e Beaumont estate on the North Shore of Long Island. The gates were crow

awling stone mansion, she pushed the door open and stepped out, deliberately letting her jaw han

e top of the grand stone steps. He was the butler, Finch, and his e

as dust. It was not a question. "Follow m

ing her head and trailing behin

ling silence. In the center of the cavernous living room, a woman sat

Sea pearls was coiled around her neck, gleaming like

stirred her tea with a tiny silver spoon, the clinking

eyes were downcast, but her senses were on high alert, mapping the room, noting camera blind

ced her cup back on its saucer. She raised her

er lips. "My, my. The Dillards must

ll learn the rules, ma'am," she said, her Appalach

vy, floral perfume that made Alea's nose twitch. She stopped

ze of a robin's egg shot out and clampe

r. A piece of furniture brought in to occupy a space. You will be silent, you will be invisible,

tracing a path through the grime on h

handkerchief from her sleeve to wipe her fingers. "Finch," sh

ough the air. A nearby maid, polishing a sil

action away. The

d a stony mask. "Thi

ways. As they moved deeper into the house, toward the east wing, the light bega

ike the entrance to a bank vault. Two large men in dark suits stood guard on either

He swiped it through a digital lock, which beeped and

ne might show an animal on its way to the slaughterhouse. "The master

the heavy

ith the smell of antiseptic and

ng back at Finch wit

rom behind, sending her st

er with a deafening boom. The lock e

s seal

ht filtering through the tiny g

, slowly, she straightened up. The fear, the hesitation, the weak

scanned the darkness, adjusting to the gloom. They settled on the far side of th