I walked back into the hallway, the floorboards cold beneath my feet.
Before I could reach the stairs, the solid mahogany door to Daniel’s study clicked shut.
This was followed by the sharp, metallic slide of the deadbolt locking from the inside, leaving me in the dark hallway.
The floorboards in the upstairs hallway were cold under my slippers. By nine the next morning, Vanessa, my sister-in-law, was waiting by the cedar closet near the stairs, her long, manicured nails tapping against the white wood doorframe.
“I can’t find my Visa anywhere, Claire,” she said, her voice rising at the end of the sentence. “It must have slipped out of my bag at the market yesterday.”
I reached into my pocket for my keys, keeping my face flat. “Have you checked the car?”
“Three times,” Vanessa said, letting out a high-pitched, mocking laugh. “It is gone, gone, gone. I just need to run to the boutique on Bull Street for those linen napkins for Mother’s luncheon. Can I borrow your spare?”
I unlocked the small oak lockbox inside the closet. I selected a silver Visa card with a fifteen thousand dollar limit, a card linked to an account I monitored daily from my phone.
“Keep the receipt,” I said, handing it to her.
“You are a lifesaver,” she said, snatching the card from my fingers before I could fully let go.
She slipped it into her leather handbag, her long red nails clicking against the brass clasp. I watched her walk down the stairs, already typing on her phone with one thumb.
At eleven, I went down to the small office off the library. The new home security router was tucked behind a row of leather-bound encyclopedias, its casing cool to the touch.
Daniel was standing by the desk, his heavy gold watch catching the morning light as he checked the face. He looked up, his brow furrowed as he pointed a finger toward the shelf.
