She told me Lorraine had spent the morning shouting at a security technician to erase the overnight camera logs.

When he explained that some data were retained remotely, Preston sent him away and called another contractor.

Rosa had not heard the conversation about my bag.

But two weeks earlier she had found Lorraine outside my bedroom carrying a jewelry box that belonged to my mother.

Lorraine claimed she was moving it for cleaning.

Rosa returned it without confrontation and photographed where she’d found it because it felt wrong.

“I should have said something,” she whispered.