Folding my arms over my chest, I walked to the black-and-white images on the wall. I stared, remembering the exact days and times I’d snapped each. With each shot I’d been chasing the light, hoping the next picture would whisper a secret the river held. It knew who had killed Clare. But it wasn’t talking.

6 BRIT

6

BRIT

Saturday, March 12, 2022

8:00 a.m.

I punched in the security code to Marisa’s apartment building and walked to the elevator. Initially, while Marisa had been in surgery to relieve the pressure on her brain, I’d thought caring for her could be endless, so I’d had her keys copied and gotten the security code from the building manager. Braced for the worst, I had been ready to step up.

Turned out my sister was far more resilient than the doctors had initially thought, and she’d awoken. The only residual effects of the accident had been a mild form of amnesia, shorter hair, and wrecked taste buds. Marisa couldn’t remember the ten days leading up to the accident, the crash, or why drugs had been found in her system. I decided to back off, considering how bad it could’ve been.

I’d searched every inch of Marisa’s apartment after I talked to the surgeon and learned the paramedics suspected drug use. I’d been so pissed but not really surprised to hear about the drugs. All these days, weeks, and months of Marisa claiming to be sober had been a lie.

I had found not a drop of booze or any kind of drug. That didn’t mean Marisa wasn’t guilty. It just meant I’d not found the evidence. She was very intelligent, and addicts can be sneaky.

I stepped off the elevator, drawing in a breath and shoving aside the anger. It didn’t do anyone, especially me, any good to dwell on the negative. Positive thoughts, Brit. Positive thoughts.

As I fumbled with my keys, I glanced to the other apartment on this floor and saw an assortment of moving boxes stacked outside. Marisa had a new neighbor. Good. At least she wasn’t up here all alone. Why didn’t she tell me . . . ?

Positive thoughts, Brit.

I shoved the key in the lock and opened the door. After flipping on a light, I moved to the kitchen. I dug two cleanish mugs from the cabinet and rinsed each out. Marisa could sleep through anything but freshly brewed coffee. When I heard feet hit the ground in the back bedroom, I smiled, rewashed a couple of plates, and set them beside a bag of bagels.