Page 39 of The Lies I Told
“Yes.” She clearly considered the situation grave enough not to punctuate with a teenager’s eye roll or sigh.
“When is the last time you saw Clare?” I asked.
“On New Year’s Eve. About seven o’clock.”
Four days ago, I’d put a clean pad in my folio case, sensing this investigation would require a lot of notes. “Where did you see her?”
“Here at home,” she said.
“Where were you the night she went missing?” I asked.
“I was driving,” she said, glancing toward her father. “Sometimes I like to just drive. I was supposed to meet her at the party but lost track of time.”
I raised a brow. “Just driving?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“To clear my head. To settle my nerves.”
“Why were your nerves rattled?” I asked.
“It’s been that way since Mom died.”
Marisa was lying. She might still be reeling from her mother’s death, but there was more to be told. I couldn’t prove it, but after two decades on the job, I could smell lies and half truths. I also suspected that Marisa was stubborn enough to stick to her story no matter what. The best liars do.
“All I’ve heard about identical twins is that they tend to stick together. Were you and Clare close?” I asked.
“Sure. Of course. She was my twin. We shared everything.”
“Did you two have a falling-out? I have a couple of sisters, and I know how they can fight.”
“We weren’t fighting.”
“And you were out for a drive.”
“Yes.”
“And Clare, did she like to drive?”
“No,” Marisa said.
“What’s going on here?” Mr.Stockton interjected. “Do you have news on my daughter Clare?”
“I do.” I closed my notebook and studied each member of the Stockton family closely. “The remains of a young woman matching Clare’s description were found in the river a few hours ago.”
Frank Stockton rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. Brit teared up immediately. Marisa stood stock straight, emotionless.
“You don’t look shocked, Marisa,” I said.
“I don’t know what to say,” Marisa said. “Are you sure you didn’t make a mistake? Cops aren’t perfect.”
“No mistake,” I said.
Brit began to weep.
Mr.Stockton turned from me, cleared his throat, and braced his shoulders as if readying to pick up a heavy weight. “How?”
