Emma’s eyes darted uncertainly around the room. If Garrett were hiding something about the murder, where would it be—and what would it be? She opened his desk drawers, sorting through unorganized piles of paper clips, highlighters, and thumbtacks. There was evidence of his current romance with Celeste, in the form of a chunk of violet quartz next to his computer—Emma assumed it was for focusing his chi or something like that. A photo of Celeste sitting on a swing and gazing off into mid-distance sat behind it.

A few picture frames lay facedown on the desk, where they’d been knocked over by a hastily flung windbreaker. She picked them up and turned them over—and as she did, her heart started to slam against her chest.

In one, Nisha beamed at the camera in tennis whites. And in the other, Sutton gave her best movie-star pout from a lounge chair, dressed in a jade-green bikini and a flowered sarong.

The frames shook in her hands. Why would he have these here, on his desk, after both girls had broken up with him?

I stared at the pictures. What did he think about when he looked at them? Did he relive what he’d done to us? Did he tell himself that I’d deserved it for hurting him? A shiver moved through me as I looked at my own coy smirk, frozen forever in time.

Emma set the pictures back where she’d found them. She suddenly felt a lot less safe than she had a moment before. She backed toward the door, stumbling over a stray hiking boot on the way.

As she turned to go, she kicked an orange prescription bottle with the tip of her toe. A few pills rattled inside. She frowned, stooping to pick it up.

It was Valium.

Time froze. She stared at the crisp black print on the label until the letters didn’t make sense, until they looked like a jumble of alien signs. Detective Quinlan’s voice floated back to her. The examiner found extremely high amounts of diazepam in her bloodstream. Nisha hadn’t had a prescription. But Garrett did.

“What are you doing in here?”

The voice cut through Emma’s thoughts like a knife. She jumped, throwing the bottle to the floor, and looked up to see Garrett’s sister in the doorway.

Louisa wore cut-off jean shorts, bright green tights, hiking boots, and a large black T-shirt that draped off one shoulder. Her dyed-black hair was cut in a shaggy bob, and she wore dozens of black jelly bangles on her arms. She stood in the doorway, looking both curious and mildly annoyed. Emma hadn’t even heard her open the door.