Anna POV
Celeste transferred everything to the encrypted drive while I stood at the sun room door and listened to the house — Maris moving in the kitchen below, one of the refrigerators’ hum, nothing else. When the transfer finished, Celeste closed the drive and slipped it into her bag, and we spent the next twelve minutes putting the room exactly as it had been. Every fresh flower in its original position. The chair pushed in to the precise distance from the writing desk.
I had photographed the room before we started. I photographed it again when we finished and held the two images side by side on my screen.
“Good,” Celeste said quietly, looking over my shoulder.
I put the phone in my pocket and we went downstairs and out through the back door, and she said she would call me tomorrow
