Page 74 of Lorenzo

That means someone came here before the murder.

Probably Rachel.

I wonder briefly what kind of woman discovers she has a twin and, instead of introducing herself, forming a literal kinship, does what Rachel did. Set her up to be murdered and frame someone else for it.

I think back to when I interviewed Alessio’s cousins, Matteo and Tomasso. Obviously, their situation is different. They grew up together. But wouldn't that bond be instinctual?

Rachel looked into the face of her twin, nearly the same face she saw in the mirror, and instead of seeing the possibility of a relationship, she saw opportunity.

That’s a cold kind of person.

I step farther into the bedroom.

Rachel did not choose the dress by accident. No, she needed something Genevieve owned and had likely been photographed in. Something distinctive enough to get a man like Alessio’s attention.

A red dress does that.

I walk to the closet.

Genevieve’s clothes are arranged by type more than color. Dresses together. Jackets. Blouses. Trousers. Shoes lined beneath them, some still in boxes. Two empty garment bags hang at the end of the rod.

There is no obvious empty hanger waiting to tell me exactly where the red dress had been.

That would be convenient.

Life rarely is.

More than that, Genevieve likely would have noticed.

I run my eyes across the clothes without touching them.

The dress may have been removed days earlier. Weeks earlier. Rachel could have come here with Genevieve’s permission if the two women knew each other, though the adoption records and complete absence from Genevieve’s life make that less likely.

Or Rachel entered without her knowledge.

That is the possibility I am leaning toward.

I crouch near the closet floor.

Dust gathers where shoes have not moved recently. There are gaps, but most correspond to pairs sitting elsewhere in the room. Nothing indicates a large disturbance.

I straighten and study the hangers.

I slide one gloved finger along the rod without moving the clothes more than necessary.

What else might Rachel have taken?

Anything visible in hotel footage had to belong to Genevieve.

I step back and pull up the elevator still on my phone.

Rachel’s shoes are mostly obscured by the angle. Her bag appears briefly in the lobby footage, but not clearly enough to identify. Her earrings catch the light in one frame.

I enlarge the image.

Then I look toward the dresser.

The top holds a small tray with jewelry arranged in shallow sections. Some pieces are tangled. One earring lies without its match.