She wasn’t wrong.
In houses like mine, the wealthy are assumed complicated. The staff are assumed suspect. Vanessa had understood that faster than I had.
“I should’ve seen it,” I said.
Mara looked toward the kitchen where the girls had gone.
“They needed you to see it,” she said. “That’s different.”
I wish that had let me off the hook. It didn’t.
Cal came back ten minutes later with an update. Vanessa was in the guest suite with a uniformed officer outside. Her access cards were dead. My attorney was on the way. My assistant had canceled the florist, the caterer, and the private jet booking she’d scheduled for our weekend in Cabo.
Then Cal hesitated.
“There’s one more thing,” he said. “You should check your study.”
We went together.
The study looked normal at first. Leather chair. City skyline through the window. Whiskey decanter catching afternoon light. Then I noticed the center drawer was open half an inch.
