Mara unlocked a narrow office near the back of the studio. The room was barely large enough for a metal desk, two mismatched chairs, filing cabinets, and shelves crowded with old recital programs. A cracked ceramic mug held pens beneath a poster advertising a summer intensive in New York. Rachel remembered Audrey bringing that flyer home, smoothing it on the kitchen table, talking about scholarships as if saying the word often enough might make one materialize.
Mara closed the door behind them.
“Sit if you want.”
“I don’t.”
Mara didn’t argue. She went behind the desk and woke a laptop from sleep. “The second time Audrey came in, she didn’t change shoes. She didn’t go near the classroom. She came straight to this office.”
Rachel stood rigidly beside the chair. “When?”
“Eight days ago. Tuesday.”
Tuesday.
Rachel searched backward. Derek had brought Audrey home at nine-thirteen. Rachel remembered because she had been standing at the kitchen counter answering an email about a staffing dispute. Audrey had passed behind her without speaking.
