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Evan stared at her.

“Was it Robert?” she asked.

“No.”

“Your father?”

“No.”

“Then who?”

His eyes shifted toward the red sweatshirt.

Barely a glance.

But enough.

Judy followed it.

Rylie did too.

Evan looked toward the door. “I should go.”

Rylie stepped forward. “You knew I still had it.”

“No.”

“Yes, you did. That’s why you came.”

“I didn’t even know your father kept those boxes.”

“You said you helped him move them into the attic.”

Evan realized his mistake too late.

Mace didn’t need to be a homicide detective to hear that lie collapse.

Judy’s voice became quiet. “Were you looking for the sweatshirt Judy was wearing that night, Evan?”

“No.”

“The photograph?”

“No.”

“The key Emily gave Rylie?”

His eyes widened.

A fraction.

But it was there.

Rylie took a sharp breath. “You knew about the key.”

“I didn’t.”

“We never said anything about a key while you were in this house,” Judy said.