph was more manageable. Eight people. The parents—Azor and Dolores—with four young men and two young women, among them Michael and Maggie. Probably their children because all of them bore resemblance to the parents. Though the dress had been formal, the posing had been much more casual. All of the parties seemed relaxed—no frozen smiles, no stiff postures. Everyone seemed to be having a good time.

The kids broke down into two groups: Dad’s side with black, curly hair and blue eyes, and Mom’s side with light brown hair and green eyes. Michael and another brother looked like Dad, Maggie, the other men, and a sister favored Mom.

Decker took a closer look at the photo. One brother wore a clerical collar. St. Thomas’s was a Catholic church. Perhaps brother Bram was actually Father Bram. No wonder he had been so composed over the phone. The clergy was used to dealing with crises.

A good-looking man in a pale, scholarly way. A face with regular features, and accented cheekbones. Sharp, sea-colored eyes behind the rimless glasses. Oak-brown hair and long. It fell past his shoulders.

Decker continued to examine the picture, then did a double take. Another brother standing next to Dad. Bram’s face but without the academic pallor and glasses. Fleshier in the cheeks with shorter, styled hair.

Michael came down the stairway. “She’s sleeping, but it’s restless.”

“Do you have a family doctor you want to call, Michael?”

“No, not really. Dad has always handled our medical care. We’re generally a very healthy bunch, including Mom. Maggie’s with her. She’ll be okay.”

Decker pointed to the picture. “You have twin brothers?”

Michael’s eyes went to the photograph. “Actually, triplets. Luke and Bram…” He pointed to the faces. “These two are identical twins obviously. They look even more alike now that Luke has taken off a few pounds.”

“Bram’s a priest.”

“Yeah. But we’re not Catholic. Only he is.”

“Who is the other triplet?”

“Paul.” Michael’s coloring had returned. “He looks more like me than his own twins. That’s genetics. Toss of the dice. This one is my older sister, Eva. She was born after the triplets. She’s kind of…well, my mother’s favorite after Bram. I think Mom was really happy to get a girl after three boys.”

“I can imagine. How old are your sibs?”

“Triplets are thirty-five, Eva’s thirty.”

“And you’re…”

“I’m twenty-five. Maggie’s twenty.”

“Your mom had children every five years.”

“I guess she did.”

“When was the picture taken?”

“For my dad’s sixtieth birthday…about two years ago. Seems like a hundred years ago.”

Michael rubbed his eyes.