Reyes rings the doorbell, while Barr surveys the property.

A woman answers the door. She’s in her sixties and seems anxious at the sight of them. They show their badges and introduce themselves.

“I saw it on the news,” she says.

“Maybe we should sit down?” Reyes suggests.

She nods and leads them into a large living room. Then she takes a cell phone out of her sweater pocket and texts someone. She looks up at them. “Just asking my husband to join us.” Soon enough a man comes down the stairs and into the living room. They introduce themselves as Edgar and June Sachs.

Reyes asks, “Did you see or hear anything unusual on the night of Easter Sunday, or early Monday?”

Mrs. Sachs looks at her husband and shakes her head. “We can’t see or hear the neighbors from here.”

Her husband agrees. “It’s very quiet around here, very private. I didn’t notice anything.”

Mrs. Sachs tilts her head for a second, as if she’s just remembered something, and says, “I did see a pickup truck go by that I didn’t recognize. It went past here, away from the Mertons’ place.”

“About what time was that?” Reyes asks.

“I don’t know. We’d gone to bed. But I woke up because my legs were aching and got up to take some Advil. I happened to look out the front window of the bedroom and noticed the truck. I have no idea what time it was. Sorry.”

“What time did you go to bed?”

“Around ten. So it was sometime after that. I often wake up in the night and have to take something for my legs.”

“What did the truck look like?” Reyes asks.

“It was quite distinctive. Not really the kind of vehicle we see around here. I know what everybody drives and nobody has a truck like that. And we all use the same gardening service, with white trucks, and it wasn’t one of those. It was dark—black, maybe, and it had yellow and orange flames along the side, like those old Hot Wheels toys.”

Reyes thanks them for their time, and he and Barr speak to the other neighbors. There’s only one home on the other side of the Mertons’ house, and that’s where the road ends. There had been no visitors there that night, and no one had seen a truck at all. Nor had anyone in the other neighboring houses. Reyes wonders briefly if the pickup was a figment of Mrs. Sachs’s imagination. One neighbor volunteered that he’d recognized Jenna Merton’s Mini Cooper go past his driveway away from the Mertons’ when he was out walking his dog on Easter night, just after eight o’clock. Barr makes a note. Reyes and Barr head back to the police station. It’s midafternoon, and they’re both starving. They stop at a favorite lunch spot and grab sandwiches and coffee on the way—ham and cheese for him and chicken salad for her.

They’re all relieved that Audrey has gone, but their relief is tinged with worry. They look at one another in concern. Catherine leans back in her chair and closes her eyes for a moment, exhausted.

Jenna begins, “You don’t honestly believe her, do you? She’s just saying that to try to guilt us into giving her some money.”

“I don’t know,” Catherine says, lifting her head and opening her eyes. “You know what Dad was like the last time we saw him. He was horrible to everyone. He said they were going to sell the house.” She adds, “Maybe he did change his will in favor of Audrey. God, I hope not.”

“It’s just the sort of thing he would do,” Dan says angrily. “Give half his money to someone we don’t even like, just so that there’s less for us.” He adds pettily, “He didn’t even like her.”

“Well, I’m not buying it,” Jenna counters. “She’s making it up. If he’d just changed his will in her favor, he would have told us all about it at Easter dinner—and he would have enjoyed it.”

“Good point,” Catherine agrees. They had always been led to believe, in an offhand way, that the estate would be split equally among the three children, but what if things had changed? Catherine realizes she has no real certainty at all about what the wills contain. She observes the rest of them. “Look at us,” she says after a moment. “The way we’re talking—as if all we care about is money.” That falls a little flat. She leans forward. “Look, we have to pull together.” She turns toward Irena, who has been almost mute since Audrey arrived; before that, she’d given her account of what happened that morning at the crime scene. “You said the police seemed to think it was a robbery that got violent, but they’re still probably going to question all of us.” She looks at each one of them in turn, even giving her husband a warning glance. “I suggest you keep your feelings about our father to yourselves. Let’s try to look like a functional family. And try not to look too happy about the money.” She adds, “And none of us speaks to the press, got it?” They all nod agreement. “Now, we have a funeral to sort out. And it has to be done properly.”

They spend the next hour coming up with a plan for the funeral. They would like it to be held at St. Brigid’s, the church her parents attended. They expect a large crowd. Their parents will be laid to rest in the cemetery nearby, the one rich people use, the one with all the mausoleums.

Catherine will say a few words at the funeral service, as the eldest. They discuss where to invite people to go afterward. The obvious place would have been the family home—it’s the only one of their places large enough for it, but it’s an active crime scene, so it’s out. They decide on the golf and country club their parents belonged to. They can do the food too. Catherine will call them and the church, first thing tomorrow.

Finally, she gets up to leave, feeling completely drained. It’s hard to believe it’s only four o’clock in the afternoon. She thinks she will remember the day her parents were discovered dead as one of the longest days of her life. But she must still talk to Ted when they get home. Where no one else can hear what they say.