“We have authorization to search the entire estate, Mercer,” a rougher voice replied.

“The warrant specifies the home office and personal safes,” Julian said.

“You have no business in the service quarters or the cellars.”

“We’ll search where we please. If you interfere, it’s obstruction.”

“I am not interfering,” Julian said. “I am merely noting your actions for the record.”

The footsteps in the cellar stopped.

A beam of light sliced through the crack under our hidden pantry door.

My heart stopped.

I pressed my hand gently over Emma’s mouth, just in case she tried to speak.

Her little chest rose and fell against mine.

The handle of the main wine cellar door rattled.

The heavy hinges groaned.

Someone had entered the cellar.

Margaret’s hand found mine in the dark.

Her fingers were surprisingly warm, and her grip was firm.

She squeezed once, a silent message to stay still.

We heard a man grunting as he moved bottles.

“Nothing but expensive vinegar down here,” a voice muttered from the other side of the wall.

“Keep looking,” another voice called out from the stairs.