The killer was sitting right there in one of those two interrogation rooms, and she didn’t know who it was.

What was she missing?

As if she’d spoken out loud, Greg echoed her thoughts. “I can’t believe one of them is just sitting there, lying to our faces,” he said. “This isn’t some kind of huge mix-up. They are both saying the other one confessed, which means one of them is full-blown lying.”

Claire still didn’t respond. She looked up at the two-way mirrors of the rooms where the two women still sat. The women couldn’t see them, but Claire could watch their every move.

There had to be something she was missing.

The women couldn’t be any more different. Emma Bentley was perfectly still, her hands folded in front of her on the table. She looked as if she’d stopped breathing, so motionless was her body, and she gazed out into the precinct as if she could see. Emma had spoken plainly and confidently during her interview, and it was hard not to believe her when Wileson had already admitted to lying about so much.

But there was something about Paula Wileson, something Claire couldn’t put her finger on, that made her believable. She was a ball of nerves; she was trying to hide it, but she could barely get her words out, fumbling over sentences, mumbling her answers. She seemed desperate for Claire and Greg to believe her, which could be a sign of guilt or a sign that she truly had been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“So, what do you think?” Greg asked. “I’m torn, but if I had to go one way, it would be the Wileson woman. She’s too jumpy, too nervous, and she’s admitted that she’s been lurking around that apartment for the last week. Using different names, showing up unannounced, sneaking around. There’s obviously something not quite right about her. And look at her. She can barely sit still in her seat.”

“Would you be able to sit still if you were being accused of a murder you didn’t commit?”

“So, you think it’s Bentley?”

Claire pursed her lips and continued to watch the two women through the glass. “I don’t know.”

She went over the statements that both women had made.

The blackmail.

The affairs.

The dinner party.

The video.

The video.

Claire slumped down in her chair and put her head in her hands.

“Of course,” she said out loud.

“What’s going on?” Greg asked.

She lifted her head and looked at him with a small smile. “I know how to figure out who’s lying. I have an idea, but it’s going to take a lot of convincing to get the help we need.”

• • •