Glover says nothing for a long moment, then shifts and pulls out a folded document from the inside pocket of her jacket. She hands it over. I open it, and my body immediately turns to ice. “You get all your father’s assets,” she says.

Something inside me freezes. It’s not a question, but I know I have to say something. She speaks before I get a chance.

“I don’t think this is your first time looking that over,” Glover says. “I think you very much knew his entire estate would be going to you.”

I stare at her, my eyes hard. “Is that some kind of accusation?”

Glover falls silent, but her glare is penetrating.

I flip back around and finish my liner. “All you have is speculation.”

“For now.”

I pause, take in a breath, focus, then lower my voice. “He called me his lifeline. I took that to heart.”

Glover’s eyes meet mine in the mirror again. I stare back, refusing to look away. If I do it’ll make it look like I have something to hide. I can all but see the debate going on in her head. She thinks I’m lying, at least not being completely honest, I can tell.

I don’t know what it is, but she finally breaks and backs off. With another nod, she flips the notepad shut. “Thank you, Ms. Van Doren.”

A rush of relief rolls down my back, pure and sweet. I can feel sweat dripping from my neck. Hot, nervous sweat. “Thanks,” I say. “Is that it?”

“Yeah.” She turns and heads for the door. “We’ll keep in touch.”

Something about this moment feels off. And there was something weird about her voice. I panic when she turns away. “But what is all of this about? What happened?”

She looks back. “I was hoping you could tell me.”

She’s testing me. Waiting for me to slip up, say the wrong thing.

I swallow and turn to face her. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“We’re trying to figure out what happened to the security footage from the lobby of Nate Robinson’s building from Monday afternoon. We found a couple of glitches in the tape. At first it seems normal, but then we slowed it down. The time skips twice. Seems like someone deliberately cut a few seconds of footage from the tape.”

Fuck. I do my best to look confused. “Footage of what?”

“Brandi Maxwell says she couldn’t have poisoned your father that night because she was home, in her apartment. She thinks someone deliberately deleted the footage of her walking into the building to destroy proof of her alibi.” She stops and studies me, waiting for my reaction. “She’s convinced it was you.”