Page 91 of Lorenzo

“Let me do the talking.”

“I know.”

“I'm serious.”

“I didn't think you were joking.”

“And do not intimidate her.”

“I know.”

“Do not make vaguely threatening statements.”

His eyebrows lift. “I don’t make a habit of threatening widows.”

I study him for a moment before I turn and start walking to the house.

I ring the bell.

Movement sounds from inside, followed by the click of a lock.

The woman who opens the door is slender, with short gray hair and cautious eyes. She looks from me to Lorenzo, then back again.

“Yes?”

“Mrs. Monroe?”

“Yes.”

“My name is Donna Costa. I’m a private investigator. I was wondering if I could talk to you about your daughter.”

Her hand tightens on the edge of the door.

The reaction is quick, but I see it. Fear.

“What about her? I haven't heard from her,” Elaine says.

I keep my voice calm. “I was hoping you could answer a few questions about her.”

Her lips press together.

“Is she in trouble?”

“I'm not sure yet.”

“What do you mean you're not sure? Is she in trouble or not?” the woman snaps, but it’s not irritation. It's that fear again.

“A woman is dead, and I think Rachel may know what happened.”

The color drains from Elaine’s face.

She looks past us toward the street, then steps back.

“Come inside.”

The living room is warm and carefully maintained. Family photographs cover one wall and fill the shelves beside the fireplace.

I see Rachel immediately.