Chapter 7: The Dress

I went to my stepmother's house on Tuesday morning, and I took the dead man's text with me.

Luciano sat in the car at the curb with the engine off.

He had said he would not come to the door unless I asked.

I did not ask.

Marianne opened it in a quilted robe, with her hair pinned up and a mug of tea in her hand.

She looked at my face and her own went pale and soft and sorry.

"Mara.

"Oh, thank God.

"I've been so worried about you.

"Come in."

"I'll stay here," I said.

I held up the photo of the phone screen.

"A man came through my window at three on Monday morning with a knife.

"He had a text typed to your number.

"Is the sister still alive?"

The tea mug did not shake in her hand, and that frightened me more than anything.

"Mara, honey, that's insane."

"Who is he?"

"I have no idea.

"My number is in the church directory.

"Anyone could have it."

"He was typing it to you."

"Then he was typing it to the wrong person," she said gently.

"Sweetheart, listen to what you're saying.

"You're living with a gangster.

"You told the whole room at my luncheon that I took something from Lila.

"Do you know how that looked?"

"It looked like what it was."

"It looked," said Marianne, "like a girl who has lost her mind."

I stared at her.

She had never spoken that way to me, not once in fourteen years.

There was something under the sweetness now, thin and cold.

"I need to ask you something else," I said.

"Lila's laptop wasn't in the bag the police gave you.

"Where is it?"

Marianne's face did a very small thing.

It was gone in a breath.

"What laptop?" she said.

"She had one for work.

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