I grabbed at Aimee, trying to catch her shoulder, her arm, her dress, finally gaining purchase on the duct tape that bound her arms together. For a horrible moment I thought we’d both go over the railing, but my clenched hands wouldn’t let go. Then I threw my weight backward, and we crashed to the ground together as the police entered.

The cavernous museum was suddenly filled with people and shouting and noise, but Aimee and I were still on the ground. She rolled away from me, and when I reached out to help her up, she flinched. I rose to my knees, but then an officer’s hands were on me, pulling me away, and an EMT knelt beside Aimee. I caught a glimpse of a small dark stain against the shine of her dress.

“Your name?” the agent asked.

“Kacy. Kacy Tremaine.”

My hands had been the ones on the scissors, and I didn’t see Lena anywhere. On the ground floor, I could see FBI agents and police fanning throughout the museum. The EMT had checked Aimee over and was freeing her hands. His head was close to hers, but I couldn’t hear what he was saying. Then he helped her to her feet and led her away.

“Kacy, I’m Agent Castillo. I need you to walk with me.”

“Where’s Lena? Did you catch her?” Through the blood and the confusion, the medics and the police, Lena might be long gone.

Agent Castillo didn’t answer, instead scanning the room while somehow giving the impression that she was completely focused on me. Her dark hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, and her bulky FBI vest covered a fitted black top.

I had only seconds before I’d be escorted out as well. I would have seen Lena go down the main staircase; the police would have seen her.

“We have to go,” she said again. She wore a thin silver chain around her neck with a wedding band hanging from it. I wanted to let her hustle me down the stairs, back to my parents and Michael and Grace, but if Lena was still on this floor, lurking, like an angel of death.…

“Lena’s still up here. She has to be.” She wouldn’t panic or flee. That wasn’t Lena’s style. She’d wait and watch, somewhere we wouldn’t look for her. I knew this museum, maybe not the changing exhibits and the new employees, but I knew its bones.

Where could she be? The elevator in the front opened in the lobby, full of people. Both the freight elevator and the fire escape would have put her out by the back door and the loading dock, where the emergency vehicles must be. There was no place to hide in the gallery with the papier-mâché statues and mixed-media portraits.