I kept staring at Marisa, trying to shake the idea that the dead had risen and followed me here. This was a career first. I cleared my throat. I wanted to lead with questions that I already knew the answers to. They’d show me the person’s demeanor when they told the truth. Later I’d have a benchmark when the lies began. “How many daughters do you have?”

“Three,” Frank said. “Like I said, Brit is my oldest and then the twins, Marisa and Clare.”

“And your wife?” I knew the answer. I’d assisted on her death investigation four years ago, though I doubted the girls remembered.

Under Marisa’s brutal honesty was sadness, pain. “Have you found Clare?” she pressed, cutting off my next question to her father. Lack of sleep and crying had stripped her voice raw.

A muscle pulsed in my jaw. Her pain aside, she wasn’t running this show. I was. “You and your sister are identical?”

“Yes.” She clearly considered the situation grave enough not to punctuate with a teenager’s eye roll or sigh.

“When is the last time you saw Clare?” I asked.

“On New Year’s Eve. About seven o’clock.”

Four days ago, I’d put a clean pad in my folio case, sensing this investigation would require a lot of notes. “Where did you see her?”

“Here at home,” she said.

“Where were you the night she went missing?” I asked.

“I was driving,” she said, glancing toward her father. “Sometimes I like to just drive. I was supposed to meet her at the party but lost track of time.”

I raised a brow. “Just driving?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“To clear my head. To settle my nerves.”

“Why were your nerves rattled?” I asked.

“It’s been that way since Mom died.”

Marisa was lying. She might still be reeling from her mother’s death, but there was more to be told. I couldn’t prove it, but after two decades on the job, I could smell lies and half truths. I also suspected that Marisa was stubborn enough to stick to her story no matter what. The best liars do.

“All I’ve heard about identical twins is that they tend to stick together. Were you and Clare close?” I asked.

“Sure. Of course. She was my twin. We shared everything.”

“Did you two have a falling-out? I have a couple of sisters, and I know how they can fight.”

“We weren’t fighting.”

“And you were out for a drive.”

“Yes.”

“And Clare, did she like to drive?”

“No,” Marisa said.

“What’s going on here?” Mr. Stockton interjected. “Do you have news on my daughter Clare?”

“I do.” I closed my notebook and studied each member of the Stockton family closely. “The remains of a young woman matching Clare’s description were found in the river a few hours ago.”