It still worked.
My thumb shook as I scrolled backward.
There it was.
Wednesday afternoon.
My car pulling into the driveway.
Me trying my key.
Fiona beside me.
Me calling David.
And earlier that day, footage of a locksmith arriving while David stood on the porch.
I stopped breathing.
“Blaire?” Rachel asked.
“I have it.”
“What?”
“The lock change.”
“Download a copy and leave the original account untouched.”
For the first time since Wednesday, I felt something other than fear.
Not relief.
Not yet.
But ground.
Something solid beneath my feet.
Luca offered to take us directly to Natalie’s apartment.
Then Marcus quietly told him the investigators had already contacted Natalie.
My cousin called less than a minute later.
“Two people just buzzed the building asking about you,” she said.
I closed my eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing. Where are you?”
“In a car.”
“With who?”
I looked at Luca.
