Elena’s locker was in the staff changing room beneath the west staircase.

Thirty-seven identical gray metal doors lined the wall.

Number fourteen belonged to her.

The jeweled gold clock sat in the center of the top shelf.

Perfectly centered.

That was my first problem with it.

People who stole expensive objects did not usually display them like retail merchandise.

Mrs. Calder stood beside me.

My head of security, Dominic Hale, wore gloves as he examined the locker.

Renata stood across the room.

Elena was upstairs with Sofia.

Pino had refused to leave them.

I wasn't sure which fact was stranger.

“The locker was locked when we found it?” I asked.

Mrs. Calder nodded.

“Renata reported seeing the door slightly open. She called me before touching anything.”

I looked at Renata.

“You saw it first?”

“Yes.”

“What were you doing down here?”

“Inventory.”

“In a changing room?”

“Linen inventory includes employee assignments.”

A smooth answer.

Not necessarily a good one.

Dominic crouched.

“Boss.”

He pointed toward the lock.

A thin scrape crossed the metal plate.

Fresh.

“Forced?”

“Maybe. Or opened with a service key.”

Renata folded her arms.

“Elena could have scratched it herself.”

Dominic looked up.

“She could have.”

That was why I kept Dominic around.

He never told me what I wanted to hear.

He told me what could be proved.

I picked up the clock.

My mother had kept it on a writing desk near the window.

When I was ten, I used to sit on the carpet while she answered correspondence. Every fifteen minutes the mechanism made a quiet metallic sound.

After she died, I had moved the clock into the private sitting room and rarely touched it.

The fact that someone had chosen this particular object was not random.

They wanted the accusation to anger me.

They expected emotion to do the work evidence could not.

“How many people knew this clock mattered to me?” I asked.

Mrs. Calder hesitated.

“Most long-term staff know it belonged to your mother.”

Including Renata.

I set it down.

“Dominic, access logs.”

He handed me a tablet.

My mother’s sitting room required staff credentials.

At 10:12 that morning, Elena Marlowe’s badge had opened the door.

At 10:17, the same badge registered again when leaving.

Neat.

Simple.

Convincing.

Except I had learned to distrust simple things.

“Where was Elena at ten twelve?”

Mrs. Calder consulted her schedule.

“Laundry wing.”

“Camera?”

Dominic tapped twice.

Footage appeared.

10:11.

Elena pushed a linen cart past the laundry station.

10:13.

Still there.

10:15.

Talking with another maid.

10:18.

Walking toward the service elevator.

She could not have crossed the estate, entered the sitting room, stolen the clock, and returned.

Not unless she could move through walls.

Renata’s expression didn’t change.

“Someone could have used her badge.”

“Yes,” I said.

Mrs. Calder frowned.

“Elena said she had it all morning.”

“Then someone copied it.”

Dominic nodded.

“Possible. RFID duplicator. Not difficult if someone had access for thirty seconds.”

Renata scoffed.

“This is becoming absurd.”

I looked at her.

“Why?”

“We’re inventing a conspiracy because a cleaner stole something valuable.”

A cleaner.

Not Elena.

Interesting.

People often stripped names from those they wanted others to stop seeing as human.

I turned to Dominic.

“Check every badge duplication request for the last sixty days.”

“There shouldn’t be any.”

“Check anyway.”

Renata shifted.

Small.

Barely noticeable.

I noticed.

Dominic noticed me noticing.

He left.

I followed.

The staff room door shut behind us.

“Your read?” I asked.

“Renata knows something.”

“Enough to accuse her?”

“No.”

“Good answer.”

He handed me another tablet.

“There’s more.”

Security footage from the corridor outside my mother’s sitting room.

At 10:09, a camera showed the hall empty.

At 10:10—

Static.

10:11—

Nothing.

The recording resumed at 10:28.

I stared at the timestamp.

“Eighteen minutes.”

“Seventeen minutes, forty-three seconds.”

“System failure?”

“No.”

“Deleted?”

“Yes.”

“By whom?”

Dominic’s jaw tightened.

“That requires administrator access.”

“How many administrators?”

“Four.”

“Names.”

“Me. You. Mrs. Calder.”

He paused.

“And Arturo Bellandi.”

I looked at him.

“Why does Arturo have security access?”

“He supervised the estate technology upgrade three years ago.”

“And nobody removed him?”

“Apparently not.”

The man currently sitting in my east wing waiting for me to sign a marriage contract had administrator access to my internal surveillance system.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

“Where is Arturo now?”

“Still in the east wing.”

“Keep him there.”

Dominic studied me.

“You think the theft is connected to the meeting?”

“I think coincidence is a bedtime story.”

We went upstairs.

The blue sitting room door stood open.

Sofia was sitting on the rug.

Pino lay beside her.

The stuffed rabbit rested between his front paws.

She had apparently entrusted him with it.

Elena stood near the window, arms wrapped around herself.

When she saw me, she straightened.

“I didn’t take the clock.”

“I know you didn’t use your badge to enter that room.”

Confusion crossed her face.

“Because I never went there.”

“Security shows your credentials did.”

Her fear returned.

“I swear—”

“Elena, I’m telling you because I believe the credential was copied.”

She stared.

“Copied?”

“Did anyone handle your badge recently?”

She thought.

“Renata.”

From the floor, Sofia looked up.

Elena continued.

“Two days ago. She said mine wasn’t scanning properly at the supply room. She took it for maybe a minute.”

My gaze shifted toward Dominic.

There.

A piece.

Not proof.

A piece.

“Why didn’t you mention that before?”

“I didn’t know it mattered.”

“Anything else?”

Elena glanced at Sofia.

Then away.

That told me the answer was yes.

“Elena.”

She lowered her voice.

“Can my daughter leave the room?”

Sofia immediately protested.

“I wanna stay with Mommy.”

Elena crouched.

“Baby, can you take Pino to the window and show him your rabbit?”

Sofia looked at Pino.

“Come on.”

Pino stood.

He actually followed her.

I would never recover from the humiliation.

They moved twenty feet away.

Elena waited until Sofia began whispering seriously into the dog's ear.

Then she faced me.

“I saw Renata inside your office last week.”

“My office?”

“The private one beside the library.”

“Why were you there?”

“I was replacing flowers.”

“Was Renata cleaning?”

“No.”

“What was she doing?”

Elena swallowed.

“Taking pictures.”

My expression hardened.

“Of what?”

“Documents on your desk.”

“What documents?”

“I don’t know. I only saw her phone.”

“What happened when she noticed you?”

“She said you had asked her to make copies.”

“And you believed her?”

“No.”

“Why didn’t you report it?”

Elena’s eyes moved toward Sofia.

“She told me people who ask questions in this house don’t stay employed.”

I felt anger rise.

Not at Elena.

At the fact she believed that.

Because somebody had made her believe it.

“Did she threaten your daughter?”

“Not directly.”

“Directly matters less than you think.”

“She knows I need this job.”

“Why?”

Elena looked embarrassed.

That annoyed me.

Nobody should be embarrassed by survival.

“Sofia’s father left before she was born. My mother helped us until she died last year. The rent went up. I got behind. This job includes better hours and health coverage.”

She looked toward the little girl.

“I couldn’t risk losing it.”

On the rug, Sofia was arranging Pino’s paws around the stuffed rabbit.