Page 113 of Lemon Pound Cake Club

"You came back."

"I did."

She looked at my face closely.

"You've heard something. You talked to the detectives, didn't you?"

I kept quiet.

"They found whoever did this, didn’t they?"

She leaned in.

I said nothing. I reached into my purse, took out an old photo, and pressed it against the glass.

Camille looked up, her face going pale. In the photo, Mari looked young and bright, one hand on her stomach. Her other arm was around her fiancé’s waist, and another woman stood on the other side, her hand on Mari’s stomach too.

Camille smiled for a moment, then looked at me, confused.

"I know."

She frowned at me.

"Why are you showing me this?"

I folded my hands together.

"Tell me about her."

Camille blinked at me.

"What?"

"Tell me about Mari," I said, tapping the photo.

We sat in silence.

"She was,” Camille swallowed. "My friend."

"No, she wasn’t." My voice stayed calm.

Camille stared at me, searching my face.

"You know," I leaned in closer. “People used to tell us we looked alike."

Her confused look slowly changed to recognition. She glanced from the photo to my face and back again.

"No," she whispered, shaking her head slowly. "No."

A tear slid down my cheek.

"I'm Mari's sister."

The phone slipped from Camille’s hand and swung by the cord until she grabbed it again with shaking fingers.

She shook her head hard.

"No, I don't believe you."