“Nothing.”

“Even after you might have said hello?”

“I’m not sure she knew who I was.”

“She was the head of HR. Wasn’t she the one who hired you?”

“Well, she extended the offer and did the paperwork. But I only met her then and one other time, briefly. It’s a big company. She could have forgotten me. Anyway, she seemed preoccupied, so I just left her alone.”

Cruz closed that video file and opened another. “This is the feed from the camera inside the elevator.”

This video showed us both stepping onto the elevator, turning toward the doors, and standing in opposite corners. He froze the image there. My expression was impassive. But Lucy’s face . . . Her mouth was open, her eyes dazed, her features frozen into a tight mask. She looked terrified.

“Let me ask you again,” he said. “What did you say to her?”

“I told you. Hello or how are you. A casual nicety.”

“Nice?” Riley spoke up. “And she reacts like that?”

“She wasn’t reacting to me. I don’t think she even noticed me. She obviously had other things on her mind.”

“Obvious, why?” Cruz said.

“Because she was contemplating suicide.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Before you told us she killed herself out of a panic attack brought on by the power failure. Which hadn’t failed yet.”

“But she must have been thinking about it. She had a gun in her purse.”

“If she did,” Riley said.

“She did.” I tamped down the impulse to shout. I mustn’t be antagonistic. I reminded myself—I was here to help.

Cruz resumed the video playback. It showed us facing the doors until the cage went dark and the camera cut off. The last time stamp on the display was 21.04.55.

“The 911 call was received at nine-twelve.”

“Okay.”

“Almost seven minutes later.”

“Okay.”

“Walk us through what happened during those seven minutes.”

I described it. How I groped for the emergency call button and pressed it. That I said something to Lucy—Looks like we’re stuck—but she didn’t say anything. How I pressed the button again. That I thought someone was supposed to answer through the intercom, but no one did. How I banged on the doors and shouted for help. How I even tried to prize them apart.

“What was Ms. Carter-Jones doing while you did all that?”

“It was dark. I couldn’t see her. But I could hear her breathing. It sounded—labored. I asked her if she was okay, but she didn’t answer. I tried the emergency button again, and I banged on the doors again. And when it was finally obvious that no one was responding, I called 911.”

“On Ms. Carter-Jones’s phone.”

“Yes.”

“Which you got out of her purse,” Riley put in.

I swiveled his way. “No. No, she took it out. We were in the dark the whole time I was trying to get help. Then there was a sudden glow of light behind me. I turned around and saw that she was staring at the screen. Oh, good idea, I said. Call 911. But she just kept staring. Her mouth was open, it was like she was panting. Okay, let me, I said, and took the phone out of her hands. And then I called 911.”