If the detective was disappointed by Ava’s absence, she didn’t show it. Instead, Calvente told Bill that she was required to accompany them, as the house was a crime scene and nothing could be removed from the premises without inspection. “If you’ll follow me,” she said, finishing her spiel.

The detective marched toward the narrow staircase with Nate’s dad in tow. Imani followed at a snail’s pace, spying into each room off the hallway, scanning for something out of place that might scream where Melissa had been taken or, at least, profess her innocence. Everything appeared more or less as Imani remembered, save for the black-jacketed police officers.

She headed up the curved staircase to the third story. The fact that the level above the entrance wasn’t the second floor was one of the oddities of brownstone living. Often, the entrance was located up a flight leading to an elevated “parlor floor.” The story right below was typically the true first floor or “garden level,” as Realtors liked to say, despite only the priciest homes possessing backyards. The Walkers’ residence had a yard, however, right above the basement level, which housed the media room, gym, a closet-turned-wine-cellar, and Nate’s den.

As Imani rounded the staircase landing, she couldn’t help but wonder about the room somewhere below her in which Nate had been killed. Was it covered in blood? Were there footprints? Had the police found evidence in there of a woman running from the scene? Was that why they’d honed in on Melissa’s Instagram?

They passed through a narrow hallway lined with closets and headed to Ava’s room. Melissa had given her daughter the second-biggest bedroom on the floor, as it faced the water and overlooked the promenade. Across from it were two guest bedrooms, the larger of which had been converted into a teenage hangout space.

Detective Calvente held the door back. To Imani, the teen’s room had always seemed as if its designer had smoked a doobie in Restoration Hardware. It was a wealthy person’s idea of bohemian chic, too many blankets artfully draped over too-expensive surfaces. Imani had a room that was truly boho-chic, filled with Craigslist finds and hand-me-down pieces that her father had found too painful to keep after her mother’s death. The combination was an eclectic mix of things that didn’t match but were united by loved-in wear and tear. This was not that.

Even so, Imani could guess where things were kept here. She opened the top drawer of Ava’s dresser, wanting to prove that she meant to help before confronting Detective Calvente about Melissa’s supposed boy toy. If she asked about him too early, she feared the cop might escort her back to the exit.