Chapter 22

Rose’s POV

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 tremor I’d practiced that morning. “Yes,” I whispered, voice 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 “drownin