Chapter 22

ROSE'S POINT OF VIEW

The shoe sat on Detective Ramirez's desk between us. A woman's size seven pump, once black, now gray-

green from three months underwater. The heel had broken off, but the designer's red sole remained visible. Louboutin. Unmistakably Camille's.

"Is this your sister's shoe, Ms. Lewis?" Detective Ramirez asked, his tired eyes watching my reaction carefully.

I reached for it with trembling fingers, a calculated tremord practiced that morning. "Yes," I whispered, breaking on cue. "She wore these the last time I saw her. A gift from our parents for her birthday." The lie slid out smoothly. In truth, I'd given Camille those shoes when she

landed her first job, playing the generous big sister while privately mocking her pathetic excitement over my hand-

me-downs.

"Does seeing this personal item bring up any new thoughts about your sister's state of mind before her disappearance?"

An Interesting question. Not "accident" or "drowning," but "disappearance." The detective's word choice revealed his lingering doubts.

"Your parents mentioned Camille kept journals," he continued. "Have you had a chance to read them?"

So Mom had spoken to the police about the journals. This was worse than I thought. voice

away as if overcome. "Too painful. Mom mentioned she found some, but she's been very private about their

said carefully. "We were friends before he and Camille dated. After a respectful

my mother told the police about Camille's journal Then I headed to my parents' house. Mom was at her weekly therapy appointment, an engagement I'd encouraged

antidepressants.

quiet when I arrived. I moved through Camille's room methodically, checking obvious hiding places. Nothing. The floorboard Mom had mentioned yielded nothing but an empty space. Mom's private sitting room, then. The small sunlit space where she spent hours alone. On

"Looking for something?"

the doorway froze

months.

sober and alert than I'd

warmth into my voice. "I didn't expect you back

to the box, unlocked it, and withdrew a journal. September 14th, ten years ago: 'Rose told Jason I stuffed ny bra before the dance. Now he won't talk to me. She says she

raced back. Jason Parker, Camille's first crush. I'd spent weeks helping her get his

said dismissively.

years ago Got my Stanford acceptance today. Rose says it's probably a mistake. Now I can't stop worrying they'll realize they

me."

was trying to protect her from disappointment," I protested. "Stanford

wanted her. They thought she was having a

problems none of us understood. The last time we spoke, she said things that

"What things?"

about hearing voices sometimes. About feeling watched" The lies flowed smoothly, tailored to match symptoms I knew Mom feared. Her own mother had suffered from paranoid delusions. "That's not possible," Mom said, but doubt

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