The buzzer emitted an angry growl that told her the security fence had been unlocked.

A familiar, tingly feeling of déjà vu worked its way through Dorothy’s shoulders. She had a composite sketch of the thieves taped to her mirror back at the Fairmont. It was rough, but she was convinced that the smaller of the two thieves was her, dressed as a man. She’d read every news article that existed about this heist, and each one had said the same thing: the thieves were never caught.

Which made sense. If the thieves were time travelers, they never could be caught.

Silently, they moved down the sidewalk and toward the museum’s entrance. Dorothy glanced at the twin stone panthers that guarded the front doors and felt a thrill of excitement. She’d seen them in photographs before, but now they were here, in front of her. She’d never get over that rush, when the things she’d seen in newspaper articles suddenly became real.

They pushed open the front door without knocking and walked inside, footsteps echoing against the marble. An older, African American security guard stood behind his desk. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a beard shot through with white. His eyes narrowed at them, suspicious.

This would be Aaron Roberts, then.

“I’m, um, I’m really not supposed to let people in here,” Roberts said, blinking. “But you said you’re with the police?”

Roman nodded. “You did the right thing, son. We had reports of a disturbance in your courtyard, and we need to check it out. Could you . . .”

Roman hesitated, tilting his head. “Well, now that’s strange.”

The security guard twitched and then glanced over his shoulder, like he was expecting someone to appear out of the shadows behind him. “I’m sorry. What’s strange?”

“You look an awful lot like a man we’ve been searching for.” Now Roman was rubbing his chin. He jerked his head toward the guard, eyes on Dorothy. “Doesn’t he look like Dean Morris?”

The name was made up. No one had mentioned it in any of the reports or books or articles, so they’d plucked it out of thin air. The security guard blinked.

“Morris?” he murmured.

“Would you mind stepping out from behind that desk and showing me some ID?” Roman said.

This was pivotal. There was a button beneath the desk that sounded the security alarm. It was the only one in the building. Once they got the guard away from that button, they were safe.

Aaron Roberts stepped out from behind his desk.

“I’m not this Dean guy,” he said, pulling out his wallet. He tugged his driver’s license loose and flashed it at Roman. “See?”

Roman barely glanced at it. “Sure you’re not.” He unclipped a pair of heavy-duty handcuffs from his belt, nodding at the wall. “To be safe, why don’t you go ahead and face the wall for me, Mr. Roberts. Just until we get this all cleared up.”

The security guard turned automatically. “But I didn’t do anything.”