63. A Picture

Stanley

"I wanted to be sure."

I whip my head toward Frida, who is standing by the door. She walks over to us slowly, her gaze cold.

"Frida," I whisper, my voice trembling.

She nods, her lips set in a grim line. "I knew about Molly all along, Stanley. What did you do with her body?"

"What do you mean you knew about her?" I say. My head is spinning. What the hell is going on?

Frida takes a deep breath and looks me in the eye. "I'm Molly's younger sister," she says finally, her eyes filling with tears.

For a moment, I just stand there, too stunned to say anything. Frida and Molly were related? How had I not noticed before?

"When you and Molly started dating," Frida continues, her voice shaking with emotion. "I was only six years old so I never got to know her before...before she was gone."

"Six years old?" I raise my hand to stop her. "I knew you were younger, but I didn't know you were twelve years younger than me!" I groan.

"Our age difference is the least of your problem now, Stan