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 ...