The knock came at the front door exactly seventeen minutes after Victoria left the study.
Damien and Mia had made it back to the main floor, the metal box hidden beneath a loose floorboard in Damien's office. The documents were scattered across Victoria's desk, but there was nothing they could do about that now. The video camera was in Mia's room, shoved behind the radiator.
"Mr. Cross?" The detective was middle-aged, professional, the kind of cop who'd seen enough wealth and privilege to not be impressed by either. "I'm Detective Morrison. We received a call about a possible shooting incident at this address?"
Damien's mouth was dry. He could feel Mia standing behind him, her breathing shallow and controlled.
"My wife had an accident," Damien said carefully. "She's been taken care of
