“Do you know what this means?” Emma exclaimed. Her reflection stared excitedly back at her. She felt Ethan move behind her and turned to meet his eyes. “This means Garrett still doesn’t have whatever Nisha was hiding.” She gripped the sleeve of Ethan’s shirt. “The evidence is still there!”

Ethan blanched, the color leaching from his cheeks. “Jesus,” he murmured. “Emma, I hope you’re not thinking of breaking in, too. Dr. Banerjee will never let you in now that he knows who you are.”

But a flash of energy flared through Emma. Finally, after being helpless for so long, she’d found the break she’d been looking for. Whatever Nisha had, Garrett had murdered her because of it. Surely it would prove he had killed Sutton, if not both girls.

“We have to go over there,” she said. “We should go now, before Garrett figures out a way back into the house.”

She was halfway to the door when Ethan’s hand gripped her wrist, spinning her back around to face him. “Are you crazy?” he asked, his voice hoarse with emotion. “Emma, Garrett was here. One house away. He ran away once he realized Dr. Banerjee was home, but he’s not going to make the same mistake again. And if he sees you trying to get into Nisha’s house, who knows what he’ll do?”

She stared at him incredulously. “There’s something in Nisha’s house that could end this. It’s worth the risk!” She pressed his hand in both of hers. “If I can solve this case, I’ll be free. You and I can be together without all this . . . this craziness hanging over our heads.”

Ethan’s lips turned downward as he grabbed her by her shoulders. “If Garrett sees you over there, he’ll kill you. Emma, please.” He took a deep, shaking breath, and then exhaled. “Besides, Garrett’s not the only one watching you. If the cops catch you trying to break in, they’ll find a way to put you in jail. You said yourself they’re just looking for a reason.”

Emma glanced back at the widow, frustration mounting inside of her. The answers were so near, and yet she still couldn’t get them. But maybe Ethan was right. She was being watched too closely. Reluctantly, she sank into the sofa, her hands curled into fists.

But at least there was hope.

In the window, the ghost of Sutton blinked back at her, hopeful and terrified. I promise we’ll solve this, she thought desperately, hoping her sister could hear her. And then, as she watched, tiny patches of Sutton’s face began to fall away, as though she were decomposing.