“He knows exactly who pays the bills around here.”

She took another step, her high heel making a sharp clacking sound on the marble.

“Now, move,” Patricia commanded.

Martina did not budge.

She gripped Rosa’s hand even tighter, her small knuckles turning white.

“No,” Martina said.

The silence returned, thicker this time, heavy with the scent of rain and perfume.

I looked toward the arched hallway that led from the kitchen to the grand foyer.

The shadows there were long and deep, cast by the dim afternoon light filtering through the stained-glass windows.

For a second, I thought I heard the faint sound of a footstep on the hardwood floor of the gallery.

I listened closely, but the sound of the rain against the glass drowned out everything else.

“You are making a very big mistake,” Patricia said, her voice dropping to a hiss.

“You think you are protecting her, but you are only making it worse.”

“When the police get here, I will make sure they search her room.”

“And you would be surprised by what they might find planted under her mattress.”