SCORNED EX WIFE Queen Of Ashes (Camille and Stefan)

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

"Too painful. Mom mentioned she

carefully. "We were friends before he and Camille

Detective Ramirez. And I need to know exactly what my mother told the police about Camille's

antidepressants.

nothing but an empty space. Mom's private sitting room,

"Looking for something?"

from the doorway froze me in

months.

me, more sober and alert than I'd seen

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

told Jason I stuffed ny

get his attention, only to whisper that carefully crafted lie at

said dismissively. "Camille was always

Rose says it's probably a mistake. Now I can't stop worrying they'll realize they didn't mean

me."

trying to protect her from disappointment," I protested.

know what happened next? She called the admissions office to 'confirm' they wanted her.

had problems none of us understood. The last time

"What things?"

flowed smoothly, tailored to match symptoms I knew Mom feared. Her own mother had suffered from paranoid delusions. "That's not possible," Mom said,