“She’ll ask again at noon, and I’ll still be here.”

On the screen, the clock above the Whitmore front door read six forty-four.

Victoria walked backward into the hall doorway and stood there with her arms crossed.

Hale clicked to the second file.

The angle changed to the top of the stairs, looking down the flight.

At six forty-five Rosalie came into the frame, still talking, the folder in her right hand.

She was four steps up when her heel turned.