Her expression was no longer warm or gentle.

It was flat, hard, and entirely focused.

“We have to go up,” I said, grabbing my father’s sleeve.

“Wait,” my father said. “Look at Rosa.”

I looked back at the kitchen monitor.

Rosa had heard them coming.

She was trying to sweep the broken pieces of the porcelain rabbit into her apron.

Her hands were shaking so much that the shards kept slipping through her fingers.

A piece of the broken ceramic cut her thumb.

A small drop of dark red blood smeared against the white apron.

She did not seem to feel it.

She looked up just as Patricia walked through the double doors of the kitchen.

Vance remained in the doorway, his hands folded in front of his suit.

Patricia stopped three feet from Rosa.

Through the monitor speaker, we could hear the audio crackle to life.

Ramiro turned the volume dial.

“…expecting to find something else in there, Rosa?” Patricia’s voice came through the small speaker.

The sound was tinny but incredibly clear.

Rosa backed up until her spine hit the edge of the marble island.