Fiona took out three pages, laid them flat, and photographed each one.

Then she peeled a yellow sticky note off my monitor and held it under the desk lamp.

Her lips moved as she worked.

She was talking to her phone, narrating the break-in to whoever was watching.

I clicked the bezel of my wristwatch one notch and counted the seconds.

She was in there six minutes.

She lifted the bank notice out of my tray and tilted it toward the window.

Her thumb tapped the screen twice.