Nate pulled out his cell phone and flipped through his photos until he got one of Leslie. They'd taken it at dinner that night in Mexico, before she and Ana had gone for their walk. She had leaned closer to Ana, so the shot showed them both. Leslie wore a wide smile, rare for those days in Acapulco when fear had clung to her like sweat. He turned the camera's screen to Jessica. "That her?"

Jessica looked at it. "You two friends or something?"

"She's my sister," Marisa said.

"No joke? You sure got the better genes." She leaned closer. "Yeah. That's her. The frizzy hair—has she ever tried to tame that?"

Nate thought the woman was pushing it to criticize Leslie's hair, considering the state of her own.

Marisa ignored the question. "You're saying that woman, Leslie, told you Charles had women up there all the time after hours."

"Yeah. Acted like it was a nightly thing. She's the one who told me you and him—"

"That's a lie. My sister wouldn't have told you that. She knew better." Marisa looked at Nate, and he shook his head. They'd talk about it later.

"Why would I lie about that?" Jessica asked.

Nate turned to Marisa. "There has to be an explanation. When we find Leslie, we'll ask her." He turned back to Jessica. "This is a nice house. You like living in the suburbs?"

She looked around and smiled. "After Charles was convicted and Hunter was born, I decided it was time for a change. Everybody knew Charles and I'd been together, and suddenly, it was like he had some communicable disease and I was a carrier. My boss at the advertising agency suggested I take some time"—she made air quotes around those words—"which was code for find yourself a new job. So I sold my condo in the city and moved here."

"Pretty nice place for a woman with no job."

"I made a good profit on my condo. We lived in an apartment for a while, but this house became available. And..." She sighed and said, "Oh, what difference does it make now? Charles had given me a lot of money, and a lot of jewelry and stuff. I sold it all. The profits from that crap paid the mortgage the first year, until I was able to establish myself. Now, I own my own business working for a lot of those same agencies on Madison Avenue that wanted nothing to do with me eight years ago. I'm cheaper and better than their in-house people. And I work right here." She looked down and laughed. "Usually, in my pajamas."

"Seems like a good gig," Nate said.