Ryan, in charge of Emily’s case, questioned me the night she died. He told me the person who found Emily’s body was a passerby. He said that her torso was half-naked, but it could have just been a kid tampering with the body after they found it, some sick thrill.
‘Was it the top half that was naked?’ I asked.
He nodded.
‘She was wearing a blue sweatshirt in the morning,’ I said. ‘What would they want with that?’
Ryan shrugged. ‘We don’t know, but did she have a boyfriend? Someone who could have helped her with this …’
‘Suicide?’ I said it so my father would hear from the kitchen. ‘I can’t think of anyone who wanted to kill herself more. She hated school, she had no friends, and she was into drugs.’
All lies. Ryan flinched with my sarcasm, and his fingers trembled as he clutched his notebook. I think I even saw his blue eyes turn pale.
‘I just need to know what you know.’
‘She had a second butterfly …’ I started.
‘Did she tell you what it meant?’
‘Ask my father,’ I finally said.
If only my father knew his daughter well enough to believe she was incapable of such a hideous crime against herself. My butterfly adored life.
‘But you knew her,’ he pressed. ‘That’s why I’m asking you. I thought you would know who owned this. It was on her when she was found.’
When he held up the silver chain, I held back a scream.
Brandi’s chain?
‘Maybe someone was with your sister at the time,’ Ryan said. ‘Someone who wanted her dead. Think it about it, Lucy, and let me know.’