Sloane’s face had gone completely white.

“I didn’t break anything,” Sloane said quickly.

She took a step back, away from Evan.

“I was just holding the light.”

“He told me it was his.”

“He said the estate was already settled.”

“Sloane, be quiet,” Evan hissed, his fists clenching at his sides.

“They don’t have anything.”

“The video is dark.”

“It could be anyone on that tape.”

Malcolm pulled a digital tablet from his pocket.

He tapped the screen and laid it flat on the mahogany table.

The video began to play.

The high-definition night-vision footage showed the side door of the Hayes estate.

Evan’s face was illuminated by the screen of his own phone as he typed in the security bypass code.

He had used my father’s old code.

The screen showed him kicking the bottom panel of the door when the lock jammed.

Then, the camera caught Sloane.

She was holding a designer canvas tote bag.

As the door gave way, she smiled at Evan and blew him a kiss.

The camera caught her face in perfect, high-resolution detail.

“That’s third-degree burglary, Ms. Pierce,” Malcolm said.