THE BRICK FELL BEFORE THE TRUTH COULD BE BURIED

Sadie had spent most of her life surrendering things to her father. This time would be different.

This time, Wyatt placed the cassette in Everett's hand.

"It is already copied," Wyatt said.

Everett's fingers closed around the recorder. "To where?"

"Several places."

It was a bluff. Sadie saw it in the muscle jumping beside Wyatt's jaw, but her father did not. Everett looked from Wyatt to the red light beneath the piano. Somewhere else in the mansion, someone was listening.

"You think marrying into this family gives you leverage," Everett said. "It gives us leverage over you."

He left with the tape. When the door closed, Wyatt took out his phone. During the playback, he had recorded forty-three seconds before Everett entered. Mara's voice was faint but clear enough to identify.

"Several places?" Sadie asked.

"One phone and one frightened architect. I was trying to sound impressive."

"It worked."

"We need a real backup."

They sent the file to a new encrypted account, to Sadie's attorney, Leah Moreno, and to a scheduled message that would reach Detective Mercer if neither Sadie nor Wyatt canceled it within forty-eight hours. Leah responded at three in the morning with a single sentence: Leave the house now.

Sadie showed Wyatt.

"If we leave, the shares go to him," she said. "And whatever Eleanor wanted found will vanish."

"Shares are not worth your life."

"This is not only about shares. Halston Heritage has more than eight hundred employees. If that ledger is real, my family stole from people who trusted us."

"And if your father was telling the truth about Mara?"

"Leaving did not save her," Sadie said.

They returned to Sadie's room before dawn. The outside lock had been released. On the bed lay a tray with tea for two and a white card in Celeste's handwriting.

Sleep well. Tomorrow will be difficult.

Neither of them touched the tea.

"The east wing lights failed again," Celeste said. "The electrician arrives at nine. Sadie, please keep out of his way."

Daniel Ruiz came through the service entrance with two assistants and the wary posture of a man entering a place he disliked. He was thirty-nine, broad shouldered, and more interested in the wiring plan than in Celeste's impatient instructions. Sadie waited until her parents left for a foundation luncheon, then brought him to the speaking tube.

"Can you tell where this wire goes?" she asked.

Daniel removed the grille, shone a light inside, and swore under his breath. "Who installed this?"

"We hoped you could tell us."

He pulled several inches of black cable from the wall. "Low-voltage audio and data line. At least ten years old, maybe newer in sections. It should not be sharing a chase with old metal pipes. The whole network could be hidden between rooms."

"Could it carry voices from the west corridor to here?"

"Yes. It could carry every whisper in the house to one control point."

Daniel traced the cable to a junction behind the linen closet. The junction did not appear on Rosemont's plans. Six black lines disappeared upward; five descended toward the basement. A final line ran south.

"Garden," he said. "That one goes underground."

Sadie gave him Eleanor's photograph of the wall. He studied the black cross.

"There is a utility tunnel under that section. The original greenhouse used coal heat. My father's company sealed the tunnel during renovations."

"Your father worked here?"

Daniel replaced the photograph carefully. "For twenty-six years. Luis Ruiz. He was the electrical supervisor for every Halston property until the pension fund collapsed."

Sadie's face warmed with shame. "I am sorry."

"He lost his savings, then he lost his house. The company said market conditions. He said Mr. Halston moved the money. No one listened."

"Why did you accept this job?"

"Because your aunt Eleanor called me before she died. She said there was proof in Rosemont and that you might need someone who understood the old systems."

Wyatt crossed his arms. "You knew she would be here?"

"I knew a Halston daughter would be asked to stay seven days. I did not know if she would care what happened to people like my father."

"I care now," she said.

"Now is late. But late can still matter."

They followed the garden line into the basement. Behind the main fuse panel, Daniel found a row of miniature switches labeled with room numbers. All but one were active. The inactive circuit had been marked MARA in faded ink.

Daniel flipped it.

The basement lights died. Somewhere above them, a woman screamed.

They ran upstairs and found Rosa in the blue room doorway. The room was empty, but the grand piano played by itself, repeating three notes. Rosa clutched the wall.

"That melody," she said. "Miss Mara used to call Sadie with it. Three notes, every evening."

Sadie entered. The red light beneath the piano was dark now. On the music stand, where nothing had been before, sat a sealed envelope.

Her name was written across it.

Inside was a photograph taken the previous night through the blue room's hidden camera. Sadie and Wyatt stood beside the safe. On the back someone had written: Ask your fiance where he was the night Mara went into the river.

Below the sentence was a second, older image.