Damian's Pov
Farrow had the access logs spread across my desk by the time Wren's message came through about the seal, and for a moment I stood there holding two separate proofs of the same rot, unable to decide which one to be angrier about first.
"Walk me through it again," I said, because I needed to hear it a second time before I let myself believe it.
"Five names had clearance to touch the security system the night that photograph appeared on her desk." Farrow laid the printout flat, tapping each line like it might change under scrutiny. "Priscilla. Theo. Marguerite. You. Me. I've cleared myself and I've cleared you, which leaves three, and one of those three has a tower ping near the old Cross estate the same night."
"Marguerite."
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to." I sat
