They went inside, and she looked around. The house looked so different, she hardly recognized it. Apparently this was what Leslie had done with at least some of the money she'd stolen. The hardwood floors had been refinished, the old wooden banister that led to the second floor had been replaced with ornate wrought iron. She stepped into the living room. The old, ugly fireplace had been updated. Gray stacked stone had replaced the old brick, and a new dark stained mantle sat above it. Over that, a black-and-white abstract drew the eye.

The furniture was different, too. A taupe low-profile sectional surrounded a square table with a few magazines, a modern, unused ashtray, and a vase filled with some sort of dried twigs. Leslie had no decorating ability, which meant she'd hired help. Add decorator's fees to the list of costs.

Marisa continued into the kitchen. Granite countertops, stainless appliances, and even a dishwasher. If only they'd had that growing up, their evenings would have been much more pleasant. The room had been completely remodeled. She turned to Nate, who'd followed her through the house. "Leslie's been busy."

"It looks brand new."

"If not for the address, I might not have recognized it."

"It's nice."

She supposed, though she'd been looking forward to seeing the white appliances their mother had bought, the old pictures on the walls. Even the kitchen wallpaper had been removed, replaced with pale blue paint that stretched into the living room and entryway. "She changed everything."

"Does that bother you?"

Marisa looked for some sign of herself, of their mother, but saw only Leslie's fingerprints. She didn't answer Nate's question.

"You look down here," she said. "I'll head upstairs. Let me know if you find anything."

"Will do."

After spending hours looking through Leslie's Facebook friends the day before, Sam, Rae, and she had decided their best chance for discovering the name of Leslie's fiancé would lie in the house. They'd found a handful of guys among her Facebook friends who weren't married, but most were either clients—which Sam had discovered using Leslie's invoices from her email—or lived too far away. Maybe they'd have more luck in the house.